#i wanted to gif it from other sides too but there was a logo blocking it so i just made what i could

[stay-mon-army]

Never Alone

Warnings: Angst, self-doubt, miscommunication

Word count: 4,159 Words

Pairing: College Student!Gaon x gn!Reader

You never thought having a cool musician brother would cause you so much disappointment. It wasn’t Gunil’s fault for your disappointment, of course. He was your best friend, the one you went to with any problem, the one who understood you better than even you did. But because of his bands local fame and his long running popularity among women and men in your high school, and now community college, most of your “friends” saw you as just a stepping stone to him. When you caught on to the constant two-faced nature of your peers, you withdrew from the social scene.

It didn’t bother you too much; again, you had Gunil by your side through thick and thin, and his bandmates had grown to be extended family for you. Besides, you had plans, dreams you were ready to realize. You didn’t need petty friend drama get in the way of your path.

So, suffice to you, you gradually gained the image of the unapproachable, mean, anti-social one. You tended to be so wary of people who tried to befriend you, that anyone who wouldn’t put out more than a couple ounces of effort to get to know you was run off within the week. It gave you plenty of time for coursework and spending time with Gunil and his band, but you eventually grew mildly lonely. As nice as it was to have such a loyal group, they weren’t truly your friends, but more like friends by extension, and Gunil had to be nice to you as the friendly older brother he was. Sometimes you wished you could hang out with someone who wanted to get to know you simply for you; not because of who you were related to, who you knew, who you might one day be, but for the person before them now.

The universe seemed to decide to answer your desires. One day, getting homework done in a corner of the student cafe on campus, the light is blocked by an approaching body. You look up from your laptop to see a boy who looked to be a freshman, hair bleached and tinted purple, spiked up into a polished messy look that would never work for most of the other boys in the school, but definitely works for him. He’s dressed comfortably for the chilly weather, although it’s finally beginning to warm up— donning ripped black skinny jeans with intricate chains dripping from beneath the oversized hoodie with the Nirvana logo layering his torso. You’d think that he’d known you for years from the wide grin splitting his face as he places a sweater-pawed hand gently on the vacant chair across from you.

“Can I sit here with you?” He asks, his voice is sweet and low, like he’s talking to a baby deer ready to sprint away at the next movement, which you probably looked like. You could tell your eyes were wide, mouth parted, and brows pulled down as you stare at the boy before you. He was the first person to approach you in months, and you weren’t quite sure if this was some figment of your imagination or trick or what.

“Umm, yeah, sure, go ahead.” You vaguely flick your fingers at the aforementioned chair, ducking your head quickly to look back at your laptop. Whatever was happening, you weren’t going to let it get in the way of your assignment.

You can sense every movement he makes, like your body is on high alert from the close proximity of another human body. God, what has gotten into you.

As he settles into the chair, placing his backpack beside him on the floor, he pulls a notebook out of his bag, resting it before him before he laces his fingers together and leans into the table, looking at you around your laptop screen.

“So, what’s your name?” He asks, that friendly grin still plastered on his thick lips.

“I’m (Y/N).” You don’t share your last name, knowing your full name will spark knowledge in him, if he isn’t already aware of your familial ties. “What’s yours?” You decide the friendly route can’t hurt, as long as you don’t get overly attached to this stranger. It wasn’t that you trusted him or wanted to be his friend, but being a complete asshole wouldn’t help anyone in the situation.

“I’m Jiseok, but everyone calls me Gaon.” He says, extending out his hand.

You accept it, shaking his hand gently. His palms were smooth but the tips of his fingers were calloused, rough and firm against the back of your hand.

“You’re a guitarist.” You state before you can think better of it. What does it matter? That only proves he’s here for some other intention.

“Oh— yeah, how’d you know?” He hasn’t released your hand, which warms against his skin, a feeling you’d missed. It was innocent, friendly, and yet your heart skipped slightly at the curious glint in his brown eyes.

“Uh, the callouses.” You mumble, a single finger rubbing against one as you retract your hand from his. “All the guitarists I know have them in the same places.” You shoot him an awkward smile, hoping he’ll ignore the slip about knowing other musicians.

“Ah, that would do it, yeah.” He laughs, running a hand through his hair, messing it up more, but somehow making it look even better than before. “Well, I’ll let you get to work. Sorry I’ve been interrupting you!” He looks down, for the first time seeming embarrassed about being so forward in talking to you.

“No, it’s alright, I don’t mind!” For some reason, you mean it. Despite your usual wariness to strangers, the man before you doesn’t spark any quick red flags, and his ease at filling and continuing the conversation pulls you in. You hadn’t found it this nice to talk to someone outside of Gunil’s group in a long time. You still weren’t going to take any chances. “Umm, but if you don’t mind my asking, why did you sit over here with me?”

His eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side before he straightens and smiles sadly. “You looked kinda lonely.” He folds his hands over his notebook, still unopened on the table, and rests his chin against his knuckles. “Plus, I liked the sticker on your laptop, and figured if anyone might let me sit down, it’s the fellow punk rock fan.” His eyes dart down to acknowledge the Bring Me The Horizon sticker over the brand logo of your old laptop.

You blush, although you aren’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the way he read you so quickly without you noticing— that he noticed the sticker on your laptop and had you pegged and made assumptions about your tastes when you didn’t even feel his eyes. Maybe it was the way he sensed your loneliness, called to your sadness like some emotional magnet sent to mend your harsh feelings. Somehow you didn’t mind it, if he really meant to just be there for you as a mutual music fan. If he didn’t have some other intentions, you wouldn’t mind seeing him more.

“Oh, uh, I mean, I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m lonely, but I appreciate the company.” You smile, hoping your expression is more open than before.

Gaon smiles back at you, flashing his teeth as his eyes squeeze shut, and your heart squeezes too, happy to make someone grin like that again.

*

That day you had made your first new friend in a very long time. After sitting doing homework and chatting to each other for several hours, you had shared numbers to keep in contact before you ran off to your late class. You had been quick to ask the band group chat if any of them had heard of Gaon, but they all had no recollection of ever hearing his name, which made you feel a little more at ease. Usually you weren’t the first attempt anymore for people getting in with the band, thanks to your reputation as stand-offish.

That marked the beginning of your new friendship and it only grew from there. You began dropping walls as more time passed and he continued to seem only interested in your life, not your family but you. You spent many days with Gaon now. You would meet up for “study” sessions, either in the student cafe, or later at your home or his, although you rarely got any real work done. You would sit and talk, debating about anything and everything, or listen to music together, and he had recently gotten you into his favorite video game. It had become your newest competition; whoever lost the game had to pay for snack for that hang-out session. You started hanging out more and more; you began going to the mall and window-shopping, going out for ice cream as the weather got warmer and warmer, even going to an amusement park as a “de-stress day”, Gaon’s phrase, the weekend before finals week.

Summer had finally settled in and your time was freed up to spend with Gaon to no end. One weekend, while his parents were out of town on a business trip, you had slept over the whole weekend, stealing a pair of his sweatpants and a random band t-shirt from his closet when you’d stayed a little too late playing video games to drive home. He had played you some guitar, singing softly as well, as you curled yourself up on his floor, nestled into a pile of spare blankets and pillows. He had offered you his bed, but you much preferred the floor— you already were unsure how far this semi-new friendship would go before you overstepped or made things awkward.

The next morning, he had attempted to make breakfast, but ended up burning the pancakes and setting off the fire alarm, resulting in you just driving you both to your favorite diner. You’d spent the day together after that cleaning the mess you’d made before his parents came home, but it hadn’t felt like a chore— he’d blasted music from his speakers and he performed nearly every song like an idol, exaggerated dance moves and crazy vocals that had you clutching your sides with laughter.

*

You don’t know how it happened, but you realized one day that you genuinely trusted Gaon, with everything in you. He had become your most trusted confidante, the person you went to with every bit of news, good or bad, even before Gunil.

That was until today. You had been going to see your brother in the garage, where he kept his drums, where his band always practiced (cliche, you know, you had told him as such on many occasions). You had been planning to hang out with Gaon later today and you wanted his opinion on an outfit, since Jiseok’s only instruction was to dress “nice but comfortable”. As you went to swing open the ajar door, you froze. Gaon was in there with Gunil, talking to him.

“Are you sure? Have you told (Y/N) anything about this? Seen what they think about it?” Gunil’s voice is strong but kind. As far as you know, they’ve never met each other. You always timed your hang outs at your home for times he was away with the boys or at work. You try to peek through the crack of the door to spot either boy, but both must be back near Gunil’s drum set out of range of your sight. You lean closer, trying to parse out more of the conversation; although neither one of them are whispering, the soundproofing makes it harder to hear even with the open door before you.

“I haven’t said anything yet, I want it to be a surprise. I’m hoping it goes over well, I don’t want to make anything awkward, but this is something I have to do, you know? For me.” Gaon sounds determined, if not a little anxious. Your mind goes to worst case scenarios— all the times your friends admitted they didn’t care much about you, all the times they mentioned their dreams of being part of the band or their first groupie, or the female and non-straight male friends talking about only wanted to get together with your brother, or some other member of the band. What could he possibly want to say that would be a surprise but make the friendship awkward other than one of these things. You had told him many times you would never judge him for anything, despite all the times you jokingly roasted him. You loved him—

You love him. You would do anything for him because you love him. And he’s about to rip your heart out of your chest.

Before you can hear any more, you turn away from the door, heading back upstairs. You couldn’t, no you wouldn’t deal with this today. You would not walk right into that situation, let him beat you like that. You wouldn’t lose to anyone else, least of all to him. If you didn’t see him, he wouldn’t be able to hurt you. You resolved not to meet with him tonight. What would be the point in walking right into the pain you know he’s about to bring you? You had been through it enough times to know how it would end up, and for once Gunil seemed ready to accept him into the band— he was usually much more wary about talking about the band with other people, but he didn’t seem even slightly uncomfortable with Gaon. They were talking like old friends, like he wasn’t planning on destroying your trust for the umpteenth time.

No, you weren’t going to let him have the power to do that to you. This time you would leave first. You’d be the one with the power.

You went back to your room, closing the door quietly for fear of them remembering you were in the house. You tossed your clothes back into their drawers, no longer needed to debate on an outfit. You grabbed your laptop, slid into bed, and settled on finishing a drama you’d started a while ago.

*

Hours later, after finishing the show with many tears, you were hungry so you left your room, heading to the kitchen to make yourself something for dinner.

Gunil stood there with Jooyeon, both eating some ramen that they had obviously made to take a break from their video game session you had heard them screaming at until 20 minutes ago.

“Hey, what are you still doing home?” Gunil asks, lowering his chopsticks to stare at you, straightening his body in concern. Jooyeon continued chewing on a mouthful of noodles, his eyes darting between you and Gunil.

“Oh, I didn’t go.” You say, reaching for another packet of ramen, putting a pot of water on the stove. You could feel Gunil’s eyes on you in the silence, but you didn’t turn. You just focused on making your own ramen.

“Why?” He finally breaks the silence, but instead of seeming concerned for you, you can imagine the look of guilt on his face as he was caught red-handed. He knew that you two hadn’t fought since he had just seen him, so he had to have guessed that you knew, you’d heard their conversation.

“I think you can guess why.” You say softly. You don’t blame Gunil. He was your brother who had done so much for you, you couldn’t hate him for this. You had heard Gaon play, he was good enough for the band; it was just annoying that you hadn’t been talked to about it at all until after he seemed to be the newest member of the team.

“Umm, no, I can’t really. Did something happen?” He asks and you laugh harshly, turning to look at him. He has placed his chopsticks into his bowl, pushing it further away to signal that he had given you his full attention. Jooyeon went from glancing between you two to eyeing Gunil’s food.

“I heard your conversation and decided it was best if I just didn’t go meet him.” You cross your arms, lifting an eyebrow when his eyes widen at your words.

“Wait, you heard our conversation? (Y/N), what exactly did you hear?” He leans forward, resting his whole chest against the island counter.

“Don’t worry, I don’t blame you for anything. I get it, he’s good— hell, he’s great. I just don’t want to have to deal with that kind of heartbreak again, so I’m not going to hear him tell—”

“No, wait, really, what did you hear?” Gunil was looking at you so confused you stopped, staring back at him hard.

“You let him into the band. I get it, he’s an amazing guitarist. You don’t have to act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” You drop your arms back to your sides with a sigh.

“(Y/N), I didn’t let him into the band; we never even talked about the band. We were talking about you, only you. You seriously have to call him. You’ve seriously misunderstood what you heard.” Gunil stood up, walking over to you to begin ushering you from the kitchen towards the hallway to your room. You protest, pushing his hand away and asking him what he thought he was doing. Finally you just let him, closing the door on him at your room and grabbing your phone.

When you turn it on (you had turned it off halfway through your first episode after you realized he would probably try to contact you), you notice that he has called you 12 times and sent you a number of texts asking where you were, if you were okay, etc. You frown, your chest tightening at the thought he must have been so concerned when you didn’t show up. If Gunil was right and you had misheard the conversation, you had just hurt him much more than he would have hurt you.

You shakily clicked on his name, bringing the ringing phone to your ear apprehensively. You didn’t want to face what you’ve done— you hurt him by essentially ghosting him without hearing his side of things. He at least was ready to talk to you about whatever he had gone to Gunil about, and you had decided to hide in your room like an angry child.

He picked up quickly, his voice frantic. “(Y/N), are you alright?! Where are you?”

Your throat tightens up at the tremor in his voice and you close your eyes to center yourself to speak. “I’m so sorry, I’m still at home.”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the phone and you don’t dare to open your eyes, allowing yourself to be swallowed into the crackle of the phoneline waiting for voices. “Oh.”

You don’t really know what to say, your hand beginning to shake against your head as you breathe deeply, opening your eyes to look around your room, the place you had stupidly sought refuge in hours before. “Do you—” You pause, unsure if you’re overstepping after hurting him. “Do you still want to meet up? I want to hear what you had to say.” You whisper it down the phone, holding your breath as you wait for his response.

“Yeah, we can still meet.” You breathe out, physically relaxing even though you can hear the distress in his voice. You’ll definitely need to make up for this somehow— with a lot of apologies, that’s for sure. “I can just come meet you at your place. Every place is starting to close now anyway.” You look out your window and see how dark it is now. You had really left him waiting for a long time, hadn’t you?

“Okay, that’s fine.” You scratch the back of your neck. He says he’ll be there soon and hangs up. You drop yourself onto your bed, tossing your phone away from you. You couldn’t believe that you had mistaken it all, that you had listened in on their conversation and jumped to conclusions instead of hearing him out. If you had just gone and faced him, you wouldn’t have hurt him and you wouldn’t have been hurt either. Everything would have been okay if you had just stood up for yourself and acted like an adult.

About half an hour later, the doorbell rings and you jolt upright, ready to head downstairs when you hear Gunil open the door. You hear him greet Gaon and you stand still, listening as Gaon makes his way up to your room— the room he had been to plenty of times. Where you two had shared so many memories.

A knock startles you out of your mind and you step forward, opening the door to see him— his hair is messy and windblown, his eyes red-rimmed and shiny as he meets yours. You step aside to let him in, and he enters, moving to settle himself on the edge of your bed. You close your door, copying his movement to sit beside him. You turn, hooking one knee over the edge of the bed so you can face him. As much as you didn’t feel right to, you had to face him now.

Before he can open his mouth to speak, you start apologizing. “I’m so sorry, Gaon. I had heard part of your conversation with Gunil and I thought that you were going to join the band and that you had just been using me like those other people so I got scared and didn’t want to hear you break my heart because I’ve really grown to care for you and I wasn’t ready to let you go but I thought if I just didn’t show up, you couldn’t hurt me and it would all be okay somehow—.”

Gaon places his hand over yours, which is resting on your knee. He hadn’t turned to face you and the movement startles you enough to freeze you in your place. You had been rambling, you just didn’t know how else to get out everything you had to say before he told you he was done with you.

“(Y/N), it’s okay. I understand.” You look up from your entwined hands, meeting his eyes from where he has now turned to look at you. “I don’t judge you. I was worried about you, but you’re safe and I understand why you did what you did.” He smiles sadly at you, eyes still glistening but now softened as he takes you in.

“What did you want to tell me? I promise, I’m ready to hear it now, whatever it is. You can say anything, and I swear, I will accept whatever it is.” You didn’t want to sound like you were sucking up to him, but you were telling the truth. You wanted him to be open with you.

“I love you.”

You stare back, blinking at him before sighing, looking down at your floor as you tried to process what he had just said. He loved you. Like you love him? No way you had come to the realization just before he was going to confess to you. You must have been zoned out for a while because you’re broken from your thoughts when he moves his hand from yours and rises off your bed.

“I should go.” He turns to head for the door and you lunge forward, grabbing his hand again to stop him.

“No! Wait, I— I love you too. That’s why I was so afraid of you joining the band; I was afraid I loved you while you were just going after Gunil’s band.” He turns to look at you, eyes wide and mouth open and quivering. He lets out a breath, slow and heavy, before grabbing you, pulling you into his chest.

He hugs you close, his arms around your shoulders as his body shakes against you. You can tell he’s crying, and you can’t stop the tears that rise to your own eyes. You bury your head into his chest, your body clinging to his. You didn’t want to let him go, scared that by releasing him, he would disappear from you for good and you would be left alone again.

Without releasing him from your arms, you pull your head back to look into his eyes, grimly admiring the tear tracks down his cheeks— a sign that his love for you was real, if not a little sad. “Before I found you, I was okay with being alone. I didn’t need anyone because they would only hurt me. But since that day you sat with me in the café, I’ve fallen slowly for you. Please, never leave me.” You whisper, watching his face crumble even more at your words.

“Never.” He says, ducking down to lay a kiss softly against your lips, sealing the promise into your soul. “Never.”

#gaon xdinary heroes #gaon xdinary heroes imagine #xdinary heroes #xdinary heroes fluff #xdinary heroes imagine #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes angst #gaon #xh gaon #xh gaon x reader

[bittergloss]

“(in Tamil) The sari I wore in the song in Puthiya Paravai belongs to me. Originally, they had a costume made for me similar to the ones the background dancers wore, but in a different colour. I tried it on with the full styling done and looked in the mirror, but it didn’t feel right to me. I told Sivaji sir “Sir, I don’t feel like my character [a Singaporean crooner] in this. If you could give me some time, I’ll go home and bring something else to wear.” He wondered how I could bring something appropriate in that limited amount of time and I reassured him that I could. In those days, even if I had shooting, I had a habit of sightseeing overseas. Once in Hong Kong, at a place called India Palace House, not exclusively for the purpose of being used in a film, I bought this sari as it looked very attractive and extraordinary.(in English) So I went home and I brought the sari, and I had a beautiful hairdresser, Josephine, and my assistant. I told, “Lakshmi and Josephine I don’t know what you’re going to do, It should not look like a sari when I drape it. You’ll pin it. Tuck it somewhere and stitch it over(?) my body I said. It was just...pinned everywhere and the way I walked on set...[ she continues to talk about her dissatisfaction with the director as he lacked confidence that she was right for the role of Chitra. He believed there was a level of sophistication required for it and that she looked more suited for ‘village girl/ homely’ roles] It was Sivaji’s insistence that I had to do that role, and when I came it was just, oh god, it was stunning when I come in and stand with the mircrophone in the black dress. That is my own sari and I kept it for so many years because [initially] I was afraid because it was a negative role[...], but to my surprise I had gotten so many accolades for a negative role which I had performed in that film. And that was a turning point in my life.” -Sowcar Janaki at an event

SOWCAR JANAKI in PUTHIYA PARAVAI (1964) dir. by Dada Mirasi

#puthiya paravai #sowcar janaki #kollywood #the way i killed myself trying to find a good quality of this movie and this is the best i could find #i wanted to gif it from other sides too but there was a logo blocking it so i just made what i could #also idk i paraphrased a litte for the text and the part of her going abroad was a bit confusing to translate #like i didn't understand if she had a habit of sightseeing when she went overseas for filming or she went overseas even when she was filming #locally. so i just literally translated. so anyways #loved this little story behind the dress its like the stars aligned. #film costume #mygif

[i-writes-things]

Field Trip? Really?

Natasha x Daughter!reader

Fluff, mama nat <3

request- Hello could you please read it is Natasha's daughter and she's going on a school trip to the avengers tower but nobody knows that Natasha is her mother @maveldc25

Warnings- mention of choking on water, one swear word, and mama nat <3

Extra Pairings::

Peter Parker x Romanoff!reader

Romanoff!reader x bestfriend

Not my gif* found on pinterest

F/N = Friends name

You walked into class and, the second you sat down and read the board you almost had a heart attack:

SCHOOL FLEID TRIP TODAY!! AVENGERS TOWER :)

You half choked on the water you had sipped from your water bottle, earning a few glances from classmates to see if you were ok.

Then all of a sudden you remembered a few weeks ago

---

*Flashback to two weeks ago*

"Ok, Class you can all pack up a little early, today... On that note, In two weeks we will be going on a field trip to, The Avengers Tower, the Avengers will be there to give us, well a little tour!" Your teacher exclaimed, clearly a bit excited herself.

You on the other hand, you were in shock.

COMPLETE SHOCK.

----

Peter stopped you in the hall after school was over

"Y/n!" He shouted your name

You turned around and smiled at him "yes?"

He looked worried "Well what are you gonna do?"

"Don't know." Your smile drops trying to think of things to do "You know we aren't in the same block, right? Just the same class"

"Yeah, I know." He rolled his eyes.

"So then you have nothing to worry about." You smirk at him, walking away and trying to rack your brain of a way to get out of it.

It's not like you could stay home, AT THE AVENGERS TOWER..!!

----

The bus ride was thankfully not too long, but the second the Tower was in view, you got a bit nervous of the possibilities, you tried remembering that they don't know, but if anyone could blow it for you, it was ALL OF THE AVENGERS

Sadly they would all be there...

---

Your class was jumbled in a group near the front doors, each group in front of you leaving one by one, and seeing Peter's class walk off with Steve Rogers, Ned admiring him and flash taking multiple pictures of Mr. America.

The group in front of you left with Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, you remember the night before them arguing about having to be some sort of team the next day. They never shared the specifics.

You hadn't seen Natasha and hoped to God that she wasn't leading your group.

Then out walked, none other than..

The Natasha Romanoff herself, and you hid behind the group, trying to not be seen.

----

Your teacher on the other hand, moved towards her "Hello! I am Eliza, this classes main teacher! It's so nice to meet you! The whole class is so excited to learn all about the Avengers Tower and everyone inside it!!" Your teacher exclaimed happily shaking her hand

Natasha quickly scanned the group, smiling at them, completely missing you.

"Yes, very nice to meet all of you!" She gave a small smile

"Well, we should get started." She turned on her heel and walked off towards the elevators as you all quickly followed

You were somehow squished two kids away from your mom on the elevator, thankfully the two kids where rather tall.

Blocking you from Natasha's view.

----

You had forgotten how cool the Tower really was..

The lab had totally be redone since you last went in, and all the floors you went on seemed totally different, then what you remembered..

----

Natasha, After maybe 20 minutes had finally spotted you talking to one of your friends in the class, while everyone was walking around the Lab.

You looked up from Tony's latest invention in progress and stared right into your mother's eyes, from across the room, and she was smiling at you. The second you noticed who you were looking at, you looked away and walked over to rest of the group, looking at one of The IronMan suits, with your friend, now by your side.

"Alright everyone, we should be moving on.." Your mom said looking over your classmates and landing on you, as voices exclaimed how cool Tony Stark is..

She smiles to herself as everyone lines up, you reminded her of how you were when you first got to the Tower, so shy and unwilling to keep eye contact for very long, your nerves use to keep you from it.

You get pulled to the front, as your friend wanted to stand closer to ✨The Black Widow ✨

It was stupid, that just because no one knew that Natasha Romanoff was your mom, you were nervous. It would have been better if you were in the back, but your friend would have insisted on standing in the front.

----

You were now in one of the many common rooms, the one that not everyone used very much, you were walking with your friend looking at the all the group photos of the Avengers on the wall with dates, you moved away from your friend to look for the year you came to the Tower, almost 6 years ago...

You found it and smiled to yourself remembering where you stood for the photo.

Right next to Natasha, you remembered hugging her side and when she laughed, you smiled just slightly and the photo was taken..

You weren't in the photo on the wall, but you remember they took two photos, you were only in one.

---

"Hey! Everybody gather round. Gather Round!" Your teacher clapped her hands and we all took seats, facing the wall of the pictures, either on the ground or if you were lucky, which you weren't, some people got to sit on the couch.

"There all yours.." Your teacher smiled at Miss Romanoff

"Thank you.. As you all could see we have dates on all our yearly photos,"

She glanced at you

"we have a few copies of each that everyone can chose one and take it home, at the end!" She slowly continued, after the few claps died down from your fascinated teacher

"My personal favorite is.." She points to a photo in the middle of the wall

You started to get nervous again

"this one.." She smiled softly and glanced at you again before looking at the rest of the group of happy faces

She was pointing at the photo, they had taken almost 6 years ago...

You never knew that.

You never knew she had a favorite.

You never knew you were her favorite.

You smiled genuinely to yourself, well to yourself and Natasha saw you as she was helping your teacher hand out photos

You were nervous again, but..

You were happy. <3

---

Natasha took your whole class to the Tower's Gym, exclusively showing you all where The Tony Stark worked out.

It was cool seeing it, like you weren't in there yesterday, kicking Mr. America's ass

----

Now that the day was coming to a close, Natasha took your class back down the elevator to the lobby.

When you all got in the elevator, you stood right next to Natasha, your friend right next to you looking at the wall

"F/N?" You whispered

They looked over at you, and gave a small smile

"Wanna switch spots?" There face lit up with joy and nodded

You both moved and you looked over at your friend smiling excitedly to themselves.

You smiled at the scene.

----

After getting off the elevator, your friend told you every little detail about what happened very excitedly...

"EVERYONE LINE UP" Your teacher shouted at you all

"WAIT WAIT-" Everyone's jaw dropped

You looked over and saw that...

Tony Stark had walked out into the lobby, and a few kids from all the different classes were taking photos of him

"Before you go.." He swooshed his hand to the side and behind him was a fancy box filled with pens that had the "Stark" logo on them

Multiple kids ran up, as everyone, besides yourself, followed.

Tony noticed you weren't in the messy line for a pen, then did a double take and scrunched up his face

You gave a small wave

He understood immediately and shot you some hand guns

Natasha saw the whole thing and was biting the inside of her cheek trying to not laugh.

Your friend came back showing you the pen, admiring it fully..

You were glad your friend as least wasn't stressed out by this outing.

----

Once back at school, everyone was talking happily with each other, wearing their backpacks waiting for the final bell

*DING*

You said a 'goodbye' to your friend, and they thanked you for the elevator ride, saying you were a good friend.

-----

You pushed open the heavy door to the outside, the light blinding you for a split second, as you walked towards the familiar black tinted car

You opened the door and sat down

"Hey mama.." You closed the door

"Hey bub, how was your day?" She questioned you oddly, starting the car

"It was good, um it was really fun." You changed your answer after registering what she had asked

"It was, really fun.." You look down at your hands and hesitated but finally said

"I never knew that was your favorite photo."

Your mother smiled "It is.. The one with you, I mean.." She said checking to make sure no cars were coming to make a right at the light

You smiled again, this time out the window at the passing trees..

Natasha looked over at you at the red light and smiled to herself, leaning over to kiss your head

"Love you, Y/n/n."

"Love you, mama."



