#like oof i meant to respond to a few comments but it's been like 2 weeks maybe??? i dont even know?? and i feel so so bad dkfjhfd

[zankydraws]

my toxic trait is that when someone says something nice to me online, I often get anxious so I try to take some time before I respond (especially on tumblr for some reason). and since time isn't real to me, it may take me days of mental preparing (a few days feel like nothing to me, but it's definitely something to other people kfjdh) and I very often forget to actualy respond

and then I feel too stupid about saying stuff because days have passed already

so please please remember that I see every comment and tag and I appreciate all of them! you people are absolutely awesome and I luv you all <3

#zankytalks #pwease forgive me dkfjgh #like oof i meant to respond to a few comments but it's been like 2 weeks maybe??? i dont even know?? and i feel so so bad dkfjhfd #fuqq... #i swear i dont mean to ghost anyone like that but i am so stupid

[unsettledink]

Fanfic Writer Ask Game

Tagged by @zsparz - thank you, I always love doing these! (And also thanks to yours, I read a winterbaron fic despite myself and LIKED it ahhhhh gotta go leave you a comment.) I grabbed the questions from @scarletmanuka1 cause more questions is always better :D

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 

363 - one of my goals is to hit 365 by the end of the year. You could read a fic every day for a year! (Don’t do that, why would anyone want to put themselves through that?)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

588,623

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

26, but 16 of those I've only written 1-2 fics for, generally drabblets.

Alice in Wonderland (Burton), Blade, Body of Lies, RPF, Bunnicula, Chronicles of Riddick, Da Vinci's Demons, Dior Homme, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Farscape, Hitchhiker's Guide, Inception, MCU (Iron Man, Spider-Man, Avengers, Thor)  Kick-Ass, Mojo, Pirates of the Caribbean, Redwall, Revolver, Road to Eldorado, Robin Hood, Rock'n'Rolla, Sherlock Holmes, Snatch, The Long Firm, Wicked, X-Men, Zodiac

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Seiche - 816 (MCU) - There is something about ABO that cause those fics to always rank higher. It’s fascinating!

Tamed - 701 (Riddick) - This has the added benefit of existing for almost ten years, and having made it to the first page if sorting by kudos. Which is an endless loop - more likely to be seen, so more likely to get kudos, so more likely to be seen, so...

Cuddle - 640 (Road to El Dorado) - All the same features as Tamed, plus this fandom only has a couple hundred fics to start with.

Indefensible - 601 (MCU) - What did I say about the ABO? Also, smut. Smut always, always ranks higher, and the more dirty bad wrong it is, the higher. More kudos and less comments generally, and I understand!

Better Than - 523 (MCU) - It makes me so happy this continues to hang on up there. I don’t have speculations on why!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I've always tried to, though I went through a few years where I stopped due to depression. I keep thinking about gong back and replying to those, even if it might be weird, cause it BUGS ME that I didn't.

I love replying to comments for several reasons. A huge one is that I just really love talking about writing and my fic, so a reply is a chance to elaborate on some detail or talk about the writing process or something. (I don't know if that's annoying, but I love it when authors do that in reply to my comments!) I like people to know that I saw their comment and that no matter how short, it meant a lot to me, they're not shouting into the void. And – though it doesn't seem like as much of a thing anymore – pretty much all of the fandom friends I've every made were through the comments of fics, the conversations that got sparked. People don't seem to really chat in comments like that anymore? I very seldom have someone reply to a reply I leave.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

(as per usual, I ramble on and on, so the rest is behind the cut)

Oof, that's so tough. Pretty much everything I've written recently (the past few years at least) has been happier, but for a long time, I was heavily focused on angst, so there's a lot of them. I tried to go with a few that literally still make me cry when rereading them.

Aegis (MCU, Peter/Quentin) - Even though I know it’s coming, even though I WROTE it, the last couple of lines make me start crying every single time I re-read it. It’s something about this bright flash of what could have been possible that I can’t handle.

A Word, Waiting to Break (Body of Lies, Hani/Roger) - Does it count if the whole thing is angsty? This fandom was kind of made for that though. The balance of what Hani is seeing and feeling and being able to express fucks me up. 

One For Sorrow (Ritchie Sherlock Holmes, Blackwood/Coward) - Another pairing that exists for angst, especially if canon compliant (and this is). Definitely a case of all the good things building up that make the ending that much harder for me to take. All the various aspects of Coward’s decision hurt.

Not Long (Ritchie Sherlock Holmes, Holmes/Coward) - It feels a little clumsy now, but it still manages to upset me. I love the idea of broken people finding some sort of comfort in each other, and hate it when they just break everything more.It also might be that I just have such a clear, vivid image in my head of the end, and that likely doesn’t translate well.

Knowledge of Somewhere (ACD Sherlock Holmes, Holmes/Watson) - It was just supposed to be a little experiment playing with ACD as a writer! And then I fucking destroyed myself with the sad and the hurt and yes I am literally tearing up now, I don’t know guys. I have issues with the idea of ‘gone wrong’ universes having an awareness of ‘gone right’ universes, don’t ever get me started on time travel in movies.

Like an Ever Skipping Record (RocknRolla + Inception, Eames/Yusuf/Johnny) - I don’t know what happened here. Honestly. I was enjoying this odd little universe and nothing was sad and then I’m driving home one day listening to Time and this drops into my head fully formed, and I bawled the rest of the way home. Cried the entire time I wrote it, but I couldn’t not write it. I’m so angry about it.

7. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I'd say most of my Peter/Tony fics end happily! Better Than, (Just) Waiting Around, Seiche, & Later for Later are all not just 'happy' endings but really happy endings, everything fixed and right with the world. Actually, that’s an important part of it for me - to feel like an actual happy ending and not just a nice ending, they have to have had some trouble getting there. Which all of those feature as well.

8. Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest crossover you’ve written?

No-- well, not really. I have a couple crossovers from way back in the day, but I haven't written any since, and I very seldom read them. Sometimes I think I should give them more of a chance, because the good ones can be REALLY good, but eh.

The craziest is definitely the Blade/Inception crossovers. I honestly don't even fully remember what brought them about? I think it was one of the commentfic wars where scrapbullet started it and then I played around with it. Like a little fever dream.

9. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Weirdly enough, not really? Which feels unusual because I write a lot of 'problematic' pairings and content. It's probably mostly because I'm not at all popular or well known, lol.

I got an annoyed comment on a fic that wrote for the kink meme that has a large section of another language, saying that it was a terrible translation that I should take down this disservice to their language. Considering that I had that section checked and edited by two different native speakers... yeah nah. Oh and I got a comment on a Holmes/Watson/Dog (yes really), about how I should have warned for noncon, along with a 'consent 101' lecture. A) It's labeled 'CNTW', and B) uh. It's. It's-- the base concept and pairing is inherently noncon and that cannot be altered???

10. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

So much. SOOOO much. Uh, what kind? A lot, I guess. Almost exclusively m/m. Quite a bit of kink and power dynamics/elements of those. Frequently consent issues and darker smut, but just as frequently stuff where everyone is just having a good time.

I get a lot of 'I didn't think I had this interest but apparently now I do??' and 'this is somehow so soft despite the absolute filth?' and I'd say a lot of times, the smut is an emotional climax/breaking point as much as physical. I like my smut a little lot fraught with feels, even if the characters themselves don't understand.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of. I don’t know how I’d even know, though.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Many! Probably about a dozen? It's a really nice feeling that someone wanted to go through that effort. I always wonder how well various things carry over.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sort of, in a collaborative way for a challenge? It wasn't a bad experience, but it's not my thing. I'm not great at getting my brain to run alongside other's ideas; it's part of why I seldom do exchanges/prompts.

That said, in some ways I feel like a few of fics were practically co-written with other people, though I don't know if most would see it that way? Scrapbullet and I did a bunch of writing in shared au's, and @the-me09 ‘s beta reading can frequently help alter things to such an extent that it feels like co-writing lol.

14. What’s you all time favourite ship?

Impossible question! For writing, maybe Holmes/Watson. I read in it long before I wrote, and I can see myself coming back to writing it in the future.

Blackwood/Coward is a very close second, but that's honestly at least half from the wonderful community and memories associated.

15. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I mean... I intend to finish all of them! It's part of why I very seldom post WIPs, because I'd hate to leave one out there unfinished. And I still have a long time (fingers crossed) to write things.

There is Take What You Can, which was supposed to be for a big bang that I dropped out of. I did eventually 'finish' and post it, but... it never really felt properly finished. I'd really like to go back and revisit it, give some time to the bits I rushed over to just get it done. It was the longest and most ambitious thing I’d written at that point, and it really should have been about twice that length.

But that's so low on my list of things I want to write (five MILLION) and has no audience. I don't know if I'll ever actually get to it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Smut! Angst. Last lines/endings. Flipping dynamics. Emotions. Titles? (I don't know if they're a 'strength', but I love picking titles and am almost always happy with the way they add on to the fic.)

17. What are you writing weaknesses?

Beginnings. Plot. Action sequences. Fluff. Inability to end sentences in a reasonable amount of words. Never using one word when I can use six. Even though I've been told otherwise a lot, dialogue is always nerve wracking for me.

18. What are you thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't care for it, and likely wouldn't write any. I find it frustrating when no translation is provided, or when it's at the end (I don't want to scroll back and forth, and I've probably forgotten by the time I get there). I wish more writers made use of mouseover text, it's so great for that particular issue. It’s not a backbutton for me - I have a translation addon installed, so I can just highlight the text and find out what it says, but it still throws me out of the fic a bit.

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Sherlock Holmes! Specifically 2009 movie. Too Easy (Holmes/Watson/Blackwood) It has some rough spots, but you know what, i still stand by it!

The kinkmeme for that fandom was absolutely amazing, and being able to try things out anon (even if I seldom stayed anon) was incredibly helpful for starting to write fanfic.

20. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

Wow even more impossible question! I tried to limit myself, okay? There are just so many I LOVE. I only allowed myself one per pairing which is even HARDER.

Life For the Living (The Long Firm, Harry/Lenny)

You want to talk about a fandom of none?? This was the first fic for the show, and most of the rest since have also been me LOL. Mark Strong fans are pretty freaking awesome though, and I just love this fic. One of those that dropped into my head completely written, this missing scene of all the built up tension finally shattering. It doesn't change the ending, and might make it even harder to take, but it's still so satisfying.

Bleed Out Ink (Sherlock Holmes, Holmes/Watson)

It really is impossible to pick one of my H/W, but this is right up there. I still cry at the end every time, even though it's not really a sad ending? But a lot of feeling. Writing about writers is always a lot of fun and a little weird too, and the layers of authors/writing within Sherlock Holmes is endlessly fascinating to play with.

Pitselah (Ritchie Sherlock Holmes, Blackwood/Coward)

My heart, my heart. Another very small (though very dedicated) fandom, that doesn't really exist anymore. This fic is like, a perfect storm of things I am fixated on: 2nd person pov (don't run away!!), gift of the magi-esque themes, regrets, people coming back Wrong, doing the worst possible things, the most awful things, out of an intense love, betrayals on many levels. Gah. I love it.

Salutary (Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Graves/Credence),

This was not nearly as popular as my other FBWFT fics, probably because it's weird. I definitely have a whole universe that wraps around it and I'd like to write one day. I am just such a sucker for scent based claiming and worldbuilding, for feral Credence and all the awful things Grindlewald could have done to Graves.

Morning (Body of Lies, Hani/Roger),

The reverse strip tease! I've always been really happy with the visuals of this, and giving Hani & Roger a moment that is straight up happy, in an universe that implies this isn't just one stolen moment, but the status quo. It's harder than I thought with this pairing. Also I got the most stunning art drawn for it by sizerly and it's still what I see when re-reading it.

Things Never Meant to Be Seen (Inception/RocknRolla, Eames/Yusuf/Johnny/Archy),

I... yeah I don't know, guys. This is such a strange little universe but I love it, and I love the progression here, the little discoveries and people getting to enjoy seeing their loved ones be happy. And see a space for themselves open up, ugh, I cannot. It actually can probably stand on its own without reading the rest, because the world is skewed enough you just have to accept it happened.

Just a Bite (MCU, Tony/Peter),

On the one hand, how could I pick this vs some of the other Tony/Peter that I love so much and are so proud of? But on the other hand... I really love this little fic. I could write about this stuff for ages: handfeeding kink, peter discovering new things and liking it, Tony getting a chance to be taken care of and allowing it and being allowed to act subby in a way I never see enough of, Peter finding these glimmers of dominance in himself. Yes to all of it.

What's Best (MCU, Tony/Obie),

Because I also love me some utter heartbreak and betrayal. I stand by my belief that Obie is the MCU's single best villain, and the tension between the two of them in practically every second of the movie just has me screaming about all the things that could have—or DID—happen. That betrayal still ranks as one of my top five (maybe even top) most sickening, devastating moments in the MCU. (So of course I had to write about it!)

Deep End (MCU, Tony/Quentin)

Look I am straight up angry that @the-me09​ gently pulled over to the Tony/Quentin fandom and then drowned me in it! I love all of my Tony/Quentin (and T/Q/Peter) fics so much, but this series in particular makes me so happy. It's hard to explain especially as so much of it is still only in my head, but I love putting overconfident Q in situations that make him struggle, and struggle to hide that, and hide that he's out of his depth even to himself. I love the dynamic of Tony and Quentin with these matched needs clashing against each other and being delighted in what others find frustrating.

#ask games #tag games #writing about my writing #unsettled rambles

[thefishmongersdaughter]

Clad in black leather armour, Geralt of Rivier strides into the local tavern. His journey has been long and his horse needs rest before he continues out towards the West, on a quest to find his brothers in arms. Eskel and Lambert had journeyed out on a mission to hunt down a manticore, but had not been heard from in almost seven months. Deep down Geralt knew that there was a possibility that they had been lost in battle, but he held out hope that he would find them. Even if it meant searching throughout the long winter nights with nothing but his lantern and his trusty steed. Until then, he required drink and a night's good rest.

"One room, and an ale," he greets the bartender, sliding ample coin across the bartop.

Pleasant lute music floats through the bar, soothing Geralt's nerves and allowing him to listen in silence without seeming antisocial. Taking his drink to a table near the back, Geralt watches as the bard entertains the other tavern-goers.

[DM: Julian, give me a performance check.

Julian: What? Oh, uh... ah, bollocks. That's a 4.

DM: Oof, sorry chap. The tavern-goers do not like your song at all. As Jaskier tries to rally them all into a cheerful, rowdy song about abortion-

Julian: oh dear god...

DM: -the villagers boo and throw bread at your bard.]

Jaskier stops playing and concedes defeat, but collects a few bread rolls and stuffs them into his pocket for later; never know when bread might come in handy, and it isn't like he has much coin left for food after that stint at the brothel during the last campaign. Defeated, he puts away his lute and secures it in its case before surveying the bar; if he wasn't going to charm his way into a free bed for the night through song, then perhaps he could try it the old fashioned way. Flirting.

[Julian: Geralt, what does your character look like?

Geralt: Long blonde hair, muscular, blue eyes.

Julian: ....look, I didn't say anything when you named him after yourself, but he can't look like you as well.

Geralt: Fine, he has...white hair. And amber eyes, with cat-pupils. And scars all over. Happy?

Julian: ... ok, I'll roll to seduce Geralt the Cat-Man Barbarian. And... that... is a 2. What the hell is wrong with this D20?]

"I love how you just sit in the corner and brood." Jaskier starts.

"I'm here to drink alone," Geralt responds moodily, refusing to meet the terrible bard's gaze.

[Julian: Wow. Rude.]

"Good, yeah. Good," Jaskier persists, despite the barbarian-

[Geralt: Witcher]

- Witcher's apparently foul temper. "Nobody else hesistated to comment on the quality of my performance. Except you."

[DM: Roll for persuasion

Julian: What? Why?

DM: you're trying to coerce him into reviewing your performance. Roll for persuasion.

Julian: ..... oh come on!! I got 6.]

"Come on, you don't want to keep a man with... bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me... three words or less."

The Witcher considers this for a moment then answers, "They don't exist."

"Whaaaat don't exist?"

"The creatures in your song."

[DM: Geralt, roll a history check.

Geralt: Wouldn't it be nature?

DM: Yeah, could be nature. Whichever you want to roll with.

Geralt: That's 12, plus 4 for proficiency.

Julian: Can I roll perception to see how he knows that?

DM: Sure.

Julian: 18]

"And how would you know? Oooh, fun. White hair, big ole loner, two very, very scary looking swords. I know who you are."

Geralt stands and starts to walk away, not in the mood to be outted to the whole tavern as a Witcher and not particularly impressed with the bard's terrible charisma checks.

[Julian: Oh, he doesn't want to be called out, does he?

Geralt: don't...]

"You're the Witcher."

Geralt ignores him pointedly.

"Called it!" Jaskier shouts after him, determined to follow.

[Geralt: Why is he following a Witcher?

Julian: Plot convenience? Also, he's a bard. It is the solemn oath of all bards to tenderly fuck every and any seduceable creature they encounter. Also, he needs stories to write songs about.

Geralt: Can I punch the bard?

DM: Roll to hit, Julian roll to save.

Geralt: 17

Julian: 9... I hate this dice, can I swap?

DM: Nope. Geralt, roll 1D4 damage.

Geralt: 2

DM: Jaskier is winded but not hurt badly enough to be deterred. Now, moving over to Yennefer at the farm...]

#witcher au #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #jaskier #dandelion #drabble #the witcher

[banalbones]

The Petite Prince: Chapter 5

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8

Chapter 5: The Treasure Hunt, Part 2

Summary: Roman is a child. Virgil and Logan lost him, and have been questing to find him for way too long. Remus loves his bro, but is feeling a bit more chaotic.

Words: 2485

Ships: Familial prinxiety, logince and Creativitwins. Eventual familial royality, roceit and DRLAMP  

Genre: Fluff with a side dose of angst

Warnings: A few swears, tiny blood mention, arguing, a mention of being unconscious, a dragon, falling, tell me if there’s any more!

Taglist: @pricklyfish777 @sunflowerblondeuwu  @itriedandimtired @draw-your-perfect-world @cemmy @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @nonbinary-lizard-2

_________________________

The ‘twins’ were doing karaoke with the birds.

“Love is an open doo-oo-oor!”

The song was perfect for the pair, an adorable ‘love’ song for Roman, and a Disney villain tune for Remus.

Roman was grinning madly, his gap tooth showing, as his sweet little child voice perfectly nailed all of the notes.

“You’re really good at this,” Remus commented, taking a break from the song. “But Elphaba’s better.”

Cue the *o f f e n d e d p r i n c e y n o i s e s*.

“She’s a bi- she’s a bird! How can she be b- be better?”

Remus cackled. Annoying his brother was fun, even when he was a child.

He probably shouldn’t be thinking that, but still.

Quoting Virgil, sometimes I just gotta be me-an.

The smol one wacked his leg with the stick.

(Remus truly didn’t know how he kept getting it.)

“You know,” he said, “We could decorate the stick.”

That was a thing kids did right? Decorating sticks? 

Apparently it was, as Roman squealed in delight and jumped around, whilst simultaneously summoning paint and glitter and smaller sticks and a whole lot of other stuff Remus didn’t bother to acknowledge.

I would have just gotten blood.

_________________________

“Are we supposed to climb this thing?” Virgil asked incredulously.

Logan wasn’t looking at the tower, so much as the dragon. It had shimmering scales, the color of the sea, covering the entirety of its lithe body, with accents of a bright gold littered throughout. The sunset colored wings however, were the things that stuck out most.

The dragon was quite beautiful and had cool wings, in an abbreviated sentence.

It also appeared to be asleep, which was definitely a pro in this situation of cons.

“If we wish to retrieve Roman, I believe so.”

“Well, fuck.”

_________________________

Virgil for all his faults, was loyal. Or so he told himself. Janus (?!?!), when the emo was still a part of the Others, had told him that dark sides were extremely protective of what they deem to be theirs.

So he supposed it made sense that he, the literal embodiment of anxiety, was about to climb a fifty foot tower with no safety precautions, just to save the little prince.

He turned to Logan and grinned sheepishly.

“So, uh, do you want to start?”

Just because Virgil was going to do it, didn’t mean he had to go first.

_________________________

The Dragon Witch smirked slightly as she rested her scaled head atop the tower’s black roof, gazing down at the two sides.

Looked like it was time to drop the ladder.

_________________________

Logan rolled his eyes at Virgil and began to reach for the tower, not sure what he was actually going to do when he touched it, when suddenly a pile of pili fell on his head.

“What the heck?”

The sub-astute teacher looked up to see… a rope of hair?

What?

“It’s like in Tangled!” Virgil said, somewhat excitedly.

“The Disney movie?”

“The Disney movie.” Virgil nodded.

“So what do we do, climb it?”

“I mean I guess,” The Supreme Dark Overlord of Negative Commerce (That’s a throwback) paused, “Because I don’t see any stairs.”

Logan, once again, rolled his eyes.

Might as well start climbing.

And so he did.

_________________________

Roman watched LoLo begin to climb through the fly-eyes. It seemed so fun!

Maybe he could do that one day…

If Remus would let him.

Roman giggled.

He probably would.

_________________________

Remus had wanted to add a thorn bush at the bottom of the tower, to be true to the original, ya know? But the smol one hadn’t wanted them to get hurt.

Again.

So instead, he had come up with an ingenious compromise that Logan would have been proud of.

Put vines at the bottom, but make them look like thorns!

It would be so funny to see Virgil panic and try even harder not to fall, especially with the armor-

Oh yeah!