#natasha romanoff #mama nat #mama nat <3 #natasha x daughter!reader #natasha x teen reader #Natasha x teen!daughter!reader #natasha x child!reader #avengers #tony stark #platonic #mama nat x adopted!daughter!reader #platonic avengers #the tower #peter parker x y/n

[neversleepagainau]

please do not repost my art.​

~~~

at long last, im so excited to announce that this ask blog is officially open! many people know I’ve been working on this intro for roughly five weeks, and I’m very excited to finally share it- possibly as excited as I am to FINALLY begin telling this story!!!

first of all, tumblr completely ruined the quality of that last panel- if you wanna see the full sized gif (warning you now, it’s enormous), you can find that here! And, if the gif is hard to read/hard to view, there’s a static version of this panel below the cut! 

There’s also a ton of extra information that could answer some questions you might have, as well as a list of potential triggers to watch out for in the future! However, it is really long, and when I say really long, I mean it’s chapter-in-a-book-long so please don’t feel obligated to read it unless you have extra questions/have some bad triggers you wanna make sure to avoid.

Otherwise though, I can’t wait to see what kind of questions you guys send these two! One has to wonder… where in the world are they headed off to in the dead of night… 

First of all, here’s the static image of Panel 8, as promised!

And now for some extra info on things going forward.

On every single canon update, there will be a description of themes in this story that could unsettle or discomfort some viewers. I’ve included tags to blacklist, and explained exactly how these situations might arise so folks who are sensitive to this kind of thing can prepare themselves accordingly! 

I would recommend at least skimming this list if you know you have some bad triggers! This story will never get too dark or intense, as I’m attempting to stay true to the original spirit of MSA, but this doesn’t mean it won’t touch on those themes at all.

also, in regards to how much of this art is hand drawn by me- the honest truth is 99% of this is entirely freehanded. I took colors from the videos, but otherwise only used them as reference. However, if I ever used a canon asset to help me, I will always specifically say what exactly was borrowed directly from canon in a way that was more than just using images as reference and taking colors. for this post specifically, I’ll word it a little differently, but this will all be much tidier in the future.

the van asset is 97% freehanded by myself- I did take measurements of the canon asset, and marked my canvas so I’d know the width and height of the van, and vaguely marked where the tires would be. 
I did trace the antennae ontop, as well as the cloud decals, one of the curves on the right side of the windshield, part of the door window at the very bottom lefthand corner, and the rear view mirror. The logo was not recreated, I directly took that and just altered the colors to fit the van.  Other than that, everything you see on that van was freehanded. The van was also the only thing I used a canon asset to help me with for creation of it, meaning that the rest of the art in this introduction is entirely freehand.

moving on from that- updates will not take an entire month like this did. i will not be doing eight full color illustrations for every single update, and for right now, at the minimum, they’ll happen weekly!  i can provide more information going forward once I work out how I’m going to go about things a little better, since things won’t be as huge as this introduction was. don’t worry though, the quality of the art itself will stay the same throughout the whole story!

and yes, lewis and vivi are in this too! there’s a big cast of characters, and lew and viv are just as much at the center of this story as arthur and mystery are- don’t worry, you’ll see them plenty soon enough!

finally, before we get to the content warning stuff, if you ever have any questions about how I’m running things, or need clarification on anything, please let me know! I’m happy to explain things in more depth if needed!!! and now, here’s the last chunk of this INCREDIBLY long introduction. ~~~ WHAT FOLLOWS IS A VERY LONG (!!!), IN DEPTH LIST OF THINGS VIEWERS MIGHT ENCOUNTER IN THIS STORY THAT COULD TRIGGER THEM. If you are not super sensitive or have very intense triggers, you don’t really need to read what follows unless you want to. Otherwise, I would at least skim this, so you know what tags to block so you won’t have to see this type of content.

Don’t let any of this worry you too much, by the way! This story is very likely not ever going to get extreme in any manner, I just like to be very cautious, just in case!

Also keep in mind that you can always ask me to add tags to a post, and it’s highly unlikely I will refuse said request. If I do, it will be for a very good reason, and I’ll explain it thoroughly, as well as remain open to any discussion about it. With that in mind, here are things to be aware of:

CHARACTER DEATH/REMOVAL FROM STORY: There may be characters in this story that you will get attached to that end up dying or not being in the story at all or as much as they were before. This story has chances for different outcomes depending on asks, but there are some things I have set in stone and a few of them involve these themes, so please be mindful of that. The tags to blacklist to avoid updates that touch on this specifically are #character death or #character removal.

DISTURBING CONTENT: This is vaguely worded because it is a bit of broad umbrella. There may be themes of body horror, gore, violent/upsetting/disturbing depictions of death (not any worse than Lew’s death, if it ever is I’ll be sure to specify ahead of time), creepy/unsettling designs and environments, so on and so forth. The tag to blacklist to avoid updates that include anything I consider to be disturbing to view is #disturbing content.

ANGST: This story will get sad, and broach on themes of abandonment, loss, trauma, depression, paranoia, self-hate, and things in this nature. What I can immediately promise is this story will NEVER have themes of suicide or self-harm. I do not feel this story needs to go there, nor do I wish to take it there. Also, while there is angst, I do not believe in beating characters up mercilessly- the angst is for the story and their development. This is not going to be a story that is only angsty. However, if any sort of angst upsets you, the tag to blacklist to avoid updates that include heavier, angstier themes is #angst.

PARANOIA: A few of the characters often get a sense of being hunted or followed, or something lurking around the corner, which can be upsetting to some viewers. A few characters may occasionally have moments where they express their anxieties in depth. The tag to blacklist to avoid updates that include heavy mentions of paranoia/depictions of it/make the characters (and potentially audience) feel paranoid is #paranoia.

UNREALITY: Lewis has some powers that can warp space and create illusions, and potentially will be in situations where he uses them in ways that could mess with people’s perception of reality. This can be very uncomfortable for some people to view, so in updates where this may happen, the tag to blacklist is #unreality.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES: This story will NEVER be explicitly NSFW, and will rarely ever feature these themes at all. It is mainly for the occasional joke here and there, but absolutely nothing more. However, if any implications of something slightly more adult make you uncomfortable, the tag to blacklist here is #suggestive themes.

ANIMAL HARM: Mystery may enter situations where he ends up getting hurt during this story, though he will never endure any kind of situations that mimic real life animal abuse. If seeing an animal be harmed in any way remotely upsets you, the tag here to blacklist is #animal harm. 

~~~

If you made it all the way to the bottom, you’re a champ!!! While posts will definitely not be this long going forward, I really appreciate you taking the time to read this!

#msa #mystery skulls animated #msa fanart #mystery skulls animated fanart #mystery skulls #mystery skulls fanart #msa animation #mystery skulls animated animation #mystery skulls animation #msa arthur #msa mystery #arthur msa #mystery msa #arthur kingsmen #mystery #arthur #msa ask blog #mystery skulls animated ask blog #mystery skulls ask blog #mystery skulls animated arthur #mystery skulls animated mystery #never sleep again au #never sleep again msa au #nsa msa au #nsa au #never sleep again #story #gif warning #gif #long post

[forthehpfanboys]

Gold Strings & Red Picks- PT 1

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: The Weasley's invented a band! Having a band, means you need a band manager; someone to help find venues, gigs and sponsors. After finding one, Ron seems to be hopeless drawn toward them.

Warnings: flirting, swearing, bickering, sexual tension??, Punk Pining Ron but also Smug Ron, naming a guitar ‘Cherry Popper’, dm me if I missed any.

Notes: I plan on having some chapters kinda spicy. I made an entire gif for this and yes it is Rupert playing 👀 and god is this self indulgent. Hope you guys like it!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWERE~

-

It was a Friday morning when you quit the Static Dragons and posted the news on every piece of social media you had. It didn’t take long for you to edit your bios to state you were looking for a new band, and it managed to catch someone's eye just as quickly. It was Monday evening when you got a dm on Instagram from a user called ddchrmrs-official. The user basically sent you a paragraph about how he was the lead singer of a band he and his siblings threw together and they were looking for a new manager. You agreed to meet with them and talk about the potential of the band and he agreed, using more than a few explanation marks after his reply. He even sent you a few of their songs once he deemed you worthy enough.

So, you found a dining hall, an equal distance from your house and theirs, and with the lead singer's approval, Fred, you booked it for Tuesday afternoon. Fred even made a post explaining the good news- why he was acting like one of the Weird Sisters followed him back, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t help but be excited too. The songs were good- more punk-rock than you assumed from the band's name. Something about the name Daydream Charmers gave off a softer, boyband type.

The day of the band meeting couldn’t have gone much worse. You missed your morning alarm, you couldn’t find your laptop charger and the clothes you picked out the night before ended up covered in stains from breakfast. GPS even gave you the fastest route and you still managed to be 10 minutes late, but you managed to find the right hall. It was a bit different compared to the pristine image shown on the website.

The roof looked like it was caving under an invisible weight and the actual size of the hall looked like a small barn. The walls were made of red and black bricks, most of which seemed to be chipped, broken or bending, like it was being crushed. The door frame was slanting, the door’s white paint was chipping, the sidewalk was splitting at almost every corner. You were desperately hoping the building was enchanted so it was bigger (and nicer looking) on the inside.

You parked your car on the pebble covered asphalt, right next to an equally old and rusty blue car. You had no idea how four people, a sound system, a bass, an electric guitar and a full drum set fit inside of the small wagon, but figured they managed to spell the inside bigger. You weren’t bothered by it- how could you be? You felt your wand hit your laptop inside the bag as you threw it over your shoulder after climbing out of the car. Shutting the door, you hurried up the broken concrete, shoving your keys in your pocket.

You chewed on your lip, adjusting the collar of your shirt as you approached the door. A smile pulled at your lips at the refreshing sound of genuine laughter and bickering. You had an internal battle of whether you should knock or just barge in. It sounded like they were having their fun and you didn’t want to interrupt anything. Soon enough, the laughter was dying down and someone was strumming a bass quietly, practicing a few chords from one of the songs Fred gave you. You raised a fist to knock on the door and the silence that followed was close to defining. Soft footsteps followed the silence and you swore you could hear soft breathing behind the door before it was yanked open.

“Hey! You made it! We were worried you got lost on your way here.”

You weren’t expecting to be face to chest with an individual. Their band's logo was printed across the front, red letters with a gold outline that clashed drastically with the bright orange fabric of the tight shirt. You tilted your head up, meeting cocoa brown eyes and a crisp white smile. His ginger hair was spread across his shoulders, his ear lobes were pierced with two shiny black flat stud earrings and the little white nostril piercing on the left side of his nose was reflecting the sunlight.

“Fred?” You asked, matching his smile. You could tell he had fun, you could sense it. His arm raised, inadvertently showing off his muscles, and rested against the door frame. 

“The one and only.” He grinned, clearly just joking. Before he could say anything else, he was rudely interrupted by a foreign voice behind him. Fred’s smile dropped into a frown like he was suddenly slapped across the face.

“Is it the pizza guy?” The voice asked from somewhere behind him, excitement clearer than crystal. Fred looked over his shoulder to respond.

“No, Ron. That’s not for another twelve minutes.” He rolled his eyes after looking back at you and letting out a loud sigh. “I’m sorry about him. His appetite is larger than Big Ben and it literally never stops. Anyway, I hope you like pizza! I tried to message you about it.” He pulled his phone out of his front pocket, unlocking it and scrolling through his messages and swiping right on notifications he didn’t care for.

“I was using my phone for GPS. Must’ve missed the messages.” Your hands slid into your front pockets, your weight shifting between your feet as embarrassment began to settle in. Maybe this wasn’t the best first impression. Before you could think about it too long, a low whistle was resonating from beside Fred.

Without warning, Fred was being nudged aside by a slightly shorter ginger, his piercing blue eyes staring into yours. They didn’t stay there very long though. They slowly dragged down your body, taking in your form, and his head tilted in appreciation.

“Oh.. I’m not gonna complain about the pizza when Merlin delivered us a cutie.” He gave you a dizzying side smile. “What’s your name, sweetheart? Surely, it’s something as handsome as you are.” Just as quickly as he appeared, Fred was pushing him back, faking a gag while driving the unnamed individual back with Fred’s hand against his forehead. 

“Ew! Ron, down! Seriously? Keep your yap shut! He’s our new band manager and I’d actually like to keep this one, thank you.” Fred groaned, a sneer pulling at his lips. He blocked the smaller ginger from the door with his body before turning back to you with a sigh. “I’m sorry. He’s usually not like this. Usually he’s moping about his ex-” You could see Ron jumping behind Fred to get another look at you. The reaction had you snorting into your hands.

“Fred. Fred, move, mate. I wanna see ‘im again!” The ginger whined, tugging at his older brother's t-shirt. He was dodging around Fred’s constant moving hands to get one more peek at you.

Fred let out a groan, his head falling backwards in agony before letting out a loud “George, please help!”

“Wait! Wait, wait!” Ron’s voice matched the panicked hand trying to hold onto the door frame before it was hilariously slapped off the wood and was dragged into the mystery hidden behind the lead singer. His begs and pleas began to echo and soften which you thought caused you to giggle a bit. 

“I’m sorry. We’ll put a muzzle on him or something. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Fred shifted out of the door way, allowing you to enter the hall. It was bigger on the inside than the outside, that much had you relieved. Fred shut the door behind you with a satisfying click and let you soak the place in while he sat himself down on a velvet red coach. It was dimly lit, about half the lights were on, and the walls were painted a light tan, which easily could’ve been mistaken for white, if white wasn’t used for the tiling. 

Next to Fred on the couch, was a girl with long, slightly darker, ginger hair. Her hair went well past her shoulders, and a bright orange base sat on top of her crossed legs. She had gone back to laying a few chords once you entered, just relaxing as her two brothers basically wrestled each other.

“Ginny, this is (Y/n).” Fred spoke up, pointing from his sister to you, then back to her. (Y/n), this is the youngest Weasley in the family, Ginevra.” Fred smirked, but it turned into a pained expression when she landed a hard slap to his chest.

“Except if you call me that, I will break your legs. It’s Gin or Ginny, nothing else. It’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/n). Fred hasn’t shut up about you.” She smiled at you, reaching a tattoo covered hand out to shake yours. 

“Really?” You couldn’t help but grin. You shook her hand proudly, knowing it was probably your reputation that kept the oldest Weasley in the band chatting up a storm. “It’s nice to meet you too, Gin.” You gave her a cheeky grin before turning to the other side of the hall, noting another Fred standing in front of Ron, who was sitting in a chair quiet grumpily. 

The double picked up a deep red guitar covered in stickers and shoved it into Ron’s lap, causing the younger to gasp out a wheeze. It was obvious he had chewed Ron out for his behavior, but nevertheless, he gave his unplugged electric guitar a few strums, which seemed to satisfy Fred 2 because soon enough he was storming back to the couch, shaking his head the entire walk there.

He sat himself down on the arm of the couch, right next to his doppelganger. His arms crossed back over his chest once again. Fred 2 had the same length hair, different piercings though. He only had one set of black earrings, but had an industrial across his left ear. He had a straight line of freckles across his cheek bones and right across his nose. The spots went down his neck and across his forehead. 

“He’s bloody useless.” He grumbled out, his snake bite moving to the right as his tongue ran across it. “Oh, hi!” Fred 2 scooted over to the edge of the arm rest, reaching his hand out to shake yours. “You must be the band manager! I’m George, Fred’s twin bro-”

“Younger twin. I’m the oldest.” Fred interrupted, smirking again as he pointed a thumb to himself. His smirk dropped when he was smacked in the chest again- by both George and Ginny. 

“I’m his twin brother. Ignore him, he has a God complex.” George rolled his eyes, smiling at you while he shook your hand. He pulled his hand away before scooting back to rest his back against the back of the couch. You could tell he wasn’t comfortable, but  he seemed dedicated to the spot. “I’m sorry you had to meet Ron the way you did. Usually he’s tamer than that.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, your gaze turned down to your shoes. Your cheeks were beginning to heat up as his flirting rebounded through your head again.

“Nah, he wasn’t that bad.”

“I wasn’t?” Ron’s sudden voice behind you had nearly jumped out of your skin. You spun around, your backpack strings nearly catching on one of Ginny’s bass strings. You swallowed down a squeak. “Georgie was trying to convince me I was being inconsiderate and rude and that mum would smack me if she saw.” He was still holding the guitar by the neck, and that was when you noticed the bright gold strings with a red pick trapped between them.

“Well, it’s not like you were asking about my shoe size… “ Your eyes landed on the hands holding the black neck of the instrument and you couldn’t help but gawk at them. Rings covered his finger knuckles, veins popped out from beneath his skin. “Wow.” You didn’t mean to verbally gawk over the hands, so you had to force your gaze down to the instrument and ignore the urge to stare at the pale, freckle covered skin that was making your mouth dry. 

You shook your head, looking at the shiny strings. You had you stop yourself from reaching out and caressing the polished neck, the textures strings and hidden pick. It was clearly loved and carefully taken care of.

“Beauty, isn't she?” Ron grinned, showing off the red body drowning in decals- most of which were bright orange Quidditch themed or terrible chess puns. You almost forgot to check if they were a muggle band, but this told you enough. “My best friend got it for me, he’s a blessing. Mum didn’t approve, of course, said we all had better purposes, but dad said rock on.” 

“She really is. I’m guessing you named her?” The second the question fell from your lips, the three sharing a spot on the couch groaned in agony, but Ron was grinning in pride.

“Of course I have! Her name is Cherry Popper and she’s the love of my life. Unless,” Ron was taking a step closer to you, a twinkle in his eyes as he continued speaking, “you plan on cha-” His flirting was cut off suddenly.

“And that’s enough of that! Please sit down and, for the love of Merlin’s beard, rename the damn thing!” Ginny cried out, almost knocking her own instrument straight into the tiled floor. She ran a hand through her hair, her free hand holding the bass hard enough to make her knuckles pure white.

“I mean, come on! Name it something classic like ‘Bertha’ or ‘Jasmine’, or, and here’s my personal favorite, don’t name it at all!” Fred waved his hands while he spoke, counting the names on his fingers before doing jazz hands at ‘don’t name it at all’.

“Fred, that’s hypocritical. You named your mic.” George spoke up, pulling two white marble drumsticks from his jeans pockets and began to spin one between his fingers. 

“That was a joke.” Fred stuck his tongue out at his twin. “At least I don’t do it seriously. And leave Echo out of this.” Fred ripped the non spinning drumstick from George’s hand, holding it out of his twins reach.

“Shut up and give me Crystal back!”

“No, if you wanna talk about terrible names, we can talk about the band's name! Merlin, Fred, were you sky high when you made it?” Ron shot back, his arms crossing over his chest, one still holding the guitar.

Knowing this kind of fight could go for a good while, you slipped past him, patting Ron on the shoulder while you walked past while a pained gasp rented the silence that flooded the hall. You set your backpack on the white table, opening the zipper and pulling out your laptop. You sat down, pulling the laptop onto your lap before opening the notepad application.

“I made the name! And dammit, I think it was clever! It even has a unique backstory! At our school, we had a um- small business and it was quite successful. By ‘we’, I mean George and I and by successful, I mean we run an online joke shop. I thought it fit the shop pretty well.” Fred held a look of pride- a smirk was, once again, drawn across his lips as his eyes twinkled.

“Mate, it’s horrible.” Ginny spoke up, not even bothering to throw the truth as a curve-ball causing two of her older brothers to nod in agreement. She copied Fred’s movement by yanking the drumstick from his hand, but handed it to George, smiling at him. 

“Why couldn’t it have been something cool? You named your shop something cool. Why’d you give the band something’ shitty?” Ron rolled his eyes, leaning his back against the door, the guitar balancing on his sneakers and leaning against his ripped jean covered legs. His attention didn’t stay with his siblings for long. Soon it was shifting over to you, like he was naturally drawn toward you. He grinned at you, sticking his tongue out. The little gold ball stamped into the middle of his tongue had your full attention.

You swallowed thickly. The ball and his guitar strings were the exact same color and reflected the same light. You felt butterflies fill your stomach from the simple action and noticed, almost suddenly, the ginger was actually quite attractive and funny. You sucked on your tongue, hoping the blush across your cheeks didn’t give too much away. Ron looked back at his brothers, his side grin screaming he basically saw your body temperature rise.

“I was led to believe you all loved the name, but no! I’m starting to think you guys are just trying to embarrass me in front of the (Y/n), but since you think it’s so easy, come up with a new one.” Fred cried out, crossing his arms over the printed long sleeve t-shirt, and was pouting like a child now, sinking lower into the couch.

“It makes us sound like a cheesy boy-band going after 12 year olds.” Ginny scoffed, propping her bass up against the couch. She looked over at her slightly older brother, nodding her head in Fred’s direction.

“It does. We could’ve been Fire Wicks.” Ron pointed at Ginny and the teaming up began. “Or like Solar Skips.”

“Or The Red Bloods.” Gin nodded, pointing back at Ron while her other hand pulled out her phone. The game was ‘Who-Cares-If-It’s-Bad-Let’s-Prove-Fred-Wrong’ and you could tell it was for shits and giggles. You were going to pitch in an idea, but someone beat you to it.

“Or FireBolt Bitters.” Spoke up George, who was now gazing up at the ceiling, shaking his head in mock shame, but you could see the edges of his smile growing at the corners.

“Ooh, I love that one!” Ron leaned over, stretching his arm as far as it could to give  George a high five, before turning to look at you. He grinned at your confused expression. “Are you writing these down?” He pointed at your computer before giving you a wink. The butterflies came back, doubled in strength, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You shook your head no, laughing louder when he waved his hands in a panicked manner. “Write them down, mate!”

You rolled your eyes, typing random shit down just to please the younger one. Your eyes trailed across the dumplings, noting three quarters of them were smiling. Fred’s crabby expression made it was clear he didn’t get picked on very often.

“Charlie texted saying ‘The Copper Horntails’ would’ve been better.” Ginny said, looking up from her phone. She dropped the phone onto her lap, wincing a tad when the device collided with the instrument on her lap. She quickly forgot the pain and leaned back, enjoying her brother's pain.

“You asked Charlie?!” Fred squealed loudly, his hands holding his head. Right beside Fred, George had begun to tap his sticks together, improvising a beat to go with the arguing.

“You know what? That’s a great idea! Let’s ask Percy next-” yelled Ron over Ginny’s laughter and Fred’s agonizing scream. His smirk only grew when Fred tossed his head back. 

“Ok, damn! I get it! But I already made t-shirts so deal with it.”

“Fred, we have magic. We can always change the print.” George piped up, tapping the white wooden sticks against his thighs in some random pattern, his head nodding to a beat. He shrugged his shoulders, not focusing on his words all that much,

“George!” This time it was Fred’s turn to smack George in his chest. He glared at him before leaning over to whisper in his twin's ear. It was something you couldn’t make out, but you figured they were debating over your status. You rolled your eyes, reaching behind you.

With a clear of your throat, you gained their attention before pulling out your wand from your backpack. While waving it, you locked eyes with Ron, playfully chewing on your lip to try to hide your smile.

“But-” Fred scrambled to grab his phone. You knew he was going to pull up one of your profiles to show none of them mentioned magic or wizarding or anything.

“The quidditch stickers were a dead give away.” You pointed to Ron’s guitar with the tip of your wand before putting it back in your bag. “That, and the tiny blue car that somehow carried four band members, and all of their equipment even though, that should’ve been impossible. I do enjoy Firebolt Bitters, though.”

Your own smile grew when the siblings broke out into loud snorts and sniggers, save for Fred’s. Ron walked over to you, and you were sure his cheeks were hurting from how hard he was smiling. He laid his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he faced his band members.

“I like this one.”

A smile stretches across your face as your cheeks get warmer. Out of everything to come out of today, this was something even the strongest and most willed seer’s couldn’t have predicted. It wasn’t even half past noon and you’d already started to develop a crush on a punk guitarist who shares a band with his siblings. You were clueless on how you were going to do your managing and keep it strictly platonic when he grinned at you like you were everything he wanted.

#Ron Weasley #ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley imagine #hp x male reader #x male reader #male reader #ron weasley smut #hp imagine #hp fic #punk!ron weasley

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (06)

word count; 11,884

summary; after a startling experience, you seek and receive comfort from the last person you would’ve expected to turn to.

notes; I will literally be taking the stairs for the rest of my life.

warnings; reference to injury, reference to panic attacks.

Placing your foot up on the dashboard, your body swerved to the side as Newt flung around a corner, and you cursed loudly, turning to look at him as you held onto the laces of your shoes. “You know, for an ambulance driver, you drive like you’re trying to kill me.”

“I would never.” He gasped falsely, and you continued trying to tie up your laces, before swapping over to the other foot, and doing that one too. “I promise, I would never hurt you.”

The tone in his voice made you groan, rolling your eyes at the snickering boy beside you as he chuckled away to himself, and you reached out to flick at him roughly on his side. He yelped, swerving a little as he drove, before he was chastising you for your behaviour and following the bright red fire trucks ahead of you.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re seriously going to keep pretending like something wasn’t happening there?”

“I’m not pretending, because nothing was happening!” You huffed your words out a little, placing your foot back onto the ground of the van and adjusting yourself in the seat. The inner city was beginning to grow around you, shorter buildings that formed houses growing in size and stature, towering over you now in a concrete jungle as you approached the large city building you’d been called to.

“I know my best friend, okay? And I like to think that I’m getting to know you, too.” His words held a slightly teasing air to them, woven into his tone subtly, and you sighed at him.

“You’ve been saying this for a week now, but nothing happened!” He shot you a look, taking his eyes off of the road for only a second, but one of his brows was raised, and there was a smirk on his face that made your head fall back into your seat, and you realised you were fighting a losing battle. “We were talking about the argument, and agreeing to start over, without bitching at one another, I thought you’d be happy about it!”

“So, where did holding hands factor into that equation?”

“We weren’t holding hands! We were shaking hands!” A laugh left him, disbelieving and unconvinced and he began to slow down, pulling up in front of a very professional looking building, a large logo printed across the glass of the lower few floors, all of which were blacked out and reflected the light of the sun brightly. “It was just some stupid thing we did. Like, reintroducing ourselves, or whatever. Starting again.”

“And you just happened to be backed up into the kitchen counter, huh? I have a pair of eyes in my damn head, love, I saw those longing glances and the whispered conversation, and the holding of hands between you both.” He scoffed, pulling the truck up into park, and turning to look at you for only a second, speaking his next words before hopping out of the van; “Shaking hands, my arse.”

Hopping down front heaven yourself, Newt grabbed his go-bag, swinging it onto his shoulders and so you left yours where it was, simply grabbing your jacket and pulling it up your shoulders as it got a little cooler. Taking place beside him on the pavement, you nudged Newt with your elbow, before crossing your arms. “The only things you were seeing is what you’ve made up inside your head.”

He hummed under his breath, seeming to accept the statement for now, and you watched as the teams both began to unload from the fire trucks. They grouped on the pavements, staring up at the building, not bothering with any equipment except for their coats themselves, names printed across the bottoms as you all stared up at the height of the skyscraper.

The call had stated a broken elevator shaft, three people trapped inside, and in need of rescue, and so you and Newt weren’t facing much of a task. It was simply a challenge to the teams, you and Newt would patch up a few cuts on bumped heads and be there to check for concussions, but you didn’t face much of a task.

Glancing over the group, you caught honey-brown eyes, offering the man a smile in return when his lips flicked up at the sides for you, his head tipping as he offered you a soft nod of acknowledgement. The stare lingering for only a moment longer, before he was turning to check over his team, and you turned back to your partner. Newt was already staring at you, a single brow arched and a smirk on his face. “Oh, yeah, I’m totally seeing things.”

“It was just a smile. Will you drop it? We’re friends.” You scoffed, and he shook his head but let it go for now, and you set off to follow the firemen as they headed into the building. Following them inside, there was already a  group of people beginning to gather, the elevator doors being pried open and pinned that way with a chair, the purpose of which, you weren’t exactly sure, because if the elevator was on the ground floor, it wasn’t exactly an emergency, and you really hoped nobody was stupid enough to stick their head inside and take a look.

As you approached, a man came forwards, an older gentleman with a receding hairline that was shining with a layer of sweat, stress you presumed, and you made a mental note to check over him as his hand trembled while he came forwards, a hand pressed over his heart, and Newt shuffled beside you, tugging his bag a little further up on his shoulder.

“Oh, God, I’m so glad you’re here.” He sighed, voice more like a wheeze, and you winced, taking another scan around the crowd and relaxing just how angry they all looked, minorly put out of their way as they were forced to take the stairs or be turned away, and there was an angry group of less formally dressed citizens around the reception desk, the phone to the room echoing front he marble floors and glass walls, and you realised they must all be being turned away for appointments.

The elevator on the other side of the lobby seemed to be working perfectly, the sign above signalling for staff only, and there was a scanner beside the door, flashing from red to green as you watched a woman in a smart pencil skirt and matching blazer swipe her ID across it, before stepping inside.

“The elevator itself is stuck at the twelfth floor.”

“It’s not a problem, we can just pry the door open and bring everyone out.” Thomas shrugged, and the man let out a sigh, shaking his head a little, and wiping a hand over his forehead, and you glanced over at your partner, your brow raising a little as you subtly dipped your head towards the panicked man who’d greeted you all, and he nodded in response, agreeing that he could do with taking a quick time out to catch his breath and take his heart rate back down. “That’s the problem, you can’t get at the elevator from the twelfth floor.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“This is a block of private offices. Only certain floors are open to the public, you have to have an ID for the elevator to get to the others, that elevator only stops and opens at certain floors.” He looked like he might collapse at any moment, and you wandered away from the group, searching for a chair around the room, and finding a row of neatly set, leather-lined seats on the opposite wall, a coffee table with magazines stacked on in a makeshift waiting room, and you picked one up.

As you made your way back over, to him, placing the chair down behind him, the firefighters were grouped up, and Newt was knelt on one knee before the man, checking over him carefully, with two fingers recessed over his wrist and the other two to his neck.

“What’s happening?”

The blond looked up at you, a frown on his lips, and he rolled them together, considering his words carefully, and glancing at the manager who was practising deep breaths and counting along upon your partner’s instructions to bring his heart rate back down. “The elevator is trapped on the twelfth floor, but the closest entrance to it is the twenty-fifth?”

“Did you just say the twenty-fifth floor?” A strike of cold fear ran through you, the math being done in your mind within an instance, and you swallowed thickly. “How far did it drop from?”