“RoRo, do you want to give them the armor now?”

The little prince nodded enthusiastically, his face scrunching up in concentration.

And then…

“I did it!”

Little did the prince know that Remus had done a slight flick of the wrist, ensuring that the metal protection would… weigh them down.

He may be my brother, and I still love and will protect him at all costs, but I am always a chaotic rat man.

_________________________

I can’t believe you acknowledged that you were a chaotic rat man.

I can.

_________________________

Patton hummed softly, twirling around as he made the brownies.

He had tried checking on Roman in his room, but the princely side hadn’t answered.

So, he decided to make brownies to give to Roman when he felt like he could talk to him again!

If he ever felt like he could…

Patton shook his head quickly, dismissing the thought.

He would! It was Roman, after all!

Patton swallowed.

It was Roman, after all…

_________________________

Logan was halfway up the tower (and the hair) when he felt a weight be placed on his body. A very heavy weight.

The logical side was now extremely glad he had made Virgil stay on the ground.

Gravity tugged a little too hard on Logan for his own liking, and then he was falling.

And falling.

And f

           a

                 l

                      l

                           i

                               n

                                       g

                                            .

Into a pile of thornbushes?

Logan inwardly groaned. It was like in the Grimm Brother’s version of the fairytale.

The prince fell into a bunch of thorns and got blinded.

I’m already blind enough, come on!

He barely registered Virgil screaming out his name through the rush of air and thoughts.

And then he landed.

________________________

Virgil screamed as Logan fell.

He was gonna die!

Could sides even die?

He didn’t think so, but what if they could?

The emo’s mind was so filled with what ifs, that he barely registered the dumping of heavy metal on his shoulders.

It was like a weighted blanket but five times heavier.

“Oof.” He was pulled to the floor, just as Logan landed… in a pile of thorns?!

How had he not noticed that?

“Holy shit! Logan!”

He heard a groan.

“Ow.”

Virgil breathed a sigh of relief.

At least he was alive.

_________________________

You fell off a tower?!

Yes. I just said that.

How did you survive?

We’re getting to that.

_________________________

The teacher figure groaned as he opened his eyes. He wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t bleeding.

That was a good sign.

It seems I have not, in fact landed in a pile of thorns.

“Holy shit! Logan!”

Logan attempted to move his head. A fall like that could not be good for his neck.

He managed it, if only slightly, to see a raccoon-like side running, well trying to run, towards him.

“Hello, Virgil. Before you ask, no, I do not know how I am alive.”

“Are you-”

“Yes, I am indeed hurt,” Logan interrupted, “I fell twenty five feet, what did you expect?”

“I don’t… whatever. How come you’re wearing armor?”

Logan responded with a dry “You are too,” before craning his neck (ow) to see that he was, in fact, wearing a bunch of bulky metal.

It was very blue. Or indigo, depending on how specific you wanted to be.

“Why is it so heavy?”

“That’s because of Remus,” a very familiar, lilting voice answered, as weapons materialized in the boys hands.

“Oh shit,” he heard Virgil mutter.

Logan looked up (once again, ow) to see the dragon that had been sitting atop the tower flying towards them.

It let out a roar.

To mirror Virgil’s earlier words, oh shit.

_________________________

Roman stood proudly, brandishing his stick for all to see.

By all, he meant Remus and the birds, as they were the only ones left to see it.

(The other forest creatures had to go, they had told Roman, it was almost dinner time for them.)

Apparently, birds had really weird eating schedules.

Big me had a really weird eating schedule too. He only ate during the night.

That, along with the fact big him never slept at night either led to the little prince forming a rather intelligent conclusion.

Big him was nocturnal!

Like an owl!

Wait…

If Big him was nocturnal (or an owl)…

Did that mean ReeRee was too?

…

“ReeRee… are you a- you an owl? Or noc- or noc-tur-nal?”

The Duke turned.

“Also, do yo- do you li-li-li’ my stick? Its glitty-ery!”

The tiny royal’s big brother looked confused.

“No? Why? Your stick is splendiferous, by the way.”

Now it was Roman’s turn to be confused.

(He was happy with the reaction to the stick.)

“Big me is. How co-how come you aren’t?”

Maybe the lack of sleep at night isn’t something that owl’s do.

Oh! Elphaba’s leaving! Byeee!

The petite prince was so caught up in his train of thought that he didn’t see Remus’s concerned gaze.

Bye bye birdies!

_________________________

Virgil stared at the bedazzled dirk in his hand, the onyx gems glinting in the light of the fire.

Wait, fire?

The emo turned to see a large green dragon (?!?!) diving towards him, flames spewing out of its mouth.

A dragon?

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit

“Virgil! Move!” he heard a voice shouting.

But for a moment he was paralyzed.

Then, in a way that was opposite his regular behavior, he let out a battle cry and leapt towards the reptilian rapscallion (Roman would be proud), brandishing his weapon.

The dragon roared as Virgil threw one of his dirks, the sharp metal burying itself in a shimmering teal scale.

No blood emerged.

One weapon wasted.

“What the fuck are you doing, you inbecile? Run!”

For some reason, Virgil decided to ignore the admittedly good advice.

The dragon swiped at the anxious side, knocking him into the hard brick of the tower.

The scaled beast crept forward.

It poked Virgil’s head, slamming it back into the stone.

And then the world was fading to black.

Well, he knew that wasn’t good.

_________________________

Logan shut his eyes, restraining a groan of frustration.

WHY did people (metaphysical people) never listen to him?

Virgil was the smallest of the sides (apart from Roman, at the moment) and though he was fight or flight, the anxious side really didn’t know how to defend himself, especially against dragons. It also didn’t help that he only had a tiny daggers and a leaden suit of armor to protect himself.

Logan took a deep breath.

…

When the logical side’s eyes reopened, he was subjected to the view of Virgil being yeeted (slang words) into the tower.

Virgil was quickly climbing up the idiot list.

Very quickly indeed.

_________________________

Where am I on the list right now?

The same place as you were when this happened.

Where was I?

That is not important.

What? Yes it i-

_________________________

Remus was concerned. Which was weird for him.

What did the smol one mean?

An owl?

Nocturnal?

Was Roman secretly an owl? Or did his twin have a really unhealthy sleep schedule that led to negatively affecting his mood, energy levels and attention span, making him lash out in even the slightest of stressful situations whilst simultaneously causing his metaphysical human being-like health and mental health to deteriorate?

Nah, he was probably an owl.

And with that (most of) Remus’s concern washed away.

His brother was an owl.

_________________________

Roman was watching the battle through the fly-eyes. Well, battle was an over exaggeration. It was really just VeeVee getting smacked into a wall by a dragon (who looked suspiciously like the Dragon Witch Big him had killed a while ago).

The prince looked to where Logan was.

The nerd looked reeeeeally annoyed.

Probably because now he had to defeat the dragon all by himself.

What’s he gonna do?

Roman watched as the logical side got up, a broadsword appearing in his grasp.

The prince summoned a bowl of popcorn.

He should throw it. Mama should definitely throw it.

Logan threw it.

And missed.

The sword didn’t even get near it!

Come ooooon, Mama.

The dragon roared and pounced on Logan, baring its teeth.

Roman leaned forward, a handful of popcorn nearing his mouth.

This was getting good.

A drop of saliva dripped onto Logan’s face…

Aaaaaannd…

He was whisked away from the fly-eyes view by a pair of grimy hands.

“ReeRee! No fair!”

“Sorry RoRo.”

The little prince pouted, and Remus held something out to hi.

“Look I made a stick!”

_________________________

Did it work?

Did what work?

The stick. As a distraction.

It wasn’t a distraction, I just really wanted to show him my stick!

Liesssss.

It was also a distraction.

_________________________

Patton was becoming concerned.

Roman usually would have come out by now.

Maybe he decided to talk to someone else.

But who?

Definitely not Janus, for obvious reasons. Maybe Virgil?

I should check. Just to see if he’s okay.

I’ll bring the brownies.

Just in case…

And so the walk to Virgil’s room began.

_________________________

Do it for the child.

That was the mantra that Logan was repeating in his head.

He truly did not appreciate being carried through the sky in a dragon’s claws, especially since it had caused his glasses to fall off of his face.

For the last time, I’m already blind! Why is it always me?

It also didn’t help that every single part of his body was aching.

_________________________

Do it for the bean.

That was the mantra that would probably have been repeated in Virgil’s head at this moment, if he wasn’t unconscious.  

_________________________

Patton frowned.

Virgil wasn’t there.

Maybe Roman and his dark strange son were with Logan!

And so the walk to Logan’s room began.

_________________________

Remus giggled.

RoRo had forgotten about the fly-eyes almost immediately, being too distracted by the glowing stick.

He waved his hand.

A visitor (or two) was about to drop in.

_________________________

Patton furrowed his brows.

Logan wasn’t in his room either.

Were they all together?

Who else could they be with?

Remus?

It was worth a shot.

And so the walk to Remus’s room began.

_________________________

Back in the dragon witch’s claws, a fully healed, very confused Virgil awoke, and Logan felt all of his physical pain disappear, along with the stupid heavy armor.

And then they were thrown through the window of the brick monstrosity,

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

As Patton twisted the door handle,

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

As Virgil and Logan crashed through the floor of the tower,

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

As Remus looked up to see the ceiling falling in,

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

As Patton pushed open the door,

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

As the left brain boys fell into the Duke’s room.

Oh boy.

_________________________

Roman looked up from the stick to see ReeRee grinning like a madman (That’s pretty normal), VeeVee and Mama sprawled on the floor (Yay! Why’s the ceiling broken?), and Da- Patton glancing around the room with a plate of brownies in his hands (ohnohonohonohonohonoh).

The petite prince was feeling slightly overwhelmed.

“Wha?”

_________________________

Thanks for reading this chapter of the Petite Prince!

(And by the way, at the time of the stick distraction, Roman is around five. If you’re confused, don’t be scared to ask.)

Any and all feedback is appreciated!

#sanders sides #thomas sanders sides #tss #the petite prince #baby roman #roman sanders #ts roman #remus sanders #ts remus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton

[soundofseventeen]

Someday Pt. 10 (Jeon Wonwoo)

Hello! Last part! This was a trip to write! Thank you to everyone who read! I hope you enjoyed this chaos!! I have no idea what I’m doing next!! Have a good holiay and rest of your day! 💛

Masterlist

Turns out, the distance didn’t help. You still had your crush on Wonwoo. It was still there, going strong, annoying the hell out of you. 

And it felt even worse because you missed him so much. 

And now, today was the day you had been looking forward to and dreading since Seventeen left for their tour.��

You received a text from Soonyoung that morning saying they had just landed back in Seoul. 

You found yourself looking at your phone every ten minutes, checking to see if Wonwoo had texted you yet. Every single time was a relief and a disappointment that he hadn’t yet. Honestly, you didn’t know what you would do when he did, but it had bugged you all day. 

Part of you wanted to just tell him. A really big part wanted to tell him. Just get it out in the open and see what happened. That way, you would end up with either closure or… a boyfriend. But another part of you was extremely scared to do this. Scared enough that you just couldn’t do it. 

You jumped as you heard your phone go off, laughing to yourself as though you hadn’t been waiting for it to do that all day. You took a deep breath, opening the message on your phone. 

<Hey!! We’re back!! Do you want your present?>

You raised an eyebrow at the message. Wonwoo got you a present? 

<A present????????? :O> 

You stared at the screen, waiting for Wonwoo to reply. He was taking such a long time responding. Or it at least felt like it was taking a long time. 

<Yeah??? Of course I did??? You free tonight?> 

You took a deep breath. You could do this. You would tell him yes, he would come over, and you would confess. It was simple. You could do this. You typed out a reply, hitting send and putting your head on the table in front of you. 

<Actually, I’m pretty sick again. Don’t want to get you sick. Maybe another time. Rest up!> 

…

God, you were such a chicken. 

You let out a groan that lasted until you heard your phone ding again, picking your head up to rest your chin on the table. 

<..Oh. Okay. Feel better!> 

You groaned again, putting your forehead back on the table. Why couldn’t you do this? 

*

You paused the movie you had started watching, getting up to answer the door. Being dramatic about your chickening out earlier, you were too upset with yourself to actually cook dinner. So, you ordered take out. Considering you felt like a chicken right now, maybe some chicken would make you feel better. You looked at the time on your phone, raising an eyebrow. 

Damn, the delivery guy was quick. 

You skipped to the door, opening it up, the smile on your face falling once you saw who was standing on the other side of the door. 

“Hey you.” Wonwoo smiled, walking into the apartment. You had a whole deja vu moment, frozen in the doorway as Wonwoo set a plastic bag on the counter. You blinked a few times, turning to look at him. “You don’t look as sick this time, so at least that’s good.” Wonwoo commented, looking back at you. He saw you staring, rolling his eyes and coming up to close the door. You quickly jumped back as he shut the door, Wonwoo eyeing you. “What?” 

“...Nothing.” You said, walking to sit by your counter. 

“So what kind of sick are you? Like, do you feel like you’re going to throw up?” You shook your head. “Pass out?” You shook your head again. “...Lady stuff?” 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, rolling your eyes. He pulled out soup from the bag, opening up the top. 

“You said you were sick, and no offence, but you don’t take care of yourself very well.” He smirked, causing you to pout at him. 

“I do too.” You muttered, causing Wonwoo to give you a look. “Okay, sometimes I let things slide, but I try.” 

“Of course you do.” Wonwoo smiled, looking for a bowl. “So, do you have any medication to take or-” Wonwoo stopped as there was a knock at the door. You both turned towards the door, Wonwoo confused, you panicked. 

Your Chinese food. 

“Who’s-” 

“I got it.” You said, quickly standing up. “Can uh… Can you go get me some tylenol? It’s in the bathroom.” You smiled, Wonwoo giving you a look but walking down the hall. You quickly went to the door, opening it and quickly taking the food. You scattered around your kitchen, trying to figure out where to hide the food. 

Unfortunately, you were about 2 seconds too late. 

“Okay…” You froze, hearing Wonwoo’s voice. “If you’re sick, why are you getting Chinese food?” You looked up at Wonwoo, who looked at you with an amused look on his face. 

“Uhm…” You straightened up, clearing your throat. “When you feel bad… You do small things to make yourself feel better. So.” You held up the bags. “Egg rolls.” Wonwoo blinked at you a couple times, tilting his head. 

“...You’re not sick, are you?” Wonwoo asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“...Not really.” You said, setting the food on the counter. 

“Why did you say you were?” 

“Uhm…” You felt all the butterflies in your stomach, looking away from Wonwoo. You went back to sit at your counter, scratching your head. “Well, I knew you just got back and were probably tired and uh… As much as I wanted to see you I wanted you to be able to rest from all the traveling you were doing. So I said I was sick so that you would stay at the dorm and rest.” Wow, you could lie fast. 

“Bold of you to assume I’d be able to rest with the 12 boys back at the dorm.” Wonwoo sat on the stool next to yours. “That’s fair though. I’d still rather be here, a little quieter.” He smiled at you, causing your heart to burst just a little bit. “Plus... Jun wanted me to check on the grill. He wants to use it.” Wonwoo grinned, causing you to laugh a bit. You heard Wonwoo chuckle next to you, both of you internally happy with each others laughs. 

Oof, you both had it bad. 

“So uh… Did you say something about a present?” You said, looking away and quickly changing the subject, hoping to direct it away from your heartbeat. 

“Oh yeah!” He leaned forward, pulling a box out of the bag. He set it in front of you, looking at you expectedly. “Open it!” You let out another laugh, seeing how childish your best friend was being.

You pulled the top off the box, moving some of the tissue paper. At the bottom of the box, you saw a charm bracelet. There were a handful of charms around it, each one different from the next. 

“Wonwoo…” You held it, closely examining it. “What is this?” 

“It’s a charm bracelet, you goof.” Wonwoo chuckled, leaning closer to you to point at the charms. “See, each charm is from a different spot on the tour. I was able to pick out most of them, but some got picked out by that one staff member who really likes you and keeps asking to adopt you, so you should say thank you next time you see them.” He grinned, looking at you. “Do you like it?” 

You didn’t know what to say. You were just… He did that for you? That means he thought about you throughout the whole tour? Your heart was thumping in your chest as you looked up at Wonwoo, realizing now that he was only a couple inches from your face, looking at you with a soft expression, waiting for your response. 

Before you could stop yourself, you put a hand on Wonwoo’s cheek and leaned forward, lightly kissing him. You made not have had many kisses in your life, but this one felt… different. It almost felt natural. 

Then you pulled away and saw Wonwoo staring at you, eyes wide. 

“Oh my god.” You said, realizing what you had just done. Your mind was catching up with your heart, and it went into immediate panic mode. “Oh my god!” You quickly got up, dropped the bracelet on the counter and ran to your room. You quickly shut the door, leaning against it, silently cursing yourself. 

Meanwhile, Wonwoo sat frozen at the counter, trying to figure out what just happened. You just kissed him. Out of nowhere. That meant…

“Holy shit, Soonyoung was right.” He muttered, a grin forming on his face. He grabbed the bracelet, walking down the hallway towards your room. 

“Y/N!” He called, knocking on the door. You didn’t answer, still silently cursing yourself. “Y/N, please open up! Look I… I mean I…” He looked back at the kitchen, getting an idea. “If you don’t come out I’ll eat your dinner.” He said, causing you to pick up your head. You knew he would too… 

You said a few more curses under your breath, punching around the air a bit, then slowly turned to open the door. You opened it very slow, not looking directly at Wonwoo. You tried so hard not to think about how embarrassed you probably looked. 

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what-” You got interrupted by Wonwoo cupping your cheeks and pulling you towards him. You jumped a bit as Wonwoo kissed you, a little deeper than the kiss you gave him. As he pulled away, he kept his hands holding your face, keeping your foreheads together. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that…” Wonwoo muttered, a chuckle coming from him. You looked up at him, seeing his cheeks turn red. 

“...Really?” You asked, Wonwoo nodding his head. You were almost caught up in the moment, then blinked a few times, stepping back. 

“Woah, wait.” You pointed at Wonwoo, who now looked at you half scared, half amused. “You have a crush on me? And you knew about my crush on you?” 

“...Uh yeah… Hoshi kind of mentioned something a while ago.” He rubbed the back of his head, a shy smirk on his face. 

“I’m going to kill him.” 

“Or…” Wonwoo said, stepping forward and putting his hands on your shoulders. “You could stay here and we could hang out as…” He got a lost look on his face, quickly thinking. “Wait, if we have feelings, and we both know about it, what are we?” 

“Uh… We’re…” You thought about it. “Are we dating now?” 

“Don’t we have to go on a date for that?” 

“...Could this be considered a date?” You raised an eyebrow at him, watching him think. “I mean, we have food and uh… I don’t know about you but I hate first dates.” 

“So this… is our first date?” Wonwoo asked, you nodding your head. “So we’re dating?” You nodded again. “So I guess… Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He asked, a slight chuckle to his voice. 

“...Do you want to be my boyfriend?” 

“...Yeah?” 

“...Okay.” You patted his shoulder, taking a step to the side and walking down the hall away from him. You barely made it back down the hallway before Wonwoo caught up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into a hug. 

“Not so fast…” Wonwoo pulled your arm up. He carefully wrapped the bracelet around your wrist, clasping it shut. “Look at that, it fits.” He smirked, kissing your cheek and letting go of your waist. “Now… I call the Chinese food.” 

“Jeon Wonwoo!” 

*

“Y/N…” Wonwoo groaned, leaning his head on his arms ahead of you. “Do you seriously have to do that now?” 

“I just have to finish this chapter, then I will be done.” You said, holding up a finger. “We have discussions in class and it’s awkward if you can’t participate.” 

“When do you graduate again?” Wonwoo blinked at you, causing you to throw a napkin at him. 

“Soon.” You laughed, shaking your head at your boyfriend. “Now let me finish.” You said, turning back to your book. 

“How many more pages?” Wonwoo asked, propping up on his elbow. 

“...32.” 

“That’s it, I’m going back to the studio.” Wonwoo sighed, standing up. 

“Babe…” You pouted at him, causing him to let out a sigh. 

“We don’t have a crazy day today, so call me when you’re done. You could come watch rehearsal and realize how I feel watching you do this every day.” He smirked, shaking his head. “But first, tea. Do you want anything?”

“No… I think I should be okay for now.” You sighed, twirling your cup. Wonwoo nodded, going up to order his drink. You continued to read your book, attempting to absorb the words. You managed to get a good groove going, until you saw something land on the table. You blinked at the bag on the table, looking up as Wonwoo kissed the top of your head. 

“See you later, love.” He smiled, walking towards the exit. As he left, he turned and gave you one last wave before disappearing around the corner. 

You pulled the bag towards you, smiling at the cookie inside, covered in red sprinkles, with a single chunk missing. 

Yeah, you were pretty happy.

(also hi i kept picking this gif for motivation whoops)

#seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen series #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen imagine #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo au #wonwoo fic #wonwoo series #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #wonwoo imagine #another series done

[orangeoctopi7]

A Tale of Two Secrets

@stanuary  Week 2 is Secrets! Stan's been keeping major secrets from his family for years, but he never stopped to think maybe his family was keeping secrets from him too.

Author’s note:  This is a disjointed rambling mess and it ends up being more about Shermie towards the end, but hey, I need SOMETHING to post for week 2 of Stanuary, so here ya go!