“It got stuck around about the fifteenth floor and dropped about three floors, not too bad, coulda’ been worse. The brakes kicked in, but they’re not holding up so good.” Newt stood to his feet, brushing dust from his knees, and tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The firemen you worked with were already beginning to separate into groups, and Thomas was twirling an ID card in his hand anxiously,  a hand rubbing over his jaw as he continued to divide up the squad team, Gally already having headed back outside to start finding equipment.  “We should head outside, we probably want to grab some emergency stuff, a board, maybe, the stretcher for sure. Three neck braces, and a monitor.”

“We can call it in while we’re out there, just in case they need to head over to Med.”

“Okay.” You rubbed a hand over your forehead, your mind spinning a little as you hung on the situation, and you let out a sigh, shaking your mind clear and nodding. “Yeah. You’re right. Boards, stretcher, all that, let’s go.”

His eyes narrowed on you for a second, before you were following after him, trailing back out to the ambulance, and you were biting on your lower lip until it was raw once again, finding yourself getting lost in a spiral of your own thoughts once again.

Gally passed you by, a lazy wink to tease you with as he held up the ropes slung over his shoulder, and your stomach churned a little as you looked at it, knowing that he was trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t help at all. Newt opened the back of the van, the ramp folding down and clanging against the road as he unclipped the bolts on the wheels, rolling the stretcher down towards you for you to receive, and you positioned it in front of you, turning it longways and beginning to undo the straps that held the cushioned padding down, to be able to thread on the blackboard for security too.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?”

You turned to look at your partner, realising you’d drifted again, grabbing onto the solid yellow plastic board he was holding to you, balancing it on the stretcher to create a table to place everything else on top of. “Nothing, just a bit apprehensive, I suppose.”

“For what?”

You pulled a face at him, moving to grab your own go-bag and pull it up your shoulders, making sure it was comfortably settled onto both arms this time, and beginning to unload equipment with him as you forced your mind to be occupied. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the abseiling down into the abyss of an elevator shaft that’s freaking me out.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to do it then, huh?” You paused, turning to look up at him, confusion evident on his features, and he hopped down onto the tarmac before you, hair flopping into his face for a second, before he was blowing it away, and reaching for the ramp once again. “It’s my turn, right? You took the plunge last time, so it’s only fair I go this time.”

His tone was light, making a joke out of the situation you were both looking at, but the truth was resting strong between you in a thick layer of tension as he locked up the van, hands locking on either side of the head at the top of the stretcher, ready to push it along, and waiting for you to take the feet, but you placed a hand on his forearm gently, bringing his attention back to yours. His gaze was curious, sparkling a little as he stared at you, before the gaze was softening, flickering between remorse and pity, before finally settling on acceptance.

“It’s my turn.”

He whispered the words, and you shook your head a little, your gaze flicking down, the toes of his shoes touching against yours as he turned to face you a little more, and his shoulders slumped as he looked back up. “We both know I’m the one going down there.”

“It’s not fair, it shouldn’t have to be you. My physiotherapist cleared me; I can do it.” He sighed, flexing the knee of his injured leg subconsciously, and you chuckled a little, squeezing his arm softly.

“Just because you can do it, doesn't mean you should have to. I know that it makes your leg ache when you hold heavyweights for too long, and just because you can take the pain, you shouldn't have to. I wouldn't be a very good partner, if I let you do that, would I?”

He sighed, staring at you for a moment longer, before the edges of his lips were flicking up in a smile, and he gave in, something like disappointment making itself known on his face as he tried to hide it. “You know I love you, right?”

“You’ve known me for, like, four months.”

“Ouch, the harsh sting of rejection.” He gasped, holding a hand over his heart as he faked a wound, before stepping forwards and knocking the trolley into action, prompting you to take the foot of it and guide the way. You stepped ahead of him, a hand finding the cool metal and beginning to lift it up and over the curb to the sidewalk, heading back inside of the building. There was an ache on the inside of your cheek, your teeth biting down to contain your smile, the affection shown to you by your coworker making you heart race a little, and you glanced back at him over your shoulder.

You didn’t have to say it back, you hoped it was evident simply in the actions you took, the texts you shared and the jokes that were given in hushed laughter between you both, that you did love him too. You weren’t ready to say that to anyone yet, even if it was just a friend.

Jeff was holding the door open for you both in the staff elevator, helping you to gather everything inside, and as soon as the door clicked shut, you swallowed thickly, the numbers on the panel above the door beginning to click up. It felt wrong, to be riding in a contraption that on the other side of the building was broken, and endangering the lives of three people. Your fingers messed nervously with the straps of your backpack, listening to the men behind you shuffle as they sorted through the belongings on the stretcher, and as the box dinged and the doors laid open, you were walking through them and onto solid flooring one again, a somewhat relieved breath slipping from you.

Glancing around the scene, it had all already been commandeered, and you barely had time to process it all over the noise that was being made by the bustling teams. Gally was anchoring weights into the ground, the marble flooring cracking a little as the metal was drilled into place, before he was pushing his feet against it to test the weight, and ropes were being threaded around the beams of the upper ceiling. It was impressive, it truly was, but none of it was making you feel any better.

A collection of harnesses was laid out on the floor, an even more complex pair abandoned on the floor by the doors that were being held open by a thick rod of metal, denting from the clams wrapped around them, and you sighed, nails digging into your palms from the fists you were holding just to contain the shaking of your hands.

Staring down at the straps and bondings on the floor, you were completely lost, nudging it a little with the toe of your sneakers as you took it all in, and a deep chuckle sounded in your ear, making you jump, before you were watching a familiar head of dark brown hair dip down, picking up one of the harnesses, and picking it up, showing it to you.

“You’re gonna’ want to lose the backpack, for now, we’re wearing full-body harnesses.”

It made more sense, there hadn't been nearly this many clips and straps on the one you'd worn last time, and you let your bag slide down your arms clattering on the floor loudly. Picking it up and mimicking the way the lieutenant before you was holding it, he crouched won, spreading it out on the ground before himself, waiting for you to mimic the actions, and it began to look less like a pile of fabric scars and more like something slightly reassuring the more you adjusted it.

Four circles became evident, adjustable straps on them, and a belt that would clip around your waist with a set of match straps that would all connect elsewhere over your body. He stepped into the first two, and you took a deep breath, every action taking you closer into literally throwing yourself down into an elevator shaft with nothing but a rope to keep you alive.

Matching him, you placed your feet inside of the circles, before reaching down to the ground behind yourself to find the other two circles, holding onto them tightly and beginning to inch the contraception up your body The gem of your trousers caught for a second, and you shook your leg, adjusting it all back down comfortably, before you were hooking your first arm through the strap, the band on your right coming up to sit on your shoulder, and the buttons of your shirt were catching on the fabric, stiff and uncomfortable work shirt, and you cursed a little under your breath at the restriction of movement that ti wall offered you.

Dropping the edge of the harness, it hung loosely at your waist, and you were thankful that you’d chosen to wear more than just a tank top under your shirt today, the chill in your apartment having promoted a long sleeve shirt, and you undid the buttons on your uniform shirt, dropping the crisp material to the ground, and trying again to adjust the harness on your arms.

Once it was on both, it was hanging limply on your body, unadjusted and unfastened, but the thick strap of material running up your back and pressed between your shoulder blades did feel strong, and make you feel a little more secure, and you tried to let your worries go, watching Thomas’ fingers fly smoothly over his front as he did up all of the clips and straps, no struggle as he was trained to do the equipment up, and you lifted each side of the belt, clipping it over your stomach, and struggling to tug the loose material through to tighten it around your waist to hold tight and secure.

“Struggling a little, there?”

“Just a bit.” You mumbled, and he grinned, lifting a hand up to take a hold of the straps on your shoulders, adjusting it better on your arms to sit comfortably and not dig into you, yet holding snugly to your skin as he fastened it all up, fingers flying over the bolts to tighten them. Hands smoothed down over your sides, checking each point of weakness, and your breath hitched a little in your throat as he did, before the backs of his fingers were smoothing over your hips, downs the fronts of your thighs, and he took a hold of each strap, the final material sitting loosely.

Gripping one in each hand, he tugged harshly, your body jerking forwards a little closer to him, a gasp as you did, before the material was tight along your thighs, and he smirked a little, eyes finding yours as his gaze trailed along the harness to make sure it was all done up correctly. “Tight enough?”

“Mhm..” You swallowed thickly, head nodding on a second’s delay, and he grinned, taking a step away from you as he reached away for the first rope. Looping or through both of the hooks on the front of your body, sealed over your ribs as he brought it all together, hooking it into the carabiner and screwing the clip up tightly. Giving it a test tug for security, you huffed a little as your body was jerked forwards towards him again, and you glared up at him weakly as he simply grinned in response to you tripping over your feet, a cheeky look on his features. “You did that on purpose.”

“What can I say? You’re just falling for me already.”

“I think I want to go back to hating you.” You grouched, and he laughed a little, doing up his own ropes, and firemen around you were putting their kit on. You knew he was distracting you, and you appreciated it, but as he pulled on a piece of headgear and adjusted the torch on top, it only made it all a little more real. Nearing the edge of the elevator shaft, you peered inside, unable to even see the box that had fallen, it was so far down, and you let out a shaky breath. “I’m not feeling so good about this whole height thing.”

“You’ve already down this once, you’ve got it this time, too.”

It was supposed to be reassuring, and you felt him come up to stand beside you, but you only scoffed, shaking your head. “Thomas, that was, like, fifteen feet down. This is more like one hundred feet.”

“It’s one hundred and thirty, actually.” You turned to look at him, a grimace passing over his features as pale skin over his cheeks turned a little pink, and he shook his head at himself. “I don’t know why I said that, it didn’t help, at all.

“No, it didn’t.”

“I admire you, though.” He turns you around, the two of you standing only a couple of metres away from the gap, backs to the gap as you watched the team finally be prepared, and while you knew only a few minutes had passed in this whole amount of time, with your stress, it somehow managed to feel like both seconds and hours all in one. “I know you’re scared, and you’re doing this for Newt to save him the pain. I think that’s really brave.”

“I suppose so..” Your words were whispered, and he nodded his head, adjusting your hands on the rope attached to your waist as it no longer lay slack on the ground. Brenda was anchored to the ground before you, holding onto your rope as she wore her own harness, feet pressing to the metal on the ground as she took a seat. Behind her was Gally the two offering you and Thomas a nod, and Minho and Fry took up place on his side, the signal telling you that it was time to go. You grabbed your bag, lifting it onto your shoulder as Thomas pulled on his backpack, and with that, you were holding the breath your lungs as nerves took over.

“They won’t let anything happen to you, alright?” Your attention was drawn back to Thomas, and as you looked up at him, he offered a smile. “Just keep your eyes on me, alright? We’re just going to walk backwards slowly, keep your eyes on me, and as we go over the edge, keep your feet on the ground.”

You nodded your head, nothing but honesty and compassion in his eyes as he made you a silent promise to keep you safe, and your hand twitched a little as you felt fingers smooth over your palm. His hand took yours, squeezing tightly as his fingers wrapped over the back of your hand, and you held onto him tightly, before following his guidance, and taking a step back.

You did as told, keeping your eyes locked with his, slow and cautious steps, and your breathing only picked up in rent as the feeling dragging your body down changed.

Your feet were teetering on the precipice of the shaft, wobbling a little, and you snapped back to look at Brenda, everything suddenly feeling unsafe again, and you froze up. “Hey, hey, c’mon! Look at me, eyes on me, remember?”

You choked up, feeling the squeezing around our hand, and you looked down, fingers wrapped warmly around your hand, and you wondered if he could feel how hard your blood was pumping through your veins and how fast your heart was racing right now. Looking back up to him, honey-coloured eyes were fixed on you, and he squeezed again, nodding his head.

“Just look at me, okay? You’ve got this.”

His brows raised a little, and you force yourself to take a breath, following after him and lifting one foot, placing it at an unusual angle as your leg bent, foot pressing flat to the wall on the inside of the elevator shaft, and as your other followed, you let out a soft sound, something between fear and relief at taking the first step.

“You’re doing so good.” His words were whispered, a few more steps being taken as you began to inch your way down into the darkness, slowly gaining a pace as you began to gain confidence in your movements.

The further down you got, the darker it got, surrounding you as you began to lose your vision. Slowly, it all faded away, until you could barely even see the rope in front of your face, and you couldn't hold the gaze of the man beside you anymore, the darkness shrouded around you. The elevator shaft above you that was the only thing that now connected you to everyone else was simply a sliver of light, and the temperature had dropped rapidly within the cold metal tunnel, making you shiver a little as only your undershirt remained on your body.

The hand wrapped around yours loosened, and you held on for a second, before he was tugging it back, your movements coming to a halt for a second as you hesitated, before releasing him, and your hands fumbled to find the rope in front of your body, wobbling a little bit as you searched for something else to hold onto, your breath hitching in your throat as your food scraped a little against the wall, and you fell forward.

Catching yourself against the wall before you smashed into it too solidly, you grunted, a slight spark of pain running along your wrist, and you winced as bright light filled your vision, Thomas messing with the head torch on his forehead, lighting up the small bubble of air around the two of you.

“Whoa, whoa, relax. It’s alright, just needed some light.” The radio on his shoulder crackled, checking whether he was okay as the two ropes stopped lowering you both down, and he looked below himself, the metal of the elevator reflecting back to you, only thirty feet or so from you now, and he looked back up, raising his brows. “Look how close we are, you’ve come so far, look at that.”

You swallowed thickly, not daring to look down, shaking your head adamantly as you hung in the air, gripping onto the rope, lips pursed and blood running cold. The radio crackled again, and he lifted his hand, pressing the button on the side to continue lowering you down slowly, and you opened your mouth to protest, fear washing over your once again as the ropes jerked, but you were being shushed slowly.

“Do you remember what you said to me the day you ran into that burning building?”

“Not really. I remember a lot of yelling, that's about it.” You mumbled, a tremor in your voice, and Thomas chuckled, his hands finding your ankles and lifting them up, placing your feet flat against the wall, and forcing you to take the proper stance once again.

“Well, I remember. I was yelling at you, being scary, and you told me that we saved a life. You didn't take any of my shit, and then you called me out on it all, but you made me look past our actions to the life we saved. Sometimes I forget to do that, and you made me realise.” You huffed, the joke he’d slipped in there making you roll your eyes, and you took a step with one foot, regaining your momentum again as one of his hands smoothed over your clasped palms, holding onto your hands tightly as he used one on his own rope. “We’re going to go and save some lives, you’re going to save some lives, and I’m just here to help you. You need to be brave for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, the sparkle in his eyes coming back as you dared to look up at him, catching his gaze in the brought light for only a second, before he was nodding his head. “When we get down there, it’s going to be a little scary again, alright? I need you to stand on the top of the box while I open the hatch, and I’ll go down first. I’ll help you inside, but the rope is going to go slack, because they’re going to give you enough space to move around. You think you can handle that?”

“I can do it. I’ll be okay.” You took a deep breath, not quite having faith in yourself yet, but forcing your heart rate to calm down with every deep breath to steady your nerves, before you were finally beginning to trust yourself. The elevator became clearer, the staining on the wall of an old set of numbers, a faded ‘12’ on the wall, before you were stretching your legs out underneath yourself and finding the metal of the elevator to land on.

Just as Thomas promised, he gave your hands a final squeeze, before he was stepping back and tugging on the rope to let them know that you’d both landed. Just like that, the pressure of the pull holding you up went slack, extra rope pooling around your feet, and it only looked to be around ten foot worth of material.

“Not a lot to work with.”

He glanced up, looking at the rope that had gone spare as you were suddenly dependent on your own two feet without support, and he indeed his head. “Ropes are one hundred and fifty feet, but they need at least ten foot of rope to work with up there, and we’re close to a hundred and fifty feet down.”

You shuddered a little, that fact along bringing panic surging back, and your arms wrapped around yourself. The torchlight was overwhelmed by the flickering light on the inside of the elevator when the hatch came loose, the panicked crying of a young girl and the shushing from her mother sounding out, before Thomas was switching off his headlight.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s alright. We’re going to get you out of here, okay?” You watched, the ay her face peeled back form recessed into her mother’s shoulder, tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, but the badge on Thomas’ uniform and the smile on his face made her trust him, the soft nod she gave him being enough to get them to step back towards the edges as he lowered his feet inside.

The cage shook as he landed, a sharp intake of breath that made your head spin as you panicked for just a second, before Thomas was calling out to you, and you were taking tentative steps over to the edge of the hatch. The lieutenant was staring up at you, nodding his head, and reaching up to tap at the edge of the hatch.

“Legs first, I’ve got you, just drop down.”

Choking down the lump in your throat, you tried to blink away the thin line of tears you held, knowing you needed to be brave for the people on the inside of the elevator. This was your job, you were saving lives, you were inspiring a young girl, and you were damn well going to be proud of yourself for it.

Taking a seat carefully, your legs swung over the edge, shuffling a little until your hands were pressed to the opposite side, and his hands were wrapping gently around your calves, stopping your legs from the swinging motions they’d been taking. You focused on that, on the touch of his fingertips into your muscle instead, the way he was holding onto you tightly, reassurance, instead of the way you were risking dropping down into a metal deathtrap over a hundred feet down from where you were being held up by just two people and a metal anchor.

Inching forwards again, you lowered yourself over as the metal under yourself slipped away, those same hands smoothing a little further up your body, until you were lowering yourself down by your upper arms. Smoothing over your hips, his hands found your waist, burning hot through the thin material of your shirt, and lowering you down until your feet found the ground, a small sigh slipping from you as you took a minute to control your fears.

“I told you, I got you.”

Your eyes cracked open, looking up to find honey-brown eyes fixed on you, and you offered him a small smile, taking a deep and calming breath, before turning to face the family before you, and his touch fell away. “Okay, let's get you all checked out, huh?”

The little girl nodded, and you peeled your backpack from your arms, placing it down and crouching beside it to open it up, watching as the child, who couldn't be any older than ten sank to her knees before you. As she did, the front of the mother was relieved to you, large and swollen, a pregnancy that was early third trimester or late second, and your actions paused as you tried to assess the next course of action.

Thomas had brought spare harnesses, and yet there were no spare ropes, you could hear him behind you as he worked, setting up the next set to be equipped, but there was no way that you would be able to carry a woman that far along in a tandem harness without posing a risk to the child. Turning back to look at him as you snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, his brows raised at you, pausing what he was doing for a second to look over, and his jaw dropped a little, the anticipated addition clearly bringing his mind to a short-circuited halt.

Your focus went back to the young girl, the mother now with a hand resting over her stomach, and the father was sitting in the corner, popped up against the wall, eyes a little half-lidded and a cut on his forehead, but he was lucid, and so you knew he’d be alright to wait until his family was checked out.

“Okay, this light is going to be a little bright okay, I just need you to follow it with your eyes for me, can you do that?” She nodded, and you put on the best smile that you could, before clicking the light on the end of the torch and lifting it up. Dragging it slowly from left to right across her vision, you monitored the speed at which her pupils flexed, and how capable she was of tracking the source. Returning it the other way, you watched for the same signs. Up, and down, she was alright, and you ran your fingers gently over her head for signs of bleeding or bruising, feeling under her hair for swelling. “You’re doing so good! You’re even braver than I am!”

“I cried a lot, I’m not brave.”

She sighed sadly, her mother reaching out to place a comforting hand on her head and brush her hair out of her face gently, and you leaned in a little closer, offering her a smile. “That’s okay, I wanted to cry on the way down here, too. But, you see the firefighter behind me?” She glanced over your shoulder, her eyes flicking over him for a second, before she nodded. “He’s great at this, he’s the bravest, and he’s going to get you back up to the top, okay? He’ll help you put a harness on, and then you’re going to do some climbing, think you can do that?”

She hesitated, before a look of determination was passing over her face, and she stood on weak and unsteady legs, before rounding to him. His voice faded into the background, deep and soothing as he began to get the young girl roped up, and she would undoubtedly be fastened to his chest, so that he could climb back up with her, brushing your knees off a little as you stood to talk to the mother.

“How are you feeling? Any unusual headaches, blurred vision, whiplash?” She shook her head whispering her ‘no’ on a hoarse through, and you felt awful for what she’d had to endure today, the rhythmic pattern of her hand rubbing circles over her stomach, soothing you both, and she traced the flashlight with her eyes just as commanded, and there was no delayed reaction in her responses either, all showing up with a good sign. “How about the baby, anything you want to ask?”

“No, I know my little one is alright.” She cracked a smile now, and you raised a brow at her, the hand on her stomach leaving her bump to take your wrist, pushing her cardigan out of the way until just a cotton t-shirt was covering her, and she placed your palm flat over her skin. You waited for a second, before a sharp jolt pressed to your palm, and she winced a little, the hard kick from within making you chuckle. “He’s doing just fine. If anything, he’s mad he didn’t get his lunch yet, we had reservations that we’ve missed.”

“Well, you’ve got a little fighter in there, huh?”

“You can say that again.” She teased, wrapping herself back up warmly, and you did a quick scan over what of her you could see.

“My boy is going to be a football star with energy like that.” The father grinned, wheezing a little on his words as he pushed himself up to sit a little straighter, and your attention turned to him. Before you could move onto him, though, a hand was wrapping around your forearm, tugging you back slightly, and you turned to face Thomas. He pulled you aside, to the edge of the elevator, as much privacy as you were going to get, but his back was to the family, leaning down low, and voice barely a whisper;

“We’re not going to be able to get her in a harness. You’re going to have to climb back up on your own with the mother and the girl, and come back to me with the harnesses.”

It was a reasonable decision, but the longer you waited, the more at risk of a concussion the father was growing to, the cut on his had needing attending to as blood beaded along his hairline and dripped in a single steady path along his skin, a red trail left in its wake before it was sliding down his neck and into the fabric of his shirt, his head leaning a little to the side.

“No, I think you have to be the one to go.”

He shook his head, a frown taking over his lips. “No, no, absolutely not. I can’t leave you down here witho-” Your hand found his wrist, wrapping around it delicately and squeezing a little, bringing him to silence as he glanced down, before his eyes were searching through yours as he tried to understand. “You’re terrified, though.”

“I know, but I’m saving lives, remember?” The edges of his lips flicked up a little, a sigh through his nose as his jaw clenched, before he was looking over his shoulder to the father as you nodded your head a little. “He needs medical attention, and you need to take the girl and the mother back up. I’ll wait right here, and you just get back to me as soon as you can.”

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine, I swear.” He didn’t look convinced, watching as your hands went to the straps of your harness, beginning to undo them as you looked down, trying to work them all out. He sighed, his own hands moving to begin undoing the clips and seals quickly, helping you to loosen the safety equipment, until it could drop down your arms and pool at the floor. Stepping out of it, you gave a final squeeze to his arm, nodding your head. “I got this.”

“I know you do, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

You grinned a little, stepping away from him, and the mother looked between you both, worry in her eyes, and you let Thomas do the explaining once again, as he loosened all of the straps and adjusted the harness to be able to take her weight securely without harming the baby she was growing.

As soon as she was fastened into it, he was pulling on her rope, fastening his hands and crouching down to be able to give her a boost, lifting her up to be able to climb out from the hatch and onto the roof of the elevator. Her footsteps were loud and clanging for a moment, before they were gone, and she was clearly on her way of climbing up back to safety, taking your only escape route with her, and you felt like you were going to suffocate on your fears.

Thomas’ gaze caught yours, worried and unsure, his jaw dropping, but there was nothing he could say, knowing that this was the best way to go about it, and instead, he dropped his head in a single nod.

“I’ll be back for you real soon, alright?”

You gave him the most convincing smile you could muster, before he was telling the little girl to jump up, lifting her until she could sit on the edge of the box, and he followed as soon as she was clear, her legs out of the way. As he jumped, the box creaked a little, the force of his movements making it shake, and your eyes went wide, body tensing up, fear once again surging through your system, before Thomas was disappearing too.

The pair lingered for an extra few moments, and you knew that he was making sure the girl was properly attached to him, all secures done up tightly, before their footsteps faded too, and you were left alone, nobody to catch you this time.

Taking a seat on the floor beside the father, his eyes studied you for a tense moment, before he was offering you a supportive smile. “Don’t worry, kiddo, I’m just as scared as you are.”

You offered him the most reassuring look you could, trying to use it for your own relaxation too, and you started by running your hand gently along the back of his neck, a hiss leaving his lips as you did, and you paused all movements.

“Sorry, your hands are cold.”

“You’re lethal, do you know that?” You mumbled, lips quirking up at the sides, and you shook your head, your fingers twitching against his neck as you got back to work, and he let out a weak chuckle. “No more noises like that unless you’re in pain, or you know something wrong, alright?”

He closed his eyes, head barely moving in a nod, but it was enough to secure his confirmation, and you began the movement of your fingers along his neck once again. He didn’t make those sounds, keeping his promise, but he did wince and pull the occasional faces as you moved, the swelling frowning around the tissue and the tense feeling under the tips of your fingers being slightly concerning, but not enough to be an immediate concern. When you were finished, you placed a palm on the back of his neck, cupping carefully and lifting your thumb to press into the back of his head.

Pulling his head forwards, you placed the softly cushioned support of the neck brace behind his head, the plastic holding strong as you lay his head back into it and as you released him, finding it holding secure, you brought the front around carefully. The straps hung loose, and you adjusted it under his chin, holding his head up at the correct angle, and just like it always did with patients, a small sigh of relief left him he was no longer tasked with holding up the weight of his own head.

Placing it over his shoulders, you tightened the straps, fastening them correctly, and letting out a little sigh as one job was checked off of your list. You moved onto testing his reactions next, and bringing up the flashlight to look into his eyes, studying him. His reactions were slower than you would have liked, his pupils dilating with a paused reaction and it was sluggish in his movements, but he was able to clearly react to the light, tracing it in all dimensions, and to read the title of the notice on the other side of the elevator clearly, no blurring present.

Lifting your gaze to the cut across his forehead, you pushed back the slightly blood-matted hair of his fringe, dirty-blonde hair going a murky red-brown at the tips, and you lifted it out of the way, tucking it back in hopes that it would stay, the strands sticking up unevenly.

Pressing around the edges, and watching the consistency and speed of the blood flow, it wasn’t too bad, slow and somewhat clotted as it tried to repair itself, darker in colour as the fresh blood under the surface began to flow the way it should, and it was simply a laceration.

“Skin wound, nothing too serious. I’ll get it cleaned up for you, won’t even need stitches. Looks way worse than it is.”

“Stings like a bitch, though.”

“Well, you’re not going to like this, then.” You warned him, holding up the small foil packet with an antiseptic wipe sealed inside of it, and tearing it open. Letting the wrapper flutter away to the floor, a loud groan left his lips, ones that tails of into a whiny noise as you wiped over his skin, his hands becoming fists by his sides, before he bit down on his tongue to try and contain the noises, lips sealing shut, and a grunt rounding it out. “I’m sorry, Mr, uh..”

“You can just call me Clint.”

“I’m sorry, Clint. It’s not all that fun, but it’s a hell of a lot worse than a skin infection, that’s for sure. You’d hate it if this thing got gross and had to be scraped clean.” He grimaced a little at the idea, and you knew the feeling. On more than one occasion, you’d been called out to a call for a person who hadn't called for an original injury, and were now at risk of collapsing, passing out and omitting and sometimes even spasming when the infection got too bad. You hated those trips, when you arrived and tried to work out what was wrong, only to find a finger on one hand completely discoloured and flowing with pus from a simple cooking accident, or a scratch from a pet that hadn't been cared for and was now oozing and bruised. “All done, now, okay?”

You cleared down along his skin, doing the best you could to wipe the dried blood away from his skin and help him to feel a little bit cleaner, and he mumbled a ‘thanks’ as you did. Putting down the wipe and searching through the small plastic box on the floor that you had open, you found the half-empty and folded tube of cream to apply to it, squeezing some onto the tip of your finger, and warming it by rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger to warm it, before smoothing the healing solution over his skin.

Just as you were screwing the top back on, you flinched, pausing for a second as you tried to listen out to see whether you’d heard correctly, and much more clearly this time, your name was bouncing from the walls of the elevator shaft.

Peeling your gloves from your hands and dropping them down to the floor in a ball, you studio up, brushing the dust staining your pants away from your knees, and moving to stand underneath the hatch in the elevator roof.

“Thomas?”

“Yep, that’s me.” You squinted as bright light flashed in your eyes, the light swinging a little from side to side as Thomas moved, but as you peered out into the darkness, you couldn't see anything except for the swinging little spot of the torch. “How’s he lookin’ in there? He going to be able to get in a harness?”

“It’s not ideal, but I think if we climb carefully, we’ll be just fine.” Your voice cracked a little with the sudden shout, but you offered the man a small smile, turning to look at him. “We’re good, right. Clint?”

“We’re great, kiddo.” He mumbled, holding up a weak hand with a thumb stuck up, and you grinned, a reassuring nod for both of you.