To the people of Gravity Falls, Stan had been playing the part of his brother for almost a year. But now that he’d faked his own death, he was going to have to pull a much tougher con: posing as Ford to his own family. He’d already decided that he was not going to attend his own funeral, no matter how much flack he got from Ma about it. First of all, it would be way too depressing. Second of all, everyone who was most likely to see through his lie would be there. Ma, Shermie, maybe even Dad. No, better to play it off like he was too grief-stricken to show up, which, honestly, wasn’t that far from the truth.

He should have known that he wouldn’t get away with just a tear-stained letter explaining he couldn’t bear to sit through his own twin’s funeral. The same day the letter arrived in Glass Shard Beach, he got a call from Ma. As expected, she tried to convince Stan (Stanford, as far as she was concerned) to come to the funeral. Stan almost broke down and told her everything right then and there, and by the end of their phone conversation, he was sure she’d seen right through his imitation, sure she’d call back any minute demanding to know what happened to Ford, or worse, that she’d show up on his doorstep in the next few days. But instead, an hour later, he got a call he wasn’t expecting.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines.” Stan recited. He’d heard it enough times in his own failures to reach out to Ford over the years that he could copy that answer flawlessly.

“Stanford, it’s… uh, it’s Sherman.” A deep voice answered.

“Shermie!?” Stan exclaimed before he could stop himself. Shermie’d been just a baby the last time Stan had seen him, just starting to walk, and now he sounded like a grown man! He hadn’t left home that long ago, had he?

Luckily, Shermie didn’t seem to notice how his voice changed, as he went right on talking “Ma wanted me to try and convince you to come to the funeral, but--but I get it if you don’t want to come. I know things were kinda… complicated between you two.”

Stan took a deep breath before returning to his Ford impression. “Thank you, Shermie, I appreciate it. You’re right, things were complicated, and that certainly doesn’t make his death any easier. Attending the funeral would be too much for me to handle while I’m still--still processing things.” Stan didn’t have to fake the waver in his voice.

“Then don’t come. We won’t think any less of you for it.”

Stan gave his best impression of Ford’s dry chuckle. “I doubt Mom would agree with that sentiment.”

“Yeah, well, give her some slack. She’s not taking it well. Probably doing even worse than you.”

Stan wanted to kick himself for doing this to his own mother. But, he reasoned, she’d probably take it even worse if she knew what really happened. That Ford had disappeared into some sci-fi portal thing and Stan, the leach and the failure, had taken his place.

“How are you doing, by the way?” Shermie asked, interrupting Stan’s thoughts.

“Uuuuh…” Stan hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. Idiot, of course people would ask him that! What could he say that would sound convincing? What would Ford do if he was grieving? “I’m mostly just trying to concentrate on my work… sooo… so I don’t have to think about it.”

“Oh. Well, uh, I hope that works out for you…” Shermie said awkwardly. “There was something else Ma wanted me to tell you…”

Please don’t say you’re comin’ out to check on me, please don’t say you’re comin’ out to check on me!

“But… uh… You--you’ve already got so much on your plate right now. Don’t even worry about it.”

“What?” Stan asked, curious.

“It’s--it’s nothing really, I think she just wanted me to tell you because she thought it’d convince you to come.”

“Ok, I won’t ask then.” Stan said, and then instantly regretted it. Stanford “Curiosity killed the Cat but Satisfaction brought it back” Pines would never respond to Shermie’s cryptic statements with “Ok, I won’t ask then.” He knew he’d just blown his cover.

Except he hadn’t.

“OK well nice talking to you, Stanford, take care!” Shermie said quickly.

“Y-yeah, you too.” The word “too” wasn’t even halfway formed when Shermie hung up.

Well, that was weird. But if it meant Stan could pull off this con a little longer, just long enough to get that portal working and bring Ford back, then he wasn’t going to question it.

***

The next time Stan heard from Shermie was several years later, with news that almost gave him a heart attack.

“We’re moving to California.”

Crap, are they gonna want someplace to stay while they move in? Are they gonna want me to help them move in? They’re definitely gonna want to come visit, probably every major holiday. Mom’s gonna figure it out, for sure!

“That’s--that’s great news. Did Dad, uh… did Dad sell the pawn shop?”

“Oh, Mom and Dad aren’t moving!” Shermie clarified. “Just me… and Trudy and Micha.” he added two unfamiliar names at the end so quickly and quietly, Stan almost didn’t hear him.

“Who?”

Stan heard Shermie take a deep breath, like he was preparing to dive into the cold ocean. “Trudy and Micha. My wife and my son.”

“Wait, what!?” Stan exclaimed, completely forgetting his Ford voice. “Shermie, since when are you married?” He wanted to complain that he wasn’t invited to the wedding, but… he hadn’t invited anyone to his wedding to Marylyn, so he really wasn’t one to talk. Wait… no, that was what Stan would think. Ford would definitely complain about not being invited to the wedding. “Why didn’t I ever get a wedding invitation?”

“Nobody got a wedding invitation. We eloped.” Shermie explained. “It… it was right before we found out about Stanley, so… so it didn’t seem like the right time to tell you.”

That weird phone call with Shermie all those years ago suddenly made a lot more sense. 

“And, what, it just slipped your mind for the next few years that you hadn’t informed your own brother? And you just conveniently forgot to tell me when you two were expecting? And you were just too busy to let me know when your son was born!?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry!” Shermie apologize, and to his credit, he did sound sincerely remorseful. “It’s just… it got to the point where it had been so long that I didn’t know how to tell you. So I just kept putting it off, and the longer I waited, the harder it was to tell you, and it just became a vicious cycle. And it’s not like you ever come out to visit, so I thought I could get away with it.”

Stan felt a stab of guilt at that last comment. But it wasn’t like he had a choice. If he showed himself in Glass Shard Beach, his charade would be finished. How could he ever explain himself to his mother, much less his father?

“It’s fine, really. I’ve been very busy with, uh… with my research, and I probably couldn’t have made it anyway.”

“Oh, phew.” Shermied sighed with relief. “See Trudy, he said it’s fine.” Stan heard faintly, as though he had turned away from the receiver. Then there was an “Oof” that Stan imagined was the sound of Shermie getting elbowed in the ribs. 

“But, uh, to make up for lost time, Trudy was thinking --oof-- Trudy and I were thinking maybe we could come up and visit you on our way out to Burbank?”

“No, I’m too busy.” Stan said automatically.

“Oh... yeah, that’s fair.” 

Stan’s heart sank. It wasn’t like he was holding a grudge against Shermie for never mentioning the marriage or the kid. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to meet his little brother’s family. He just had a huge secret to keep, and his relatives were the people who were most likely to figure it out. But Shermie… Shermie had still been a toddler when Stan left home, and by all accounts, Ford hadn’t come back to visit much, if at all, after he graduated. Maybe he could pull this off.

“But, uh, hey, maybe I could come visit once you’ve all settled in. That’ll give me time to make room in my, uh, busy, busy schedule.”

“Oh, uh, are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure.” Stan said firmly. The last thing he wanted was for Shermie to feel cut off from his family like Stan had.

“Greaaaaaaat. Just. Great. When, uh, when’re you coming?”

“Uh…” Stan looked at his calendar. Tourist season was in full swing now, and he didn’t want to miss that, but maybe towards the end of the summer. “Is your kid in school yet?”

“... Y-nnnno. Nope. Well I mean-- yes, technically. Uh, Kindergarten? He’s in Kindergarten.”

“Alright, then how about the week before school starts?”

“Y-yeah! We will be ready for you. The week before school starts.”

“Great, and, uh, I’ll be ready too. To, uh, see you. For the first time in years.”

***

Stan didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved. After going through the trouble of coming up with an elaborate backstory of why he, Stanford Pines, had decided to undergo surgery to remove his extra fingers. After going so far as to apply what Stan thought was pretty convincing effects make-up to look like scars along the sides of his hands. After all that, Shermie hadn’t even said anything. Hadn’t even glanced at his hands, as far as Stan could tell. 

Maybe he had noticed, and was just being polite. Maybe he was waiting until his kid, Micha, had gone to bed. Maybe he was just really, really not paying attention. 

Did Shermie even remember Ford had six fingers? It seemed unlikely that he would have forgotten. Sure, Ford hadn’t gone home to visit often, but a physical abnormality like that tended to stick in the memory. Maybe… maybe Shermie was misremembering which twin had the weird hands? Well, whatever the case, Stan certainly wasn’t going to draw attention to it.

“Uncle Stan, catch me!” Micha demanded as he sprung off his mini-trampoline, abruptly tearing Stan from his thoughts. The con man barely had time to raise his arms before the boy crashed into them, nearly knocking them both over. Stan was pretty sure he felt a joint pop.

“Huf! Geez, careful, kiddo!” He set the boy down as gently as he could with his arm feeling out-of-socket. “He’s pretty big for a kindergartener, isn’t he?” Stan asked.

Shermie laughed nervously. “Is-isn’t he though?”

“Mhmm. He’s our big boy!” Trudy scooped her son up in a big hug.

Stan realized with a pang of guilt he couldn’t remember if Shermie had told him exactly when the boy was born. “How old are you, Micha?”

The boy glanced at his father. “Five!?” His answer sounded more like a disbelieving question.

Stan looked over at Shermie, who had suddenly hidden one hand behind his back.The young father simply shrugged and smiled. 

“Huh.” Stan didn’t know much about kids. They were bigger than he expected. He swore he’d felt smaller at that age.

"I thought you didn't like people to call you Stan." Shermie suddenly changed the topic.

"W-what?" Stan asked, a deer in the headlights.

"Just now, Micha called you Stan, and you didn't correct him."

"Well… I mean… he's just a kid."

"That didn't stop you when I was even y-- when I was his age."

Crap. "Yes, well… there's no longer a need to distinguish between two versions of the same name any more, is there?"

"I guess I you have a point." Shermie hummed.

***

The rest of the trip was thankfully uneventful. Shermie still didn't ask about or comment on "Stanford's" hands, but this was honestly a relief. Stan was just miffed that he'd wasted all that fancy-pantsy make-up he'd stolen.

Meeting Shermie's family was like a breath of fresh air to Stan, after decades of being isolated from his family members. Trudy was quiet and unassuming, but also sweet and thoughtful. Stan could see why Shermie had married her. Micha was energetic as any small child, and had to be bigger than Stan had been at that age. He had the potential to grow up to be a great heavyweight boxer.

Now, Stan was facing a new dilemma. On the one hand, he didn't want to visit Shermie’s family too often, for fear of them figuring out he wasn’t who he said he was. On the other hand, he didn’t want to see them so infrequently that his visits seemed like a special event. If he did that, there’d be all the more chance that Shermie would call Ma about it, and they’d get to talking, and Ma would definitely figure it out. So, how to strike the right balance?

Once a year wasn’t enough. That made it seem like a holiday. Say, holidays! That could work! There were enough of those scattered throughout the year that Stan could drop by every so often without giving them enough time to really stop and start connecting all the dots. He’d just have to avoid the major family holidays, Passover, Thanksgiving and Hanukkah, because if he visited for those, Ma would absolutely ask Shermie all about it. And besides, he did decent business during the Christmas season and spring break. Speaking of which, Independence Day and Halloween were out too. Those were the Mystery Shack’s busiest days of the year. That left the likes of Labor Day and Presidents’ Day and all those other little 3-day weekend government holidays. Perfect!

***

With every year that passed, Stan felt a fresh new wave of guilt that he still hadn’t managed to reactivate the portal and bring Ford home. Every time he visited Shermie, every time he saw how fast Micha was growing, it was another reminder of what Ford was missing out on. The years just flew by. Stan swore the time between Micha starting Kindergarten and finishing 3rd grade felt like less than a year.

Before Stan knew it, he’d bluffed his way through both his parents’ funerals, he’d been running the Mystery Shack for almost two decades, and his rambunctious, chubby nephew had grown into a strapping young man.

Stan almost had a breakdown when he got the wedding invitation from Micha and his bride-to-be, a beautiful, button-nosed woman named Debborah. Time was slipping away too quickly. He’d already wasted so much of Ford’s life, and yet he was no closer to bringing his brother home now than he had been twelve years ago when he’d finished rebuilding the stupid machine from all the ruined scrap he’d been left with. 

“Gettin’ mad at yourself isn’t gonna do anyone any good.” He scolded his reflection, and then picked up the phone. He had a nephew to congratulate.

***

It wasn’t quite two years later when Stan arrived at the maternity ward of a hospital in Oakland, California. He’d closed down the gift shop for the first time since that flock of Hawktopi descended on the Shack all those years ago. He’d briefly considered leaving tatoo guy there to watch over things, but honestly between him and that pasty, gangly teenager he’d recently hired on as a handy-man, he was pretty sure there wouldn’t be a Mystery Shack to return to if he did. He’d driven for seven hours straight to get here as soon as possible. He’d left the moment he got the phone call letting him know Debbs was going into labor. He’d been eagerly awaiting this moment from the time the ultrasound showed two tiny figures in the womb.

Another set of twins. Maybe there was something to the old wives’ tale of them skipping a generation after all.

He burst into the waiting room of the maternity ward, and everyone turned to stare at him. Stan vaguely recognized a short, skinny man standing next to the restrooms. Pretty sure he’d seen the guy at Micha and Debbs’ wedding. He was Debbs’ dad, if Stan remembered correctly.

“Are they here yet?” Stan asked him.

The skinny man nodded. Apparently he remembered Stan from the wedding too. “Yes, but the doctors have them at the moment. There was a bit of a complication with the boy.”

Stan paled. “I-is he alright?”

“Well, the umbilical cord got wrapped around his neck before he made it out the birth canal. He wasn’t breathing at first, but they cut the thing away and resuscitated him. Now they’re checking to make sure his brain didn’t go without oxygen long enough to do any lasting damage.” Stan’s worry must have shown on his face, because the skinny man continued. “But don’t worry! The doctor said this happens sometimes. He said it happened when his own daughter was born, and she’s grown up without a single hint that it ever happened.”

That, at least, gave Stan a bit of relief. “Where are Micha and Debbs?”

“Down that hall, third door on the left. It’s got a whiteboard with ‘Pines’ written on it.”

“Thanks!” Stan called over his shoulder, already moving down the hall.

He didn’t even bother to knock when he reached the door, just barged right in. The room was already a bit crowded, with Micha, Trudy, Debbs’ mother, a nurse, and Debbs herself. Stan had never seen someone look so tired and so peaceful at the same time. And in her arms was the loudest occupant in the room, an absolutely tiny baby with a pink bow stuck to her head, screaming louder than Stan thought possible with such small lungs. 

“Uncle Stan?” Micha asked, barely audible above his daughter’s cries, “My dad isn’t even here yet! How’d you get here so fast from Oregon!?”

“I can’t answer that question on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”

“Hey, coming through!” A voice whispered loudly behind Stan. He turned to see another nurse, with the doctor in tow, and a clear hospital bassinet between them. Inside was an itty-bitty baby boy. Stan quickly got out of the doorway to let them through. 

“I’m happy to announce that he’ll be perfectly fine.” the Doctor said as he gently handed the second baby to Debbs. Miraculously, the girl in her arms stopped crying the second her brother was next to her.

“Oooh, did you just miss your brother?” Debbs cooed.

Stan couldn’t help it. He started crying.

By the time Stan got his emotions back under control, Micha had already had a chance to hold the babies, along with Debb’s mother and Trudy. 

“Would you like to hold them, Stanford?” Trudy asked.

“M-me?” Stan asked in surprise. “But… what about Grandpa, out there?” He motioned back towards the waiting room, where he’d met Debb’s dad.

“Tyson’s got a cold. He can’t even be in the same room as the babies for the time being.” Tyson’s wife explained.

“I got a text from my dad a few hours ago. He’s driving up from Burbank, I’m sure he’s just stuck in traffic.” Micha explained. 

And so Stan gently took the tiny twins, carefully cradling both their heads in either arm. They were squirmy, squishy little babies, their new-born skin as red as a sunburn. The girl grabbed one of his fingers with surprising strength, and the boy snuggled into his suit. Oh boy, here come the waterworks again…

“I’m here!” A voice called down the hall. Shermie burst in the door, breathless. “Is everything ok? Where are they?”

“Uncle Stan is holding them.” Micha gestured to his uncle.

Shermie stepped up to his brother and reached out to take the babies. Stan leaned back.

“I just barely got them! Wait your turn!”

“Come on, Stanford, they’re my grandkids!” 

“It’s your own fault for bein’ late!”

“That’s not my fault, I was stuck in traffic!”

Stan ended up leading Shermie on a chase around the small room before the nurse put her foot down and insisted they both stop or she would call security.

“What are you going to name them?” Trudy asked after things had calmed down later that day.

“We were thinking of themed twin names…” Debbs said. Stan groaned loudly. “Oh, nothing too obvious. Mabel and Mason. What do you all think?”

Everyone hummed in agreement.

“Good, cuz even if you didn’t, we’re set on those.” Micha grinned.

Within a few days, Mabel and Mason’s red skin cleared up, except for a few interestingly shaped blotches on Mason’s head that seemed to get more defined every day. That’s when he got the nickname Dipper.

***

Years passed. Dipper and Mabel came to visit. Stan finally activated the Portal. Ford came home. The world ended. And now, finally, Stan had some explaining to do. At least things would be easier with Ford by his side.

Dipper had suggested they get it all over with in one go, like ripping off a band-aide. He’d set up a conference call with his Grunkles, his parents, and his grandparents.

Honestly, it went over way better than Stan had been expecting. The story sounded crazy, but Ford being there was proof enough that it was true. Everyone just looked at them in shock as they explained the portal, Ford’s disappearance, Stan faking his death, Dipper finding the third Journal, Stan getting the second Journal from Gideon, reactivating the portal, Ford’s return, and their continued fighting until a common threat made them put aside their differences to help the kids. Sure, they glossed over the more dangerous stuff, like Bill and the end of the world, but Stan was still worried Micha and Debbs would freak out because of what he’d done and never let him near the kids again. Luckily, they seemed to be understanding, especially seeing how much the kids loved him.

The other one Stan was worried about was Shermie. How would he react, knowing the brother he’d finally gotten to know over the last three decades had been lying to him the whole time? He and Trudy hadn’t acted quite as surprised as the others by the revelation of a portal to another world. Shermie just stared at his brothers through the screen the whole time, the gears turning in his brain. Stan was about to ask if he was alright when Ford asked his own question.

“Micha, how old are you?”

“Uh, 34, why?”

“That… shouldn’t be possible.” Ford looked at Shermie pointedly. “When I left this dimension just 30 years ago, your father wasn’t even 16 yet.”

“Wait, what?” Stan asked.

“Sherman, what on earth have you been up to for the last 30 years?” Ford asked curiously.

“For the last 30 years? I’ve just been living a normal life!” Shermie said defensively. “It was just one time back in 1982 that everything went crazy.”

“What!?” Everyone asked, except for Trudy, who looked smug, and Micha, who looked like he’d just uncovered a repressed memory.

“Well now you have to tell them what happened.” Trudy elbowed her husband.

Shermie sighed. “Yes dear. Thank you for not saying ‘I told you so’.

“One day, when I was walking to school back in Glass Shard Beach, I ran into this strange bald man in a jump-suit. He kept babbling on about stopping someone’s parents from meeting, but he couldn’t stop the parents from meeting because he’d already said that in front of law enforcement, so he was going after their grandparents. Obviously, I thought he was just a nut-job, so I ran. I was so busy tryin’ to get away from the whacko that I wasn’t looking where I was goin’ and ran smack into Trudy.”

“I’d just moved in that fall. I was a grade above him.” Trudy chimed in.

“The crash slowed me down enough that baldy showed up again, and when he saw me with Trudy, he freaked out even more, complaining about us meeting somehow ruining his plans. Then he pulled out this tape measurer type thing, pulled it back, and then grabbed a hold of both of us. There was a flash of light, and then BAM, we were in 1922.”

Mabel gasped, “Oh my gosh, Dipper, it was Blendin!”

Dipper slapped a hand to his forehead. “Grandpa Shermie, I’m so sorry, this is sort of our fault. We kind of accidentally cost that guy his job and he swore revenge on us.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you two know Blendin? As in Blendin Blandin?” Shermie asked incredulously.

“I mean, is there any other Blendin?” Mabel replied. “Yeah, I remember him saying something about going back in time and making it so our parents never met, but nothing happened, so we figured he forgot.” She laughed. “Looks like instead of stopping us from being born, he kinda did the opposite. That’s so funny!”

“If by funny, you mean seriously messed up.” Dipper groaned. “Just… starting to think about it makes my head hurt.”

“Wait, so if Micha’s 34…” Stan started to do the math he’d never bothered to even think about before “Shermie, how long were you in the past?”

“Long enough to get married and have a kid.” He answered.

“Just over ten years.” Trudy clarified. “First, Blendin zapped away and left us stranded. Luckily we had all our school supplies with us, so we were able to sell most of it for a little money to get by on at first. I’d been learning to knit and crochet from my mom for years, so I bought some supplies and started selling hats, gloves, and sweaters on the street. I gained enough of a reputation than a local seamstress took me on as an apprentice.”

Mabel gasped. “Is that why you started to teach me to knit when I was little?”

Trudy nodded. “I think it’s never too early to start learning skills you can use if you’re ever lost in time.”

“I, on the other hand, had absolutely no skills that were useful in the 1920’s.” Shermie continued. “I probably would have starved if it wasn’t for Trudy helping me. I tried so many jobs. Running carnie games on the boardwalk, selling light bulbs, I even tried being a photographer for the local newspaper. But nothing ever worked out long-term. Eventually I got a job as a bricklayer, and that, thankfully, turned out to be a steady job, even if it was rough work. It was around that time that Trudy and I decided to get married.”

“We were all the other had, it just made sense.” Trudy added.

“By that point, we’d kinda just resigned ourselves to living out the rest of our lives in the past. And honestly, it wasn’t bad. We were our own people, living our own lives in an exciting, prosperous part of history, no expectations from our parents. And a little knowledge from the future sure helped too. While everyone else was investing in the stock market, we were playing it safe and carefully saving up our money and non-perishable food.”

“It was mostly rice and hard crackers.” Trudy made a face like the memory still left a stale taste in her mouth.

“While the rest of the world was plunged into financial chaos by the Depression, we had a new baby and enough money to last us into the next decade.”

“But, the Depression lasted until the start of World War II.” Dipper recalled from his history lessons. “What did you guys do once your savings ran out?”

“Well, the same stuff most people did at the time. We grew as much of our own food as we could. We re-mended and repaired our clothes and furniture instead of buying new things. We both took whatever odd jobs we could find. When things got really tight, we ate at the nearest food kitchen.”

Stan and Ford both grimaced. They both had their own experiences with hunger and making clothes last way past the point of being threadbare. At least Shermie always had enough to keep a roof over his family’s heads.

“But how did you return back to our time?” Ford asked.

“It was 1933. Things were starting to get really bad. All our savings had dried up. Nobody was buying new clothes, so Trudy couldn’t find work. Nobody was building new houses, so I couldn’t find work. Micha was growing so fast, we could barely keep clothes on him, and he was… an active child, so a lot of things were breaking. Just when I wasn’t quite sure if we were going to keep a roof over our heads, Blendin showed up again, this time with hair. 

“My first instinct was to punch him. Which I did. Then I tried to find that time travel tape he’d used on us before. The whole time he was blubbering on about how he was sorry, and he’d made his peace with the Pines family, and I was about to show him what I thought of his sorry and his peace when he said he wanted to put us back to the way things were before he stranded us.

“So I took him back home with me, and he explained to Trudy and I that he could go back in time and stop himself from ever taking us into the past in the first place. But the thing was… if he did that, we’d lose Micha. We’d lose all the time we’d spent together, the life we’d built together. And, well, we just weren’t willing to do that, even if it meant getting to go back to our own time. 

“I asked him if we could go back to our own time the way we were,” Trudy picked up the story, “At first, he was really opposed to the idea. Said it was against all the rules and regulations of time travel. But then he stopped mid thought and muttered something like ‘Well, what does it matter? Time’s dead, baby!’ and he agreed to it.”

“Time Baby’s dead.” Ford muttered under his breath.

“What’s that?” Shermie asked.

“Oh, nothing, just… theorizing what his words could have meant. Continue.”

“Our troubles weren’t over when we returned to our own time.” Shermie proceeded. “We couldn’t just go home. From our parents’ perspective, we’d just been gone for a day of school. They wouldn’t recognize a couple of adults showing up on their doorsteps. It took a lot of convincing. Handwriting tests, palm readings. Luckily I have a distinctive birthmark of my own.” Shermie pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing a reddish-brown splotch that looked a little bit like a crescent moon if you squinted. “That seemed to finally convince them.”

“My parents believed me when I showed them where I’d hidden my pet turtle under the floorboards.” Trudy added, “But that didn’t stop them from paying for a DNA test a few years later just to make sure.”

“Blendin warned us we couldn’t tell anyone outside our own immediate families, or else we could get in trouble with the Time Police or something. I’m sorry I never told you…” Shermie pointed at Stan, “But I was afraid you… Well, actually I was afraid you” he pointed to Ford, “Would take us away to try and learn the secrets of time travel or something.”

Ford blushed “30 years ago, I very well may have.” He admitted sheepishly. “But now I probably know more about time travel than the two of you do.”

“I can’t believe Ma never said anything to me about it!” Stan complained.

“She always said I should be the one to tell you about it.” Shermie clarified. “And I told her that I did, right before… before your fake funeral, I guess, but I don’t think she believed my lie.”

“I always said he should have told you.” Trudy said smugly.

“Hon, you ok?” Debbs asked her husband, who had been sitting quietly with a blank expression the whole time. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

“...Yeah… I think I’m ok… it’s just… I guess I convinced myself the whole thing was a game we used to play that my 4 year old imagination embellished into what seemed to be reality. But now I’m learning it really was reality. It’s… weird. I think I’m gonna need therapy now.”

“Join the club.” Stan grunted.

Ford shook his head. “I just can’t believe the two of you were so busy keeping secrets from each other that you never even stopped to think the other was keeping secrets from you!”

“Hey, I don’t know nothin’ about kids or how fast they grow, ok?” Stan defended himself.

“Yeah, and if you’d actually been around while I was growing up, I probably would have had an easier time seeing through Stan’s act.” Shermie added.

“Guys, guys, there’s no need to argue!” Mabel interrupted them. “Don’t you see? We have a great opportunity here! It’s like our family is getting to know each other again for the very first time!”

Stan’s heart sank. Would the rest of the family even want to get to know each other after all these secrets and lies being brought into the open?

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea, sweetie.” Micha patted her shoulder. “Mom, I know you’ve got to visit your sister this Christmas, but how about we all get together for Thanksgiving?”

Trudy nodded.

“Absolutely!” Shermie agreed. “Oh, that is… as long as you two are free. I imagine you have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Well, Stanley and I are going to make an expedition to the Arctic Circle--”

“Ah, come on, Poindexter, we can delay it a little!” Stan insisted. “I’m gonna need time to train Soos on runnin’ the Shack anyway. And we’re gonna need time to find a boat and gather supplies and all that other stuff to get ready for an expedition.”

“Oh. Right. I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“That’s cuz you’re brain’s too busy thinkin’ about nerd stuff, genius.” Stan threw an arm around his brother affectionately before turning back to the video call. “You can count on us being there!”

Shermie gave a relieved smile. Maybe Stan wasn’t the only one who’d been worried how everyone would react to his lies.

“Great. We’ll see you then.”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanley Pines #Stanuary 2020 #My Writing

[spacespazz101]

Train Wreck Meets Dumpster Fire Part 2

Thank you to everyone that liked this! I was surprised on how many people actually liked this. This is actually a sequel to a series written by my friend JadePegasus (@the-paraphoenix on tumblr) on AO3 called Blood Gulch Freelancers please check it out if you like this, it gives a little bit of background and is what inspired this.

                                   Chapter 2: The Match Ignites

 They had landed without a hitch. That probably should have been their first clue that everything would go to Hell in a hand basket.

 “Ok, we’re a few clicks from Blood Gulch Outpost. You may now disengage your seat belts and prep for your mission. And Washington if you puked in my cabin again you will be cleaning the entire thing with your toothbrush.” 479er called over the planes’ PA. Wash let out a groan. He would have sworn that the others had convinced her to fly more erratically than necessary to keep him from talking to Texas.

 Wash had missed his chance to talk to her yesterday when he had picked up her commlink and the others had prevented him from trying to talk to her beforehand, and during the flight his own motion sickness had kept him from opening his mouth for fear of meeting his breakfast again.

 Everyone got up and started to check that everything was working and make sure that everything was ready to move. Wash let out a sigh. Texas began to fumble looking through her own bag. “Texas if you’re looking for your commlink I have it.” Carolina called. Throwing it at her. “Thanks” Texas spoke. Something like relief in her voice. Wash was dragged away from the pelican before he could even consider opening his mouth. So much for talking to Tex before the mission started, he would have to settle for talking to her after the mission was over.

 *_*_*_*

 The canyon was a short trek from the parked pelican, close enough that vehicles were not necessary but just far enough to not be picked up on any sensors.

 As they looked over the canyons ridge, they saw what they would expect to see from any SIM base. Two bases on opposing sides, one red the other blue. What wasn’t normal was the small metallic box in the middle of the canyon where the Deadman’s Land usually stood. It looked almost like an outhouse. The outhouse-like object suddenly opened as they watched. Two soldiers stepped out of it. It must have been an elevator of some sort. There wasn’t enough room for storage of any kind.

 “They did a pretty good job whoever they are. They got the regulation colors perfect, but they missed the fact that Reds and Blues are supposed to hate each other” York whispered to Wash.

 As they watched the two soldiers part ways to patrol the canyons’ rim, Carolina took command quickly “Ok here is the plan. North you and York take up positions on each end, I want eyes on both the bases and those soldiers. Wyoming, Florida go to the command center in the caves. See if you can find what happened here since we lost contact. The rest of us will break up into teams and investigate the bases. Prioritize locating hostages and recovering data. Do your best to keep for triggering any alarms.” A glance was sent to CT and South at that comment. “Is everyone clear?” Carolina questioned.

 “Absolutely. “Wyoming

“Affirmative” Florida

“Whatever” CT

“Hnn” Maine

“Will do.” York

“Sure thing Mom.” South

“Roger.” North

“Sure thing, boss.” Wash finished

“Sounds good. Break on three?” The blue soldier

 ...

 Everyone jumped at the sudden addition to their huddle. It was the regulation blue trooper from earlier. He was still crouched over as if he was in a huddle with a ghost football team . He glanced at them after two beats of silence.

“You guys, we are supposed to count to three and then break or maybe it’s count to two and break when you say three? That has never been very clear to me. But we are still supposed to count before we stop huddling.”

 There were guns pointed at him now. “Well howdy their big fella, who are you?” Florida stepped in front of the trooper, signaling them to lower their weapons. “Oh, I am sorry I did not introduce myself. I am not supposed to share my actual name, or the fairies will try and take control of me, but everyone calls me Mass” The blue trooper, now identified as Mass, took Florida’s offered hand and shook it vigorously. “Well, we wouldn’t want that would we now?” Florida answered as if that statement was the most normal thing in the world. He others, that call you Mass, were they at this base before you showed up?” Florida continued.

 The blue soldier hadn’t moved to alert anyone of their visitors and he seemed to be telling the truth as far as anyone could tell. “I do not think so. I never met any other people that were here before me, besides the leader and Ricco I was the first person here. Everyone that was here before me had gone away a long time ago.” That didn’t sound good. That meant that Bravo team had to have been wiped out or taken before this soldier came in.

 “Isn’t that interesting. And what are you doing right now?” Florida’s voice gave no indication of his inner thoughts, but the slight tensing of his shoulders indicated that he was thinking what they all were. “Oh, I was scouting the canyon for any new friends! We heard that there might be some new friends visiting us soon… Hey are you-” Florida cut off the trooper before he could continue his train of thought. “Wow, new friends, that sounds great! How about you look that way and we look this way? We will call you if we find anything.” For a beat it didn’t seem like this Mass character would fall for it but then he responded with a cheerful glee only expressed by children, and extremely immature adults, on a sugar rush.

 “OK!!!!!!!!” and then he was gone.

They waited a few seconds to see if they could find Mass again, but he had vanished.

 “What’d I miss?” Texas’ voice had startled everyone out of their stunned silence. No one answered her, instead they all turned to look at Carolina again.

 “Ok new plan.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

 “I hate this plan” Washington whispered to Maine as they crept through what had been the red SIM base. They were the demolition team for this base. They would place the charges as South and Florida scavenged what they could from the bases’ computers. North, York, Wyoming, and CT were at blue base doing the same as Texas and Carolina were inspecting the metal plated elevator. They had an hour to work before they destroyed the base.

 Maine only grunted in response. They had yet to meet anyone as they traversed the hallways. Wash was getting worried as only the muted sounds of their footsteps echoed through the vacant building. “We have been from one side of this base to the other and we haven’t seen anyone. Maybe that Mass guy was just a SIM trooper left behind when the groups were relocated? It wouldn’t be the first time we lost SIM troopers.”

 “I don’t know Wash, if this place is down to just two SIM troopers then wouldn’t there be more dust or something? These bases are too clean for two troopers to take care of.” York’s voice over comms was distorted and filled with static. It seemed like the Counselor had been right about even short-range communications being disrupted.

 “But-Oof” Wash collided with Maine with a soft clang. “What?” Wash was cut off again with Maine raising his finger to his helmet signaling for silence. Then Wash herd it too, soft voices coming from down the hall. Wash and Maine both held their guns at the ready.

 “Wash, report.” Carolina’s voice cut through their speakers short and crisp despite the static that disrupted the transmission. “I think we found more Maine and I are investigating.” They began to creep towards the door where there were voices coming through. As they got closer the voices became clearer.

 “-like it tight down there.” Wash nearly tripped at the statement coming from behind the wall. Was that? Had he? No, Wash shook his head, it couldn’t be; he must have not gotten enough sleep, he had just missed too much of the conversation.

“Us too. We found the red guy from before and another in maroon are working near the computer terminal.” South announced causing Wash to almost miss what the unidentified person said next.

 “Make sure you use the good lube this time. The other stuff doesn’t work half as well.” Wash could feel his face begin to heat up. Why him? Why did he always end up in positions like this?

 “Contact.” North spoke this time. “One guy in brown armor working on some kind of terminal. Should we engage?” Wash took a breath. It was ok. Five guys in a box canyon. They could handle that. They had them out numbered two to one.

  “Penny, I am begging you, please just stop talking” A different voice this time, masculine and frustrated -err angry- yea angry was better. Ok, that was good. It sounds like things were winding down. Sure, there was another person in there but there was also a good chance that they would be taking these two by surprise. And who knows maybe this was all just a big misunderstanding.

“Well you haven’t given me anything else to do with my mouth while I’m waiting for you. I’ve been holding it for hours waiting for you to finish.” Scratch that. They are just getting started. Wash could feel his entire body go ramrod straight. Maine froze behind him. Wash took some comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the only one bothered by that conversation.

 “Confirm. On my mark everyone, engage with the suspects. Try not to kill, we can find out more once we take back the canyon.” Carolina ordered. The static was back again. There was a good chance that they would lose contact completely.

 “Umm, Boss, that might not be such a good idea for us. I think these two are umm, engaged in something.” Wash cursed his voice cracking in the middle of his sentence, but he couldn’t help it. He did not want to go in there right now. Damn their teasing he did not want to see what the enemy was up to beyond that wall.

 “Oh, just ram it Ham!” The voice, Penny called. “Oh, Fuck me. Slow down Penny or you’re going to set it off.” Penny’s companion groaned. Wash was sure he was red in the face by now and judging from Maine’s uncomfortable shift it was clear that he didn’t want to go in there either.

 “What are you so worried about Rookie? You’re near the garage not the barracks it’s not as if they are fucking behind closed doors.” York spoke this time. His voice light and teasing but he could hear some of the others snickering through the static.

 “Umm.” The static was worse now. Wash could barely make out his own voice coming through. That combined with the rapid beating of his heart was starting to sound like the revving of engines in his ears. Wash was about to articulate why it was such a bad idea when he heard the voice of one of the two in the garage let out a sharp alarmed cry. “Fuuuck!!!” and suddenly Wash wasn’t standing against the wall to the motor pool he was pressed against the side of an armored warthog.

I would like to thank everyone that liked this. I actually have most of this posted on AO3 but I figured that I could post most of what I have here and see if I can get any advice on edits and then repost the final product.

#Red vs Blue #Agent Texas #agent washington #Agent Carolina #agent york #agent north dakota #agent south dakota #agent maine #agent florida #agent wyoming #rvb tex #rvb carolina #rvb caboose #rvb connie #agent ct #rvb #479er #rvb 479er #wash hates cars #long post #rvb ct #rvb york #rvb sarge #but only for a second #Blood Gulch Freelancers #rvb donut #rvb grif #Train Wreck Meets Dumpster Fire

[langdons-rep]

OOF ok what if the reader had like a mega shitty day and Duncan can clearly tell she’s upset or maybe she even accidentally lets some tears slip and Duncan wants to be there for her but he’s also scared she’ll snap his neck for potentially crossing a boundary so he’s like “I might get killed for this but before the bombs fell I was well known for being an excellent cuddler and listener so if u wanna talk about it I’m here” and the reader finally is like 🤷‍♀️ fuck it

anon, let me tell you that this made me really fucking soft so of course i had to write a blurb about it 😭 i initially thought of putting this dynamic into a chapter but i think this fits better as a short story! i loved the lines you used so i put them in it, hope you don’t mind! (if you do please tell me♡)

warnings: none, just a lot of fluff. in this blurb, michael x reader x duncan‘s relationship is already established.

tags: @ritualmichael @queencocoakimmie @sammythankyou @langdonsdemon @langdonscody @lovelykhaleesiii @duncvn @satansapostle @heyworld07 @tickled--pinkmoodpoisoning @pink----matter @gerkatherine

~ playthings pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4

There are times when it all becomes too much to handle, your stern facade slowly disappearing to be replaced by a desolate one. Today is one of those days where you doubt everything you’ve done up to now, asking yourself if this is really your purpose, if this is what you’re supposed to do. You feel so wrong whenever you have these thoughts, hiding away from Michael to not let him be engaged into your brokeness. You are supposed to be the strong one, his shoulder to cry on, the one who’s always been there to help him get up the dirty ground and put his pieces back together. He loves you for that, constantly telling you how you are his unbreakable, little warrior; how without you he wouldn’t even know if he’d be alive, and you’d chuckle at him everytime, assuring him that no one could ever kill the big, bad Antichrist.

You won’t ever admit it but sometimes, you feel the need to be the one to be held. Not that Michael wouldn’t be there for you — you’d just not let him in most of the times, claiming that it was just a moment and it would be over soon. It’s not that you don’t trust him, you just love him too much to weigh your problems and insecurities on him. Even in the old world, even before Michael, even when you had friends, you‘ve always been a very reserved person, putting up walls around you — and this trait is still very persistent in you.

Your day started only a few hours ago and you already feel so overwhelmed by your own mind, wanting nothing more than to be alone and cry your frustration out — but here you are, in the library of the Outpost, discussing yet again with Venable. She’s cornering you and going off about how you and Michael never show up to dinner, implying that you two have some secret stock of food hiding somewhere. She’s right about that, but of course you are not admitting it as you listen carelessly to her scolding. Your exasperation builds up by the second and you’re scared to explode at any moment now.

The woman clearly seems to be taken advantage of the situation: she noticed how off you look today, how you don’t respond to any of her venomly comments, and most importantly, you are alone. Michael is nowhere to be seen, everyone just assumed that he confined himself in his office, but you know better as he told you he’d be doing his weekly ritual in the secret room of the Outpost. You know that if Michael was here with you, Venable would not even dream to address you with so much rudeness.

It’s when she grips your forearm and yells, “are you even listening to a word I’m saying, you insolent girl?” that you see a few inhabitants entering the room, including Duncan. Their talking stop immediately as they realize what they just walked into, Duncan’s eyes finding yours and looking at you intently, but for the first time, you feel unable to hold his gaze.

The brunette doesn’t miss the change in your demeanor, how you looked like a beaten up puppy when Venable screamed in your face. He can’t help but feel a sudden burst of anger worming its way into his stomach, hating the way the woman has just treated you — and even more, hating to see you like that.

You quickly get a grip on yourself and retract your limb from Venable’s hold, making her eyes widen in fear at your unexpected outburst.

You look at the woman standing in front of you: your desire of killing her right here, right now engulfing your whole body but you know that’s not the moment to do so, which only leads you to exhale in frustration.

“You can stick that cane up your fucking ass, Ms. Venable.” You tell her, disgustingly emphasizing her name as you exit the room with Duncan’s unceasing, concerned gaze on you. As you enter the hallway, you hear the woman screaming something along the lines “What do you have to look at, uh?”, feeling slightly relieved when you detect the humiliation in her voice.

You finally let your tears fall down as soon as you lock yourself in your room; your back presses against the wooden door as you slowly slide down on it, hitting the pavement.

You hardly ever cry, it’s not even something you are used to. You hate the stinging feeling in your throat, how your sobs echo through your ears, the stumping in your heart getting louder as your lips start trembling. All of your life, you mastered the ability of enclosuring your feelings and never letting them out — which only resulted in a total mess when it all became too much. No matter how hard you fight it, sometimes you just need to allow yourself to let go. That’s why you find yourself being totally hopeless on the floor, a crumbled up chaos of tears and heavy panting. You know Venable is not the reason you’re crying your heart out, if anything she was just the final straw for you: caging your heart and putting up a strong, intimidating facade seems like a good idea until you just can’t fake it anymore.

You try to calm yourself down by running a hand through your hair, your breath hitches in your throat as you become aware of the repeating knocks on your door. You furrow your brows as you lift your gaze from the floor, instantly silencing your sobs. You know it’s not Michael for a fact: he never knocks.

“Will you ever open this damn door?” Duncan’s impatient, raspy voice comes from the other side, making you open your mouth in surprise.

You reluctantly get up, trying to steady your breath as you look at the door frame in front of you, not knowing what to do.

You can’t let him see you being this...weak.

You think that if you just ignore him, he’ll eventually go away.

“I’m not going away until you open up.” He declares almost as if he has just read your mind.

You roll your eyes at his stubborness, realizing that it’s best if you just let him in — especially when you know that his constant knocking would sooner or later gain the inhabitants’ attention.

You recompose yourself as best as you can and open up to reveal the handsome brunette, gripping his arm to force him inside and instantly closing the door behind.

“What the fuck do you want?” You ask him sternly, trying to mask your I-just-had-a-break-down voice.

Usually, he’d reply to you with the same tone, adding some sexual innuendos or even a snarky comment, but he just can’t do that right now.

Not when he sees so much of himself in you: he knows so damn well that look on your beautiful face. He knows, because he’s just the same.