“Glad to hear it.” The torch disappeared from your sight once again, and you figured he was looking up, back to the elevator shaft entrance that was obscured from your view, and you twisted your head away as he looked back, the light catching your eyes again, stinging at your retinas. “You’ve both done real good today, we’re almost through with it all. I just need you to come out and grab the harness that Brenda is lowering down beside me, so you can drop it through the hatch.”

“Uh, come out as in on top of the elevator?”

“Can you handle that? I’m only two or three floors away, but if you can get yourself roped up first, it’ll save a lot of time.” It made sense, it was logical, and you didn’t want to be down here any longer than necessary, because, despite the bravery taking you over, you were still in a broken metal box that was hanging precariously at thirteen floors above where it should be, with no safety measures in operation.

“I can do it.”

He gave some kind of reply, something you didn’t catch as you stared up at the entrance of the hatch, the sighs around you becoming clearer as you began to notice the grungy grey walls that were coming into clarity as Thomas’ silhouette got closer and closer to you. Lifting your hands up, you were only a few inches shy of the roof, and pushing off of the floor, the elevator creaked a little in a way that made your stomach twist, but you gripped onto the edge, and you were able to hold on.

As you swung in the air, it wasn’t too much to handle, but your arms trembled as you tried to pull yourself up, not having enough strength to do so, and you dropped back down, the box around you rattling as you did, a grunt leaving your lips as a shock ran along your leg, a jolt of pain at landing on it awkwardly, a flash of heat following it.

“What did you just do?”

“I tried to climb out?” You shouted back, not understanding the rushed sound to his voice, before there was a loud screeching sounding out, and the ground beneath you moved by a few inches, before coming to another solid stop, your arms flying out around you in a panic.

“Don’t move, okay? Don’t move even a step!”

“I’m not! I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to at this point!” There was a shake in your voice, nausea filling you once again and your entire body was tensed painfully tight, fear taking over again. “What’s happening?”

“It shifted. The movements made it come loose, but it's alright.” He was closer, voice no longer needing to shout as much as he near you, and you could now pick out the colours on the logo of his shirt, and the outlines of his features, close enough now that you could speak without shouting. “Just stay real still, and it’s going to be just fine.”

“Okay.” You took a shaky breath, running your breathing routines in your head as you tried to calm yourself down, and you turned on your spot, slowly and carefully to face your patient. “We’re okay. We’ll be fine.”

“Yes, we will.” He sounded just as scared as you, but the fatherly-instinct within him was prompting him to calm you, even though that was what you should be doing for him, and you hummed.

What couldn't have been anything longer than a minute passed you by, before the box you were in was creaking again, a shudder running under your feet that travelled along your spine, chilling your blood instantly in your veins, and your head snapped up. “Thomas?”

“It’s moving again, I’m ri-”

The box shifted, dropping once again, and you felt bile rise in your throat as your feet left the ground for a moment, feeling the air whipping around you.

There was no sound, you couldn't even muster a scream, the entire event happening so quickly that you barely even had time to process it as the fear in your body made you feel like you were blacking out. Your grip on everything slipped away, the lights inside of the box flashing, and then, just like that, you were finding gravity once again.

You collided with the floor roughly, the side of your body aching as you hit against it, the side of your head throbbing angrily only a split second later, and your vision was spotting. It was like a weight sitting on your chest, unable to breathe, fingertips digging into the floor as you tried to support yourself, and push yourself up to sitting up. Your ears were ringing a little, your hand coming up to smack at the side of your head as you knocked yourself back to consciousness and forced your senses to realign, shaking off the dizziness to look around.

Clint had keeled over, eyes wide as he now lay on the floor, his eyes searching for yours, and a groan left you as you rolled over onto your hands and knees, gasping and spluttering for breath as your head spun, an array of different aches raising along your body, and you made your way over to him. Kneeling back and sitting on your heels, you adjusted him carefully, laying him on his back and thank your earlier self that you’d already applied a neck brace to the man, keeping him safe there, and he lay out, staring up at the dimly flickering lights.

“Thomas?” Words came out croaky, your throat sore and dry, the pain of holding in tears as you tried to be the strong one making it painful to talk, and you cleared your throat, trying again to call out to him. “Lieutenant?”

“Oh, thank fucking God. Are you okay?” There was a panicked rush to his voice, and you patted yourself down a little, running your gaze over the man before you, and licking at dry lips to stop them from cracking.

“We’re both still in one piece.” He was far away once again, the light dimmer and his voice more distant, and it only scared you more, making you feel alone, and like you were sitting on a ticking time bomb. “How far did we drop?”

“Uh..” He paused, the lights flashing around the tunnel for a moment, before it was disappearing again. “You’re somewhere between the sixth and seventh floor.”

“Okay, how long until you get to us?”

“I can’t.” The silence was thick between you, the tone in his voice conveying exactly how he felt, and it matched your own mood exactly. Helpless, scared, alone, frustrated, the list could go on, and you pressed down roughly with your nails into your palms, hands shaking as you tried to hold it together. “The ropes can’t get that far down. “Minho and Fry are going to pull me back up, Newt is on his way to the sixth floor, and so are the rest of the truck and squad team. We’re going to have to pull down the wall, okay? They’re already on their way.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Just hold on, and be brave. Can you do that? For me?” You absolutely could not, everything inside of you was rattled and terrified, and you were barely holding it together, but you didn’t want him panicking either, and so you held the trembling in your body off long enough to give him a smooth response;

“Yeah. I’ll manage. Just hurry, okay?”

There was a soft chuckle, empty and weak but it was there, and he agreed, the sound barely reaching your ears as it made its way down the dark elevator shaft. “I’m already on my way to come and get you, I promise.”

Looking back down and around you, the possessions from your bag were scattered around, and you lowered yourself down to the hands and knees, inching your way down slowly until you could reach out around yourself, scarcely crawling at all when you needed to, until you were beginning to gather up the possessions that belonged there. Packing away the kit, you sealed it all up, making sure you didn’t construct any sudden movements, and beginning to pack up your bag.

There were muffled voices on the other side of the wall, what you assumed would be loud shouts was almost a whisper through the layers of metal, concrete and scaffolding, but the cracking and splintering of drywall soon followed it, and you let out a sigh of relief. Packing away the various containers and boxes inside of your bag, you zipped it up, pushing it over to sit in the corner beside where the doors would open, and rocking back to sit with your legs folded before you, hands holding you up.

A hand felt out along the floor, a calloused palm patting the back of your hand gently, before settling over it to squeeze, and the dam inside of you broke. A sob left you, loud and freeing as the tears you’d been blinking away finally formed fully, and leaked along your cheeks in large droplets, a shake moving along your entire body as you did.

He squeezed once again, sitting with you quietly as you gasped for breath, letting out the terrifying mixture of emotions with you. He was shushing you quietly, and you wanted to laugh at how the roles had been reversed, how it as supposed to be you comforting and helping him, but you couldn't help him, breaking down with the overwhelming terror of the situation you were trapped in.

The sounds outside of the elevator were getting louder, voices becoming clearer, and you could hear the clattering made by chunks of the wall being ripped away and scattered across the tiled flooring of the executive building, but you didn’t care, because you had been keeping everything bottled up for so long that you were unable to hold it back any longer, and your body shook with the intensity of your emotions.

Your lungs were once again burning for breath, head spinning and heart racing and you took gasping intakes of air, swallowing down only to splutter and hiccup as you tried to exhale, and the man beside you never said a word, his hand rubbing soothingly over yours beside you on the floor as he tried to remain steady, much in the same way you were.

“I’m so sorry.” Your words were broken up and stuttered, and you tried to get a grip on yourself, wiping at your cheeks and hating how your eyes were stinging, throat raw, feeling like you’d swallowed a ball of fire from the burning within, and you felt like claustrophobia might be a fear you now had to add onto your list, the walls of the box seeming to get smaller and smaller.

Like some kind of blessed relief, there was banging against the doors of the elevator, a tap of a knock, and Chuck’s voice was ringing through to you loud and clear, asking if you were alright. Leaning forwards and pressing your hand to the cold metal, a chuckle of ecstatic relief was released.

“We’re okay, Chuck. You guys planning to get these doors open for us soon?”

There was no verbal response, but instead, a second later, the doors were cracking open, the slight humming of the set of spreaders as it was cracked open, a sliver of natural light piercing through from the lobby, and you caught sight of is flushed cheeks and darker brown curls, a worried face that was trying to ease you by smiling. “Soon enough for you?”

You nodded your head, before he was being pushed aside, blonde coming into view, and as the gap widened enough, you could make him out. His brows were furrowed, a guilty look on his face as he met your gaze, and you shook your head. “Don’t do that to yourself, Newt.”

You could see the cogs turning in his head, one of his hands slipping up to rest on the edge of the elevator, his head at the same height as yours when you leaned down, only the bottom third of the elevator actually making it onto the sixth floor, the rest still raised above. Reaching down and resting your hand over his, he frowned even further, the gap almost wide enough for you to get to work, but the elevator was shuddering a little again at the action, and you pushed Newt’s hand away, just in case, squeezing it before letting go.

“Just so you know, I love you, too. You’re the best friend, like, ever. Even if sometimes I hate it.” His lips flicked up at that, and he nodded his head, before you were glancing away just for a second, he whispered conversation only needing to be shared between the two of you. Grabbing your med-bag and pushing it through the door gap, he took it, accepting it and dropping or down. “I’m going to need the board, and you need to be ready to go. As soon as he’s out, get to the ambo’, okay?”

“You’ll call once you’re out too, right? So I know you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” You swore it, and he backed away, preparing the blackboard to be slid up to you, holding it over his head as the gap finally became wide enough, and you backed out of the space to be able to receive it. As you rolled out of the way, the elevator creaked again, dropping a couple more centimetres, and you swallowed thickly, annoying the straps as quickly as you could.

There was so much commotion going on outside of the elevator, your mind spinning as you tried to focus, and you heard Brenda and Gally arriving, clearly having pulled out their anchor and received their ropes, and you laid the plastic board out carefully beside Clint.

“Okay, there’s normally two of us for this, so I’m going to need your help here, okay?” He hummed, his eyes finding yours, a look flashing through that told you he understood, and you placed a hand flat under his shoulder and hip. “I’m going to roll you, and I need you to tense up, hold it for as long as you can, and I’ll push the board under you, then, when you roll back, try to shuffle onto it, okay?”

He did as told, his body going tense, despite the pain it caused as he winced, and you rolled him over onto his side as much as you could alone. Freeing one hand from his body, you pushed the board under him, and as he rolled back down, he groaned, but the shuffle had worked, because he sat squarely in the middle of the bard where he should be, and you wasted no time.

Pulling the first strap over his waist tightly, you did it up, sealing him down, and moving to the one over his chest. Once there were secure, you wrapped one over the top of his head grinning a little as he stared up at you, holding his head still, before you were tracing along his feet and arms, doing up every fasten you could think of for his safety. “You ever been crowd surfing, Clint?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” Your joke was well-received, barely a second of silence before he was letting out a pained chuckle, and you looked back to the door. Gally and Winston were first, stood on either side and ready to receive the board, lifting him carefully above their heads to lower him down, and Newt had raised the trolley up as high as it could go in order to collect him.

You held in your grunt of pain at the exertion of sliding the board across the floor, hearing the scraping of the plastic along the ground, before the elevator was shaking again. Their hands sealed around the end, and the pressure was taken off of you as it began to inch out further and further again, letting them pull it as more bodied came to join, more hands stabilising the mix, and the movement at the end of the hall caught your attention.

The opposite elevator opened up, carrying the final three bodies; Minho, Frypan and Thomas. You could at least breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that the rest of your team were all safe, with their feet flat on the ground and not dangling precariously hundreds of feet off the ground. The former two raced forwards, each hooking onto the stretcher board and helping to pull it the rest of the way out, and then, he was disappearing from your sights, strapped to the stretcher and ready to be wheeled away.

A final glance from Newt, a nod of your head, and then honey-coloured eyes were filling your vision as Thomas popped up in front of you. The sudden change it weight and all the added movement was making it unstable once again, his jaw dropping, mind seemingly going blank, and you gripped onto the edges of the doors as it trembled, tipping a little to one side as metal ground against concrete, the ropes on one side of the elevator beginning to give way and snap, the subtle sounds of the metal fraying sounding in your ears as small cables began to tinker on the metal roof as they fell free.

“You need to get out, like, now.”

You could only nod, trying to adjust yourself on the tilted angle to swing your legs through the gap, and you got one out, before the lift was jerking again, dropping down to become even, and the metal was caving under its own weight. “Oh, fuck it.”

A large hand found your ankle, tugging you forwards, your body jerking at the motion and the lift moved too, but before it could drop away, another hand was finding your waist, tugging you free, and you tumbled forwards enough to stumble as you dropped down the gap, but you never landed on the ground. That same hand dragged along your body as he fell back a little from the impact, holding you up the hand from your calf found your back and the hand from your hip was circling under your arms to hold onto you tightly, staggering backwards and away from the danger.

When your feet found the floor again, your toes were brushing against it, before your entire body was sagging into Thomas’, knees going weak, and you were relying upon him to hold you up everything seemed to go numb all at once. Your head fell forwards, too heavy to even hold up as your eyes fluttered closed, and your forehead pressed into his shoulder as you let him support you entirely, legs buckling underneath you.

The arms around you only tightened, the one under your arms relaxing to simply hold you, fingers spreading as his hands sat between your shoulder blades, and he rubbed slowly, the hug unexpected, but exactly what you needed, and your hands moving around him too, bunching in the back of his shirt as you took a shuddering breath and held on for dear life.

“Told you I was coming to get you.”

You could only laugh, a pathetic sound that barely made itself known in response to the words he’d whispered in your ears, but it didn’t matter, because you were soon being pulled back, Thomas’ hold on your dropping down to simply having a hand settled on your lower back as Brenda cupped your cheeks, wiping away any residual wetness sphere with her thumbs, before shaking her head.

“You scared the shit outta’ me.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t all that fond of the experience, either.” You muttered, a wave of laughter going up around you, from the other team members, and you jumped a little at the creaking of metal once again, the box dropping a foot or so further down. Reaching behind your back, to the hand that was still rubbing motions that were barely detectable into your skin, you took his wrist, pulling it away from you as he paused upon the contact.

You couldn’t keep up with the conversation around you, questions and observations about it all being thrown at you, but you could focus on the way Thomas had been able to calm you down so well before, and how you needed a little more of that now. Taking his hand in your own, just like he had done when you’d still been in your harness, you breathed a sigh of relief as his fingers wrapped around your palm in welcome return.

There was still a lot to be done, the job here was far from over, but right now, you were taking a pause to let yourself calm down, and as Thomas squeezed your hand in comfort, you squeezed back.

#thomas #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #firefighter!tommy #smoke and fire #SAF #tomuary #tom-uary #tommy month #thomas the maze runner #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader

[troubatrain]

wildfire - b. boeser

a/n: this a repost from my old blog - so for a second time i hope you enjoy!

Summers in Minnesota were your favorite, there was no doubt about it. You could travel around the world three times over and you were positive the lake in your hometown was more important to you than any other wonder of the world. Summer was about lazy days on the water, and this summer, actively avoiding the post graduation real life job search you were going to be on come September. It was late night house parties with the people you’d missed throughout the year, and seeing the one person who made your heart flutter in your chest like no other.

You grip your drink tighter, watching Brock while he works the room. You weren’t surprised when your phone lit up with a text from him about throwing the first party of the summer, it came at the same time every year. He didn’t look much different than he had when you saw him last, his hair a bit longer, his shoulders just a bit broader, but he was still the same. He was walking around his house, greeting guests with his million dollar smile.

“You’re going to do this to yourself again?” Your thoughts are broken by your best friend, Parker, the brunette shaking her head at you, “It’s the same story every year Y/N, you have this romantic summer and come September you both chicken out on letting it last.”

You sigh, knowing your friend was right. It wasn’t that it was Brock’s fault and you could fall under this narrative that he was a player, because it just wasn’t true. Brock was really good to you, and sometimes you thought maybe it could work. But distance was a bitch, and you couldn’t just give your heart to him to have when he’s a million miles away with a schedule that’s as crazy as his.

“I’m not doing it this year,” You say, and even you knew you were lying through your teeth, “It’s not happening.”

You slip out of the room, heading up the stairs to find somewhere quiet to collect your thoughts. You knew you were going to cave the second Brock spoke to you, you always did. He was intoxicating, and he was always there, the same song and dance every summer since you’d been nineteen. It's gotten to the point where you once dumped the guy you’d been seeing because you knew Brock was going to be back home waiting for you. You walk past the bathroom, hearing the sounds of someone hooking up on the other side, and you keep walking into a room you knew all too well.

You slip into Brock’s room, Coolie immediately hopping off the bed and greeting you, his new brother following him to smell you. You sit on the floor, petting both of the dogs until you can hear the door click open.

“I knew I’d find you in here,” Brock chuckles, it wasn’t the first time you’d slipped out of a party to see his dog who’d been finding refuge in his owner's bedroom. Milo trotted over to Brock, his tail wagging in the air with excitement while Coolie remained at your feet, “I think he missed you.”

“I don’t blame him, who’s going to give him treats without telling his dad,” You muse, remembering how many times Brock caught you spoiling his dog, it wasn’t your fault he was cute and you were a sucker. Brock walks over to you, his hand out for you to grab. Your fingers locked with his while he pulled you off the ground, pulling you close enough to feel his breath on you.

“You want to stay tonight?” Brock asks, a smirk gracing his face. It was the way he asked, every summer, and if your answer was yes you knew what else you were agreeing to. Another few months of bliss, followed by a month of heartbreak and tears before you picked yourself up again. You’d mend your own back together only for it to be broken again. Brock nudges you with his nose, his lips ghosting yours, waiting for his answer before he could finally kiss you.

“I’ll stay.”

--

With your declaration of staying that night, you’d fallen into the same pattern you always have. You stayed at Brock’s more than your own house, and you’d been with him almost everyday since that night, much to Parker’s dismay. You were laying out on Brock’s boat, the dogs at your feet while you watched Brock fish on the other side. The view was something else, aside from the beauty of the lake that you were sitting on, you were getting a full view of the muscles on Brock’s back, his summer tan on full display.

“Stop staring at me,” Brock calls out, turning around and smirking at you, “I can feel your eyes boring into me.”

“It’s a good view,” You joke.

“Is that all I’m good for?” Brock jokes back, “I’m just pretty.”

“The prettiest,” You snap back, tucking your nose back into the book you were reading.

“That’s actually you,” Brock says, walking over to you and placing both of his hands on either side of you, leaning over and planting a sweet kiss on your lips, “You’re beautiful.”

Brock’s compliments were cut short by Milo hopping onto your lap and lightly nibbling his owner’s nose for bothering you. While Coolie had always followed you around Brock’s house, Milo had taken a few more days to warm up to you. But, he was on your side now and that meant Brock was public enemy number one.

“I think they’d choose you if they had the chance,” Brock teases, but a part believed it might actually have been true.

You watched Brock walk back over to his fishing pole, and you could have sworn you heard the sound a camera click but you decided to ignore it. That was until there was notification on your phone that Brock had tagged you in his Instagram story. You open it, it was a photo of you with the dogs at your feet, and you turn to Brock who’d been minding his own business. You weren’t mad, it was just that although every one of your friends, and you were pretty sure your families, knew about you and Brock’s weird summer arrangement because it had gotten past the point of trying to hide it, there was never any evidence of it. Aside from the occasional chirp on one of your Instagram posts, it was like you and Brock didn’t even know each other.

“Brock…” You say, dragging out his name and walking over to him, your arms snaking around his waist. You press a light kiss to his back, “Did you really have to do that?”

“Can’t show off my girl and my dogs?” Brock asks, turning back to you and kissing your lips.

“Your girl?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Yeah, my girl.”

--

The problem with your arrangement with Brock was that he was actually a decent temporary boyfriend. He kept your favorite flavor of ice cream in his house, he gave you endless hoodies when the temperatures would start to drop, and he held your hand when you were out in public. He never hid whatever was going on between the two of you like it was some shameful secret, and you’re pretty sure that’s why you keep coming back. It just feels so real when you’re together you’d never been able to pull yourself away from him. But then you’d remind yourself that this is temporary, and nothing this perfect could last anyways.

“-I heard that he’s got like three girls in Vancouver,” You hear someone at the table next to your say, and you can feel Parker’s foot kick you under the table to get your attention. They were talking about Brock, and you tried to tune them out but you couldn’t. It ate you up at night, when you’d start to think about what Brock’s life in Vancouver was like. He was young, successful, and the team was playing well. You knew he had girls lined up waiting for their chance with him. You didn’t expect him not to give anyone the time of day, he didn’t belong to you. But the words from the girls next to you had your stomach churning, and you wanted nothing more than to walk over to Brock on the other side of the bar to stake your claim. You weren’t possessive or jealous, well you were, but you didn’t need him to know that. So you stayed in your seat, sipping your drink and eavesdropping about whatever rumor was circling about Brock.

“You’re not going to do anything about that?” Parker asks, her eyebrows raising at you.

“He doesn’t belong to me,” You say, your temper rising by the second, “I’m just going to go.”

You stomp out of the bar with your feet moving as fast as they could. You walked in what you assumed was the direction of your house, but after a few blocks, you’d realized you’d been so upset you didn’t know where you were going. You finally stop hearing a huff behind you.

“I’ve been walking behind you this entire time, how did you not notice me?” Brock breathes out, shaking his head at you, “I could’ve been a murderer.”

You close your eyes, turning away from Brock and continuing on your directionless walk, “Not the time Brock.”

You can feel his large hand wrap around your elbow gently, pulling you closer to him, “What’s up?”

“It’s not important,” You whisper, putting your hand on Brock’s chest to push him away, but your hand just tangles itself into the chain on his neck when his arms tighten around you to keep you in his arms, “Brock…”

“Let’s go home,” Brock says, realizing he isn’t going to get you to budge on opening up to him in the middle of the sidewalk, “Please.”

You nod, and you follow him to his truck that had been parked by the bar. You hop in and ride back to his house in silence. You knew you owed him an explanation as to why you rushed out of the bar with the intent of walking home and crying alone, but you couldn’t tell him without admitting that you were jealous.

The sounds of the dogs barking at the truck pulling into the driveway was the only thing that broke you out of your thoughts. You smile, slipping inside to see the two best boys in your life at the current moment. You watch as they both follow you into Brock’s room, and you grab one of his t-shirts, the Canucks logo on your chest and his number on your shoulder.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong now?” Brock asks, sitting at the edge of his bed, his eyes wandering your body in his clothes. You shake your head no, walking over to him and wrapping your legs around his waist, tucking your head into his neck, “C’mon, Y/N.”

“Just something I heard from the girls that were sitting next to us,” You mutter out, feeling Brock’s hand weaving your hair in an attempt to comfort you, and it was working, “About you, and girls, and your life in Vancouver.”

You can hear Brock sigh, and you didn’t know what you were expecting to hear, “You know, one time when I played the Wild, Parker told me you were at a wedding with some guy you were seeing and that’s why you weren’t in town that day. I couldn’t shake the idea of you with someone else from my brain, and I broke three sticks that game.”

“You were jealous?” You ask, finally picking your head up and looking at him.

“So jealous,” Brock mutters, pecking at your lips, “But then you came home for the summer and so did I and it seemed to work itself out.”

“You’re a good guy Brock,” You say, kissing him slowly, “It’s actually almost a little annoying.”

“You keep coming back though,” Brock chuckles, pulling you closer and flopping back onto his bed.

“I always do.”

--

The Fourth of July was admittedly, Brock’s all time favorite holiday. Every year his annual barbeque seemed to just get bigger, and crazier. This year was no different, you were watching someone set up a giant inflatable water slide that led right into the lake, and in another corner of the yard was a couple of your friends setting up the drinks. The house was decorated elaborately with red white and blue decorations.

“Hey can you put these on the dogs?” Brock asks, chucking two bandanas at you.

You catch the bandanas, laughing to yourself about how they matched the red, white and blue shirt Brock was sporting, the buttons in the front completely undone, “I’m making you take a picture after this.”

“Only if you’re in it too,” Brock says, kissing the side of your head, “A family photo.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and can feel a blush creep onto your cheeks. This summer was different than the ones from the past, Brock was unapologetic about the way he felt about you. He was so much more vocal about it than he used to be.

You didn’t see much of Brock that day, mainly because you sure he invited every person he’s ever met to his party. But you spent most of the day mingling with friends, falling into a lengthy conversation with Brock’s sister who’d been trying to pry into what the nature of your relationship was for years. You always gave her the same answer, a small shrug and telling her that you were just friends even though she’d call you out on lie. By the time the sun went down, you were tipsy and you hadn’t seen Brock once all day. Your phone vibrates next to you, pulling you out of your conversation with Parker about the job she’d just interviewed for.

meet me on my balcony in 5

You smile, excusing yourself from the conversation and making your way upstairs to Brock’s bedroom. You slip in, smiling when you see Brock sitting on the edge of his bed, tossing his phone in the air

“C’mon,” Brock smiles, standing up and grabbing your hand and opening the door to the balcony, you both step out and you turn to him with a confused look on your face.

“Why’d you call me up here?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.

“It’s the best view for this,” Brock says, pointing to the lake where fireworks had started going off. You weren’t even surprised by the final grand idea Brock had for the Fourth of July. You smile, wrapping your arms around his waist while you watched the colors burst in the sky in front of you, “Too much?” 

“No, it’s perfect.”

--

Elias Pettersson was a bit of an odd guy, but he’d been nothing but kind to you since the moment his plane landed down in Minnesota, a break from his summer in Sweden. Now he was sitting at the large island in Brock’s house, who’d stepped out to head to the store, while you continued with the dinner you were cooking for the three of you.

“So, this actually happens every summer?” Elias asks, grabbing your attention, “I thought Brock was just bullshitting us.”

“Brock talks about me?” You ask, trying to get a grip on exactly how much about your relationship Elias actually knew.

“He does, not to everyone, but when I ask him about his summer he always raves about this girl who he spends it with,” Elias starts, gesturing to you, “I assume that’s you.”

“Is that all he says?” You ask, trying to pry into what Brock was saying about you. You can admit, you wanted to hear every detail so you could overthink it forever. You could torture yourself with knowing whether or not his feelings for you were real or not.

“Is that all who says?” Brock asks, stepping back into the house, dropping the bags on the counter and placing a kiss on your lips.

“Nothing, we were just talking about how much a loser you are,” Elias says, giving you a wink, a secret acknowledgement that your desperate plea for information would be kept between the two of you.

Long after dinner, and a two movies, Elias had headed into the guest room he was staying in and you were sitting on the couch, sipping some tea before bed and reading the rest of the book you’d intended on finishing weeks ago.

“I’m surprised you’re still up,” Brock says, closing the sliding door to the backyard behind him, “You want to tell me what embarrassing things Petey told you before or am I going to have to pry it out of him tomorrow?”

“Nothing embarrassing, he was just asking about us,” You say, smiling at him, “Everyone does Brock.”

“I know,” Brock nods, grabbing the mug out of your hands and sitting next to you on the couch, pulling you into his chest, “Does it bother you? That you don’t have an answer.”

Yes it does. It drives me absolutely insane that I’ve been in love with you for years of my life but I never feel like you’re actually mine.

“No, it doesn’t”

--

The moment Elias left to head back to Europe for the rest of his summer, Brock had been giving you the silent treatment. You’d gone to the airport with them, and with Elias’s last words about how he better see you in Vancouver at least once this fall, Brock had gone mute. He didn’t look at you once on the entire ride back to his house, and now he was moving around his kitchen, moving things that didn’t need to be moved while he continued to ignore you.

“Brock, what the fuck is your problem?” You finally call out, breaking the silence. In all of the years you’d been together, if that’s what you could even call it, you never actually had gotten into more than a small argument. Even then, Brock never gave you the cold shoulder.

“I don’t have a problem,” Brock defends, when there clearly was a problem.

“Is this about what Elias said?” You ask, waiting for an answer but you see how silent Brock had gotten, you knew the answer was yes, “Is the idea of being with me that bad? You can’t even fathom the idea of seeing me when we’re not home? Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“Have you ever thought about how I feel?” Brock shouts back, “Like I have to hear everyone in my life there tell me how fucking wonderful you are and then I have to admit to them that I’m too scared to tell you how I feel? That I love you, so much, but I don’t think I’m enough for you, or that I think you deserve someone who can give you the world but I can’t promise that so I just keep trying to hold onto you the best I can.”

This time, you fell silent. The look on Brock’s face went from tense to the realization of what he actually just said to you. You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you too.”

“If you came to Vancouver, I don’t want you to leave,” Brock says, looking at you, his eyes flicking down to your lips while he waits for your answer.

Your futures always seemed like they’d been heading in the same direction. That Brock was your right person, wrong time relationship. But one day, you always imagined things would work out, and you’d finally have a light at the end of the tunnel. Moving to a new city could be a risk, but Brock had been the biggest constant in your life, and there wasn’t a doubt that if you left with him - he’d never let you go.

“I’ll go.”

#my writing #brock boeser #brock boeser imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

[catxsnow]

KIDNAPPED

Request: Can I please request something with "have I been kidnapped?" + "Um.. that's unclear". Go crazy with it.

Warning: car crash, uh, swearing, cringe (I was 3/4 done this and realized I hated it so, uh, Sorry Amanda) 

A/N: Reporting to you live and Tipsy friends what’s good

Word count: 2.6k

San Francisco usually wasn't a crazy city. Sure the traffic sucked, but at least the views were nice. The local shops always had something interesting and you were guaranteed to find a coffee shop on every block. Over all, you were glad you moved there, it was a nice change in your life - one that you needed.

However, when this group of so called 'Titans' showed up, things got pretty out of control. Buildings got destroyed, people were put in harms way with the sudden increase in villains showed up to take these guys out. You hadn't had the luxury of running into any of them, hopefully you wouldn't have to.

You moved there to get away from your hectic life, you didn't want to be thrown right back into something even worse. The news was filled with these guys - a girl getting chased on rooftop by her deranged father, Robin falling to his death only to be saved by someone who resembled Superman, even a green tiger.

It was interesting seeing them all on the news, but other than that, you never wanted to be involved in any accident that they caused. It seemed they were used to hurting people more than saving them - even if it was accidental.

San Francisco seemed to be safer than the last city you were in. For once, you could walk home with your headphones in and not worry about your surroundings. Just like any night, you walked from work back to your apartment in the late hours of the night, wanting nothing more than to just crash in your bed.

The night was cold and no matter how tightly your wrapped your coat around yourself it didn't bring any more warmth. The sound of traffic was tuned out by your headphones. Street lights illuminated your path and you were so close to your home that you could almost smell the inside of it. Not actually, but you really missed your room after that long day.

The sound of a crash overpowered your music. You turned back to see what had happened by the second you had done so all you could see was the tail end of a car coming directly towards you. There was no time to move out of the way or even to think. Even if there was, you were frozen in your spot with fear.

A body crashed into you before the metal of a car. Your heart rate was going so incredibly fast that black spots filled your vision. You should have been dead, that car was coming right at you. You tried so hard to keep yourself awake, but the only thing that you saw was a red 'S' on a black t-shirt as you passed out completely.

><

You woke up to arguing and bright lights staring down at you. Your head was pounding and it took you a moment to remember what had happened. A car had nearly hit you and somehow you impossibly had been saved. Then, embarrassingly you completely passed out from shock. Wherever you were now, it certainly wasn't a hospital.

There were several people standing together, each of them trying to talk over one another. You sat up on the bed, rubbing your eyes in hopes that this headache would go away. "Uh," you spoke up, but none of them had heard you. They were too engrossed in arguing to notice that you had woken up.

"Hello?" You tried again. Still nothing. You tried to listen in to what they were talking about and quickly came to the conclusion that it was you. Whoever saved you obviously wasn't supposed to bring you there, that was what the yelling was about. There was also the point that you couldn't just be left in the street unconscious - another good point.

This time, you coughed loud enough for one of them to look over at you. Your eyes narrowed in on his t-shirt, it was the same one that had saved you. And it wasn't just any 'S', it was Superman's logo. Whoever this guy was, he was obviously fast enough to be related to the man of steel himself.

As you looked at the others in the group, you picked up on who they were as well. Fiery red hair, bright green hair, these were the people that were on the news. You were in the Titans home base with the heroes themselves. "Holy shit," you mumbled out, eyes wide. There were a few there that you didn't recognize and you were sure it was only because they were in civvies.

"You're the Titans," your jaw fell slack. As much as you bashed them to your friends, saying how much danger they brought to this city, meeting them had been completely different. This was a group of people that kicked ass and had quite literally saved your life. You never thought you'd meet them, especially under these circumstances.

The oldest one - or at least you assumed him to be - looked at the one with the green hair. "Don't let them leave," he ordered. The others followed him out into the hall. They had no idea what to do with you, that was obvious. Conner shouldn't have brought you there. They understood he was still new at this, but he should have known better.

You still felt in shock. Shock from nearly dying. Shock from being saved. Shock from waking up in the Titan's home base. You never expected your day to go like this, and you never wished it to. These masked heroes brought nothing but trouble to San Francisco... and yet if it wasn't for them you wouldn't be standing there.

The green haired one awkwardly rocked back and forth on his heels. This must have been the one that could turn into the tiger - at least it made the most sense in your mind. He avoided looking at you. The squeak of his sneakers against the floor and the hum of the medical equipment at your side was the only sound in the room. It drove you nuts.

"Can you turn into any animal or just a tiger?" You suddenly blurted out, unable to take this awkward silence any more. His eyes widened at your question. How did you even know that he could do that? How had you pieced together that they were the Titans so quickly anyways? None of them were in their suits.

"Uh..." Gar trailed off. "Tiger is just the easiest," he answered. "How did you know that I could do that?" You raised your eyebrows at him - was he serious? Without words you point to your own hair. He seemed to understand what you meant. Green tiger, green hair, it was pretty easy to put together. You could see his cheeks tint red.

"My name's Garfield. Gar," He tried to cover up his embarrassment. Gar cringed at the sound of his voice cracking.

"Should you be telling me that?" You asked. Wasn't the whole point of being a hero having a secret identity? This was the first time that you had met one, and it certainly felt like he didn't really know what he was doing. Nonetheless, you were just happy that they didn't kill you for knowing their identity - or their secret location.

"You already know what I look like what's the harm in knowing my name?" Gar shrugged. He wanted nothing more than to get the attention off of him - so he decided to throw the new guy under the bus. "Besides I think Conner kinda already has a crush on you, so."

"Super-rip-off?" You asked. To be fair, you didn't know his name, or if he even was related to the great Superman. All you knew, was that he had saved your life and you were grateful for it. And from what small glimpse you got of him, he was pretty cute too.

"He probably heard that," Gar told you. Heat rose to your cheeks with embarrassment. "But yes. Superboy. He's the one that saved you and brought you here. Really, he probably should have taken you to a hospital but he's kinda new at this whole thing so, yeah. I guess now they're trying to figure out what to do with you."

"So, have I been kidnapped?" You asked again. The leader had said that you weren't allowed to leave and that Gar was supposed to stop you if you tried to. Would you ever be allowed to leave again if you knew their secrets? Would they really trust a stranger that they just met? They didn't even know your name!

"Um, that's unclear," Gar answered. To be honest, he really didn't know what Dick planned to do with you. After growing up alongside Batman, it was drilled into him to be super cautious. He knew how to keep his identity safe and not let anyone know who he really was. Conner had ruined that pretty quick.

"My name's (Y//N), by the way," You told him, sticking your hand out for him to shake. Gar grinned and accepted it. For everything that just happened to you, you were taking it all pretty well. He expected you to freak out, or even something worse like faint again. "I guess if I am being kidnapped you should at least know who I is."

Gar pulled one of the chairs beside the bed to sit across from you. He started asking you questions about your life - what you did, what you liked to do in you spare time, things like that. It was nice talking with him. For a kid, he seemed like a very genuine guy. You wanted to ask about him, but considering his lifestyle, it didn't seem like a good idea.

It felt like hours that you were stuck in there, chatting away as the people outside that room tried to figure out just what to do with you. Finally, the man that saved you - Conner - and the one who ordered Gar to stay with you, came back in. The two other women that were with them earlier hadn't come back.

You smiled at them both, hoping that your kindness would lessen whatever sort of punishment they had coming for you. Conner looked flustered at your smile, proving Gar's theory even more.

"Superboy shouldn't have brought you here," The oldest one spoke. He looked familiar, and it took you a few moments to realize why. He was that kid in the circus - the one that's parents died in the middle of an act. The Flying Graysons - this must have been Dick. "We talked abo-"

"You're Dick Grayson!" You grinned. Excitement grew within you for meeting someone you idolized as a child. "I went to like four of your shows when I was a kid! Oh my god you and your family were like my heroes! We stopped at Haly's Circus for three weeks straight. You were the reason I joined gymnastics, I wanted to be like you!"

Dick looked taken aback by your sudden outburst, as did Gar and Conner. His shock turned to a smile, it was nice to see someone who remembered his time in the circus. It reminded him of his childhood, being back there - no responsibilities, no drama, just fun. What were the odds that Conner picked up one of his old fans?

Why was he here? What connection did he have to the Titans? The three men watched as the gears in your brain turned as you pieced everything together. Bruce Wayne took him in when he was a kid - right around the same time that Robin - another childhood hero of yours - showed up. Was he Robin?

No, the one on the news a couple months back was shorter, and had different hair. But the Robin that was in Gotham - the Robin that you looked up to - had the same acrobatic techniques as Dick had. "You're Robin," you looked over him, picturing him with a mask and green suit. "The old Robin. Which means... Bruce... Holy shit!"

"Wow you put that together a little too quickly," Gar looked impressed by your analytical skills. First guessing that he was the tiger, then Conner being related to Superman in someway, now Dick being Robin? You were good. "And you look angry," he looked over at his mentor. Dick's arms were crossed and his jaw tight. This little revelation just made things far more complicated.

"Oh I'm so fucked," You whispered to yourself. Knowing who Batman was? That was something that very few people knew about. You certainly weren't supposed to know and yet here you were. "I don't suppose you'll just believe me when I say I'm really good at keeping secrets and that I promise to never say anything?"

"I do, actually," Conner spoke for the first time since you had met him. The three of you looked at him in shock. This man didn't know you, he couldn't possible just believe your word like that. "I can hear your heartbeat, you weren't lying."

"So I can go?"

"No," Dick stopped you. "If I find out that you did tell anyone out secret, I will find you. Trust me, I'll be far more kinder to you than Batman." Conner could hear your heart rate once more. This time, it was erratic - you were scared. You gulped and nodded your head. The last thing you wanted to do was get on their bad side.

Dick gestured for you to follow him. You did, with Gar and Conner only a few steps behind the both of you. The apartment was massive, and beautiful. But if Bruce Wayne was funding it you expected nothing less. You didn't get to look at much before reaching an elevator. Dick pressed the button and the doors opened wide for you to walk in.

"You don't want my name? Address? Anything to track me down?" You asked.

"I've already got a file on you," Dick answered. You should have known that he would. If he was really Robin, he would have found out everything about you the second you were carried through those doors. "And if I really wanted to find you, it wouldn't be that hard. Just remember what I said."

"Right. Don't tell anyone or Batman will break my bones. Got it," you shuddered at the thought, walking into the elevator. "Nice meeting you all, I guess." You looked over at Conner, "Thanks for saving me, and uh, feel free to call me," you winked right before the doors closed. Gar was right, and he was cute.

Conner's face flushed red. They watched in the small screen as you went down. A smile grew on your face - it wasn't very often you were so forward like that. But hey, you weren't going to see him again so why not? Unless, he did actually call you - which was unlikely. Did heroes have romantic partners?

Conner looked over at his friends. Gar was giving him a thumbs up at the win and Dick was holding back a chuckle. None of them expected their evenings to go like that, but it sure was interesting to see it play out. You seemed like a nice person, and by the way that Conner could tell that you weren't lying, a trustworthy one as well.

"You have their number in that file, right?"

#titans imagine #titans one shot #titans #dc titans #dc imagine #dc one shot #dc #gar logan #garfield logan #Conner kent #beast boy #superboy #dickgrayson #nightwing #imagine

[getitinbusan]

Show Me Your Room -

Jeongguk established relationship

Fluffy smut : Part of the GCU

The studio sat abandoned, the call of dinner pulling everyone away for the evening. The last two cars in the parking lot, you presumed belonged to security. 

"I can't believe I forgot my airpods. I'll just run in and grab them."

Leaning over to the passenger side he kissed your cheek. "Sorry I'm cutting into our date time." 

"Can I come see?" 

"Yeah? You really want to?"

"Of course! You think I'm not interested in what you do all day?" 

The long halls of the warehouse were lined with huge doors but only one had the BTS logo across it. The bright yellow sign read, "CLOSED SET - credentials must be shown for entry."

"Am I going to get in trouble for being here?"

"I think it'll be okay, but you'd better stay close." he winked  reaching for your hand. 

"This is where the magic happens!" He pushed the door open for you to enter. "Welcome to my room."

It was amazing, it could have been in anyone with a teenage boys' house. Your jaw hung open in awe at the details.

"A Surfboard? Clothes, look at all these posters. This is seriously cool!"

He laughed at your excitement. 

"So is this what your room at home looked like?"

"Are you kidding, my mom would never let me be this messy."

He slid his arm around your waist kissing the top of your head.

"And, she'd kill me if I ever had a girl in my room." 

Pulling away you looked at him seriously. "Jeongguk? Are you telling me you never had a girl...over?" 

He shook his head, "never"

"We need to fix that, baby that's sad." 

"Yeah? I'll drive, it'll take a few hours and my parents might be suspicious as to why we just showed up…" He dangled his car keys playfully. "but let's go." 

You punched his shoulder, "I'm not kidding Guk, let's take care of it." You looked towards the bed, "right now."

His face was dumbfounded but it held an open mouth grin like he was processing the scenario. 

Gently taking the car keys from his hand you threw them on the wooden desk. 

"Now's your chance, you've got me here, we're alone, I want you to show me your moves." 

"You're such a wild girl."

You kissed his neck, "tell me you don't like it," you could feel him hard against you.

"I love it, I love you." 

Your mouths met halfway, hard and needy against each other. 

"What about security?" he got out breathily while pulling his shirt off. 

"I'm trying to fulfill a fantasy here Guk...isn't part of it the fear of getting caught?"

Grabbing for the waist of his jeans you tugged him around to the bed and pushed him back. 

A loud bang and a string of expletives filled the air as Jeongguk's head hit the steeply sloped ceiling.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry are you okay?" 

You lay on his chest and pushed his hair back, "Want me to kiss it better?"

He nodded in full pout until your lips were almost touching his.  Quickly blocking you with his hand, he playfully pushed your head back laughing, "uh uh...lower."

Leaving trails of kisses down his abs you smiled, "You say it like it's a punishment."

It had only been a few weeks since you became a couple, but you couldn't see yourself ever getting tired of Jeongguk. 

He moaned as you reached into his boxers and wrapped your hand around him. The soft honey skin taught over his hard swollen shaft in beautiful juxtaposition always made you desperate for him. He looked down at you smiling, Your cheeks flushed with colour.

"What?" 

"Nobodies ever made me feel the way you do." 

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment since your cock's not even in my mouth yet."

"I'm serious." 

Your tongue ran around the outline of his tip, "so serious…" 

Sliding your lips down his shaft he groaned, "seriously in love with you."

Wetness grew inside your panties as your mouth worked him over. Your hand slid easily up and down his saliva covered cock.

"Have I told you how pretty your cock is Guk?" 

He grabbed the pillow and held it over his face, "Stop, you're not supposed to say things like that." It was muffled but you could tell he was smiling.

Sitting to straddle him your hands creeped under his down filled hiding place and lifted the corner.

"Why? It is pretty."

Pulling your shirt over your head you pressed yourself against his bare chest.

"What should I say instead? Should I tell you it's huge and manly and I love how it ravages me?" 

"YES!" he flipped you quickly onto your back, "That's exactly what I want to hear." 

His face was lingering above you and he wiggled his eyebrows, "We should probably hurry before my parents come home and catch us." 

He slid your panties to the side and let his fingertip linger at your entrance.

"Jeongguk, do you think if we met in high school you would have liked me?" 

He took a pause, "I think," he kissed you softly, " That we are destined for one another in every lifetime and no matter where or when we continue to meet I will immediately recognize you as my soul mate." 

Your eyes locked and he tilted his head cutely at you.

"Jeongguk," 

"yes baby?" he wiped away the tear that had snuck out to roll down your cheek. 

"I'm gonna need you to ravage me with that pretty cock now." 

He sat up and hooked his fingers into your panties. Sliding them down your legs and over your feet he tossed them across the room. 

Meeting back together you laced your fingers through his hair kissing him wildly as he entered you. Moaning in unison as he bottomed out you both giggled.

"Do we do that everytime?"

"Everytime," he worked his hips into you. "and I hope it never stops."

His lips slid over your neck sending every nerve ending into a frenzy that made your toes curl. He felt so good filling you that your brain turned off and all you could see was a kaleidoscope of colours behind your eyes.

"Jeongguk, I'm so close, don't stop, please don't stop…" 

You could feel yourself fluttering around him. In such a short time  he'd already figured your body out. No matter how excited he got for his own climax he always made sure to keep his pace steady until you cried out his name. 

Sweat soaked skin slapped together as lips and hips synchronized to the grand finale. 

"Jeongguk," you cried out as he spurted into you collapsing in exhaustion.

Laying together wrapped in the thin plaid blanket you held on to one another catching your breath. 

"That was amazing," he kissed the top of your head.

"You know what else is amazing?" 

"What's that?" he asked.

"Food. I think we can still make our reservation if we hurry." 

He squealed in delight and jumped out of the bed. 

"Girl of my dreams prioritizing sex and food." 

Almost dressed you could hear footsteps getting closer. The door pushed open and security tentatively approached your scrambling figures.

"Everything okay in here?" 

-------------------

Laughing all the way to the car he wrapped his arms around you. 

"Jeongguk...I don't have my panties…" 

He kissed the back of your hand. "I'll find them when we come back to shoot tomorrow."

But he never did.

-------------------

Months later you sat in living room as he hurried up the hall towards you."

"They just sent the finished Dynamite MV babe are you ready to watch?" 

Pressing play he stopped about 40 seconds in to point excitedly. There, beside the backpack on the floor, your panties peeked into the frame. 

The untrained eye would have no idea, but he spotted them just a little too quickly and with just a little too much glee for it to be a coincidence. 

"Jeongguk, did you leave those there on purpose?" 

Read the other Golden Closet Fics

#jungkook #bts jungkook #bts dynamite #dynamite #jungkook smut #nochu #guk

[darkenedreaper]

So Was I

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader, Avengers x reader.

Warnings: angst, strong violence, language.

Part 2/?

You heard footsteps close behind you. Multiples heavy ones. And so you found a place to hide, one that you hoped would cover you, as there was no way you could fight them without armour. But you didn’t want to fight them. All of a sudden, a hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you sideways, away from the footsteps and into a SHIELD storage room. “What the hell is going on!?”

Thank God. It was Maria. She shook her head and put her hands up in the air not wanting to hear your explanation as it would cost her more time in trying to get you somewhere safe.

It was a few weeks after the terrorising incident now, maybe two months or three. Maria had lent you a room in her apartment to stay at. You were ever so thankful. It had been long enough now. Maybe they had looked back over the file. Maybe they’d taken the time to calm down and maybe give you the opportunity to explain. So you were headed over there. Extremely cautiously. Everywhere was quiet. Not a sound from the tv, not a sound from the kettle, not a sound from anything. Making your way with quiet footsteps to check if the Avenger Quinjet was still there. If it was, they’d still be here. If not, maybe they could be on a mission, or at Clints farm. You dreaded the sight. The sight of the big jet with the Avenger logo sitting still as ever. They were here. You gulped and swallowed back down your heart turning around to the slow, approaching footsteps.

It was Cap. And he had something in his hand, hang on was that your-

He threw it in the ground as it landed right beneath your feet. His shield was strapped onto his arm, and his fight stance was in play.

“Put on your suit, let’s go a few rounds.”

As he said that, the rest of the Avengers all started pouring behind him, one by one.

Tony, Bucky, Bruce, Clint, Wanda, even Vision. And. Natasha.

You bent down slowly and picked up your suit button. Holding it in your hand with one click it began to crawl its way up and around your body. The black Kevlar suit was decorated with a few white stripes to match your white arc reactor. They represented a skeletons body, as it had white bone like patterns spreading from your reactor. And finally your helmet, it was simply a black skull. You reached into your back pocket, throwing away your weapons. They were your family, you didn’t want to hurt them, no matter how much they hated you. You didn’t want to hurt her, and you made a promise to her that you would never.

“I don’t want to fight you.”

Silence.

“Now!” Tony yelled and Cap threw his shield at you, distracting you while they al started racing at you. Bucky was the first one to jump onto you, you did your best to block his punches and you tried to hold his metal arm prisoner. That wasn’t a good idea. You were launched backwards on the ground by him.

Steve came over to you and picked you up by your neck, and slamming down onto the ground, effectively damaging your right side. You wriggled out of it, dodging Clints arrow that had tried to pierce you. Then you were face to face with him. Clint took of his sword swiping it at your face, giving you enough time to react and jump backwards. He kept forcing you back until your back hit a little car that helped the workers get around.

You rolled over along the car as his sword slammed down, taking the bonnet right if the car, you picked up a piece of scrap metal that was large enough to act as a shield. You blocked his slashes and stand with it before knocking the katana out of his hands and hitting him on the head with the metal, making him fall to the ground.

“Get her Romanoff!”

“You can do better than that Banner! “Come on do it!”

“Use your shield Cap!”

Before you could check on him, you’d be jumped by the rest of them team before Tony had you in a headlock, then he had flung you onto the floor. He then began to hover above your chest before lowering himself to you, hands wrapping themselves around your neck.

All you could do was try to claw his hands off of you but when they were covered with met it wasn’t an easy task. So you spluttered out,

“T-Tony. Check. File...Please.”

The genuine look of being sorry in your eyes, made him stutter and freeze his motions of his fingers. He had landed in his feet now giving you some attempt to get up. In his head nothing added up.

If you were Hydra, you’d be fighting for your freedom, so why weren’t you. And your muttered words begging him to check the file crossed his mind. His thoughts disappeared though by oncoming footsteps of his fellow teammates all staring at you waiting in anticipation. They could all see how much it was a struggle for you to get up. Both nostrils were bucketing out blood and your armour had several dents. You had been hit several times by the shield, Bucky had attacked your arc reactor and successfully made a handprint around it. But he was down now, after disabling him arm, it had made him not unconscious but surprisingly tired.

Bruce had given you a nosebleed about 15 minutes ago which hadn’t stopped bleeding. Natasha had thrown several knives at you, creating tiny slashes all over. As well as using her thighs to take you down, she had laid several punches to your abdomen and your face. Tony had used his blast refraction once. Obviously wanting to make you suffer.

After so much effort, you finally got back up onto your feet. You grabbed half of a car door scrap and held it as a shield, shadowing Steve’s stance. Tony had lifted his hand up aiming it at you. And in the pod it held a noise that was able to make Wanda pass out, much like Rhodes had in his suit.

All eyes went to Buckys body and Clint who was just starting to wake. Then her eyes met yours. Her eyes held a lot of disgust towards you, knocking her best friend out. How could you? If looks could kill you’d be dead 23 minutes ago. You looked down to the ground, getting your breath back, your arc reactor had weakened, evident by it flickering. You spoke,

“I’m sorry Tasha, you know I wouldn’t do this if I had any other choice. And I can’t, because your my friends.”

“So was I.”

She she signalled Tony to blast you, which would most likely knock you out and your reactions took place and you held up your ‘shield’ as the blast hit it, pushing you backwards and it bounced the scrap metal to them. Flinging them all backwards. Except for Cap. Who had now spot from hiding behind his shield.

You charged towards each other using what but of strength you had left in you to beat his face. And after several punches he grabbed your first mid air and kicked you right in your stomach, making your stumble backwards, before he grabbed your arm and started jamming his shield onto your chest.

However you turned his shield against him, taking it into your own hands hitting his sides with it and his nose causing it to bleed out. You then launched it at him only for it to crash into his chest, catching it. Your heart was getting weaker, they all could tell by your heavy breathing.

You hard metal footsteps start to run towards you again.

“Not this shit again” you muttered.

Friday herself was panicking, practically begging her boss to stop due to the state you were in.

“This has gone too far!”

“Boss please listen!”

“I’m sorry Sir, this has to be done.”

She powered of his suit, as he backed away from the chaos not wanting to possibly get attacked and have no defence but his hands. His back hit the wall and she powered up his Arc.Hologram.1

And in that hologram was a file of the actual Hydra Agent. Her profile picture was there. Not you. Her date of birth was there. Not yours. He took shallow breaths before he finally realised what they were doing and what he’d done. He tried to communicate through the comms but all he heard was grunts of pain, yelling of where to attack.

“Guys. Steve.” He whispered still in complete shock. Friday took over and read out the birth date, and create a mental image of the actual Hydra Agent using her vocabulary.

By now, Steve had picked you up over his head and chucked you down. He’d then mounted you and landed three very painful and heavy punches to your helmet which was starting to wear off. Friday was hurriedly finishing her sentence before he grabbed his shield, jammed it once into you helmet, jammed in twice into your helmet. Ripped of your helmet. Held the shield high above his head, and had crashed it down straight into your arc reactor.

“I can confirm it is not Agent L/N.”

Everyone had gone silent at this and still. Bruce was leaning against a container. Clint has propped himself up onto his elbow, Bucky was still on the floor, his head turned towards you and Steve. Wanda and Vision didn’t take part and could only watch with frowns. Tony had his mouth open, gasping at the sight that stood before him.

And Natasha, was leaning against a cart, tears flooded her eyes as she was frozen in place. After hearing the confirmation she only then realised what she’d done. And now, with what she could see, her heart broke. Seeing a vibranium shield stuck inside of your chest, she had to place her hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. But that didn’t stop the tears. Tears had now began to fall down her face.

You lifted your head up from the ground to look at him in disbelief of what he’d just done. You could feel your breathing get heavier as looked at you once, shut his eyes, took three deep breaths and breathed out the word, “sorry”, before he collapsed off of you and by your side. You took a shaky look at him before blinking twice, to clear your tears, and turned your head to the side before back to the front looking at the shield that was lodged right in front of your face.

He got up after a couple of seconds of shaming himself and with a strong grip, he pulled the shield from your chest and placed it elsewhere. He knelt down beside you, tears starting to form in his eyes as he saw your broken form.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged.

(My gif lol use it as you please)

@natasha-danvers @aaron-despair @confusinggemini612 @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz @fcbarcelona-and-marvel-4-life @sammys-world-of-imagination @gaytrashgoblin @capmarvelq @nat-romanoffdanvers @fayhar @submissivebigirl26 @lesbian-x-blackwidow @nelouath8 @emilyprentisswife @captainjosslett @geek-2 @natalia-quinzel @ladyqueenxoxo

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #avengers #endgame #marvel #mcu

[bqstqnbruin]

The Biochemistry of Smell

Wow, I’m here with another post. I actually started working on this before i got requests, so I’m sorry if you’ve requested stuff, I’m working on that, too, I just really wanted to finish this!

Also fun fact, all the stuff from the ‘paper’ in this is from my actual Biochem final paper from first semester junior year. Is that plagarism ? Oh well. 

Hope you like it!

______________________________

The family of odorant receptors also must be able to interact with the given complexity of the molecule. The receptors must bind to the odorant molecules in order to send the message to process the smell.

You were sitting in the Starbucks that was near your apartment building writing a paper on the biochemistry of smell. It was your final project and you needed somewhere with enough noise to tune out in order to sit down and focus. Not that you still don’t have music blasting in your ears, but you needed movement to block out in order to focus. At least that’s what you told yourself. Plus, needing to write this paper for your final project was enough of an excuse to get away from your roommate and her annoying boyfriend as they pretended to work on their finals. 

Except, after writing those sentences, you had a hard time figuring out how to continue. You finally look up from your computer to take in everything around you. An older man was walking outside with someone younger than him, a grandson maybe? Some girls who went to school with you gossiping about their professors. A woman in nurses scrubs leaning against the wall on her phone, her drink in hand. A guy at the table in front of you, staring at the stickers on your computer.

“It’s not polite to stare, ya know.” You say, taking out your music, giving the stranger a slight death stare that probably made you look more annoyed than anything. 

“I’m just looking at the stickers. They don’t make sense.” He gets up and places himself at the seat opposite you, the one you had your feet on for the last two hours, “I’m Jackson.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember asking? And what do you mean they don’t make sense?” You try to ignore his answer, just going back to your paper: Changing the structure of the molecule changes the smell produced by the molecule.  

“Oh, a feisty girl. And I mean, you’ve got all these Dallas sports teams stickers, but here we are in Denver. Wait, is that the Boston Red Sox?” he squints at the clear red B that was in the upper right-hand corner of your computer. The Stars logo was in the center, the Cowboys logo under the Sox, the Mavs in the bottom left corner, all surrounded by the other stickers that displayed what you liked for all to see that you’ve had since the beginning of the last school year: the chemistry sticker, Welton, turtles, The Office, Stitch, and more. 

“My mom grew up in Boston but I grew up in Dallas, it’s a family team. What do you want from me? I go to school here.” 

“So that means we can see each other a lot?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. God, this guy was annoying. 

“You go to Regis, Jackson?” 

“No, but I work here, and what are the chances that I’ve seen you here every day for the last week and a half at the same time, the two of us sitting in the same places, at times, but today is the first day you’ve noticed me?”