Your gaze lowers to the floor as Duncan stays silent and stares at your tear-stained cheeks, embarrassment taking over your whole being.

He carefully inches closer to your body and when there’s just a little space left between you two, his hands glide over your arms, gently stroking them up and down in order to calm you.

You furrow your brows at the unexpected but comforting gesture, lifting your gaze to see his blue orbs looking down at you. Once again, you feel unable to keep his stare and busy yourself by letting your eyes wander anywhere but on him. He chuckles at your visible embarrassment, thinking about how absolutely adorable you look with your eyes being so puffy, the tears lingering in your lashes making them glittering. His gaze focuses on your swollen lips, then on your flushed cheeks and ultimately on your nose, now being red from sniffling so hard. He swears he has never seen someone looking so pretty even in such a state, your beauty never failing to enchant him.

“What the fuck are you laughing about?” You angrily spit at him, being offended by his little laugh. You feel stupid as soon as you realize the effect he‘s having on you, your cheeks heating up even more and immediately taking his hands off of you. You turn your back to him and walk to your bed instead, sitting on the edge of it.

“I’m not laughing at you.” He says in a serious tone, facing you.

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

He insists, “I was just thinking about how cute you look right now.”

Duncan is standing at a safe distance in front of you, afraid of doing any kind of moves.

Ever since you, him and Michael started this three way relationship you were very clear with the brunette about how it was all just for fun, how this thing you started was never meant to cross any boundaries if not sexually. And he was okay with that, in the old world he was so used to the whole no strings attached thing, never feeling the need to compel himself into a serious relationship. That is, until Duncan got tired of this get-sex-quick scheme. Not that it’s not amazing, but he’d be a liar to say that he doesn’t get jealous every time you would pepper Michael in sweet kisses and hugs, the brunette could only dream about having that kind of interaction with you. It is all so simple with the Antichrist — you and Duncan never hold back when it comes to shower Michael in love, and the brunette longes for that type of bond with you too. He needs it. He tried —and keeps trying— to conquer it with simple gestures oh so many times: he clearly remembers when, just a week ago, you were at your desk writing on some file the Cooperative sent you that morning as Duncan was sitting on the chair at your left. He was simply watching you, thinking about how beautiful you looked while doing such a simple task. It was then, while he was counting all the quick remarks on your face, that he swore he could never get tired of staring at you. He wasn’t thinking about anything but your soft skin when his hand stretched forward and stroked your cheek, his feather-like touch almost going unnoticed by you. Your body tensed when you felt his fingers going through your hair, delicately brushing it. It was so unlike him to do that — you expected him to pull your hair back and do some obscene remarks about how he wanted to take you right there, but he never did. Your eyes stayed fixated on your paper while his hand started tracing random patterns on the small of your back. He clearly remembers the way you coldly took his hand off of you and demanded him to stop, how he felt his heart shattering afterwards.

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask him in a feeble voice, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to.” He just shrugs, and when he sees how you just won’t look at him, he decides to speak again.

“Will you snap my neck if sit next to you?” He asks while pointing at the free spot next to you. Your gaze finally locks on his, then on the bed, fighting a small smile at his question. He notices that, feeling so proud of himself to get a positive reaction from you.

“No.” You whisper, briefly looking up at him.

He warmly smiles at you, wasting no time into occupying the spot.

You gulp at the intimate proximity, feeling your stomach in knots as, once again, you just can’t hold his gaze. Duncan, on the other hand, can’t seem to take his eyes off of you, which only makes you more nervous.

He watches your hands fiddling together, placing one of his own on top of them to stop your restless movements. He knows he’s probably risking his life by doing so, your unpredictability being the only thing that’s stopping him from grabbing your face and kissing the palpable sadness out of you.

His thumb starts caressing the back of your right hand and you feel like bursting into tears at the delicate, gentle touch. You’ve neglected yourself from these little acts of intimacy for so long that you already feel overwhelmed by such a simple gesture.

You close your eyes as you fight your tears back, regret taking over Duncan’s beautiful features. He quickly retracts his hand, thinking that he might have gone too far and hating himself for not contemplating enough about the consequences of his actions. His eyes widen in shock when he feels your hand shyly capturing his own and clasping your fingers together.

He looks at you with his mouth slightly agape and his brows furrowed, but he’s quick to give your palm a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know if you wanna talk abou-“ He tries to say after a moment of silence, his ears focusing on the way his heartbeat is speeding up.

You stop him immediately, “I don’t.”

“That’s okay.” He reassures you, squeezing your hand once again before continuing.

“But if you change your mind and need someone to talk to, I hope you know that I’m here.”

And that’s when you finally lift your gaze from the floor and turn your head to him.

Duncan is mesmerized by the way you look at him: there’s no trace of pettiness, anger or evil on your delicate features. With your brows furrowed and your lips slightly pouted, he knows you’re confused by his kindness just as much as he’s surprised by your vulnerability. Little do you know, if you only stopped rejecting his attempts of getting close, he’d be more than willing to take care of you all the time.

“I might get killed for this...” he starts in a whisper, understanding that you aren’t going to say much anytime soon. So you watch him, silently encouraging him to continue.

His free hand goes up to your face, tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear. His thumb gently traces your lobe while his eyes follow his own movement, too scared to look into your eyes and catch any signs of disgust directed to him.

He licks his lips, “...but before the bombs fell, I was well known for being an excellent cuddler.”

He finally looks at you, finding yourself staring at his lips.

“And a very humble person, for sure.” You sarcastically add with a small grin, making him chuckle. You feel the tension leave the room and being replaced by a strange comfort that Duncan’s consideration is providing, contently bathing in it.

You lean on the hand that is still caressing your face, shutting your eyes for a brief second.

“Come here.” He sweetly says, getting you out of your daze and taking his hands off of you, making you already miss the warmth of his palms.

Duncan stands up, kneeling just a bit in front of you to wrap both of his arms around your waist and letting yours envelop his neck. He lifts you off the bed, your legs instantly enfolding his hips as he quickly positions his hands under your thighs to keep you balanced; you smile when you feel his thumbs stroking your skin there.

Your face presses into the curve of his neck as you inhale his scent, him carefully walking you both to the top of the bed. Duncan gently lays on it with you still embracing him and you don’t dare looking up: you’re sure your face is burning red at this new-found proximity with the handsome man. He takes one of your hands in his and gently kisses the back of it, while his free one starts playing with your hair.

You can’t help but nuzzle your nose on his collarbone, Duncan responding to it by grabbing your chin and leveling your face with his.

He stares deeply into your eyes and you are surprised to perceive so much love coming from him, it‘s almost intoxicating. He brings his face closer, brushing his nose against yours and you just can’t believe that’s the same man that mercilessly fucks you every night.

He stares at your lips before kissing them with so much gentleness that it makes your head spin. This is different from all the rough, needy ones you’ve ever shared before, so different that you feel like a teenager being kissed for the first time as you are taken aback by this side of him.

You kiss for what feels like forever, one of his hands on your face and keeping you there for fear of you breaking apart, the other still tangled in your hair, alternating his movements between brushing your strands and petting your scalp.

He breaks the kiss to check your reaction, and he smiles at how sweet you look with your blushed up cheeks and your post-kiss swollen lips.

He can’t help but peck your nose, your chin and then your cheek, and when you giggle at the way his beard tickles your skin, he starts peppering your face in kisses.

”Stop.” You tell him between laughs, genuinely content for the first time that day.

“I know you don’t want me to.” He says with a grin before flipping you over and placing himself on top of you, his mouth leaving kisses on your neck and intentionally letting his beard scratch against your skin.

“I don’t.” You admit in a whisper and you think that if he wasn’t so close to you he probably wouldn’t hear you.

He looks up at you, his mouth closed in a thin, sweet smile. You return his grin, finally feeling comfortable enough to wrap your arms around his neck, letting one hand brush through his curls and push them back in a soothing manner.

Duncan moans at the act, his eyes closing just for a second before kissing you again.

He grabs your face with both hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks back and forth with each loving kiss he gives you.

“Feeling better?” He asks in a low tone with your mouths still working against each other.

You grin at him, and he feels his heart melting at the sight. You have such a contagious, precious smile, he wonders why you don’t show it often. He promises to himself that he‘s going to do anything it takes to see you in this peaceful state once again.

You give him a small kiss on the cheek, noticing how this time, it’s his skin to turn a pinker shade. You feel proud of yourself knowing that you made the Duncan Shepherd blush, taking his bottom lip between your teeth.

“So much better.”

#ff: playthings #ASK ME IF I’M crying #this made me really soft #i love my tough babies #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader x duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd #house of cards #michael langdon x reader #ahs coven #ahs #duncan shepherd x reader

[equalstrashflavoredtrash]

A Foreign Tongue - 2

a/n: So you can thank @grungyblonde for this. I never really intended on writing a follow up, sure i had ideas bouncing around if i ever did continue, but then she kept telling me how much she loved it and i was re-inspired to write about the prince and the cook, so i hope you enjoy.

warnings: Explicit, very eager and consensual, no major warnings, like nothing too kinky. Also the cook is very chubby and that’s a thing that comes up a bunch.

Part 1

FF.net // Ao3 // Masterlist

Hvitserk X OFC // Vikings

word count: 3,040

“Tonight.”

That’s what he said to her in the kitchen, his hands holding her round, flour covered cheeks as he leaned forward to steal another kiss. He didn't care she couldn’t say his name, he still wanted her. Breaking the mood, one of his brothers called for him from down the hall. The prince looked over his shoulder at the door, then back to her.

“Tonight, during the feast,” he reiterated before he tore himself away, retreating to who ever had beckoned him.

She stood frozen on the spot, dreamily watching where he had been when she realized everything she’d have to do between now and Tonight. Grabbing a fresh log from the bucket, she went to stoke the fire, building the heat to cook the bread.

The afternoon passed in a haze as she prepared for the feast, trying not to let her mind wander off to fantasies of what Hvitserk may have planned.

“You seem happy,” Britt teased, leaning on the counter to watch as the cook sliced vegetables. “Is it something to do with a boy? Maybe a prince?”

“I do not know what you mean,” she responded, though notably avoiding the younger girl’s gaze.

“I think it i~is,” Britt dragged out the last word in a sing-song tone, bouncing around to tug on the cook’s sleeve. “Come on, tell me! Tell me what he said, I saw you kissing! Now tell me!”

“He said nothing for you to know.” Her statement was curt and finalizing, halting anymore of Britt’s childish bemoaning. “You are too young to understand.”

Britt rolled her eyes as she slumped onto the nearby stool. “That’s what everyone says,” she complained, looking down to pick at her nails as she continued in a high pitched, mocking voice, “You’re too young. You’ll understand when you’re older. That’s not for someone your age.”

The cook couldn’t help but laugh to herself, remember hearing the same comments. “You will be old soon, do not rush time.”

The young servant scoffed at the cook’s wisdom and decided to go find someone more entertaining to bother. With out the distraction she was able to work efficiently, having almost the entire meal prepped and ready to cook when it came time for the festivities to start.

Listening to the ruckus in the main hall, she watched the stove, making sure the leg of lamb seared evenly. Once done, she handed it off to the servants and began with the next dish. She knew there was no moment for rest, that once the following rack of ribs was finished roasting, the party-goers will have already devoured the former and be sitting, eager and waiting for more. Meaning she would have to immediately start plating the suckling pig that had been baking over an open flame all day as soon as possible. As the guests reveled, she fluttered around the kitchen, stirring the stew before hurrying to crank the rotisserie. While holding a hot loaf of bread with her apron, she whirled around to find the tall prince standing in the doorway.

“Too soon!” she yelped, dropping the bread onto the butcher block. Turning to search for a knife, she missed the way he cut across the floor in a few easy strides, coming to stand beside her.

“I know. I couldn’t wait,” Hvitserk explained with a shrug, trying to snake his long arms around her thick waist while his lips met her shoulder.

“No!” she shouted, tearing herself from his grasp. “I-I can not. Not now!” Shifting, she gestured wildly with the knife in her hand to the kitchen around her. “Later. Later, when there is no food. Ok? Then, then we may kiss.” The cook prayed he’d understand and though she felt bad watching his expression drop, she knew he got the message. Every part of her wanted to hold him and apologize but she could already smell the pork starting to burn and knew it needed another rotation. Hvitserk retreated, pausing in his exit to look back, watching the way she bent over the hearth to stir the bubbling stew.

Hours later, the cook sighed as she sat down, mopping at her brow. The fire in the stove was dwindling, baking the last loaf for tomorrow’s breakfast, but still its dim flickers lit the room. The shadows danced with the flames as she gazed absently at how it popped and sparked, letting her tired mind drift when a crash jolted her back to reality.

She hurried to her feet, searching the shaded corners of the kitchen for the disturbance when she spotted a dark mass. Bracing herself, she watched as the figure rose, not resting until the fire light revealed Hvitserk’s face.

“There’s no food,” he observed, scanning the counter with a smirk.

“There is no food,” the cook agreed with a giggle, reaching for him once he was close. Curling her fingers into his tunic, she drew him into her as their lips crashed together. She could taste the ale on his breath but that meant nothing, she knew even when sober he wanted her.

Breaking for air, the cook gasped, “No, not here,” as Hvitserk dove for her neck, leaving purple welts in the wake of his lips. “Not the kitchen,” she breathed as his fingers clenched one cheek of her bottom.

“My room,” he huffed, breaking contact with his lips and her skin long enough for him to bend over. With a quick and practiced maneuver, Hvitserk hoisted the cook on to his shoulder and made his way down the hall. She was beyond flustered, having not been carried since she was a small child. The cook yelped and hollered at him, ordering for the prince to set her down at once. He merely slapped her upturned ass and continued on his way.

Though it was her first time in his chambers, she had no chance to take in her surroundings. Once her feet touched the floor he was on her, his arms curled around her sides as his face nuzzled at her cheek, peppering kisses across her jaw. He moved quickly, fumbling with the ties of her apron as the cook tried to process in her mind everything that was happening.

She attempted to slow his motions, bringing his face to hers for a deep kiss but that seemed to only stoke the fire within, his touch becoming more frantic with every moment she remained fully dressed. Discarding his effort to undo the fastenings properly, Hvitserk gave a forceful yank to the collar, tearing the garment down the center. Letting the tattered wool fall freely off her shoulders, he pulled away to watch as more of her skin was slowly revealed.

Immediately her arms flew to cover her exposed chest, wavering under his hungry gaze. She could hear Hvitserk make a disapproving tsk before he pecked her blushing cheek.

Using a more gentle and patient touch, he slid his warm palms along her forearms, bringing his fingers to rest on her wrists while his thumbs rubbed her knuckles. “Let me see you,” the prince hummed into her ear, giving a soft but eager nip with his teeth. “Please, I want to see you.”

She hesitated for a moment until she saw his smile. Lowering her arms, the cook took in the way his expression deepen, a pleased grin unconsciously pulling at his cheeks. She watched how he licked his bottom lip as he cautiously cupped her right breast in his hand. At first contact she let out a sharp gasp, then whimpered when the calluses of his palm scraped at her hard nipple, as he covered the other with his opposite hand. His grasp was firm but not painful, the supple flesh spilling over between his fingers as he slowly squeezed and massaged her.

With every inch of contact she felt sparks under her skin, burning as they coursed through her, which only served to emphasize the throb in her vulva. She had never felt an excitement quite like this, even during the moments late at night when she allowed her hand to travel between her thighs as she imagined it was his. This was different, almost a hundred percent more visceral, more intense, and more addictive.

Raising his chin, he connected with her gaze, trying to read without words that she was enjoying his touch. He found confidence in her dazed expression, relishing at the glassly look of her eyes and the way her kiss-swollen lips hung, every so slightly agape. Arching towards her, he brought his face close enough their noses brushed and asked, “I want to take off your dress, may I?”

The cook paused, anxious at his request. She moved to raise her hands again—just as she had earlier—when he caught her wrists. Hvitserk held her arms in place and spoke cautiously, “I want to see you, all of you. I want to know all of you. Don’t be nervous.” Capturing her bottom lip, he slid his arms around her wide middle and pulled her flush against him. He gave an internal moan at the way every inch of her soft belly and breasts cushioned against his torso as her small hands clung to his biceps.  

He groped what he could of her ass, drawing her close as possible before pivoting to deposit her body onto his bed. She landed on her back with an ‘oof’ as he fisted at her skirt, dragging the wool over her broad hips. She lifted her bottom, allowing him to completely remove the garment, but kept her knees pressed together so her thighs were clamped tight, concealing everything but her triangle of curly hair. The cook awkwardly waved her hands, unsure where to keep them as he continued stripping off her stockings and boots. Eventually her palms came to rest across her breast again as she watched him make fast work of removing his clothes, hastily tugging at the fabric as if wearing it caused him pain.

Once he was nude she found herself too distracted by his growing erection to recognize the sour frown that crossed his features as he saw that her hands were once again raised, shielding her from him. Climbing to lay next to the cook, the prince let his fingers wander, gently ghosting over her curves and rolls as he acquainted himself. She giggled and shifted when his touch tickled her sides, exciting him with her slight noises. Carefully he brought his hands up to hers, gently urging her fingers to lace with his, directing her arms to lay flat on the bed at either side of her head.

He began kissing her lips, feeling the way her composure relaxed against him, while traveling across her collar bone. He nipped at the soft skin, leaving a cool trail as he searched for her nipple. Freeing one hand, he gathered her breast, lifting it so that he could envelope her peak with his mouth. His tongue toyed with the small nub, batting back and forth as she squirmed. Releasing with a pop he sat up, letting out a low groan as he continued to pay sole attention to her chest, “Your tits are glorious.”

“Glow-ree-os?” she asked, furrowing her brow as she tried to repeat the word. “This means?”

Hvitserk smirked, feeling himself twitch at both her accent and naiveté. “Glorious, like wonderful,” he began, openly mouthing at her skin as he lifted her tits to meet his lips, “or amazing, fantastic.” Giving a quick squeeze, he brought his left hand down to mimic his right. He brought her tits together, holding them tight as he buried his face into her cleavage. She could hear him continue to speak, his voice muffled while listing off synonyms, though she was confident she now understood.

Pulling back, the prince drew deep breaths, pivoting to rest beside her. Repeating his practiced gentle touch, he stroked her thighs, running his palms from knee to hip. With each pass he increased the pressure as he brought his fingers closer to her middle, easing her legs apart. There was a slice of his consciousness that wanted to wrench her knees onto the bed so he could finally feel her, but he knew that wouldn’t help, so he fought his urges—being patient for her.

The cook’s resistance melted with his careful ministrations, allowing her knees to fall open for him. He shifted, scooting closer as he braced himself on one arm. Lowering to join their lips again, he pressed his fingers against her mound. Growing nervous, she began to shift—still unsure of what to do—when Hvitserk broke away.

“I want you to be a good girl for me,” he hummed, his nose tickling at her cheek. “I want you to keep your arms on the bed, keep them where they were, next to your head. Can you do that for me? Will you be my good girl?” Ducking her chin, she gave a slight but affirmative nod and lifted her wrists to lay flat on the pillow beside her ears.

Once the question of what to do with her hands was taken away from her, all the cook had to focus on was the prince. The prince and the way his skin felt against hers, the nudge of something stiff she felt on her inner thigh, the way it felt when his fingers delved into her lips, rolling at the sensitive little nub the cook previously believed only she knew of. She couldn’t hold back her moans, arching as he pressed the pad of his finger flat. Fisting at the furs underneath her, the cook fought to keep her hands in place as he had requested.

Hvitserk could barely contain himself as he watched the way she squirmed under his touch. He brushed at her center, testing how wet she was before spitting into his hand. With a confident stroke he spread the saliva over his length, lining himself up. The cook was taken by surprised as he hooked his elbow under her left knee, lifting her entire leg to better the vantage point and sink his cock into her waiting warmth. Keeping one hand planted next to her head—the other holding her thigh—Hvitserk began to thrust, his mouth agape as he watched the way her breasts bounced on impact. He was settling into the motions when she began pushing back at his shoulders.

“Stop, stop!” she panted, as Hvitserk receded. “No air.” As she gestured to how he held her, and the prince seemed to understand, tugging at her waist.

“On your knees,” he suggested, guiding her to roll over. She braced herself on all fours as Hvitserk smoothed his hand down her spine, urging her to lay her head on the mattress. He reveled for a moment, enjoying the view of her ass stuck up in the air just for him, tempted to slap her just so he could see the jiggle.

Holding his straining cock, he rubbed the head along her slit, gliding it between her pillowy lips before finding his goal. With an easy plunge he began to work himself inside, egged on by her soft moans. Using a careful back and forth he was able to fit his head past her tight entrance. He paused, taking in the way she squeezed him and then slowly sinking as far as he could until his hips met her ass.

Hvitserk could hear her mewling below him, reacting to the intrusion but not opposing it. His slid his palm across her back as he lower his head. “You’re doing so good,” he groaned into her ear as she gasped at the feeling of him grinding into her. “I’m trying to be gentle, but it’s hard,” he rasped, using all his might to hold back.

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled, pushing her hips back into his. “Do this, please,” she breathed giving him the prompting he needed.

At her word he let himself go, digging his fingers into her waist to hold her in place as he drove into her, chasing his drunken id. He could hear her words—they started out in his language but as he carried on, she drifted further from what he could understand. Giving a shake of his head, Hvitserk stopped caring for the meaning of her words, and paid attention only to the tone.

Jutting his hips forward, his skin clapping hard against her ass, he hoped he could bring her to climax before himself, but with every passing thrust that seemed less likely. He was entranced with the way her body reacted, reveling in the way her flesh rippled on impact. Every thrust he made felt so much more important as he watched how her body flowed with his movements. With each strike of his hips against hers he studied how she responded beyond the slight sounds that left her mouth.

The cook felt the coil in her belly begin to tighten with each stroke until the building tension finally snapped. Hvitserk continued without a care, driving his hips into hers as she cried out. “Ha-vet-sick!” she called, unconsciously rearing away from him and the stimuli he brought as the orgasm washed over her. He pounded forward, letting his hips snap autonomously, only caring for the moans that left the cooks mouth. Though he realized he was holding her down so that her face was pressed into the bed, she still cooed from below him, submitting to his will.

With a deep growl, Hvitserk chased his release, spurting ropes of cum deep into her cunt as he pinned her against mattress. He stuttered and groaned, coming within her before finally relaxing and falling to the side fully expended.

She rolled over, laying in a more comfortable position, giving the prince a shy smile. Hvitserk was still catching his breath as he watched the way she bit her lip, her eyes relaxed and content. He couldn’t help himself as he leaned in to cup her cheek, drawing her closer for a slow kiss.

The prince pulled back slightly, freeing his mouth to speak while staying close enough his lips brushed hers as he did so. “Can’t imagine I’m saying this, but I’ve never been so happy there was no food in the kitchen.”

I hope you liked it! please tell me what thought!!!

@beautifulramblingbrains @ariwolf14 @titty-teetee @whenimaunicorn@sweetvengeancee @ivarinleatherpants @tiyetiye @romanchronicles @oddsnendsfanfic @murmelinchen @buckybarnesisalittleshit@laketaj24 @ivarslittlebadgirl @readsalot73 @imgoldielikehawn@ivarsshieldmadien @ceridwenofwales @grungyblonde @honestsycrets @lisinfleur [[if you want to be tagged for vikings stuff in the future, leave a reply]

#hvitserk imagine #hvitserk #hvitserk x ofc #hvitserk x reader #vikings #my writing

[samthewrestlingfan]

Experience: AJ Styles

SURPRISE!

What? Sam is posting a drabble? ON A SUNDAY?

I love you all so much and cannot tell you all what you’re like, comments, and reblogs mean to me.

Enjoy this lil treat!

Warnings: Alcohol, smut, LOTS OF SMUT !!!

18+ readers only please!

I watched him as he spoke to the group he was with.  The way this man told a story got me every time. His southern drawl draped every word that fell from his mouth in an irresistible charm.

"Boo!" Naomi said approaching me from the rear, breaking me from my trance. "Hey girl!" She shouted, I hugged her tightly.

"I am so proud of you! I can't believe you won the title in your hometown!" I exclaimed. Wrestlemania had just ended and a large number of us went out to a local bar to celebrate.

"Thanks girl, but I got a feeling you're next--you are killing it lately!" She said playfully hitting my arm. I nodded mindlessly before finding my eyes land on the man in the blue t shirt and beat up jeans.

"Baby just talk to him..." Naomi said matter-of-factly. I glanced at her with wide eyes.

"Talk to him? And say what? It's not exactly like we have a lot in common." A 15 year difference will do that to ya.

She tsk'ed her lips, "He invited you here didn't he?"

"Yes," I sighed, "But I was congratulating Finn on making his comeback tomorrow when he mentioned it to him, he was just being nice."

Naomi groaned. "Girl what is the issue here? You're one of the most confident women I know, why you letting AJ Styles throw you for a loop?"

I paused before taking a huge gulp of my drink. "Nay--he's married."

"Was. Was married. Last I heard he was separated." I felt my eyes widen and my face turn red. "Yeah but is that like, ya know...official?" I asked, hoping I heard her correctly.

She nodded gulping her drink, "Like a referee with a whistle."

"Ella!" I heard a familiar voice shout. I watched Finn approach me with open arms before spinning me around in a hug. "I'm glad ya came, Love."

I laughed, "Finn we came here together--you drove me."

Finn kissed my cheek, "Sorry, Babe. Slipped my mind." He slurred his words heavily. "Well come have a shot with me then!" I obliged waving goodbye to Naomi. I turned back toward Finn to notice AJ staring a hole through us.

I subtly watch him as Finn ushered me to the bar. AJ ran his hair back with his fingertips before reaching for his beer.

"2 shots of Jameson, please." Finn said.

We grabbed our shots and he moved me to join his group, he put his hand on the small of my back allowing others to make space to me.

"Hi everyone!" I greeted politely.

"Ay! Ella!" The boys cheered me, Karl held his glass up to mine and clinked them, "To the baddest chick in the WWE!"

I laughed as he practically punched our glassed together. I took the shot quickly, trying to avoid the burning sensation on my tongue.

"Oof. That was rough..." I grumbled at Finn. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by that beautiful accent.

"That's cause you let this walking potato serve you piss water..." AJ scoffed with a laugh. His eyes were locked on mine for a number of seconds before I looked away, laughing as I did. In that moment, Luke pushed two more shots of Jack near me. "Here, keep this kiddo...you're gonna need it!"

"Oi! Keep that trash talking to yourself!" Finn joked. "Need a refill, Love?" Finn asked me, I chuckled gesturing to the shots just placed in front of me, "I think I'm set." He shrugged as he walked away, heading to the bar to talk to Sami.

Karl and Luke then shared a glance between themselves, "We're gonna go get some air, or something..." Luke proclaimed, dizzily standing from the table.

Suddenly it was AJ, and I. Alone. Together.

"First Mania?" He asked quickly, fiddling with his beer bottle.

I looked up perplexed, "Me?"

He chucked, running a hand though his locks, "Who else would I be talkin' to, Ella?"

The way he said my name made my stomach do back flips. I didn't even think he knew my name.

I laughed, "Yeah, it was my first. How was it for you?" My God, you could cut the sexual tension with a damn knife.

He looked me up and down, subtly, but I noticed it. "Ab-so-lutely incredible." He enunciated, finishing with a swig of his beer.

I felt myself getting more and more turned on by the minute, the heat coming from between my legs was almost too much to take, the fact that I was getting a little tipsy didn't help my inhibitions either.

AJ leaned in closer to me, "You're very talented ya know. You show a lot more skill than I thought you would have."

I squinted at his words, "That sounds like a backhanded compliment to me, Mr. Styles."

His eyes stared me down when he heard his name roll off my tongue in that way. "I didn't mean it that way! I just meant--well you're so young and all...I don't know, forget I mentioned it."

I sipped one of the shots in front of me, "Diggin' a deep whole there, champ." I let out a small laugh, "And I'm not that young, a quarter of a century is pretty old if you ask me."

He chuckled genuinely, "Darlin' you don't know what old is."

Okay, Ella...drop the line, see if you get any bites.

I circled the rim of the shot glass with my pointer finger,"Older isn't a bad thing--it means you're more experienced at...certain things."

AJ sighed, "Oh I have a lot of experience at a lot of things." He winked before finishing his beer.

"Such as?" I adjusted my posture, making sure my tits pressed together slightly.

He paused, "Baby, you wouldn't believe me if I told you." Aj stared at me, like he had just made an open ended statement. He was the one dropping lines now--and I was definitely biting.

Needing all the confidence I could get, I took the last shot I had down all at once. "Why don't you just show me then?"

Holy shit, did I just say that out loud?! Oh my God, he's gonna think I'm a fucking idiot...

AJ leaned in closer, my body mimicked his movements subconsciously, and soon our mouths were mere inches apart.

"You sure 'bout that?" He asked with a husk in his voice I had never heard before. I did an almost undetectable nod, as my eyes scanned his face.

"Cause baby if I get a taste of you tonight, I don't think I'll ever be able to stop."  AJ licked his lips, before sitting back in his chair. I shook my head like I was coming out of some kind of trance, and saw him palming himself through his jeans.

"Leave me your room number, I'll follow in a few minutes. Don't want anyone to know what were up too." He winked.

Unable to focus on anything other than the wetness coating me in between my legs, I quickly scribbled on a napkin.

184. Knock twice.

I stood from the stool, and pushed the napkin towards him. He swallowed hard taking in my body now fully in front of him.

"Go 'head, darlin'. I wouldn't dare forget about you."

I sauntered away, feeling AJ's gaze on me as I did, and made my way out of the hotel bar and to the elevator.

---

I waited as patiently as I could for him. My core throbbing at the thought of his touch, wetness soaking into my bed sheets.

Finally what felt like an eternity later, I heard the 1-2 knock on my door. I walked to it with shaking knees, wearing nothing but a thin cotton robe, and opened it slowly.

His blue eyes stared holes into mine, he leaned on the door frame pushing the door open more as he did.

"My Lord, you're beautiful."

I smiled softly at his compliment, "Come in?" I questioned.

"Baby you don't have to ask me twice," He walked in and shut the door behind him quickly. "I never thought this would be happenin'."

AJ walked toward me and placed his hand on my hips. "Oh yeah? What exactly is happening?" I teased running my hands up and down his chest.

"Darlin', I'm gonna make sure you can't walk tomorrow. How's that sound hmm?" He leaned his head down, and attached his lips to my neck, causing me to release a moan I had been holding in for way too long.

AJ laughed against my skin, "You've been wanting this as long as I have, Ella?" He lightly pushed me on the bed, I fell back allowing my robe to open slightly revealing my breast to him. He pulled his shirt off and threw it into the darkness of my dim hotel room.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the bed, adjusting so I was straddling him. He pushed the robe off my shoulders as he kissed me, allowing it to fall completely. "You've wanted to fuck me for a long time?" I asked AJ, teasing him with my words.

"Darlin'..." AJ sat up, moving me to my back once again. He hovered over me, attaching his lips to my hot skin. "Every time I see you backstage,"

He kissed down to my nipple, and took it in his mouth, sucking it raw. "AJ..." I moaned, moving my hands to his hair. He moved his way even more south, giving small kisses just above my clit.

"I would see you, hear your voice, watch you walk...I would hard just lookin' at ya. Why do you think I never talked to you?"

Before I could respond, AJ attached his lips to my clit.

"Oh my God, AJ, mmmm" I moaned as I gripped the sheets. AJ's rough hands held my hips down as he ate my pussy.

I writhed with pleasure underneath him, "Mmm, does my baby like that?" He asked smugly.

I nodded, unable to form a coherent thought. AJ flicked my clit with his tongue, over and over again as his beard added friction to my inner thighs.

"AJ, baby stop--you're gonna make me cum already..." I didn't ever want this to stop truthfully, but I wanted him inside me.

He didn't seem to care, he worked my clit and drove me closer and closer until I felt the explosion spread from my abdomen, throughout my entire body.

"Oh, darlin, you soaked through the bed...you ready for my cock, baby?"

I nodded as AJ stripped.  When his cock was finally free, I stared in aw. He beckoned me with one finger over to him before placing a fierce kiss on my lips.

"Wanna taste my cock, darlin?" I nodded, and pushed him onto the bed.

In an instant, I had AJ's entire length in my mouth. I stroked his cock with one hand as I have the best head I think I have ever given.

"God...damn, Ella." He moaned, guiding my head with his hand. I looked up at him and made eye contact, causing him to throw his head back.

"Baby, I don't think we should do this much longer, I can't leave here without gettin' inside that pussy..."

I coated AJ's length in extra saliva before letting it go. I straddled his hips, "Ready, handsome?"

He nodded, as I slid myself onto him, "Ella, baby. You're--you're so, oh my God."

AJ held my hips down as I ground my heat on his length, "AJ oh fuck..." I moaned.

Before I knew it, he had me on my hands and knees, entering me from behind. He pounded into me so fast and so hard I thought I would cum again right then.

"Harder, AJ, oh God please!" I screamed as he slammed into me. He happily obliged, making my legs shake uncontrollably.

"You ready to cum with me, Darlin?"

I bit my lip and nodded. I felt another build up burst as AJ emptied himself inside of me. "Oh fuck, Ella..." He grit through his teeth as he came to a halt.

He flopped next to me, urging me to lay on his chest. Our breathing labored, our bodies hot, AJ kissed my forehead. "Feel like jumpin' in a shower?"

I shook my head, "I don't think my legs are gonna let me walk for a while."

AJ chucked through his heavy breathing, "I told you. Now darlin, just wait for round two."

#SMUT #First official smut ive posted! #aj styles #wwe aj styles #zaddy #aj #phenomenal #phenomenal one #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe one shot #finn balor #sami zayn #wwe smut #aj styles fic #aj styles smut #aj styles fanfiction #samthewrestlingfan

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: All Your Dreams Are Strange (Ch. 1 of 4/5)

Earth-2's Mayor Leonard Snart is navigating a post-Zoom world--squabbling with the city council, dealing with his best friend, escaping his security detail--when he meets an intriguing newcomer to Central City. Now, if they can just figure out how to navigate these things together. (Prequel to "Another World, Some Other Time."

I don't know what's gotten into my muse lately. But I'm running with it!

Way back when I started writing fanfic again, one of my first Legends/CC fics was "Another World, Some Other Time," in which Leonard and Sara "meet" their Earth-2 counterparts. Sort of. At random a week or two ago, I started turning around the idea of a prequel, a story about how E-2 Len and Sara met.

This is that story.

Right now, I'm thinking four or five chapters. Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta! Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

Leonard Snart has escaped again.

There’s no pursuit and no security outcry, no alarm or notice. Just one mayor, walking quickly down the Main Street sidewalk away from City Hall with a grin of insurrection and smug pleasure in his own cleverness—and the knowledge that his secretary is going to glare at him on Monday, although she probably won’t make him pay in other ways.

Probably.

That’s only fair, really. He’s supposed to keep office hours until 5 p.m. on Fridays, and only his appointment to meet with the new YWCA director was going to get him out of that a little early. Skipping out a little earlier still, while Mariah was occupied with a delivery, will just allow him to ensure that the conservative, anti-meta faction of the city council doesn’t have another chance to beard him in his den before the weekend, making him late for the other appointment and ending a long week on a note that will sour things even more.

He counts that as a win.

Mariah was going to be disapproving anyway, he decides, taking off his suit coat, nodding to a passing older couple he recognizes as local business owners. Not only does she have old-fashioned ideas about how the mayor should require others to come to him instead of going to them, she’s going to be appalled he didn’t take a security detail, or at least someone to take notes.

Now, it might be a breach of protocol to go by himself. Not all that long ago, it could have been a death sentence.

But Zoom is gone, and the fall day is mild and sunny, and he’s made it out of City Hall without saying something he shouldn’t to one of the obstinate council members or anyone else. He’s on his way to a place he recalls fondly, to talk to someone he’s really quite curious to meet, and life…is good.

(A bit lonely, maybe, a tiny voice inside comments, but good. Right?)

Then it gets even better.

“Snart!”

“Oof!” Leonard finds himself lifted off his feet in a bear hug, but although he’s taken by surprise, he knows who this is, knows the voice and the hug and even the faint scent—woodsmoke and spice, an incongruous combination. “You…Mick! Down!” When he’s lowered to the ground and can breathe again, he adjusts his shirt and tie, picks up his fallen jacket and runs a hand over the close-cropped hair that’s nearly incapable of being mussed, giving the other man a glare that would make Mariah proud. “What the...” A glance around. “...hell are you doing back in the city? I thought you were in Gotham.”

His oldest and best friend roars with laughter, unconcerned with his friend’s mayoral dignity. “Meetings with the publisher finished early,” he says cheerfully, clapping Leonard on the back. “So I decided to come home a bit. Maybe do an impromptu signing. Relax, you know? I’m not a workaholic like you.”

Leonard gives that statement the eyeroll it deserves.

What seems long ago now, Leonard Snart and Michael Rory had been challenged to make something of themselves that belied their trouble-prone beginnings. They’d both, independently, gotten in minor trouble with the law and both, independently, been remitted to a program designed to keep young offenders out of juvie. While the program—run through the Central City YWCA—had been designed to help the plethora of fatherless or orphaned boys still affected by the fallout from the War of the Americas, Leonard (whose father had died in the line of duty, technically, as a Central City cop) had been accepted due to a thoughtful judge.

There, he’d met Mick, one of those fatherless boys, and they’d hit it off nearly immediately. Neither of them had had a good relationship with a father society now remembered as a hero (war casualty and cop, respectively) and both were really too smart for their own good, although Mick’s natural inclination was to hide his intelligence and Leonard had a tendency to flaunt his to an occasionally obnoxious extent.

Dr. Diane Carberra, director of the program, had seen something special in them both. Instead of punishing them or scolding them, she’d challenged them—to become the men their fathers hadn’t been, to use that intelligence, to set goals, to make a difference. And they’d responded.

Now, decades later, Leonard was the mayor of Central City, lauded as a hero himself (by some, anyway) for holding things together as much as possible during Zoom’s reign of terror. Mick was one of Central’s most loved native sons, an award-winning and best-selling author known for both his wildly entertaining novels and his detail-filled travelogues.

And they were still best friends.

“What, they let you out without a keeper?” Mick comments, glancing around the city streets as if to pinpoint a member of the security staff or some other sort of handler. “That’s rare, isn’t it?”

Leonard doesn’t dignify that with an answer. “You didn’t say you were going to be back in town,” he merely observes, setting off at a walk again. “I’d have cleared my schedule.”

Mick falls into step beside him. “I gotta a key,” he shrugs. “I can get in the house. But I figured I’d go looking for you.”

Some of the more conservative residents of Central hadn’t been quite sure what to make of a mayoral candidate whose easy acknowledgement of past relationships with men and women meant they were required to look up the word “pansexual.” Then, at least one blogger had tried to make an issue out of the fact the candidate lived with author Michael Rory (at least, when Rory was in town) only to be confounded by the facts that, one, the vast majority of the voting public didn’t care all that much— especially if Leonard was a strong enough leader to hold the city against Zoom—and two, this cohabitation didn’t at all suggest what he thought it did.

Mick might write romance adeptly, but he wasn’t interested in, in his words, “playin’ those damned games” himself, not when it came to romance and not when it came to sex.

They’d found their labels together, back when they were starting college—pan for Len, and aro/ace for Mick—and if some people thought that made them something of an odd pair, well, that was OK. They knew what they were to each other.

“I’m actually heading to the YWCA,” Leonard comments to his friend as they continue. “Going to meet the new director. There should still be familiar faces there, if you want to come with me. Just don’t glower at the new director. She didn’t oust Dr. Carberra, she’s just succeeding her.” He smirks a little at Mick’s noise of annoyance. “Don’t ‘hmph’ about it. Doc deserves her retirement. And last email I got, she’s enjoying California.”

Mick mutters to himself, but shrugs. “I know,” he acknowledges. “I promised to do a signing at the library in her town when the new book comes out. But it don't seem right. She’s part of Central City to me, always will be.”

“I hear you.”

The old brick building, one of the oldest in the city, has been expanded and updated through the years, but it still looks much the same. The security system is much more in-depth than when they were kids, and Leonard buzzes at the door, politely identifying himself and Mick for the receptionist and security and waiting for the double doors to unlock.

“Michael!” The eager call makes them both laugh, and Leonard steps back, grinning, as a small, white-haired shape hurtles (as much as a fairly spry 86-year-old woman can hurtle) toward them. The receptionist…a volunteer since they were teenagers, one who’d decided the two scruffy teens needed some mothering and provided homemade food and occasionally questionable reading material accordingly…latches on to Mick, holding onto his arm and speaking earnestly to him.

“…I loved ‘Playing with Fire,’ it was amazing. And so did my book club! I was wondering, dear, if you might be able to speak again sometime. Oh, yes, hello, Lenny…oh, sorry, Mr. Mayor. Michael, and I know the new one comes out…”

The mayor, hardly difficult to track down in Central City, is relatively ignored in favor of the famous author. Len, grinning at Mick’s patient expression, nods to the amused security guard and strolls down the hallway toward the director’s office, figuring that there’s no reason he can’t just politely introduce himself. No need to stand on ceremony.

Unless this Sara Lance is the sort who stands on ceremony. He hopes not. He’d rather like to hope he can work well with her.

Leonard pauses outside the closed office door, eyeing the shiny new plaque with the new name on it. He studies his suit coat and the dusty marks from where he’d dropped it, then shrugs, leaving it off. And then he reaches up and raps on the door, waiting as the sound echoes.

No answer.

Maybe he should have checked at the front desk. Or maybe wires had been crossed and she had gone to his office? No, someone would have said something. Leonard checks his watch. He’s a few minutes early. He should just wait.

Instead, he does something he knows is foolish. He tries the door handle.

It opens easily, and Len, feeling vaguely sneaky, peers around the side of the door. The office is, indeed, empty of people. The obvious lack of some familiar furnishings—Doc’s big painting of the sunrise over the Central City skyline, the Tardis lamp a much younger Leonard Snart had given her—causes a sudden pang, and he leans in just a little more, thinking about the time he’d spent in this office, and challenges given and accepted.

Then something in the corner catches his eye, intrigues him enough to push the door open and take an illicit step inside.

There’s a training dummy in the corner of the big office, an empty weapons rack on the wall next to it, and mats spread around it. Leonard blinks at it, trying to make his brain catch up to the image.

Doc had been very committed to the philosophy of nonviolence; she and Leonard had talked about it, over tea or coffee in this very office—debated, really, especially when Zoom had been at large and Leonard had been first running for mayor and then serving his first term in office. He hadn’t completely agreed then, and he doesn’t now, but given that he knows Doc had hand-picked her successor, the martial arts equipment is a slight surprise.

“Hello?”