You shrug, “I’ve been doing work for finals. I have a paper to write.”

“On what?” 

“The biochemistry of smell.”  

“So what’s your name?”

“Can you please just let me write my paper? I was just fine working on it before you started staring.” You had enough distraction at the apartment with your roommate, you didn’t need to have more distraction in the one place where you could block it out. He keeps talking while you just try to go back to writing. A molecule of higher complexity is typically found to be more pleasant than a molecule with lower complexity.  An example of this deals with furan, which has three olfactory notes: cinnamon, smokey, and spicy. 

“Hey! I thought we were going to meet at the Starbucks on the other side of campus?” A guy wearing an Avs sweatshirt comes up to you, taking the seat next to you. He plays for them, you just can’t remember his name, but why is he coming up to you?

“Oh, sorry, I must have read your message wrong. I was wondering why you were late,” you decide to play along. He’s much less annoying than Jackson is, and you have to admit, he’s much more attractive.

“Who’s your friend?” He turns to Jackson, who’s now bright red and looks incredibly frustrated over the fact that someone just crashed the one-sided conversation.

“You’re Tyson Jost. How do you know-” he looks at you, realizing he doesn’t know your name. 

“Y/N?” you say, glancing up from your computer.

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” he spits out, his arm finding his way to the back of your chair until his hand ends up on your other shoulder. You have to admit, him doing that made you jump a little, but you were just hoping Jackson didn’t notice it before you settled back into your chair.

“Ya know, I think I actually have to go. Nice to meet you two,” Jackson says, storming out of the Starbucks. 

“You looked really annoyed and I figured pretending to know you for a few minutes was better than you killing him,” Tyson says, standing up once Jackson is definitely gone. 

“Thanks for keeping me out of jail,” you tell him, smiling up at him. You’re actually sad that he has to go. “Why don’t you take his seat?”

He looks stunned for a moment before a smile spreads across his face, taking the seat. “So I think I heard you were writing a paper on the biochemistry of smell?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s my final paper for my biochemistry lecture.”

“So what, different chemicals cause you to smell different things?”

You look at him, shocked but smiling, “You know something about smell?”

“I get bored and I start reading things.” 

The two of you spend hours talking. He was much nicer about the stickers on your laptop. You two had spent so long talking, you didn’t even notice the missed calls from your roommate asking you why you had been gone for so long. 

“Hey, just checking in on you, haven’t heard from you in a while. Dylan and I are ordering Chinese good tonight, let me know what you want.”

“Y/N/N, we’re ordering, but if you don’t answer I’m just assuming you want veggie lo mein and egg drop soup. Worst case you eat it tomorrow. Love ya.” 

“Bruh, answer your damn phone, would ya? Find my friends says you’re still at Starbs, hopefully you’re with your phone and not off in a ditch or kidnapped in the back of a van. See ya later.” 

“Everything alright?” Tyson says, seeing the look on your face as you debate going to your apartment, or possibly asking Tyson to do something else with you tonight.

“Yeah, my roommate is just wondering where I am. I just need to call her back, is that alright?”

“I’ll be right here,” he smiles at you, leaning back in his chair and stretching, revealing abs as his shirt lifts up. 

You know your eyes grow wide as your cheeks flush, running to the back near the bathroom so you can call your roommate, “Hey, Jocelyn, I’m fine, I’m still at Starbucks, I’m alive. Go ahead and order with dinner with Dylan without me, I’ll explain later but wow I might be making an ass out of myself right now. Ok, wish me luck, love you, bye.”

“So, once you finish this paper, what are you going to do?” Tyson asks once you get back to the table. 

“Uh, probably try to find some dinner. My roommate and her boyfriend are eating at my place, but something tells me they’re going to be doing more than just eating food,” you both laugh as you start to put away your computer, “Any suggestions on where to eat?” 

“Well, I know a place that has a special on chicken fajita pasta that I was going to go to,” Tyson says, standing up as you swing your bag over your shoulder, careful to not hit anyone passing by while doing so.

“Oh, really? Where?”

“My place.” 

“You’re inviting me for dinner?” 

“Only if you can tell me what chemicals are giving off the smells. You are the expert, after all.” 

The two of you walk out, his hand finding yours as he leads you to his place. “Well if it’s garlic, it has some sort of sulfur-containing compound, which is the same type of compound that’s associated with rotten eggs and the smell gas companies but into natural gas.” 

“So garlic and rotten eggs are the same compounds?”

“No, they just both have sulfur.” 

He spends the rest of the walk asking you about your research paper, followed by spending the rest of the evening cooking together, talking about your lives, bonding over the love of hockey you both shared (even though his ran much deeper seeing as he did it for a living). Time flew by, you didn’t even realize it was almost two in the morning when Jocelyn called you again, frantic, “I’m outside the building Find My iPhone says you’re in, and I’m here with Dylan, do we need to come in and kill someone?”

“No, love, calm down. I’ll be down in a few, ok?” You calm her down long enough so you can say goodbye to Tyson.

“We’ll have to do this again?” he asks, looking nervous, running his hand through his hair as he struggles to make eye contact with you.

“I would love that. Maybe next time you can meet my crazy roommate?”

“And maybe next time I can read the full paper on smell?” he asks, blushing by how nerdy that sounded. He actually seemed really interested in reading your paper, just as he has seemed interested in you all night.

“Sure. And, thanks again, for saving me from that guy,” you say, trying to prevent yourself from leaving. You can feel the tension building around the two of you. He wants to at least kiss you, and you definitely want to kiss him. 

“Uh, yeah. No problem.” 

“Oh, my god,” you say, grabbing his arm. Enough is enough. You kiss him as your hands find their way through his hair, his hands finding his way around your waist. 

You can hear a car honking from outside, knowing that it’s Jocelyn and Dylan. Tyson pulls away, obviously startled, but also seems relieved. “Oh, yeah, we have to do this again, please.” 

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagines #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #avalanche #avalanche imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagine

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece 1000 - 10 Confessions as a One Piece Fan

Although we did the Initial Thoughts a week ago (a long week ago, damn) which you can read here I wanted to do something for the official release of One Piece’s 1000th Chapter At first it started out to be ‘10 things I wanna ask Oda that I don’t think we’ll ever know’ but I couldn’t think of 10, then I was gonna do a General opinion post about it, but didn’t want it to come off too negative. So I am settling on a confessions post, which will have elements of these anyway.

So as we have a happy 1000, let’s talk about some stuff I usually don’t get to talk about in One Piece

Note: There will probably be spoilers so make sure you’re up to date

10. Late Beginnings I think the first confession I have to have is that despite being older than One Piece I am unfortunately not a ‘Day One’ fan. In fact I think I mainly got into One Piece around mid-Whole Cake Island arc, before I had of course known about One Piece, it was a ‘Big Three’ anime after all but the most I knew about it was that they had a guy named Luff-y and another called Zorro, and it was about ‘Pirates who can’t swim’. My curiosity only developed when in a youtube deep-dive of anime clips I kept being recommended One Piece clips, and decided to give a couple a go. Most of them were Paradise arc stuff from the anime, the dub voices were mostly atrocious so I stuck to sub. I was happily surprised about the amount of fun and emotional weight these clips gave me, which led me to check where One Piece was as of current and backtrack from there (Ironically I did the same with Beastars). I did eventually get caught up around the time of the Mafia Meeting and I’ve kept up with each chapter since.

9. I mostly still prefer the Pre-Timeskip looks When I first felt this I thought it to be pretty controversial, nowadays not so much. I understand that Oda wanted to change the look for many characters but some of them did feel like a downgrade. I think the ones who got it worst was Franky, I think it’s the bulbous shoulders, Franky was no stranger to body horror from Enies Lobby to Sabaody but I kinda preferred that he still had a lot of his humanity rather than looking like an action figure. Otherwise I think Robin, Nami and Chopper had it bad, maybe Brook too but his was more fashion than design; the women in general took heavy hits by Oda’s proportion design - I mean I get it boobs are nice but proportions are what make them better - but Robin also underwent a skin color change in the anime, who pre-timeskip shaded her skin darker than in the manga and corrected it to match the manga, I think most of us would’ve preferred Robin to have kept the darker skin tone and possibly even the fringe, Robin’s hairstyle (and her fashion in general) can be hit and miss. I go to and fro about Nami, other than the general waist and bust adjustments I think it fits her character to use her sexuality a bit, she was no stranger to that pre-Timeskip, sometimes though I can’t tell whether I preferred her with short or long hair (Short was definitely better on Nojiko), I do think though that Oda could have her show less skin, she is still very pretty in outfits such as Water 7, Thriller Bark and even her fake pirate disguise in the early chapters/episodes. Finally with Chopper I think it was a bad move to alter the hat, that was a memento from his father figure Hiriluk, it’d be like if Luffy altered his straw hat or Zoro replacing Wado Ichimonji, I do also feel that the design for Chopper’s points while easier to draw don’t look as good, I think a lot of it is the scruff, or lack thereof in favour of smoothness, Walk Point is fine but Heavy Point, Guard Point and Horn Point seem less threatening, Monster Point especially too, in Enies Lobby he looked like a cave painting of menace and destruction, now he’s smoother and his scruff lighter so it’s not as good. The rest of the designs I’m quite fine with though.

8. I wish some markings stuck as well Tattoos and Scars seem to be optional in the One Piece world sometimes, unless it’s branded in molten heat like the Dragon’s hoof, Sun Pirates logo or an attack from Sakazuki. While Nami’s redesigned tattoo has stuck around and Luffy and Zoro’s scars persist, they are mainly character reminders/mysteries for huge moments in the story, and I kinda wish that some of the Straw Hats had littler markings, not just scars either. For instance, the Alabasta X on the arm, I really wish that stayed on each of the Alabasta characters’ arms since it was a symbol of friendship with Vivi, I also wish that Luffy kept the 3D2Y mark on his arm. In terms of scars though it would’ve been nice to see the characters a bit more battle-worn; Zoro’s ankle scars from Mr. 3 have faded and frankly he should be covered in little and long scratches given his fights with Mr. 1 and 2 years of Mihawk Training, Nami’s shoulder scar is hidden completely by her tattoo and she has no scars on her hand (from fake stabbing Usopp) or foot (from blocking Miss Doublefinger), Usopp himself could’ve used some small scratches because lord knows how there’s even still bones in his nose plus he was in murder island for 2 years, Chopper could at least have a small bald patch from when his shoulder was impaled and burned by Shura’s fire lance too, other than that there’s just Jimbei’s potentially missing shoulder scar from Marineford, though Oda has kept it obscured a lot so maybe that is still there. I understand why Oda doesn’t or forgets to, but it would’ve been nice if we lived in a vacuum of no time limits and whatnot.

7. Dead End Adventure is my favourite One Piece film I don’t know what it is, but Dead End Adventure just gives me the most fun out of the One Piece films. It has a good side plot and the side character Shuraiya was a blast of a character. Granted, Gaspard wasn’t too good of a villain side for actually harming the straw hat and his defeat was a bit underwhelming but the race, the settings it was all fun. It is not to say I don’t enjoy any other One Piece movies, I delight in the horror fuel of Baron Omatsuri - and that killer final punch - and Z’s tragic tale of a fallen marine, Strong World has that epic entrance to the party and Stampede also had some great team up moments and fantastic writing for Usopp and Smoker but Dead End Adventure always feels like the movie I could watch in any mood.

6. Skypeia and Fishman Island are some of my favourite arcs While I can understand the criticism of the Long Ring Long Land arc (especially since the anime dragged out the Davy Back Fight) it surprised me that people found Skypeia and Fishman Island arcs to be boring or less entertaining than previous arcs. Everyone has their preferences of course but I felt that Skypeia and Fishman Island were very powerful arcs especially with the theme of racism. Both had glorious setting design different to the common customs of the world we had seen, Oda made both Skypeia and Fishman Island feel very much lived in with its own budding culture and prejudices, with a villain who was dead set on destroying everything just to have their way. With Enel and his priests we were able to push several characters to newer limits, with Robin showing her fighting capabilities, Zoro learning his projectile slashes, Chopper having to endure fighting 3 priests and even Usopp growing all the more braver in the face of seemingly indestructible opponents and later gaining access to the dials. With Fishman Island it was different because it was basically a ‘flex arc’: where the main villain is meant to be a stepping stone rather than a threat but even then the symbolism of the enemy is what’s significant with them, the inherited hatred of humans. But at the same time we do learn new strengths from the crew; Red Hawk, the use of armament Haki, Skywalk, Hell Memories, Franky Shogun, Usopp’s pop greens, Nami’s weather eggs, Brook’s Soul Solid and his new DF power (which is possibly an awakening), as well as the first true steps of Jimbei joining the crew. The biggest strength of both arcs is the flashback as well, like Wano would in present time both arcs demonstrated that Oda can carry a story without his main characters and still keep it as captivating as ever, be it the friendship of Noland and Calgara, the tragedies of Otohime and Fisher Tiger or the life of Kozuki Oden and the man who would be Pirate King. And the impact of Fishman Island and Skypeia’s flashbacks both come back around in Dressrosa with the dwarves and Koala, and Fishman Island really does kick off the whole Yonko saga with Luffy challenging Big Mom, these arcs were definitely significant as they were entertaining with silly faces, strong fights, challenging themes, lorebuilding, good side characters and unique twists. And the overall message of healing from the past is still significant to this day. Through Wyper’s sacrifice and the Bell ringing to Jimbei giving blood and the Ryugu royals wanting to attend the Reverie, it is all very powerful stuff and while the arcs are similar in nature its their similarities that make me love them. Also the cover stories with Enel and Gedatsu on their own mini adventures are fun

5. I really want to know where Ghin is Ghin/Gin was such an interesting character in Baratie. Given that this was right before Arlong Park too so we had not seen a character conflict with different loyalties in One Piece until then, his gratitude to Sanji against his loyalty to Krieg created a fantastically complex character, but then he left and we didn’t hear about him ever since. Did he survive Krieg’s poison gas? Is he still with Krieg? One reactor of the episode said “maybe he’ll become the next Don” which was a concept I kinda really liked. The guy was pretty strong given that he had bested Sanji at that time, and since he didn’t appear in a cover story my mind does wonder. It’s not just Ghin either, a lot of the early East Blue characters kinda fell off the map; where is Morgan? Last we saw he was sleeping as he sailed past Jango, where is Kuro? For someone wanting to resume piracy after some years off he has been very quiet, where is Krieg? Only Arlong and Morgan were arrested and the latter escaped so the rest of these characters are a mystery. Recently in Wano I am still wondering where Law’s crew that he brought to Onigashima went, as well as Caribou - where is that slippery bugger?

4. Basil Hawkins is probably one of my Top 5 Supernova There’s something about that dude I gravitate towards, which makes it quite frustrating when the anime decides to add extra malice and creepy faces to him. Hawkins in Wano is still a victim, if anything he is simply a prisoner with better working conditions, if he thought he could survive escaping Kaido he would but he doesn’t so he won’t, he’s also gonna feel sore about Drake betraying him and letting Law cut him up, so it annoys me that Hawkins is seen like a villain. Not only does he have an extremely interesting Devil Fruit and creativity with it but he’s also audaciously confident in his fortunetelling, even Luffy ran from Kizaru at Sabaody while Hawkins looked at his cards while Kizaru was about to boot him to holy hell and said ‘nah I’m not dying today’, you gotta respect that moxie. At the same time though as a pirate he has that shades of grey element, he’s okay with letting some of his crew be disposable and we don’t even know to what end, he doesn’t look like a guy too concerned about being Pirate King or having riches. I also get a good laugh in that his hobbies are interior design, it makes me really want to see what the inside of his ship looks like. I think as a top 5, I have Luffy, Zoro, Law, Hawkins and then Kid, Bege, Killer and Bonney are not far behind with Apoo dead last because fuck Apoo. Kid and Killer are cool but I do feel like they need a bit more character, Bege earned some points in being funny and his care for his family in WCI and then there’s Bonney - I really hope we dig into Bonney’s significance, she feels really important and that mystery keeps her fresh whenever we see her. Drake too has only really started to become interesting because of SWORD, we could still see more fleshing but for now he is like bottom 3. It’s a shame Urouge has to be so low, he’s not bad but he’s not spectacular either, gotta admire his hobby of lovemaking though, you do you Urouge.

3. I don’t think that either of the ‘Most Beautiful Women in the World’ are the Most Beautiful Women in One Piece The in-world consensus seems to be that the Most Beautiful Women in the World are Boa Hancock, Komurasaki and Shirahoshi, and granted they are very pretty, but the most? Not for me. I mean, y’all know that Nico Robin, Nami and Vinsmoke Reiju exist right? Makino as well is stunning, as are Tashigi, Bonney, Margaret, Ishilly, Nojiko, Vivi, Rebecca, Pudding, Perona, Cosette and I’m sure a few others, realistically I think they could all give them a run for their money. I get how for those three their beauty is a plot point (Boa it’s drilling home Luffy’s obliviousness to it, Komurasaki it’s the swerve of her not being awful and for Shirahoshi it’s due to Vander Decken IX pulling the creep factor on her) but it would’ve worked the same way without the ‘world’ hyperbole I think. As much as Oda is iffy with proportions and rarely writes women with as much attention as the boys he sure knows how to make them attractive.

2. Some of my favourite individual Straw Hat scenes aren’t in Canon If I were to have a top 5 moments of each character, it may surprise you that some of it comes from movies or filler episodes, particularly Sanji’s flexing on Jessica in the G8 Arc (in fact, Jonathon is one of my favourite marines, T-Bone is in there too, but I don’t have room to fit that). Some are of course obvious because of how iconic they are but it does go to show that sometimes filler isn’t all bad. Since you’re probably curious: As a Group Goodbye Merry [Enies Lobby] Entering Shiki’s Palace [Strong World] Walk to Arlong Park [Arlong Park] Entering the Grand Line [Reverse Mountain] vs a Stuck Oars [Thriller Bark] Jimbei Giving Luffy Blood [FMI] Vagabond Drill on Big Mom [WCI] Leaving the Big Mom Pirates [WCI] Returning in Wano [Wano] Trying to argue with Luffy [FMI] Brook vs Chess Soldiers & Big Mom [WCI] Flashback [Thriller Bark] Breaking Mother Carmel’s Picture [WCI] Baron Corpse vs Dog Minks [Zou] Hysterically laughing at seeing Duval [Sabaody] Franky vs Senor Pink [Dressrosa] Playing with the Kids [Punk Hazard] vs Fukurou [Enies Lobby] Freedom Roller [Wano] Trapping Caribou in the Barrel [FMI] Robin  I Want to Live [Enies Lobby] Clutching Spandam [Enies Lobby] Throwing Usopp under the bus [G8] vs Yama [Skypeia] Clutching Tequila Wolf guards [Amazon Lily] Chopper Monster Point [Enies Lobby] Flashback [Drum Island] Chopper Man (& Minoru Kazeno) vs Usobada [Chopper Man Special] Don’t blow the whistle: Immediately blows whistle [Skypeia] Dr Chopper the definitely Human Doctor not wearing fake glasses [G8] Vivi w/ Karoo (she counts okay!) Goodbye speech [Alabasta] Escaping Bon Clay [Alabasta] Karoo Digging Luffy Out [Little Garden] Luffy Fan Club Meeting [Reverie] Slapping Usopp awake [Drum Island] Nami vs Kalifa [Enies Lobby] Standing by the kids [Punk Hazard] Saying goodbye to Bell-mere [Arlong Park] Helping Luffy vs Cracker via Lola’s Vivre Card [WCI] Luffy WILL be Pirate King [Wano] Sanji ‘I needed a light’ [Skypeia] Flexing on Jessica [G8] Saving the Vinsmokes [WCI] O-Soba Mask [Wano] vs Doflamingo [Dressrosa]  Usopp Alabasta speech [Alabasta] Awakening Observation Haki [Dressrosa] Sogeking Theme Song [Enies Lobby] vs Perona [Thriller Bark] Saving Luffy from the fire [Stampede]  Zoro Nothing Happened [Thriller Bark] vs Ryuma [Thriller Bark] vs Mr. 1 [Alabasta] vs Gyukimaru & Kamazo [Wano] “He’s sweeping our floors that fiend!” Test of Luck [Loguetown] Luffy ‘On the Sea, you fight Pirates’ [Wano] Red Roc [Wano] vs Katakuri [WCI] Haki clash with Doflamingo [Dressrosa] Punching Saint Charloss [Sabaody] I will have to say that for some characters I could go to 20 so if one’s missing it may’ve just missed the mark, such as Usopp and Nami vs Enel or Luffy putting back a Zombie or Stealth Luffy, I mean it is 1000 chapters as well as movies and filler episodes/specials...

1. I’ve learned quite a lot due to One Piece Since my fascination started with a deep dive of checks, I did start to learn a hell of a lot more not just about the franchise itself (you know it’s almost catching up BATMAN on total sales, which has been around more than 3 times longer?) but I also learned a lot about stuff Oda has used as a reference key; folklore, actual pirates, actual practices, the amount of detail Oda puts in is astounding. Which does lean into another thing I’ve learned, One Piece has changed the way I approach some of my ideas for writings and whatnot, before I would be afraid of either spoonfeeding or being too vague, Oda’s mastery not only in storytelling but character development, character quality and pacing has both helped and intimidated me a lot of times, I mean consider this: it took hundreds of chapters to get a proper backstory on Luffy, the main character, how unprecedented is that? Often I could fall into the trap of making sure you knew everything about the main character from day one but now I wonder about what’s necessary for the now and what can I work on. Another thing that both inspires and intimidates me is his drawing, I suck at colours and still do, and a lot of Oda’s attention to detail is incredible considering he’s gotta whip that out on the weekly, but at the same time you see some of his rough sketches and they’re pretty similar to a rough sketch of my own, so in a way it’s a ‘there’s still hope for you’ moment seeing those. I can’t say I’ve learned Japanese from listening to One Piece, but I have picked up on some stuff, some hiragana there, some phonetics here, I also appreciated some of the stuff kaizokuou-ni-naru does (I won’t tag them in case that’s a bit rude to do it out of the blue but check out their tumblr) when it came to deciphering the Japanese of chapters and the little puns and hints Oda puts in his native tongue. And of course any One Piece fan has learned one thing above all else: Patience. Oda himself included, it took over 20 years to get to 1000 chapters and we still have plenty of questions to ask, plenty of islands to see and thus plenty of chapters to go. So Straw Hats off to you Oda, and a happy 1000th!

#one piece #one piece 1000 #one piece chapter 1000 #eichiro oda #straw hat pirates #monkey d luffy #straw hat luffy #roronoa zoro #Pirate Hunter Zoro #usopp #usopp one piece #god usopp #sogeking #nami #nami one piece #cat burglar nami #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #black leg sanji #sanji one piece #stealth black #soba mask #nefertari vivi #vivi #vivi one piece #karoo #carue #tony tony chopper #cotton candy lover chopper #chopperman

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part seven Word count: ±5570 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part seven summary: Zoë goes undercover to find out more about the murder she saw in her dream. Little does she know, that Sam and Dean do the same. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     Confident, Zoë bends down in order to fit under the yellow ‘crime scene - do not cross’ ribbon. She takes out her federal agent ID and flips it open before the officer guarding the perimeter can ask her about it. He steps away respectfully and lets her through. 

     It’s about 10 AM and the sun is already out on this relatively warm November day. Marching up the driveway with her heels clicking rhythmically on the concrete, Zoë unbuttons her black suit jacket to let in some air. The Stars and Stripes hasn’t been taken down yet and still flutters from the top of the mast, located in the center of a perfectly landscaped garden. The fallen leaves drape parts of the neatly mowed lawn in different tones of orange and brown. Not only does this particular estate look amazing, the entire street is brochure perfect. It is obvious that the families living in these homes on Reynolds Park Road, are wealthy ones. However, the ambulances and police cars blocking the street and the officers scanning the area, indicate that something is terribly wrong. What would seem like the last place on earth for a murder, is indeed a gruesome crime scene.

     Two officers are having a conversation by the front entry. They pause the discussion once they notice the unfamiliar face approaching them. She captivates them instantly. Determined strides, head held high, clearly a woman who stands her ground in the men’s words that is law enforcement. There’s not a single trace of doubt noticeable when she flashes her ID once more.      “Agent Evans, FBI,” she states.

     “Detective Lee. This is officer Sanchez,” a tall man, with a serious case of a receding hairline, introduces his colleague a little reluctantly, clearly not happy about the presence of a fed. He holds out his hand anyway and Zoë makes eye contact, giving him a powerful handshake.      “I didn’t know the Bureau was involved,” he comments with an Upper South accent, common for the region.

     “Well, if you had paid attention while investigating the crimes in your own county, detective,” the specialist returns without missing a beat, facing the two man with enough arrogance to shut them down immediately, “- you might had noticed that there has been a murder similar to this one, making this a serial killing.”      “Still don’t make this a federal case,” Lee returns, standing his ground.      “What does, is the fact that there’s a whole string of deaths leading from Alabama up to your lovely little town.”

     Of course she just made that up on the spot, just to back up her reason to be here, but no one would be able to tell without doing some solid digging first. She is so convincing that the two men fail to counter her.      “Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. If you could be so kind to show me the way, that would be neat,” she requires, throwing them a fake smile while narrowing her eyes.

     The two officers glance at each other, it being clear as day that the detective is not amused by the way he’s spoken to. Nonetheless, he gestures to the FBI agent to get into the house. She seems like a person not to be messed with.

      They enter the villa with Zoë in tow, who nods approving while taking a look around. She glances up to the high ceilings, which are decorated with beautiful alto-reveilo, carved into the white plaster. Roman pillars support the level above, and in the back two staircases circle up to the second floor. Every square inch of the floor underneath their feet is made from marble. Renaissance paintings, portraying country sides in the 19th century and battles from the Civil War hang from the walls, a gold plated chandelier floats overhead. Flower pieces, amongst them an expensive bouquet placed on the mahogany round table in the center of the main room, gives the house a finishing touch. Zoë knows the lifestyle of the rich and famous, but this place looks more like a palace than a principal’s home in a town called Paragould.

     “As you can see, Mr. Van Dyke lived the good life. His father owned a Dutch shipping company and made millions,” Officer Sanchez explains, having noticed the federal agent’s impressed expression. “We believe the fortune he passed on to his son might have something to do with Van Dyke’s death.”

     As they climb the stairs, Zoë chuckles, but doesn’t say a word. These oblivious bastards... they have absolutely no clue, do they?      “You think something else is going on?” Lee questions, noticing the sarcasm in her little laugh.      “Money is not the motive,”  she returns, curt.

     An awkward silence follows and Zoë can feel the hostility between her and the two police officers. She has experienced it before, especially in smaller communities. Most cops despise the feds, simply because the cases they work quite literally hit close to home. The FBI is no stranger to barging in and taking over entire investigations, without sending a ‘thank you’ card. A lot of hard work for the local coppers, without any credit. Zoë can’t say she blames the police for being reluctant.

     “This way.” Sanchez beckons them after climbing the stairs to the second floor, where he turns left on the vestibule.      The closer they get to the crime scene, the more crowded it gets. The Crime Scene Unit has already arrived and forensics dust for prints, take pictures and search for evidence. When Zoë enters the room and finds Mr. Van Dyke, she frowns. 

      In the corner lies a man, probably in his mid fifties, half into a shattered exhibition case, his eyes open, death evident. It’s not the first time Zoë has seen a dead guy, but she wasn’t expecting such a violent killing committed by a ten year old. Apparently his head got smashed into the showcase; glass is scattered all over his body. He has bruises and cuts on his arms and face, but most peculiar is his probable cause of death. His neck is broken; the head at a 90° angle. 

     Zoë scans the room, which shows several signs of a struggle. One thing is certain; Van Dyke really got his ass kicked before he died. As she takes a look around, a woman wearing white latex gloves updates Lee and his partner. Zoë glances over, notices the CSU logo on her jacket, and walks over to tune in.      “- time of death was between 6:30 and 7 AM. No prints found so far,” the forensic states.      “Look at this place. There must be something,” Detective Lee ponders, his gaze panning over the crime scene.      “Not even a fiber,” she sighs. “I have to admit; I’ve never seen anything like this.”

     “Seems like the suspect has left no trace,” Zoë intervenes, mixing into the conversation.      “Someone just did a good job covering up,” Sanchez scoffs, not finding her remark relevant. “We’ll find something.”      Dude, you have no idea, Zoë thinks to herself, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. She doesn’t cut in on him, although she has about a dozen smart curve balls ready. Never get too smart around cops, who knows what she might need them for later on.

     “There’s one thing, though, but it adds more confusion than it clears up.”      The forensic walks over to the body of Mr. Van Dyke and points out the way his sweater is pulled down. It uncovers his left shoulder, the sleeve seems too long at the end by the force that was used.      “Looks like someone pulled him down. As if the killer wanted to level his victim with him or her,” she clarifies.      “The murderer was shorter than the victim,” Lee concludes.      “Not just a little shorter, I’m talking about round 4 ft. 5 here, looking at the angle and location of the bruising,” the forensic adds up.      “About the height of a ten year old, right?” Zoë fills in, as the clues sum up.      “Yeah, that would be correct, but that’s impossible. Even if a ten year old could be capable of doing such a thing, they wouldn’t have the strength,” she rules out.

     Impossible isn’t in Zoë’s dictionary, but she has seen enough. The forensics might be on a dead end, Zoë is a hundred percent sure of who Van Dyke’s killer is. She is dealing with one furious ghost child here, but two questions remain unanswered: why isn't Laura at rest and how is she able to relocate?      A cursed object is the first thing that comes to mind. Being on the clock, Zoë decides to leave and have a talk with the family.      “Thanks very much, I’ve got everything I need.” She gives both the forensic and the members of the PPD a nod, before she exits the room.

     While Zoë walks down the corridor towards the staircase, the undercover huntress goes through the things she just learned. It almost seems like Laura is trying to put her victims through the same horror she experienced before she died. She simply shows them who’s boss, just like her father used to teach her. It’s violent, not suited for viewers under the age of eighteen, and yet a girl of only ten years of age, is behind these murders. 

     Back on the first floor, Zoë can hear soft wailing coming from the dining room. For the third time this morning she shows her ID, this time to the officer guarding the shielded off private space. The door is slightly ajar, when she pushes it open further in order to enter, the investigator finds the Van Dyke family, gathered together. A woman in her early fifties with blonde pixie hair has her arms around a teenage girl, who Zoë presumes to be the principal’s daughter. The son, a few years younger than his sister, stares outside, his empty eyes gazing out over the lake, quietly grieving in his own way. Instantly, Zoë feels sorry for the family. She wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.      “Mrs. Van Dyke?”

     The woman looks up with tears in her eyes and lets go of her daughter, but not before sweetly stroking her hair. Zoë shows Mr. Van Dyke’s wife her identification.      “I’m Special Agent Evans, you can call me Sharon. I would like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright.”      The mother of two nods her head as she wipes away her tears. “Of course.”      “Your husband’s passing took place between 6:30 and 7 O'clock this morning. Where were you at this time?” Zoë questions calmly.      “I was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast,” Mrs. Van Dyke replies, having crossed one arm over her chest, her hand covering her mouth as she breathes out with a shudder.      “And you heard nothing?” the huntress wonders, her voice gentle, not wanting to upset the poor woman even more.      “Not a sound,” she shakes her head. “Heather was in her room next to Bill’s office, she didn’t hear a thing until the dog started barking, that’s when she found him.”

     Zoë nods at that, aware that dogs have a better sense of the supernatural than humans have. She glances past the woman before her, noticing the kind Australian shepherd, who has laid his head in Heather’s lap, watching up at her with worried eyes while trying to comfort his owner. The dog seems calm now, a good indication that Laura isn’t anywhere near.      What the huntress does find strange, though, is that their daughter didn’t hear a thing. The article in the newspaper yesterday about Robert Shire’s murder comes to mind. His family was home during the incident as well.

     “That will be it for now, thank you for your time,” Zoë notifies, smiling sympathetically. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”      Mrs. Van Dyke turns back to her family with half a nod, still in complete shock after this morning’s events which turned her world upside down. Zoë would like to take more time to talk to the children, but she simply doesn’t have a minute to spare. Hastened, the huntress exits the house, stepping out into the warm sun as she takes out her shades and puts them on. 

      It all makes sense now. Laura isn’t just getting even with the people who are directly or indirectly connected to her death. She’s recreating how she died. What Zoë remembers from her flashback, the poor girl was a punching bag for her father’s fist on a daily basis, but it’s not just that. No one around heard a thing, not even a single sound, like the victims were isolated from the outside world. The vision of Laura’s mother stoically continuing her dinner while her older brother watched TV. As if they couldn’t bear the abuse and therefore shut out the sounds that came along with it. 

     Pondering, Zoë strides down Reynolds Park Road, back to her bike, which she parked near the water. Unlike the police, the huntress is everything but stuck, she knows exactly where she needs to go. Next stop; The Shire residence.

     “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

     Dean has been complaining ever since they pulled away from the In-N-Out, when Sam came up with his newest masterplan. Their usual jeans and several layers of plaid have been replaced with black suits, the sharp dressed men now approaching Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, leaving the Impala in the parking lot.

     “We are doing this, so get used to it,” Sam returns, getting tired of his brother’s whining. “You have the ID’s?”      Dean takes out two leather wallets and flips them open, showing him the fake identification. Sam stares at the ID’s, his jaw falling open.      “FBI? Are you nuts, Dean?”      “Dad and I do it all the time. No sweat,” Dean shrugs, not that worried about getting caught.

     “What if they look up our badge numbers? This is suicide!” Sam hisses, keeping his voice down when they pass people at the entrance of the hospital.      “You wanna know what’s suicide? Meddling with Zoë’s case,” Dean counters.      Sam huffs. “Oh, come on. How bad can it be?”      “You should have seen her in Rochester when she found out we rang Cliffer and blew her cover. That wasn’t even intentional, and now you actually choose to get involved?” Dean argues.

     He gives his brother his new identification, which Sam studies carefully as he mumbles his fake name. Dean watches his brother closely, curious if he will detect the little gimmick in their aliases, them being Angus and Young. But Sam doesn’t know enough about rock music to notice that the two names combined is the full name of AC/DC’s lead guitarist. Nonetheless, Dean is proud of the inside joke.

     “She might get a little annoyed, but she won’t get mad. We’re helping her,” Sam assures, hoping his brother will stop being dramatic.      “Exactly! I’m dressed like a fucking penguin while I know she won’t ever thank us, even if we have a major breakthrough.” Dean loosens his tie a bit, smothered by the tightness of his collar.      “Look man, we can sit on our ass and waste this day or--”      “- I prefer that actually,” the oldest intervenes.      “Or--” Sam continues, sternly, “- we can do something useful.”

     With that being said, he walks through the revolving doors of the governmental facility, followed by Dean, who mutters something unintelligible; stubborn fucker. Dean might be the older sibling here, but when Sammy has got his mind set on something, he can’t be reasoned with.      Heading straight for the main desk, the Winchester brothers get into character. Sam especially looks somewhat young to be a federal agent, thankfully his height makes up for that. They both need to sell this in order to gather new information on the case.      Confidently, Dean flashes his FBI identification to the woman behind the counter. “Agent Young, this is my partner Agent Angus. We’re here to see a dead body.”      “You came to the right place,” she comments, apparently not impressed by their badges.      She calls for an older physician in a long white coat who just passed by.      “Dr. Hughes? Could you escort these two agents to the morgue?” she asks him.      “Of course, I’m heading over there anyway,” he agrees, beckoning Dean and Sam to walk with him.

     The hunters follow the doctor through the long hospital hallways. White ceilings, mint green vinyl floors and random photos and Picasso rip offs on the walls every now and then; the typical hospital decor the Winchester brothers are more familiar with than they would want to be. They’ve been inside medical centers plenty. To investigate a case, but also as a visitor whenever someone in their close circle got hurt on the job, but also as a patient. Hunting isn’t just a profession prone to injury, it’s worse than that. It’s a profession prone to death.

     Dr. Hughes eventually breaks the silence when they reach an elevator. “Who are you here for?”      “Ronald Shire,” Sam informs.      Unpleasantly surprised, Hughes looks up at the tall agent. He halts by the elevator, calling it down to the first floor. It takes a second to arrive, the doctor uncomfortably shifts from one foot to the other. Dean and Sam have noticed it, however, exchanging a look.

     “I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes when he realizes how his behavior might come across. “Ronald was a colleague of mine, but he was also a close friend.”      “Our condolences,” Dean says, knowing all about Shire’s death after Sam filled him in earlier.      Hughes pushes the button to call the elevator down, accepting the sympathy offered by the agent. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? We see death every day and yet when it hits close to home, you never see it coming.”

     Wise words, applicable to everyone. He has been there on many occasions when the final hour struck; of hunters, of people they were trying to save. One would expect all this experience to give him thick skin, since he’s used to the violence and killings. But when Jess was murdered, it hit him harder than a wrecking ball.

     The younger Winchesters train of thought is interrupted by the sound of the bell, announcing that the elevator has reached their level. He clears his throat and directs his attention to the doctor again. “Do you have an idea what happened to Mr. Shire?”      “I did the autopsy myself; it left me stunned,” Dr. Hughes tells them as they enter the elevator.

     Again the doctor presses a key and the doors close. As they slowly move down to the basement, Dean tries to find out if Hughes knows more about the case then he’s willing to let go at this point.      “We think his death might have something to do with the murder that took place in the Van Dyke residence,” he fills in.      “I heard about that on the news. CSU is still on that, though”, the physician says.      “We have one of our agents at the scene,” Sam returns, with the short statement explaining their suspicion.

     The doors open and the three enter the morgue of the hospital. It’s cool in this section and an unpleasant scent fills the area, chemicals almost masking the lingering smell of the dead. The doctor walks over to the furthest wall of metal drawers. He pulls out one of the many trays and puts on a pair of latex gloves before he zips open the body bag.      “What’s so stunning about this case?” Sam wonders.      “See for yourself.” Hughes unfolds the bag and both boys raise their eyebrows.      “Ouch,” Dean comments.

     The body of Laura’s father is badly bruised and battered, as if he got beaten up by a street gang in a bad neighborhood. His jaw is demolished, his neck broken; this is some serious abuse. The ‘Y’ shaped incisions on his torso indicated that a full autopsy has been performed on Ronald Shire, but the large stitches barely stand out between the black and broken skin.

     “That’s not all,” the doctor adds as he takes out the file. “I searched every inch of his body on the in and outside, but there is not a print, not one single fiber on him that  could point you fellas towards a suspect.”      Dean gives Sam a look without the physician seeing it. Dr. Hughes might have never seen this before, the hunters certainly have. Ghosts never leave any trace on their victims, unless they want to.

     “This caught my attention, though.” The doctor points out the bruises. “See how they run out upwards? That indicates that these injuries were caused from a lower angle. Or the killer was on its knees - which would be most unlikely - or the injuries were inflicted by someone shorter than 4 ft. 7. Someone with a growth defect, dwarf syndrome. That’s the only way I can clarify this.”      “Have you considered a child?” Sam questions, carefully.      “I have for a brief moment, but it’s theoretically impossible for a child to throw punches like this, even when it would use an object to create some kind of leverage, which I found no indication of,” the doctor explains. “Honestly, I’ve never seen damage done like this, not even by trained fighters. The evidence doesn’t add up in the slightest. This shouldn’t be possible.”

     The boys exchange another glance; the evidence adds up just fine for them. Sam tilts his head and nods to the door, giving Dean the signal that they are leaving.      “Thank you for your time, doctor.” he rounds up their visit. “If there is anything else, let us know.”      “You’re welcome, I hope you’ll get this one,” Hughes mentions while he cleans up.      “We’ll do our best,” Sam ensures.

     The two hunters leave the morgue and step back into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, the oldest of the two turns to the other.      “Laura, definitely,” the youngest brother states, determined.      “Unless this town is haunted by two frustrated mini spirits, yeah, it’s Laura.” Dean agrees, watching Sam take his phone out of his pocket as they arrive at the first floor again. “Who’re you gonna call?”      “The other Ghostbuster,” Sam replies, as he looks up Zoë’s number and presses the green button as soon as they step outside the hospital.      “Shouldn’t we get to the bomb shelter first?” the oldest suggests, snarky.      “This information could be useful”, Sam replies, but before Dean can respond to that, Zoë answers her phone.

     “Sullivan.”      “Hey Zoë, it’s Sam. Listen, I’ve got some info on Ronald Shire for you,” Sam cuts to the chase.      “Why would you have info on Laura’s dad?”      Sam cringes slightly, detecting the suspecting tone in her voice. Oh well, here goes nothing.      “We went to the Medical Center to see Shire’s body.”

      Complete silence, but Sam can almost hear Zoë’s blood boil on the other side of the line. Dean pulls his sleeve and gestures at him, frustrated.      “What are you including me for?” he hisses, making sure Zoë can’t hear him.      Sam waves him away, without making a sound he hushes his brother to be quiet, turning away from him in order not to get distracted. He takes a breath, gathering his courage. 

      “Zoë?”       “I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood you. Did you just tell me that you deliberately messed with my case, even though I told you VERY clearly not to get involved?”      The huntress’s voice trembles with anger, Sam can hear she tries to keep calm.      “We figured we could spare you some time by going ourselves--”      “- You FIGURED?!”

     Sam cowers, her voice so sharp and loud that he doesn’t have to put her on speaker for Dean to pick up on the conversation. He did move closer to his brother, invading his personal space in order to tune in.      “Better take cover,” Dean advises his brother.      Annoyed, Sam pushes his brother away and focuses on Zoë again.

     “We didn’t mess anything up if that’s what you’re worried about”, he states defensively.      “I wouldn't give a flying fuck if you solved the fucking case! You didn’t listen!”      “You’re not my boss!” Sam makes clear, not having her raging attitude, no matter how intimidated he feels by the fiery woman.      “I am the boss when it comes to MY cases, damn it! This is not a fucking candy store I’m running, Sam! You can’t go do my job without telling me, you almost got me killed last time!”      “It was an innocent morgue visit!” Sam exclaims while making a wild gesture, even though Zoë isn’t there to see it. “And honestly, would you have said ‘yes’ if I asked you first?”

     “No of course not, you fucking asshat! That’s the fucking point!” she returns, clearly furious. “I swear to God, Sam, if you and your brother cross my path again…”      “What? You’ll kill us?” Sam huffs. “Listen, Zoë. Ronald Shire was attacked by Laura, without doubt. He was a mess, his jaw was wrecked and his neck was broken, all injuries inflicted from a lower angle. That’s all the info I’ve got for you, you do with it whatever the hell you want.”

     Before Zoë can return an answer, Sam ends the call. It’s only now that he notices Dean opposite of him, his arms crossed in front of him. He nods, appreciating.      “No more Mr. Nice Guy. I like it,” he comments, then continues his way to the Impala.      Without responding to his notification, Sam follows and catches up with him, still angry with the ungrateful attitude of the huntress. He cannot believe he saved her at least an hour and a half and this is what he gets in return; so much for gratitude. 

     Together they walk over to the classic Chevrolet without speaking about it further. Yet Dean can’t help but  smile as he opens his door. Sam notices the grin and rolls his eyes.      “Just say it,” he mutters.      “Say what?”      “You know what.”      Dean looks at him over the top of the black Chevrolet and ponders, still deciding if he should say the words which he longs to say. He can’t help himself, he has to enjoy the moment and rub it in.      His smirk grows even wider. “Hate to say I told you so.”      “No, you don’t,” Sam sighs, sits down and closes the door.

     Dean does the same and turns the key, starting up the Impala’s V8 engine, which lets out an enthusiastic roar. People Are Strange by The Doors is playing on the radio while Sam stares through the windshield, still bummed about the call.      “Why doesn’t she just drop the act?” Sam wonders.      “I’m not sure if it’s an act, Sammy.” Dean checks in both directions before steering his precious car onto the road. “I sincerely think her soul is pitch black.”

     But Sam shakes his head, not buying it. “This can’t be her persona. You said it yourself; she was different when you first met her.”      “So? People change,” Dean simply declares, shrugging his shoulders.      “Maybe, but this is just stupid. We’re in town, bored out of our skull while she is working her ass off to finish up on time. It can’t be that hard to accept our help.”      “Apparently she’s socially disturbed, Sam. Let it go already. If she can’t appreciate a helping hand, she’s not worth the effort,” the older brother suggests, not wanting Sam to be bothered by the matter. “Let’s go to Texas and hunt some wolf, huh?”

     He considers the advice for a moment as they drive by Linwood Cemetery. As soon as he spots the place, he glances across the road at the Hampton Inn, but there is no sign of Zoë; she must be at the crime scene.      As they pass through, he decides he wants to stay. “No. We agreed to stay in town till tonight. Zoë will leave, case closed or not. It’s almost midday, so what difference will it make if we leave now or tonight?”      “Half a day,” Dean answers smartly.      “Denise? Or did you completely forget about the fact that you are meeting up with her later?”

     The driver of the black car raises his eyebrow at that, contemplating, because Sam is right; he did forget about his ‘date’ later today for just a second. Dean doesn’t like to admit it, but Denise is a very big plus to stay in town just a little while longer. A silence follows after Sam’s mention while his brother thinks through his options.

     “Point taken,” he gives in. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Zoë is not gonna come around.”      “She will, believe me. She’s not as bad to the bone as she pretends to be,” Sam states, sure of his words. After all, last night she was friendly for letting him crash in her room and transferring all that lore to his computer.      “I know her better than you do,” Dean weighs up.      “I don’t believe that's true,” Sam counters, shaking his head.      “Wanna bet?” Dean looks aside as the argument is starting to turn into a ‘do not, do too’ fight. “Burgers for a week.”      “I rarely eat burgers. How’s that gonna benefit me?” the younger sibling brings to mind.

     “Okay, well… If I win, you buy me burgers for a week. If you win, I won’t give you shit for ordering a salad in every fast food joint we eat at.” The green eyed hunter wiggles his eyebrows, his arrogant grin confident, spread wide on his lips.      “I’m not settling for that.” Sam huffs and shakes his head. “You can buy me whatever I order for the next seven days if I’m right.”      “Deal.”

     Before Dean can assure him that this is a bet he will win, his brother’s Blackberry rings. Surprised, he checks the screen for the number, his long chestnut hair falling in front of his eyes when he looks down, then he raises his eyebrows and smiles. Victoriously he shows the screen to Dean; it’s Zoë. Sam picks up his phone and puts her on speaker.      “What?” he snaps, still mad at her.      “What are you up to?”      The youngest of the Winchesters isn’t sure if she’s asking him if he’s still intending to mess with her case or that she’s asking if he has some spare time.      “Depends,” he answers, curt.      “You said Shire broke his neck, so did Van Dyke.”      “So?”      “Might be something.”

     Sam keeps his mouth shut, warning Dean to do the same with only a look and a slight shake of the head. An unpleasant silence follows. Obviously, it irritates Zoë.      “C'mon, Sam. Knock it off!”      “No, Zoë! We’re helping you out and this is what we get?” Sam returns.      “You two nosey dickwads went behind my back! How can you expect me to be--”

     They can hear her sigh and swallow down the rest of the sentence as she collects herself, trying to keep her temper in check.      “I don’t like working with others and I certainly don’t want to abandon this case. I’ve never passed up a job, it’s not my style. But if I don't finish up by tonight, I don't have another option.”

     “I get that, but wouldn’t it be better if we just work together now and make sure that you’ll make your deadline?” Sam suggests, calmer than a moment ago, now that the woman on the other end of the line has done the same.      “Look, Zo,” Dean interrupts, adding his two cents. “I know you’re not particularly happy about teaming up - and hey, neither am I - but you’ll be able to cover more ground that way. You can’t expect us to leave town knowing you might have to face a dilemma. The sooner you close this case, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”      “I don’t know...”      Again a sigh while Zoë considers her next move. Sam allows the silence, granting her the time to think it through. The way he sees it, she doesn't have much of a choice. The Winchesters are the best option she’s got.      “Okay, fine,” she eventually gives in. “But this is still my case. I call the shots and might we stumble on trouble, we stick to the plan. I can’t settle for anything less.”      Dean has already opened his mouth to object, but Sam elbows him hard, shooting him a warning glare.      “Agreed,” the youngest quickly answers, ignoring the quiet muttering from his left.      “Dean?”

     The older Winchester brother grinds his teeth. Shit, he does not want to bow down to her, because he knows the second he does, she will without a doubt step up to become Evil Queen Bitch. He’s never going to live it down. One case, he tells himself. One fucking case and he will never have to deal with her again.      “Fine,” he utters, barely audible.      “One other thing. I need to leave town tonight, case finished or not. We have to try or take care of this today, okay?”      “We will,” Sam assures. “And if we run into trouble and can’t manage to wrap up, you don’t have to worry about this case. We’ll make sure to have it covered and that Laura will be put to rest.”      “So, do we meet up or what?”      “Yeah, sure.”      “Where are you at?”

     Before Sam answers he checks the name of the road they are on.      “W. Kings Highway, going west. We’re staying at the Ramada Inn,” Sam tells her.      “Shit motel.”      He scoffs a chuckle, glad the tension has lifted. “Tell me ‘bout it.”      “I'll see you at In-N-Out,” the huntress decides. “I want an Animal Burger.”      “Have you had that 4x4 burger?” Dean says, his mouth watering. “The amount of meat, hmm.”      “Are you kidding me? I grew up in California; In-N-Out is my jam!”      “Their food is fuckin’ amazing, ain’t it?” Dean agrees.      “Oh my God, yes! How they grill their cheese—”

     Stunned, Sam stares from the phone to Dean and back. Did the unthinkable just happen? Did Zoë and Dean actually agree on something? Remarkable, but truly, here is the one subject they can’t fight about; food.      “Zo?” he interrupts.      “Yeah?”      “See you at In-N-Out.” He chuckles and hangs up.

     The Ramada Inn shows up in front of them and Dean pulls up into the parking lot, turning off the ignition once he has found a spot close to the entrance. Before he gets out of the car, he registers Sam, who’s wearing a boyish grin on his face. His eyes sparkle through the curtain of his bangs, his pearl white teeth on display; it’s clear he’s very much amused.      “Hate to say I told you so,” Sam nags victoriously, and pushes the passenger door open.

     With a confused expression upon his face, Dean gets out of his car himself. He then glares at younger Winchester over the top of the Impala, the words sinking in. Fuck, he lost a bet; Zoë came around.      “No, you don’t,” he mutters, following his sibling inside. Looks like he’s going to have to live through the embarrassment of ordering and paying for salads the coming week. Oh well, at least he doesn’t have to eat them.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).   

Read part eight here

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Supernatural series #Dean Winchester series #Sam Winchester series #Supernatural OFC series #SPN #Supernatural #dean angst #sam angst #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Zoë Sullivan #STSS #STSS 1x01 #In Bad Waters #Kate Huntington

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 24 - Realize, Sweet Babe, We Ain’t Never Gonna Part

Seattle Washington, April 9 1990

(Andi is 20, Chris is 25)

ANDI: I wake to the bright July sun as it pours through the tall window of our bedroom. I open one eye and lift my head glancing at the clock to see that it was only 7:30am. Why does it have to be so bright so early in the morning? I groan and smush my face back into the pillow, my curls covering whatever the pillow wasn't and hear the bedroom door slowly open. I can hear Chris enter the room as the old hardwood floor slightly creaks. I keep my eyes closed, attempting to fall back to sleep but I feel him climb up on to the edge of the bed, playfully pulling the black sheet down over my body, revealing my black lacy panties.

"You awake beautiful?" He asks, his voice raspy from his performance at The Moore Theatre last night. It was his first gig since the European tour and it was fucking amazing. The only thing is that he and Jason were fighting the entire time, and Jason fucked up a few times but other than that, Chris was just 'on ' you know?

I let out a muffled groan as he moves over top of me, his rough fingers brushing across my back, moving my curls out of the way and places his lips between my shoulder blades, his morning stubble prickling me .

"No, I'm not awake... so sleepy," I say into the pillow and I hear him chuckle as he places sweet kisses up to the back of my neck.

"Well I hope this will wake you up," He says in my ear and as I turn to look up at him, pushing my mess of curls out of my eyes, I see him holding a small simple diamond ring between his fingers.

"Chris?" I say, my voice still full of sleep. I sit myself up, using the pillow to shield my bare chest as he holds the ring out to me kneeling in just his blue plaid boxer shorts, his curls messy from sleeping, falling across his gorgeous blue eyes.

"I know it's not much... it's pretty much all I can afford right now but... If you're going to be my wife, you need a ring so... " He trails off as he looks down at the ring and then looks back at me.

We still haven't told anyone that we're engaged because he wanted to keep it a secret. I think I know why he did now that he is holding this beautiful ring out to me.

"You still wanna marry me right?" He asks raising his eyebrow at me.

"Yes, Chris," I laugh. I hold my hand out to him with an excited smile on my face and he slips the ring on my finger. I then move the pillow from my chest and practically fall into his arms, threading my fingers through his curls and pressing my lips to his. He chuckles against my lips but then deepens the kiss as I flip him over so that I'm on top of him.

"Good, Now I can go pee," I giggle as I pull away from his lips and push myself away from him as he gives me a bewildered look.

"Hey, wait a minute, " Chris laughs reaching out for me as I quickly climb out of bed laughing, my curls falling across my face.

"I'll only be a sec - "I giggle as I make my way to the bedroom doorway but without warning, I am instantly slipped into another time and place once again.

*****

CHRIS: "Babe?" I call out as I see Andi disappear before my eyes, the diamond ring bouncing on the hardwood floor making a high pitched dinging sound before landing on the lace of her black panties. I sit up and run my fingers through my roots saddened and worried about where and when she has slipped to this time. I know I always say this but I will never get used to this happening. I just hope she comes back to me soon.

I let out a long sigh and slowly climb out of bed, walking over to where the ring was laying on the floor and shining so brightly. It didn't even occur to me that she wouldn't be able to wear it without possibly losing it if she happened to slip at some point - which is exactly what happened. I pick it up from the floor and walk over to her dresser that sat beside the full length mirror, placing her ring on top.

"Oh baby... whenever you are... I hope you're ok,"

*****

Houston Texas, July 20 1994

(Andi is 20 and 24, Chris is 30)

ANDI: "No.. no, no, no..." I say as I find myself on a cold tile floor of a bathroom trying to sit myself up and figure out just where I am. I have no idea where or when I am but I'm guessing it's in the future, since the air feels a little different. I definitely do not recognize anything about this bathroom. It's small and very white with only a shower stall, the sink vanity displaying a bunch of different miniature shampoos and lotions and white bath towels hanging off the rack with a logo imprinted down at the bottom.

"Holiday Inn?" I say and realize that I'm in a hotel bathroom.

I gather myself up, hanging on to the sink vanity to steady myself , grab one of the towels from the rack and wrap myself in it just in case there was anyone in the room. I push my curls from my eyes and open the bathroom door. I then slowly peak my head out into the room and see that there is no one here but I do see a couple of luggage bags beside the Queen size bed. I also see 2 guitar cases sitting beside the luggage bags and I somehow recognize the one that has an Aerosmith patch and a Black Sabbath patch on it, along with a bunch of other bands - a lot of them I haven't ever heard of. The Aerosmith patch is in exactly the same spot where I sewed mine on to just yesterday before Chris's concert.

I take one more look around making sure no one is here and step further into the room over towards the guitar cases and pull the zipper down revealing my '90 silver sparkle Gretsch Duo Jet with the leather guitar strap that Andy got me for my birthday.

"Ok... this is my room?" I say somewhat confused and unzip the second guitar case revealing a Cherry Burst Gibson with a Soundgarden decal sticker just below the pick guard. "...our room I mean?" I chuckle and I suddenly hear someone outside the hotel room door. I quickly zip up the guitar cases and run back into the bathroom just as the hotel room door opened.

"Babe is that you?" I hear Chris's voice call just as I make it back into the bathroom. My heart started to pound and I had no idea if I should answer or just stay quiet. I hear his footsteps walking up to the bathroom door and just as he opens it I jump, startled that he caught me in here, though it wasn't like I was desperately trying to hide myself since I really don't know where or when I am.

"How did you get back here so fast?" He laughs as his blue eyes glance at me up and down, wearing a white loosely fitted tank top and black baggy shorts with his Doc Martins .

"I uh... um... well..." I stutter as I am unable to take my eyes off of how different he looks. He cut his hair. He has it kind of messy curly but it's so short. He also grew a beard. He looks so different that I have no idea what to say

"Oh I get it... is this like, part of my birthday present?" He raises his eyebrow and smirks.

Birthday...ok... so at least I know it's July 20th... just wish I knew the year though.

"Um... yea, yea it... is," I try to sound convincing but I honestly have no idea what I'm doing. I place my hand over my chest holding up the towel as he steps towards me. I give him a half smile as he leans down to me, placing his lips on mine.

His lips feel incredible as he cups my face in his palms, deepening the kiss, as his tongue plays with mine. I suck his bottom lip like I always do, completely caught up in the moment and he pulls away touching his forehead to mine. He then attempts to take the towel from me and as he glances down to take my hand that was holding up the towel, his expression changes to confusion.

"You're time slipping aren't you?" He asks, his eyes looking into mine.

"Um... yea" I say sheepishly and suddenly the hotel door opens.

"Chris, are you here?" I hear my own voice calling out as Chris's eyes grow wide with panic.

"Chris?"

I then see myself appear at the bathroom door and though this has happened only a handful of times before, it's still disorienting to see yourself in two places at once. Chris turns from me to see the other me standing in the doorway and then glances back at me and I can tell the wheels are spinning in his head.