The tone is dry and just loaded with enough question to hold an edge of threat. Len spins, feeling sheepish, ready to offer smooth apologies and explanations, but he freezes when he actually first sets eyes on the new owner of this office, who’d entered through the door at the rear.

Sara Lance is gorgeous.

She’s dressed fairly casually, a black shirt and a sleeveless blue blouse, her blond hair loose around her shoulders. He can see the muscles in her bare arms, testament that the martial arts equipment is, indeed, hers, and her blue eyes are direct, studying him. She holds herself like a dancer, a fighter, balance and strength and grace, and oh hell, is he a sucker for that sort of badassery.

A bit younger than he is, but he’d already known that. Doc had tried to fill him in, but loathe to acknowledge she was leaving, he hadn’t listened much.

Doc is probably laughing her ass off in California right now.

“Hi,” he says after a long moment, one in which he’s aware he’s been staring.

The blond woman’s lips quirk. “Hi,” she returns, leaning against her desk, relaxing just a tad and watching him. “Mayor Snart, I presume? I admit, I wasn’t just expecting you to just saunter in like you own the place.”

Ah, hell. “Yes. I’m sorry, I...ah.” He sighs. “I spent a lot of time here back in the day,” he says, moving closer, meeting her eyes and training to convey sincerity. “Your predecessor was...is...a friend. A mentor.” He pauses. “Actually, she probably saved my life.”

Lance tilts her head, watching him, but her eyes have softened just a little. “She’s spoken of you,” she says. “Dr. Carberra. Said she thinks we’ll work well together.”

Oh, she did, did she? “I’m not usually one for breaking and entering...well, there was no breaking involved, really, but...” He looks around the office. “It’s odd and a little disconcerting to see things looking different.”

Lance nods, accepting that, as he takes in other differences: New books on the shelves, new photos on the desk, the empty spot on the wall where the big skyline painting had hung.

“I’m surprised Barbara didn’t let me know you were here,” she comments, still eyeing him closely.

Oops. “My friend’s distracting her,” he admits. “That wasn’t on purpose. She’d just rather talk books with him than city business with me. And he’s the one who spends a lot of time on the road.”

That gets her attention. “Friend?” she questions. “I’ve read...Michael Rory? I’d like to meet him.”

“I think that can be arranged.” The author is always more interesting than the mayor. “Anyway...let’s start over.” He extends a hand. “Mayor Leonard Snart. Welcome to Central.”

His hasty recovery gets a smile and she lets him get away with it. “Sara Lance,” she returns, giving him a firm handshake. He can feel weapons callouses. “Thank you.” She gestures to one of the overstuffed chairs off to the side, not the more formal ones around the desk. “These are more comfortable...”

“I know them well.”

Once they’re settled, Sara with the iced coffee she’d left the room to get, Len with a bottle of water, they regard each other again.

“So,” he says finally, “breaking and entering notwithstanding, I just wanted to introduce myself, to tell you welcome, and to see what you might have in mind for your tenure here.” He shrugs a little. “Doc...Dr. Carrera was always very involved with the community, and she was here a long time in one capacity or another. And now that things are starting to get back to normal after...after Zoom...we’re starting to find our feet again. It’s an interesting time.”

Lance acknowledges that with a tip of her head. “Zoom,” she muses, staring into her coffee. “I’ve read...that must have been...yes. Interesting.”

There are other words for it. Leonard lets his eyes focus on the spines of the books on the shelf behind her, the titles blurring. So many people had just left the city, but he’d stayed, determined to do something. And then, elected to office, walking the line, protecting his city and keeping himself alive and his people safe without bowing down to the meta any more than he had to...

There’d been days he couldn’t imagine a life without that tightrope walk. It’s still a shock, sometimes, the absence of that tension. Compared to that, city politics are a piece of cake.

Sara takes a sip of her drink, and Len blinks, aware suddenly of how long he’s been silent. He takes a swig of his water, mustering his thoughts.

“Yes,” he says finally. “They say there’s a lot of PTSD being diagnosed in the city now, and I get that. But we made it through. We have a meta protector now, a speedster, and we have...resources. We can come back.” He darts a glance at her, deciding not to go into the meta question for now. “So, you’re from Star City, originally?”

Sara’s eyes are on his, and he thinks for a moment that she won’t let him change the subject. But then she nods.

“I grew up in Star City. My mother still lives there,” she says, then pauses, as if considering something, then nods to herself.

“My father died in an accident when I was 11,” Sara continues, nodding again as she sees him register that she’s willing to get a bit personal. “My older sister, who’d always been the disciplined one...she promptly went off the rails.” She glances away; the subject is obviously difficult for her. “Made it through high school, then vanished. We haven’t seen her in years now.” She shakes her head as Leonard tries to figure out what to say. “I guess I tried to compensate—I’d been the wild one before that—and I wanted to work with women in crisis.”

“Understandable,” he murmurs thoughtfully, and gets a small smile in return before she continues.

“I had my bachelor’s degree three years out of high school, went on for a master’s in social work. During that time, I started working  in National City, at a women’s shelter, then moved back to Star for a year. I met Dr. Carberra when she visited, and she encouraged me to apply for this job when she decided to retire.” She spreads her hands out. “And that’s me.”

Leonard lifts an eyebrow at her, then turns his head to glance over at the training dummy and weapons rack. Lance follows his gaze, then laughs.

“And, yes, I’m a black belt, in a few disciplines,” she allows, grinning at him and getting an answering smirk in return. “I like the activity, and I’ve found teaching classes to women gives them a feeling of...of control, not necessarily in a self-defense way—although sometimes that—but simply in having control over an aspect of their lives.” She shrugs and smirks a little.  “And it occurred to me that, in the never-ending battle to be taken seriously as a woman, the clear signs of weapons proficiency couldn’t hurt.”

Leonard can’t help himself; he snorts in amusement, liking Sara Lance a good deal. “I can’t argue with that,” he agrees. “Maybe I should borrow something, have an unsheathed sword lying on my desk next time I squabble with the council.”

“You’d be welcome to,” she tells him solemnly, then smiles again. “And you? I know the basics. But most of the articles I’ve seen are more about city business than anything…” A pause, and a shrug. “Personal.”

He’s not deluding himself, is he, that there are sparks here, or at the very least, interest that’s more than polite? Len doesn’t think so. Well…he won’t overstep, but he’d like to see if he’s correct.

“My dad was a cop,” he tells her slowly, shifting in his seat, trying to feel his way through this story he’s rarely told anyone, wondering why he wants to tell her. “He died on the job when I was 8.”

She murmurs condolences, but he’s already waving them off. “Of course, he’d been an abusive jerk to me, my mom, and my baby sister,” he said drily, “so it was kind of hard to take when people started lauding him as a hero. My mom kind of checked out and then got sick; I was caring for Lisa; I was angry and desperate. I might have gone down a different road, but...” He looks around the office, knowing his thoughts are pretty clear on his face, then back at her.

There’s understanding there, a degree of understanding he thinks he’s seen in few others. She nods, conveying that, and Leonard continues.

“I know there’s been criticism of the programs here that deal with men and boys, given that the stated mission is to protect and uplift women,” he says quietly. “But…they broke the cycle, with me. And with Mick, too.” He shrugs, then moves on.

“I went through Quad-C—Central City Community College—then transferred to the university. Then I went to law school. Passed the bar, then practiced here a while, dealing with kids like the one I could’ve been. And then…”

“Zoom.”

“Yeah.” He frowns. “No one wanted the job, with all the violence and the deaths…the only one who steps up to run was an...” He catches himself. Don’t swear in front of the lady, Leonard, at least not until you know her better. “…a bit… unprincipled. So I did it. And I won.”

Lance regards him a moment, then nods. “And the rest is history?” she says with a smile.

“As they say.”

They watch each other, both smiling a little, then Len turns his head with a sigh as he hears Mick’s bellow of laugh coming closer, knowing that their time here alone is coming to an end. Lance seems to get it, nodding again as she gets to her feet.

“I think we will work well together, Mr. Mayor,” she says, a sparkle in her eyes, holding out her hand again. “And I look forward to it.”

“So do I.” Leonard is carefully not to hold on to her hand any longer than necessary. He finds himself loathe to leave, wondering what this intriguing woman thinks of the meta programs he’s been responsible for, the safehouses for LGBTQ+ teens he’s been fighting for, the…

He lets go, wondering if he’s imagining reluctance in her own demeanor, then turns for the door…

And for once, he gives in to impulse.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks suddenly, turning back. “Sometime? Coffee? Get off on a better foot, without the, ah, breaking into your office? Show you a bit of the city?”

You’re babbling, Snart.

Lance looks momentarily surprised—but then, yes, pleased, he thinks. Oh, thank god, maybe he hasn’t screwed this up.

“I’d like that,” she says simply. “I’m busy tomorrow, but…Sunday? Maybe late morning? It looks like It's supposed to be a lovely day.”

Leonard nods, feeling oddly like the teenager he’d been here, long ago. “How’s 11 a.m.? I’ll meet you at the CC Jitters by the waterfront?”

“The one near the sculpture park?”

“The same.”

“You’re on.”

Yes, that’s definitely a spark in her eyes. He grins at her. “Again, pleased to meet you, Director Lance.”

“The same, Mayor Snart.”

#all your dreams are strange #captain canary #legends of tomorrow #sara lance #leonard snart

[professorfaber]

I'm interested to see what you have to say about my communism paragraph.

To point out the Healthcare Man, me personally? No, I have not been able to do that for years on end due to my age, however several people over the years have been pointing out the issues within Marvel media as well as general superhero media. Including Healthcare Man. I wasn't trying to seem like I was disagreeing. I think that part got deleted, apologies. (I had made note that the paragraph was no way intended to be directed at you, more as like an agreement and that the situation was kinda dumb.) As for the memes, yeah could definitely do without those, I'm tired of seeing them. (Also wow do I agree with the statement that Marvel are incompetent cowards. Oof Marvel, step up or clear out.)

The WandaVision thing, g o d s don't get me started on the bs they pulled. Consumer activism definitely doesn't work in this situation, I wish that situation was handled differently. For the centrist fearmongering, it could potentially have to due with the fact it's a common piece of media. I'm sure as you know, the more x is in the media, the more people seem to think x is ok. The memes would contribute by someone taking it lightly or not thinking it's a serious issue. Only mocking it to go with the crowd and not looking at the situation through a critical lens, barely even scratching the surface level on the issue.

As for the statement of "Marvel is problematic" I'd say in this day-in-age, it needs to be worded like that because it catches people's attention. Do I personally agree with it, no. But it's necessary to catch an audience so something can be done. As long as the person using that statement has an actual argument, I think it should be used. I see where you are coming from though. Also I hope I haven't come off aggressive or rude, if I didn't address your other points it's because I agree with them. I'd also like to apologize, my tone often comes off as argumentative when I just mean to have a conversation. I hope you are havin a good day.

Thank you for clarifying all of this! I think we agree on a lot more than I initially thought (and no, you haven't come off as rude, don't worry). And thank you for sending an ask instead of adding on to an already very long post. I hope you're having a good day too.

Okay, point by point (this might be pretty long, sorry, I'm like. allergic to brevity but I do try):

1. The communism paragraph. First of all, I'm allowed to make snide remarks about liberals on my own blog on tumblr dot com without it harming The Cause. My post was not directed at liberals, and very few people, if any, that I engage with on this website are liberals so I wasn't hugely concerned about watching my language. Normally I would agree with you that it's important to do outreach, but it's my personal blog and I make the rules. Also:

"liberal this, republican that", both side are are horrible in their own ways but we still need the people.

Okay so, this is tricky because sometimes when I say "liberal" I do mean it in the modern, especially American, sense of social liberalism that the Democratic Party (ostensibly) adheres to, and that was kind of what I meant in the original post, but Republicans are also liberals, just of a slightly different ideological strand. In America today both parties are primarily dominated by centrist and rightist factions, with the original American left (i.e. socialists, anarchists, trade unionists, social democrats) being essentially squeezed out of political discourse over the past century. It's less an instance of "both sides are horrible" than "one side is horrible, but it's being presented in two flavors".

Also, I never said I was a communist and I actually usually don't politically identify as such, but I can see why you'd make that assumption based on the kind of things I post.

2. I think I get where you're coming from on this better than I did at first and I'm sorry for being dismissive about the memes. It did not occur to me that casually shitting on a massive corporation's ridiculous propaganda could be an issue in that way. Like, to me it was less "people all of a sudden realizing that Marvel is bad" than it was just a continuation of people criticizing Marvel as before, but you've honestly made me reconsider and I'm sorry if those sorts of jokes are frustrating or annoying. They honestly seemed like completely innocuous leftist tumblr memes to me, in the vein of jokes about any other shitty company ("shitty company" is kind of redundant I think but you know what I mean). But yeah, you've convinced me. I'll stop reblogging them if that helps.

3. This was a bit confusing to me? I understand being personally upset by the memes, but the notion that they normalize and contribute to corporations using propaganda to nullify left-wing ideas is kind of odd. Companies like Marvel and its parent Disney make those sorts of characters and storylines because it is in their interests to do so, and it will continue to be for as long as capitalism exists. What I called "centrist fearmongering" is like, a function of their existence as capitalist entities with immense power to manipulate public opinion in their favor, and what you or I post on tumblr really does not have an effect on that.

Capital shapes public opinion, not the other way around. That's one of the big reasons consumer activism doesn't work.

4. I've gotta disagree with you here, honestly, though I should say upfront that I'm not like, super invested in whether people call Marvel problematic or not. My original post was just a rant, no one is obliged to listen to me, I don't care about this nearly that much.

However, if we are going to have that conversation, then I will say that while it is important to attract an audience, using patently misleading or reductive language is the wrong way to do it, even if you also have a solid argument. I might also note that the problem that needs addressing (the influence of the interests of capital on entertainment) isn't exclusive to Marvel, and pretending that it is just lets the problem fester. "Marvel is problematic" just... seems like a bad slogan honestly as far as critiquing capitalist media goes.

I think there are two separate problems here: Marvel media broadly containing harmful or clumsy messages, and Marvel media suppressing or distracting from left-wing ideas and resistance. The former will change when it becomes legitimately profitable for Marvel to become more sensitive to certain members of its audience (which will only result in more marginalized identities becoming emptily commodified, unfortunately). The latter is a more direct result of capitalism that is systemically unavoidable.

Lastly: as you said, if I didn't respond to one of your points or comments that probably means I agree with it or couldn't think of anything to add

#the problem with Marvel isn't Marvel #it's an ongoing problem of liberalism co-opting and then crushing progressive; intersectional; and leftist ideas #one facet of which is companies like Marvel

[eloiseduval]

a klutzy encounter

a/n: another little ficlet, this time with @jace-bennett thanks claire! this is exactly where I left off on my challenge 1 fic, but you don’t really need to read that to get this. don’t mind any typos, or the abrupt ending I got lazy. expect a fic with nate soon! 

“Oof- Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” I said as I backed away from the solid chest I had run into. Leaning back, I immediately recognized the person I had practically knocked. Jace Bennet’s face was one I had come to know well over the past few years, pictured usually right next to Nate. Although he normally looked friendly, his current expression was one of remorse.

“Oh no it's my fault, I wasn't paying attention.”

I shook my head. “No really, I definitely wasn’t paying attention. Trying to deal with,” I gestured to my dress, “this.”

He chuckled, looking at the obvious orange stain. “What happened? Get a little too nervous?”

I smiled. “Surprisingly no. Had an unfortunate run in with a Selected and her drink. Waste of a good drink, really.”

He easily returned my smile. “Yeah, do you need help with that?”

“Nothing a change of wardrobe can’t fix.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, thinking back to how excited my maids had been showing me the stunning white gown this morning. “I do feel bad about ruining this for my maids, though. Think you can show me where I can clean this?”

“Yeah, I'm probably not allowed to take you down here but whatever. Follow me,” he said, beginning to walk down the hallway.

I took a couple of quick steps to catch up with his long strides.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” I suddenly realized he probably had no idea who I was. “Oh! I’m Eloise by the way, Eloise Duval.”

He waved away my fear. “I won't don't worry. I'm Jace but you know that already.”

I smiled. “Definitely. Best friend to Nate, and practically a royal yourself.”

He laughed. “Practically. So what are you?” I was confused for a moment, wondering if I should respond “a female?” before I realized.

“I’m a Four, my parents own Duval Studios, the record label.” I paused. “Well, a Three now.”

He let out an easy laugh, “You should sign Nate, he's really good.”

“So I’ve heard! He played it down during our introduction but I could tell he’s definitely more talented than he lets on.”

“I’ll have to hear him before we sign him though,” I said jokingly.

“He's not super confident playing in front of people he doesn't know. But he's getting better.”

I nodded. “I can understand that. I’m definitely curious to hear him someday, though.”

He shrugged. “Just ask him, it's hard for him to say no.” As much as I believed him, I would hate to push Nate on something he wasn’t necessarily comfortable with. I had seen far too often what stage fright could do.

I smiled gently. “I’ll give him some time. What about you, any musical talent?”

He laughed loudly. “Oh god no. You never want to hear me sing or even touch an instrument.”

“I’ll be sure to keep my guitar far away from you then,” I said, giggling.

“That would be best for the guitar.” He laughed. By now we had reached a part of the palace I didn’t recognize, and he led me down a hidden set of stairs to what I assumed was the basement. We walked into a large room with washing machines and dryers lined up along one wall and tables scattered around the middle of the room. The servants took no note of us, continuing with their work.

“Here just hand them your dress, the stain will be gone in like 2 hours tops.” He said it so casually I doubted he realized what me taking my dress off would mean.

I raised an eyebrow. “See, that sounds fine, but I don’t exactly have anything else to wear.”

“Oh um,” he trailed off, looking around for a moment, “here just take this.”

He suddenly unbuttoned the first few buttons of his dress shirt, slipping it off and handing it to me in one clean move. I tried not to look at his now shirtless upper body, but it was difficult to avert my gaze.

Well he’s definitely not shy. And not unattractive.

I blushed, wondering if I should deny it but figured it was the best option for now. “Um- okay, thanks.”

I stepped behind a screen near us, tucked into a corner of the room. When I walked out a servant quickly came by and grabbed my dress, not sparing me another glance as if this happened all the time. I tugged on the hem of his shirt, unsuccessfully trying to cover my legs. At least I was short.

He laughed at my actions. “Yeah, sorry I couldn't do any better.”

I shook my head with a smile. “I appreciate it.” I fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. “Were you headed to breakfast before I almost knocked you over?”

He bobbled his head slightly. “Kinda, I wasn't sure if interviews were over and I didn't want to walk in a disrupt everything so I was kinda just pacing the hall until a maid or someone walked out that I could ask if they were over or not.”

“Gotcha. You should still head over if you can, those pancakes are to die for.” The food was incredible, something I knew Alex would kill to try if he ever got the chance.

“I am a sucker for the palace pancakes, or really any pancakes.” He paused, examining my lack of clothing with a chuckle. “You should probably change into something more than just my shirt.”

I flashed him a wry smile. “Your mom might have a heart attack if she saw me in this.”

His expression turned wary. “Oh yeah I forgot about her. Hm I feel like no matter what if I walk with or without you it could look bad.” He thought the dilemma over before answering. “Um I'll just go with you in case we are seen I can tell the story.”

I laughed. “Doomed either way I suppose. Ready to head back?

“It’s more like are you ready?

I smirked. “Born ready, in fact.”

“Good,” he answered with a smile.

We walked back up the stairs into the regular part of the palace, thankfully Jace leading the way so I didn’t have to worry about accidentally flashing him. Although there weren’t many people walking around, just a few guards in the distance, a maid stepped out of a room at the perfect moment to spot us. Her eyes widened at the state of our clothing, or rather lack thereof, and pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. I winced, feeling my cheeks warm, but Jace didn’t seem to notice her or my reaction as the maid scurried off.

“So other than the Selected being clumsy, what are they all like?”

I looked away for a moment, mostly to hide my blush, while thinking over the girls I had personally talked to. “Everyone I’ve met so far has been pretty nice, which is reassuring. Although no one seems to be remotely similar to one another,” I said with a laugh, “which should be fun for Nate.”

I peered back him once I felt the warmth disappear from my cheeks, curious. “Why? Excited to meet the rest of us?”

“Yeah I wanna meet all the girls, but I just really hope Nate finds someone good enough for him.” He shrugged. “just looking out for him.”

His commitment to looking out for Nate wasn’t what I was expecting of him, but I admired it. “That’s sweet of you. I have no doubt he’ll find who he’s meant to be with. Although I’ve heard that you’re a contender,” I added jokingly.

He rolled his eyes, laughing. “Oh yeah that's both of our plan b's.”

“I’ll be front and center at the wedding, wishing you the happiest of marriages,” I declared, giggling.

“I'll let you be my bridesmaid.”

I poked his shoulder, smiling. “I’m holding you to that.”

He pointed to his shirt, “And that's going to be your dress.” The image of Nate and Jace standing together at the altar while I stood off to the side in just his shirt and high heels was too much, making me laugh way too hard. I almost bent over, but realized at the last second that nobody needed to see what was underneath Jace’s shirt.

“Even better. I can see it now, women all over Illéa following my lead and starting the bridesmaid trend of the century.”

“Obviously, and it's all thanks to the girl who spilled her drink all over you.” At that comment I tried to recall her face and see if I recognized her, but the interaction was so rushed and odd I only remembered her dark hair.

“And your chivalry of course. Where I would be without it?” I gave him a pointed look with a smile.

“Naked and afraid.”