"Well um... this is..." Chris starts and I just give him a little smile. I glance at the other me and see that I look pretty much exactly the same. My long dark curls well passed my shoulders, wearing a pair of high waisted ripped black leggings, my Doc Martens and a band shirt that was cut up into a crop shirt, showing just a little bit of my stomach - which doesn't seem like me at all - and had the name of Pantera across the front in white blocked writing.

"Andi?" The other me says and I nod, still feeling awkward that I'm standing in a towel. She then walks over to me placing her hands on either side of my arms and gives me a warm smile, then pulls me in to hug her. Once again it was that moment where my future self and my present self immediately gain the memory of this, as if it was there all along.

"So um... is it considered cheating if I was just about to have my way with you in the shower?" Chris says and we both laugh.

"Ok that's just way too weird to hear you laugh at the same time in the same way," Chris says as we continue to giggle and he walks out of the bathroom.

"You think he would be used to this kinda thing," I say and the other me laughs.

"C'mon, you honestly think that?" She giggles.

"No," I say and she smiles at me.

"C'mon... I'll get you some clothes," She walks towards the bathroom door and I follow to see Chris sitting in a large reading chair across from the bed, pouring himself a shot of Jack Daniels.

"Here, these will work," She says and closes up one of the luggage bags, walking over and handing me a band shirt and ripped jeans, some panties and a pair of black and white Chuck Taylors.

"No it's ok, I'm not sure how long I'm gonna, you know... be here," I say but she still hands them to me.

"Andi it's fine, you can't sit in a towel the whole time," She smiles and she's right. I take them from her and glance at Chris as he downs the shot of Jack Daniels, he winks at me and I smirk, and head back into the bathroom to quickly change. Once I do I come back out and Chris looks back and forth at me and the other me and pours another shot.

"Damn... it's just so fucking... weird," He chuckles and downs another shot.

"Hey there birthday boy, don't drink too much yet. We still gotta get into the club," The other me giggles and Chris just shrugs.

" So um... what year am I in?" I say.

" '94" She says.

"What year are you um... slipping from?" Chris asks as he leans back in the chair.

" 1990... June 1990" I say.

"Well I must look completely different to you then," Chris chuckles.

"Not completely but, yea a little different," I smirk and he smiles at me.

"Ok I remember, oh wow this is weird, I remember you gave me that ring and like a few minutes later I slipped... remember?" The other me glances at Chris.

"Yea.. I do... I remember feeling like an idiot that I didn't think about the fact that you couldn't wear a ring because you would lose it," Chris says pouring another shot.

"Wait... are we married?" I ask glancing between the other me and Chris.

"Uh huh... since September 1990," She smiles at me.

"Don't... tell me anymore... I - "

"Wanna be surprised?" She finishes my sentence.

"Yea," I smile.

"Well the only thing I'll tell you is don't be so nervous when you step into the tattoo studio. I really would hate to have the whole time slipping experience happen again in the middle of it," She giggles.

"What?" I ask confused. She then holds up her left hand and points to her ring finger - my ring finger - and I see a tattoo where a wedding band should be. I take her hand and look at the design, then look back at her.

"It's the only thing that I could do, so that I could keep him with me no matter what," She says her eyes welling up just a little bit. Just as I was about to hug her again - cause I can't stand seeing myself cry - I hear the extremely loud ringing in my ears again and I stubble backwards.

"Shit, baby?" Chris says as he leaps up off the chair to catch me.

"I'm sorry... I - I'm... I-" I stutter and begin to feel myself fade.

"It's ok baby," His voice sounding like a faint distant memory as I find myself back in our bedroom, on the bedroom floor trying to catch my breath.

*****

Seattle Washington, June 5 1990

(Andi is 20, Chris is 25)

ANDI: "Baby, holy shit... that was fast. Are you ok?" I hear Chris's voice as he crouches down to me on the floor while I sit myself up coughing just a little.

"Yea, yea I'm ok," I cough. He then takes me in his arms and holds me like he always does and I love how he feels so warm and comforting, ready to save me every time I come back to him.

"Where did you go?" He asks as I rest my head on his bare chest.

"I went ahead this time... um... 1994" I say in between my breaths.

"Holy shit," He says, his voice vibrating through his chest.

"Yea, holy shit," I giggle.

"Is everything ok?" He asks and places his lips on top of my head. I then lift myself away from him looking into his eyes as he brushes a few curls out of mine.

"Everything is fine. I um... I have an idea on an engagement ring that I won't lose, you know just in case I slip again," I say and he raises his eyebrow at me.

"Oh yea? What's that?" He chuckles.

"How do you feel about tattoos?"

#Time After Time #time travel #chris cornell #chris cornell fanfiction #soundgarden #soundgarden fanfiction #alternate universe #also on ao3 #also on wattpad

[blankdblank]

Anaticula Pt 60

Wk 3 Chudley Cannons vs Kenmare Kestrals in England

The Chudley Cannons are an English Quidditch team from Chudley that played in the British and Irish Quidditch League and, in 1972, participated in the International Quidditch Tournament. They wear bright orange robes, and their logo includes two black Cs and a speeding cannonball. They have won the League Cup twenty-one times, the last time in 1892; many consider their glory days to be over.

“...death is coming for me as surely as the Chudley Cannons will finish bottom of this year's league.” That was the comment from Dumbledore he made in passing you after another failed try to get him to speak to you. 

Rolling your eyes you hurried off to meet up with Charlie in his apartment for another weekend together. Physically it had gotten easier to go through the motions and you were discovering, you supposed, what you might be preferring to try again in the future. The relationship if that was what you could call it grew colder each time however as leading questions on how you and Barty were doing. 

Again his jealousy was clearly bubbling up and he seemed to be on the edge of saying something yet never did irritating you even more. Enough to cut the weekend early and head off to the hotel where you threw yourself on your bed making Cedric huff and say, “I know that drop. What’d Charlie do now?”

Troy looked you both over asking, “Charlie?”

Moran smirked, “Who’s Charlie.”

Fred and George rolled their eyes, “Our twat of an older brother.”

Oliver, “Thought you were with David.”

Troy grinned as Moran said, “Oooh, there’s a David now?”

Huffing you lifted your head saying, “David is thoughtful, sweet, caring, and loves to snog. Charlie however, loves to go on and on in the dinner he invited me to about how I am spending my time with David.”

Your head dropped and Troy leaned in, “Sounds like Charlie’s got a chip on his shoulder.”

You looked up again, “Not even about David!” You sat upright, “No! He’s got something he’s bottling up and won’t say and he’s focusing all that on David!”

Moran nodded, “Let him simmer down then, what do the lads do?”

You sighed rolling your head, “Charlie’s a Dragon Tamer in Romania and David’s a Professor at Hogwarts with me.”

Troy and Moran said, “Drop Charlie.” You looked them both over, and Troy said, “Trust me, tried to cozy up to a Magical Creatures Catcher once, disastrous with our travels. Always work brought home with ‘em, one time some hopping thing gets loose in a muggle village and she goes off about me Mum’s cooking! She loved me Mum’s cooking! Just gonna go and pick a fight with you when times get tough.”

Moran nodded, “Exactly, worked with a lass in a circus once,” simply he shuddered, “Don’t, just trust us. Best steer clear.”

You sighed again and plopped back onto your back, “I would love to just have one normal relationship. Just one.”

Troy chuckled out, “Sounds like ya are there little Black Bird.”

Moran chuckled, “Ups and downs, peaks and valleys and all that. That’s normal.”

“Katie and George aren’t like that.” Rolling onto your side you asked, “Any word on her?”

George wet his lips, “Her Mum’s bringing her up tomorrow, says the match will do her good. She has improved, what with your remedies and all those extra sessions. She’ll be glad to see us all after so long at home, says she’ll have to repeat.”

Oliver, “Ah, I repeated for two of my NEWTS, Katie’ll be fine. She’s got all of us.”

.

200 – 475 in your favor was the outcome, and after a full day of showing Katie the town to help get her in a better mood before heading home with her mother you ignored the letter from Charlie that came with flowers and headed off home yourself sending his gifts right back to him.

A steady flow of apology letters and sharing just what at work must have been putting him on edge you made it to February 6th, Arthur Weasley’s birthday. Sneaking away again you helped Molly to fix up the dinner and left the cakes to her, through the meal however you kept catching his wider than ever grin your way in a sort of assured comment to himself based on something about you. He was acting strange, the twins were oddly quiet lately, Charlie was being his usual ass of a self, Bill was over the moon with Fleur, Percy was busy as ever while Ron and Ginny seemed to dart away with what looked to be pitying gazes.

Feb Wk 1 Falmouth Falcons vs Kenmare Kestrals at Home in Ireland

The Falcons play in robes of dark grey and white with a falcon emblem on the chest. They are known for their fierce and violent style of play. In fact, they are so violent, that the team motto is: Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads. The Broadmoor brothers, Karl and Kevin, who played as Beaters between 1958 and 1969, were suspended on no less than fourteen occasions due to persistent rule-breaking.

650 – 820 in your favor left the aggressive team stunned as you limped away with the victory after a four hour match. Heavily bandaged a dinner with Charlie was rescheduled so you could take up Barty’s offer for a massage and relaxing night snuggled up with him to a film in his dorm at the school. The end of a bottle of shimmering ombre nail polish later and your ribs and back weren’t the only things that were black and blue.

Each day he tried to help you back onto the right path only to see you stumble right off again when Charlie came clomping through. Luna’s 16th birthday on the 13th came right before the end of it though, an end you should have seen coming if you hadn’t been drinking yourself into oblivion on non practice days. Riddle’s letters had grown more frequent and much longer in their shift to delving more like letters of adoration only making you want to curl up deeper into your pit of despair and self loathing sending you off to scrub yourself raw for how it all was making your skin crawl.

…

Again the half stone half wooden cottage like apartment Charlie had been renting welcomed you more than he did. No kiss, no hug, merely a “Barty keep you, that why you’re late?” If your throat weren’t burning and head still pounding from a hangover you had yet to beat in waiting for a fresh batch of venom from the now egg laying snake you had become so attentive to lately you might have known to leave, but you didn’t. Still you stayed listening to all he shared on his time without you and what he had planned for the pair of you for this getaway weekend.

One glimpse at the clock too many and barely twenty minutes into your pre Valentines dinner plans he shouted, “So eager to go and get back to Barty then?!”

With a huff you said, “For your information I’m timing something for one of my snakes. But now that you’ve brought him up for the twelfth time already what is wrong with him? Why are you so threatened-,”

Charlie scoffed and began to pace, “I am not threatened!” Muffling the apartment so you wouldn’t be overheard, as per the usual habit when you came over.

You shot up to your feet sending the chair behind you toppling over, “Really?! Then what the hell happened to no jealousy?!” His mouth fell open, “What happened to simple and casual?! Hmm? You’re the only one I’m having sex with so what the fuck is so wrong with this game of yours-,”

Charlie huffed moving closer to you, “You are keeping things from me!”

“LIKE WHAT?!”

Charlie scoffed again, “Fenrir raping you for one,” your mouth fell open and you could feel yourself all but turning green as your inside churned, “And you told, HIM! AND HE’S BEEN THERE FOR YOU! The whole time! But I can’t! Oh no! Have to keep Charlie in the dark! At arms length,”

Lowly you replied, “There’s good reason for that,” to his back in another of his laps of the far wall.

He scoffed again and shouted at you, “THEY DIDN’T EVEN LET ME GO WITH THEM TO KILL HIM!”

In shock you whispered, “Kill who?”

“FENRIR!”

At the tears in your eyes he stopped realizing what he’d done, “Who, killed him?”

“Our dads, uncles, Snape too and the twins.” Mentioning Fred and George had a tear streak down your cheek, “Jaqi-,” his step closer ended at your point at him.

“No! When did they kill him?!”

“Over Christmas. When you were in Paris. They still haven’t told you?” he moved closer and you stepped away, “Jaqi! Just, stop stepping away! Let me help you!”

“Help me?!” you scoffed back, “By driving the ax deeper into my chest?! You have no idea what this means!!” That furrowed his brows, “Casual, simple! I can’t do this,” you said waving a hand between you, “I can’t be in this relationship! I can’t have normal, I can’t handle it, It’s too much!”

“Jaqi, you just need more time after what he did to you!”

“Really?! And what do you know about what he did to me?! Hmm?”

“Jaqi he ra-,”

Shrilly you shouted back, “HE DIDN’T RAPE ME!”

His brows furrowed again, “That! Right there! Why can’t you just tell me what he did?! Why can’t you just admit it?!”

“I don’t know who told you that but he didn’t-,”

“Yes he did! And it doesn’t change anything!” he said stomping towards you, “I love you! Let me-!”

“I CAN’T! Because he didn’t!” Your voice tapered off to a teary whimper, and you shook your head crying again, “And it changed, everything.” Inhaling sharply at the tears filling his eyes you said, “I have to go.” Shaking your head, “No more simple, no more casual. I love you, but I can’t be with you, or anyone. It’s too much. Too many secrets, too many agendas. I just need to be by myself. I have to go.” Sniffling on the other side of your enchanted door you had back stepped through that slammed shut between you locking its connection to his apartment blocking him from summoning it for the time being, your stomach lurched and you turned on your heel racing for the toilet.

Harshly your knees hit the tile around it crumpling up the mat and your head ducked into the rim with hair pulled back as you heaved and threw up all your body physically could until you crumbled into a painful ball on the floor silently weeping at all that was just said.

Blankly you cleaned up, brushing your teeth and gargling heavily before trudging down to the sitting room where you found your father and Regulus seated across from Remus, all of whom looked at you when you asked from the doorway, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

At the tears in your eyes Remus stood, “Who told you?”

“Charlie, why didn’t any of you?”

Regulus looked to the men all shrugging or shaking their heads, “Who told him?”

Your lip quivered, “Or Sevy, does Barty know too?” you scoffed at your own question, whimpering out, “Of course he knows.”

You turned and your father aparated in front of you pulling you into his chest for a tight hug, “We couldn’t tell you, not until the Death Eaters knew he was gone and you were not to blame.”

Pulling back another tear streamed down your cheek, “Lucius planned this then?” He sighed and you said, “Dad! I have to know! I have to-,”

His hands cupped your cheeks, “Plan,” his voice growing more tender to comfort you down from your clearly rising level of panic, “I know. Pumpkin, trust me, you cannot know, not until it’s safe.”

Another tear streamed down your cheeks and you whispered, “Charlie thinks Fenrir raped me.” His lips parted along with the others, “Did-,”

He shook his head and Regulus said inching closer, “We would never!”

“He only touched my hair!” You whimpered out as your legs started to give out, “What if he told everyone? No wonder they keep looking at me like that! Like I’m tainted! Daddy!” Your eyes welled up with tears and he pulled you into his chest again crying too, and you sobbed into his chest, “All of this, him coming back, trying again, was just to fix me!”

Holding you tighter he lifted you carrying you to the couch to set you on his lap while the others joined in holding you. Remus between your sobs said, “There is nothing broken about you. You do not need fixing.”

Regulus, “I have no clue who told him that-,” he sighed, “I know Lucius didn’t, Fenrir never bragged about touching your hair…”

Sirius sniffled burrowing his face into your pitch black hair while Remus said, “We’re going to have to talk to Charlie,”

Muffled you said, “No-,”

Regulus, “We have to, if he’s going off and telling you we have to find out what he thinks he knows and correct that before he gets himself killed.” You looked at him, “Do his neighbors live close? Thin walls, I mean?”

“He muffles the room when I come over, we’ve been fighting a lot. He didn’t like me spending time with Barty.”

Remus scoffed and rubbed his forehead, “We will speak with the idiot before he does anything foolish, are you off to bed?”

You shook your head, “I was going to the team apartment. Catch up with the guys. Stop bouncing around.” After a pausing breath you lifted the block on the doorway.

Your father kissed your forehead, “Good. Go and relax, please don’t dwell on this. Lucius has his ear to the ground.”

You nodded and he wiped away another tear and you said, “If any of you can talk to Dumbledore,” You sighed and they shifted on their feet, “Riddle’s growing anxious, and Bella’s sent Crabbe to try and set traps for Dumbledore, I’ve tried talking to him, but even Minerva can’t get me and him in the same room. Won’t even look at me.”

Their hands landed on your shoulders and back and Regulus said, “I’ll see if I can distract Bella, keep her on her toes, you go to the boys.”

Remus, “If the worst comes around, we’ll just have to bail Dumbledore out of what he’s plotting.”

Sirius, “Harry mentioned he’s been called to meetings with him about Horcruxes. Is that true? That is what Dumbledore is traveling for?”

You nodded, “He doesn’t believe me clearly.”

Sirius’ eyes narrowed, “Well, one way or another he’s going to have to learn to trust the truth, not his paranoid fantasies.”

You nodded and after another calming round of hugs you were off through your door, where you laid across the twins hugging them both tightly on their joined beds whispering, “I know why you needed my hair. Thank you.”

Folding around you they murmured, “No one hurts you.” Pleased to finally have the only secret between you out in the open at least partly.

Pulling back you sighed turning over and George said, “Charlie muck it up again?”

Glancing around the room to ensure it was clear you tapped both of their hands with your glowing fingers making them scoff at what he said, “I ended it. Uncles are going to talk to him, see who told him that,” you rubbed your face to keep from crying and they folded around you again as you mumbled, “I just need to sleep. Watch your show.”

Fred, “You sleep, we’ll keep you nice and warm.” Snuggling closer to you in the closing of your eyes.

.

Wk 3 Holyhead Harpies ve Kenmare Kestrals in Wales

The Holyhead Harpies is an all-female Quidditch team that plays in the British and Irish Quidditch League. The team is based in the town of Holyhead, which is located in the northwest of Wales. The team was founded in 1203, making them the second-oldest team in the league.

The Harpies playing robes are dark green with a gold talon emblazoned on the chest. They are unique among Quidditch teams in that they only hire women to play for them. With the exception of Valmai Morgan, all known members of the team have either first or last names that begin with the letter 'G'.

190 – 40 in your favor. The tough match in whipping sheets of rain made it a two hour battle of 40-40 until a glint of gold in a flash of lightning ended the painful deluge of a match and your rigorous season leaving you back to staying at school between practices for the season finals in a few months you were surely headed to with a perfect season.

…

24 February: Newton Scamander’s home was the picture of perfection, surrounded by green and straight through the front door you were welcomed. Straight to the sitting room you were shown and eyed the lists of creatures layered over sets of maps across the globe.

“Ah, there you are, My Dear.” Accepting his brief hug you sat beside him looking at the stacks and said, “The sanctuaries are doing well. Thank you again for allowing us to aid in freeing these creatures into your sanctuary islands. It appears there have been some movement in them and the creatures, and countless others were more than eager to seek shelter away from harm..”

“That is good, why the pause?”

Wetting his lips he asked, “Do you know much of the Boa Red Pandas?”

Smirking you replied, “You mean the nearly extinct ones who can only produce males 11 out of 12 by natural birth unless a Morpher acts as surrogate to birth females, each of whom can create 500 more pandas in their lifetimes. Those?”

Newt nodded and grinned at you saying, “I understand it is a task to take up, however, should you ever find yourself able to act as surrogate, you could aid in restoring their numbers.” It seemed laughable how the twelve foot tall red panda like creatures who were adept at camouflage, mainly harmless unless provoked then their fur excretes one of the most lethal poisons and their saliva turns to acid.

“We made the top of the rosters, we still have the league games.”

“I understand exactly, which is why I will tell you the surrogacy lasts a stunning two months, if that, we never try to force it longer than that or they tend to try and chew their ways out.”

“Comforting.”

Softly he chuckled and looked you over, “How are you faring, the game was brutal for an ending.”

You shook your head, “No more than the cannons. It was a great send off for the season.”

“Are you pleased for the rest?”

You nodded, “I can help the guys out more at the shop too.”

Hours after the family based party the twins joined you at you found yourself at the door again after saying goodbye to your Nundu and his twin cubs nearly the size of him already who were eager to be freed in another of your sanctuaries in the morning you turned to Newt and inhaled before saying, “I will try to manage a time to assist in their population, if not this year maybe the next. When things calm down.”

He nodded and rested his hand on your shoulder and said, “Whenever you feel comfortable. You do understand how this world is changing, just like these creatures, you can sense it, better than we can. So take your time, no pressure, My Dear.”

Giggling to yourself you gave him another hug saying, “I know. You just mind those creatures and get as many tucked away as you can.”

“Will do.”

…

Lingering in your classroom you groaned stroking your fingertip across your eyebrows staring at the tick marks of the five days you had gone without a drink, each mark not marking the days but how many times you were tempted. Tonight was different however, staring at the closed grading ledger your fingernails raked across the rings on your notepad clicking and popping as your mind settled back to your current place in your classroom after seeing another vision of Bellatrix urging Crabbe into moving faster. Her morning clearly alluded to her spending it under Riddle triggering a flashback to your last visit, his slinking up behind you trying to catch and savor your scent. Rolling your head awkwardly your skin began to crawl feeling like an uncomfortable itchy turtleneck triggering rashes across your skin.

Scratching out the tick marks with your pen you rapidly dropped your eyes welled with tears as you sat in your room you aparated to, feeling the room shift in another chug of the burning fire whiskey you aimed to use for a dreamless night with everything you would need for the morning after set up by your bed. Halfway through the bottle, earlier than usual due to your lack of eating your eyes drooped and you laid back across the bed telling yourself not to finish the bottle. A harsh shake of your shoulder shot your eyes open again making your heart plummet at the note K passed you from Minerva.

Pt 61

#Break ups #Correcting Things #Alcoholism #Newt Scamander #Loss of Control

[i-need-to-stop-stanning]

Stray Kids Reaction To Meeting You For The First Time (Hyung Line)

Each member has a different scenario, this is my first reaction. Hope you enjoy!💜

Bang Chan/Chris

Chan has decided that the boys needed to get out of the house and unwind a little. So he did what any rational father of 7 would do, and got them all a day off from practicing to go to the amusement park. The 00 line, and Jeongin we’re having the time of their life, being able to embrace their childlike side for a day, and Changbin and Minho were enjoying the food that was offered. Chan wasn’t really big on rides, so he decided to sit on a bench in front of the ride that the “kids” had dragged Woojin to this time. He had such a genuine smile on his face watching his hardworking younger members get to have fun as a reward for all the work put into the comeback. While Chan was engrossed in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice the person sit next to him. He was brought out of his thoughts by the sigh of the girl sat to his right. He turned his head to see the prettiest girl he has ever laid his eyes on. Her H/L H/C flowed in the wind and looked oh so soft. He wanted to pet her. Her big E/C eyes shone behind her glasses as she sunk in on herself, practically drowning in the jean jacket, far too big for her. She was staring intentivly at the ride in front of her. He decided to ask if she was okay. “Oh yes im fine thank you. I just got out of going on that ride with my friends. Gosh I would have died.” He chuckled at her hyperbole. “My names Chan, what’s yours?” He asked with a shy smile, showing of his dimple. “I’m Y/n” she replied equally as shy. “Wanna go find something we can do together that doesn’t involve scary rides, Y/N?” He stuck his hand out for her to take and she placed hers into it. He drug her off to find something to do that would be fun for the both of them.

Woojin

The 00 line had dragged him to karaoke in the late hours of the night because they weren’t allowed to go anywhere after they had caused chaos from sneaking out on their own for snacks. Woojin was sat on the couch in the back of the room as Seungmin sang to a BTS song and Felix proved he knew the choreography to it. Hyunjin and Jisung were playing a game on their phone, since they were waiting for their turn. As he began to drift off due to his lack of sleep he heard something. Something beautiful. Someone beautiful. Someone across from them was singing Voices and they were killing it. All the boys froze as they realized the familiar melody and Woojins normal high note being sung perfectly. Felix was the first to exit the room in order to find which room the music was coming from. The music was muffled through the door of the room at the end of the hall. Felix knocked, and waited until a girl about 5’6 opened the door and went wide eyed. “Oh my god, y-you’re Fel-lix le-ee” he gave her his signature smile and asked if they could come in. The girl, still shaking a bit, opened the door wider and they all came into the room as the other girl finishes the song. She turns around eyes closed and a big smile on her face as she practically screams “ Y/F/N, I got 100 dude. Yasss. I’m so happy” she began to jump up and down, and finally opened her eyes. She stopped. Her jaw fell slack as she looked at them. Her eyes on Felix, then Seungmin, Hyunjin, Han, and finally me. We locked eyes and I finally got a good look at her. She was maybe even more beautiful than her voice. Her E/C eyes were so entrancing behind her bangs that looked as though they needed trimmed. Her H/C castcading off her head in loose curls. Her extremely soft looking lips in an O due to her shock. Once she calmed down a little they all introduced themselves, even though the two girls already knew they names of the boys. Her name turned out to be Y/N. Was their anything about this girl that wasn’t pretty? The answer was no. They talked for a while when jisung and her friend began to sing a song they put on. The night was coming to an end, and Woojin knew he couldn’t let this beautiful girl walk out of his life, so he got her number. On the walk him the boys teased him, but Woojin didn’t care. All he could think about where those eyes.

Lee Know/ Minho

Minho was the one to order the take out tonight. Oh how he hated the day when it was his turn. The whole gang had decided that they wanted pizza after getting home from dance practice and when looking at the chart they had on the fridge, it was indeed Minhos turn to call. He dialed the closest pizza place that was still open and waited till someone picked up. “Good evening, this is the Bake n’ Take, how may I help you?” A cheery voice spoke into the monitor and he wondered if she knew It was not evening but midnight. “Ah yes can I please get one large supreme pizza, one large pepperoni, and one medium cheese please?” “Will that be all sir?” She asked in a friendly tone “that should do it” “that will be 35,000 won sir, and it should take about 40 minutes to get to you, have a nice night!” He hung up after saying the same to her, and went into the living room to watch the movie with the rest of his group. About 45 minuets into the new incredibles movie the doorbell rang and everyone pointed at Minho to answer it. He reluctantly got out of the crease he created in the sofa and trudged to the door, grabbing his wallet off of the island in the kitchen. He opened the door, and was greated by someone so beautiful they took his breath away. Her H/L fell perfectly under her bright red baseball cap that had the logo of the ‘Bake n’ Take’ on it. Her polo shirt overtop the black long sleeve shirt had the same logo embroidered to the right side of it. Her hands filled with pizza boxes up to her nose and you could only see her glistening eyes. Minho could have swore he could see the stars swimming in her smiling eyes. “Sir, did you order three pizzas? Supreme, pepperoni, and cheese?” She asked as she read the reciept on the top of the box. “Yeah that’s me.” He said smiling at her. “That will be 35,000 won please.” She handed him the pizza boxes and gave him a warm smile as he got the money from his wallet. When he looked up, he caught sight of her name tag. The small golden plate read “Y/N” in black letters. He gave her the money, thanked her and watched as she descended the stairs, back to the grand lobby and off to give more pizza to other people. He would have to order from them again.

Changbin

3 Racha had decided to go busking since they hadn’t in a while, and to get out of the dorm. They packed up some mics, speakers and all the Necessary cords to plug everything up, before getting dressed to look their best. They got on the bus to the busy street near all the shopping centers. They set up there station and began their first song, Matroshkya. A crowd began to form around them and some Stays spread the word, the crowd becoming quite large. As For You began to play it began to drizzle. Oh how Changbin loved this weather. He began his verse when he looked up and saw you. The cutest thing he has ever seen. A beautiful girl was smiling happily as you moved to the music. Her H/L H/C bouncing in its place. The bangs styled on her forehead blocking her eyes slightly, but not enough to block the orbs behind her round glasses. She was smiling right at Changbin. Orbs meeting orbs. He smiled back and continued his verse. She had stayed the entire time, and had clapped after every song. While they were packing up, she decided to go up and thank them for their performance. Changbin has been left to clean up all their equipment while Chan and Jisung decided to get them all some food, because they were drained of energy. While Changbin was bent over stuffing cords into one of the backpacks they brought, he heard small steps growing closer. He stood to his feet, only to see her. The one he couldn’t stop looking at the whole performance. “You were great out there, thank you for coming to perform” she spoke with a shy smile pushing a bit of hair behind her ear. He blushed a crimson color and returned her smile “thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it...” he trailed off waiting for her to give him her name. “Oh, Y/N, my name is Y/N” she said chuckling slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” He kissed the back of her hand causing her to giggle. God, could this girl get any cuter? Changbin thought. “How about I give you my number and i can tell you when we will be back again?” He asked hopeful. “Oh yes, of course” she fumbled with her phone and gave it to him. He plugged his number in and named himself ‘baby Changbinnie💕’ before handing her phone back. “I hope to get a text from you cutie” He spoke with a playful wink before running off to find CB97 and J.ONE. They would be shook that SPEARB got himself a cute girls number.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #bang chan #chan #kim woojin #woojin #lee know #minho #seo changbin #changbin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #han jisung #han #jisung #lee felix #felix #kim seungmin #seungmin #yang jeongin #jeongin #i.n #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop reactions