I giggled at that. “Oh completely. Although you definitely don’t seem to have a problem with,” I gestured at his upper body, “lacking clothing.”

“This isn't the first time I've walked around the palace shirtless, I do it all the time.”

That explains a lot.

I raised an eyebrow. “Adventures with Nate take a weird turn?”

“No, shirts are just tight and uncomfortable,” he said, laughing, before he whispered. “And it's funny watching the maids try not to look.”

I shook my head with a laugh. “You’re horrible, they probably have no idea what to do with themselves.”

“I know, that's the best part,” he admitted with a smile. Then he gave me a pointed look.

“You do know all the guards have been looking at you.”

I looked around then, surprised at his comment, only to see several guards turning their heads away quickly when I made eye contact. “Well that’s not embarrassing,” I muttered.

He gave me a look that said “I told you so.”

I rolled my eyes with a smile. “What a pair we are.”

“Look at us go making all the palace staff be jealous of us.” I wasn’t sure if jealous was the word I would have used, but when a guy was… well endowed like Jace was, I could see why he thought that way.

“One for the books, that’s for sure. My parents will definitely be pleased to find out I ended up half naked, walking around the palace with an equally half naked guy. All in the first day.” I laughed, sincerely hoping that my parents wouldn’t actually hear about this story. At least not for another year. Or two.

He laughed. “Only the first of many”

“We'll see about that,” I conceded with a smile. At this point we had reached my room, and I stepped up to the door to face him.

“Thanks for the shirt, Jace. Give me one sec.” I opened up the door and scurried into my room heading straight for the dresser. I managed to find a suitable pale blue dress to change into, quickly taking off Jace’s shirt and slipping into the dress. It was only when I was struggling with the zipper and felt another hand help me zip the dress closed, that I realized I wasn’t the only person in the room. When I turned around, Blair’s green eyes were amused as she stood in front of me. Sienna and Harper looked shocked, their jaws dropped and eyes wide.

I put my hands out in front of me. “I’ll explain everything, but first I have to return this.” Before they could say a word, I picked up Jace’s shirt that I had let fall to the ground and stepped outside of my room, handing it to him.

“I'll see you around, hopefully not about to knock you over or in need of your shirt,” I said with a laugh.

He quickly buttoned his shirt back on. “This has been quite the mini adventure. And you're welcome for not letting you walk around the palace in just a men’s shirt all by yourself. I got you.”

“Ever the gentleman,” I remarked with a smile, waving goodbye.

He waved back. “I'll see you down at breakfast. And try not to spill anything.” He gave me a pointed look, making me roll my eyes.

“Will do.” He pointed a finger at me and made an expression that said “I’m watching you” before turning around and walking away.

Not wanting to linger around in the hallway - and knowing I owed my maids a lengthy explanation - I opened the door and stepped inside, leaning against it with a sigh as I closed it. They immediately stepped up to me, talking over one another and evoking a laugh from me. I then took the next fifteen minutes describing everything in detail, much to their content.

#my writing #eloise duval

[bolbianddolanhouse]

BNHA self insert AU

Nani the heck is this? Read here!

Chapter 20: What’s the Tea Sis?

It’s the day of the interview and our class was very excited to dress up like we were going to the Gala or some shit. I get visibly giddy and everyone outside the program notices.

“Iida-kun she’s in a good mood!” Kirishima nudges him in the locker rooms after in class training “you should ask her for that coffee date after finals before she gets busy.”

“I’ll ask her when we get to the dorms” Iida buttons up his shirt “she might be pretending again and she’s really stressed and bothered by something we did.”

“How do you know that’s what she does?” Mineta asks suspiciously.

“Because I always catch her when I think she’s a good mood to talk about things and she’s on the verge of going off on us.”

“Oof yea wait until then” responded Sero.

The rest of my day went uneventful and I teleported to my dorm the minute school let out for the day. I took my shower and finished before everyone came back from school. Right on the dot, Mimi and Jin portal in my room at 4pm with their outfits get coordinated. I get to flat ironing Mimi’s hair as Jin brushed Muffin 2.0′s fur, I do a dewy look on Mimi to make her eyes pop. I put my hair in a slicked back high sock bun and do a gold eye with glitter gloss, just to make things simple. Once the outfits were put on and we saw each other in the mirror together, we gasped on how much CEO realness we were serving.

“Ladies, shall we sashay out of this building to give these hero wannabes the full fantasy?” Jin got the leash that we put on the robo dog.

“Yes gawd! I wanna serve looks tonight~” I tongue popped like I was a drag queen.

We walk out, radiating power to whoever saw us.

“Oh Palma-san! What opulence you display” Aoyama came up to us as he grabbed my hand and Mimi’s “you ladies are what my dreams are made of” he kisses our hands “And you good sir are one lucky man to prance with these shining beauties!~”

Mimi gives me side eye “You aren’t kidding when you say some of them just throw themselves onto you when dressed up.” She takes out her sliver gun and points it to Aoyama “un-hand us croissant muncher, we got places to go.”

He immediately takes his hands away and backs up, all the boys were cackling at Mimi’s comment. Iida comes up to us and gives me the once over “In all seriousness, where are you 3 going?”

“Mission, top secret” Jin was lying through his teeth but we played along “If successful, we’ll come back richer. If we lose, we might not be coming back at all.”

“Yes, so I guess this is my good bye everyone” I try not to laugh “just in case we slip up.”

We quickly run through the portal Jin deployed so nobody had time to stop us. We laugh at my car as we waited on our other classmates to come out. On the way there, we pass by were I was housed and were Jin was housed. The location was just where the business district begins, not too far into town. We gathered in the parking lot and heading in just in time to give our presentations. There was panel of 3 people, 2 men and one woman in their late 40′s, dressed in executive like clothing. One of the men was clearly an ex-agent, the way he carried himself and the holsters on his waist were branded with a crest that I couldn’t recognize. We started with our term 1 projects, to nobody’s surprise, the robot dog took the interest of the panel. Next was a slide-show presentation of our year in pictures and all of us had a turn talking, the woman spoke up when we talked about Zippy.

“Waitwaitwaitwait! You, as a class, adopted this creature and TRAINED it to hold a gun?” she was having trouble putting it into words “and then you committed FRAUD to the agent board of education to let them give the lizard the test, passing him as a student and he received a license upon passing?!”

“Erm yes” Jin spoke up “but to be fair to the board of education that was present at the licensing exam, they didn’t check the roster nor looked up the student ID we gave them, it wasn’t in our school system and it was just ‘69′ 5 times on a faked school ID card.”

“Wow, a group 9 teens and a lizard outsmarting the board of education” said the other man to the ex-agent “impressive ain’t it? Remind you of old times?”

“Heh, those old geezers don’t know how to run shit” said the ex-agent, remising on his past “ok sorry for the derailment, please continue.”

We continued our presentation and they asked us a few more questions about our living space and off-campus trips. Some questions on our pro-hero practice exam came up and how was our experience with that.

“With your donation” I led into the closing statements “we’d have a better living space and more off-campus trips, despite the villain threat.”

“All we ask are those things” Hansai wrapped things up.

The panel thinks for a bit and talk amongst themselves like they aren’t sure if we are worthy candidates, the ex-agent turned to us for a final question.

“Not that it’ll matter, but how did you get here tonight?”

“Oh we took 3 carpools to get here” I spoke up “the school denied us a bus or limo because it wasn’t in the budget.”

The woman gave us a concerned look “How dare they deny basics! I’d had it with these pompous hero schools trying to suppress their agents!” she stood up and copied herself into 9 copies of herself “congratulations UA Intel A-class, you are our next donation recipients.” She came up to us and shook our hands, I took a peek at her appearance. She was a private agent, the ring she wore was stamped with the Emperor’s Coup crest, one of the highest ranked agencies that work closely with the country’s intelligence. Not to mention, she had a vine tattoo that crept up her right arm, don’t know what that means but it was a nice piece. We stayed a bit longer to thank them before heading back to the cars to debrief. 

“Ok kids, let me say, I’m proud of you for swaying them to giving us the money” Diya sensei started “but I want all of you to get your butts to bed! It’s nearing 8pm and I’m not going to play games with you tomorrow morning. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir” we said weakly, Jin raised his hand.

“Yes Matsui?”

“Can we get McDonalds? Under the condition that we pay for our own stuff and drive thru only?”

Diya thinks about it “If you give those conditions, then I don’t see why not.”

We cheer and Jin gets cocky as we pile in the cars to get to the nearest McDonalds, he plays Lip Gloss by Lil Mama on the way. We get our food and get so excited to go eat our food knowing we deserve it. I park and see my classmates off to their dorms, I teleport to the commons room, it’s empty and quiet. I don’t think much of it and I walk over to my room. I turn on my light and see Iida on my bed, tear stained like he was crying for hours.

“Oh my god!” I put my stuff down and run to him “What happened? Are you ok?” I put my hand on his face to check his vitals, he was alright but I was still concerned.

“You’re back! I was so afraid you weren’t coming back!” he held me “please, please take me with you on your missions. I don’t think I can live with myself if you got hurt or worse.”

I was confused at first and then I remembered that Jin lied to them, I was about to continue on the lie “Thank you for your concern but I’m fine! It was a success and nobody got hurt” I wiped his tears with my thumb “no more tears, come on big guy.” I levitated him up from my bed and to his room “I have some debriefing to do before bed and it’s way past your bedtime!” I plop him down on his bed and turn to leave.

“Wait! Ita” I turn to see him and he’s sitting up on his bed “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

His mind blanked the moment I said that, we stood in silence as he turned red “Umm that I am so grateful that you’re alive and well!” he rushed his words “and I would love to spend this cold season with you.”

“I don’t know what all that means but um thanks?” I really didn’t know why he said any of that “well good night Tenya, sweet dreams.”

He waved good bye to me and screamed into his pillow because he messed up his wording. He meant to say ‘I’m glad you’re safe and let’s spend the winter season together after finals.’ “Why am I like this?” he spoke into the pillow “one look and my mind goes blank like I don’t have motor functions.” 

Next few days were my insanity days with studying and training for the crackheads. All us intel kids were really holding it together to take our 200 question multiple choice final on Tuesday. It would’ve been fine but it was just so much to take in one sitting, I finished in an hour and 24 minutes, you bet I floated my ass to the ceiling to weep to myself for comfort. Everyone else finished before lunch but I still had to go to hero class, I was too mentally exhausted to teleport so I walked. As I calmed myself to go to class, I run into the Big 3.

“Ah Palma-san!” Nejire waved me down “its been too long!”

“hahaha yea! It’s like I’ve been avoiding yall” I was uncomfortable but trying to be polite “are you 3 ready to graduate?”

“Ye-yea, we can’t wait to get out there in the workforce” Amajiki seemed a little more confident.

“Yes! And I would like to extend the invitation to attend our graduation” Mirio bowed as he handed me an envelope with my name on it “and also to my graduation party, since I know you like parties.”

“Oh thank you, I’ll be there!” I got giddy “see you then! I gotta get to class.” I waved them off as I briskly walked to class to flex on my classmates that I got personally invited to the graduation ceremony. But then I hear another voice call out my name.

“Palma-san! Hey over here!” it was Kendo and she looked worried.

“Oh? Hi Kendo-san, how are you doing today?”

“I’m feeling a little stressed but alright, thanks for asking” she shifts from a small smile to worried again “hey I heard about you cutting off Monoma, and I don’t blame you, thats not why I approached you.”

“Hmm, is he getting worse?” 

“Yea, he just isn’t motivated like he used to” she exhaled “the exam is tomorrow and he has one shoddy technique to show for all that time you spent with him, I just want to apologize for all that wasted time and his bad attitude.”

“No need to apologize, I knew what I was getting myself into” I sighed “if he wants to come back to technique developing with me, he’s more than welcome at any time but I already told him that he needs an attitude change if he wants to get far.”

“He didn’t mention that to me” she gave me a small smile “all he said that he liked you and wanted to win you over by improving before the next term starts.”

“Heh I don’t believe that liking me part” I laughed “but I’m looking forward to him improving.” I look at the time “oh jeez, gotta run Kendo! See you around, good luck tomorrow!”

She waved me off as I ran to class, and just in time too. I spend the class time with the final session of training and I really pushed it a bit to my ability and almost fucked myself up. But then I got fucked over because Mina wasn’t aware of her surroundings and almost got rekt by Bakugo’s blast wave, I used my teleportation to get her to safety but completely exhausted my mental capacity. 

“Oh my gosh Palma-san!” screamed Mina as I was face down on the ground “please please wake up! I’m sorry I was being a dumb bitch and you sacrificed yourself!” She was bawling as she shook my limp body.

“Binch I’m conscious, stop shaking me!” I groaned “flip me over tho.” She flips me over and I gasped for air “oof there’s rocks in my bra and ass bruh.”

Everyone stops and gathers around me, Aizawa breaks them up and kneels at me “Are you good Miss Palma? You were about to tap out before that tackle.”

“Nah nah I’m good” I wasn’t okay but I’m no bitch “lemme just get up.” I didn’t move as I tried to levitate up “Okaaay, let try the old fashioned way, hup!” I tried to sit up and could barely lift my head, I sighed in defeat “oh dear, I may have exhausted myself. How annoying!”

“Aww fuck sorry Palma” Bakugo apologized “here let me take you to the nurse.” he picks me up with some struggle. Iida runs up to us.

“No please allow me Bakugo I can-”

“Fuck off four eyes” he snapped “just because you like to baby her doesn’t mean you’re the only one that should help her.”

“Just hand her to me! You’re struggling to carry her” Iida wasn’t playing games, he took her from his arms. They started to fight over her on who was take her to the nurse.

“Um guys?” Midoriya started as he saw me slip into unconsciousness.

“STOP SHE’S SLIPPING INTO UNCONSCIOUSNESS!” Aizawa yelled as he activated his erasure for safety. “I’m going to take her to the nurse, class is over.”

I wake up in the nurse’s office and Recovery Girl was relieved “Oh good you woke up, you really pushed yourself Miss Palma.”

“I did?” I sat up and now I could actually move my body.

“Yes, I did a scan and your body was exhausted but your brain waves are strained and weakened.” She showed me a graph of the waves “here, it’s pretty close to unstable levels, I’m prescribing 5 days no quirk using.”

“Alright, I can deal with that” I sighed “at least it’s not going to get in the way of anything now that school is letting out.” I get released in time to go to Stats and Strats. I take the final and we were allowed to leave when we finished. Jin and I finish at around the same time and he portals me to my room to go into deep sleep. I change out of my uniform and go to sleep right away. I woke up close to 7pm, fuck I missed dinner I thought as my stomach growled I guess I’ll fuck off and eat yogurt and berries. I walk out to the kitchen and see the lights are dimmed and there was a plate of food on the counter. I wasn’t sure if it was for me but then I saw the note with my name on it: For Palma-san, sorry for being dumb.

“Well at least they know they’re dumb” I said as I sat down to eat. Before I could bring my fork to my mouth, somebody flipped on the light to full brightness. “Ay! mis ojos!”

“Oh sorry Palma-san!” Iida apologized and dimmed the lights again “I didn’t know you woke up.”

“Yea I did” I rubbed my eyes “I’m so hungry and just want to sleep for a few days to heal myself.”

“I’m sorry that we’ve been so inconsiderate of your health” he sat next to me “but let me make it up to you” he put his hand on my hand “lets go to coffee after finals tomorrow, to take the edge off.”

“Oh I’d love to but I got invited to graduation and a graduation party” I said to not sound like I didn’t want to spend time with him “maybe next week? I’m not doing anything and I really want to spend time with you again.”

He perked up “Really? You like to spend time with me?”

“Yea! You’re a great at conversation and I love how you willingly go where I want to go” I don’t see his face but he’s blushing “In America, I never got to do what I wanted and others often didn’t want to talk to me more than they wanted to. But when we have our alone time, I get heard and cherished like I’ve always wanted to.” I look at him and he tenses up “you’re one of my only friends Tenya, I don’t know where I’d be without you. And not to sound like a shojo beat manga but, you’re one of few that I have that I consider my chosen family.”

“Chosen family?” he asked with curiosity “whats that?”

“Oh um it’s a group of people you trust and get along with more than your own family” I explained “in this case, I’m separated from mine so I find trust and comfort in you, my squadron and Midnight.”

“I see now, I feel honored that you have me in that circle” he hugged me “thank you for seeing me as such.”

“No thank you, for approaching me on that day” I nestled myself in his chest “also I don’t know if this is weird but you’ve been improving on your hugs” I tighten my hug “they’re much less soul crushing and more gentle and caring, like the ones my dad gives me when I’m too stressed to close my eyes. He would hold me like this until I fall asleep.”

I yawned and he saw how relaxed I got “I will keep that in mind when you can’t sleep.” He let me finish eating before I fell asleep on the counter. I went to bed again and was very excited to see what’s going to unfold.

-The next day, sitting in on the hero placement exam-

I sit behind safety glass to observe all the hero courses go at it to show their skills. I was the only student in the small audience, everyone else was a teacher or staff member.

“So this is the legend herself” a deep male voice said behind me “Miss Palma, American born, double wielder and the most patient young lady in the world.”

I turn and see Vlad sensei “Oh! hello, I don’t know about all that but yes, I am Miss Palma.”

“You’ve put in great work to help my students to be better strategists and develop techniques” he bowed to me “thank you for your generosity and I apologize on behalf of Monoma for being a stress on your time with him.”

“Oh its not a problem! He’s welcome to seek me out when he changes his mentality on respect.”

“Thats a reasonable compromise” the siren rings to warn the students to be at the starting gates “I hope this will change his mind about it.”

I tried not to root for any one or scream when they’re fucking up. I saw alot of my techniques out on that field and it was a bit strange for me. Not because it’s my techniques but its because they found it useful enough to keep it in their repertoire. It ended and they got the final results but they won’t know until after school, but I got the insider scoop and the one person thats going in A class is  Shinso. Aizawa and I got really excited since he sought us out for his training and it payed off. I meet up with the others when they dressed and I let them know I was in the audience. After lunch, I took my hero course final with Aizawa and it was not as bad as I thought. There was no Stats and Strats because graduation. I attended their graduation in the auditorium, it was really nice, way better than American high school graduation. I got to see the Big 3 in each program and what made them the Big 3. Afterwards when I went up to the graduates, I was given a uniform button from Mirio, Amajiki, Agent 420 and some girl in Mirio’s class that everyone called SeaWitch (she has an amphibious quirk). I didn’t know what it all meant but I was polite and said my thank yous. I drove back to the dorms to change for the party later.

“Oh you’re back!” Hagakure jumped up “how was it? did you get any buttons?”

“How did you know I got buttons?”

All the girls gasped and swarmed me “SHOW US THE BUTTONS!” they all chanted.

“Oh jeez it must be a huge deal” I show them the 4 buttons “I got one from Mirio, Amajiki, a 3rd year in intelligence and from that one girl in 3rd year that turns into a mermaid.”

“I can’t believe it! Four buttons!” Momo looked at me with envy “I’d be lucky to even get one!”

“Not to be a baka-gaijin” I got shy because I have no idea “but what’s so special about getting a button?”

“Oh thats right! You don’t know about these little gestures” Uraraka remembers that I wasn’t born here “when you get a button from a graduate, that means they’re confessing that they liked you and never got the chance to tell you. It’s almost like a last chance to tell them you like them and maybe you’ll start dating or be friends.”

“Oh I see” I look at the buttons on my hand and remembered their faces when they gave me the button “its gonna get super awkward at Mirio’s party because I’m going and so are all the people that gave me buttons.”

“Oh dear that sounds sooooo awful” Jiro said sarcastically “I hate it when all my love interests are all at the same party I am!”

“Jiro-chan! you don’t have to put it like that!” elbowed Mina.

I shrugged it off and I dressed to go to his party. Now, I was under the impression that it was a clean party and his parents are going to be there so I should wear something to cover my tattoos and it should be cute and simple. I drive to his place and arrive at around 7pm, a bit after what the invite said. I enter and its a house party, no parents in sight, booze chilled, music starting to pop BUT the guests aren’t really partaking in the booze.

“HEY YOU MADE IT!” it was Mirio coming at me at full speed.

I dodge his hug tackle “Yes I’ve arrived, glad to see that you have your pants on.” 

“Lil mama! Come here, I saved you a seat” it was agent 420 and he was patting his lap.

I wasn’t that into him but I also didn’t want to talk to Mirio all night. I walked over and he proceeded to confess. Not to really shit on his feelings but I softly let him down and he just accepted it like a champ. I didn’t really drink or had fun, the music was garbage but the food was great! It was 9pm, I was sober again and the party was basically dead. I went to the kitchen to see what type of cereal they had because I was that bored, couldn’t find the cereal but I saw in the kitchen window the things going on there. There was SeaWitch and her friends just sitting in a bunch of kiddie pools. I walk out there and asked if I could join them because I hated what was going on inside the house. They let me sit with them and I found out SeaWitch’s real name, Its Mary Kuna. She then confessed to me and I had to say that while I don’t feel the same, I support her in coming out via button to me. I chat with everyone in the kiddie pools and I hear my name being called out.

“Oh hey its Mirio-san and Han-san” Mary pointed out with a cup in her hand.

“So thats his last name” I said softly as I turn to see Mirio, agent 420 and Amajiki hiding behind Mirio “whats the haps fellas?”

“We were talking and we came to a conclusion” Mirio spoke with his arms crossed “you aren’t having fun and you haven’t been paying much attention to us after confessing but are having fun out here with the water dwellers.”

“So heres the deal lil mama” agent 420 leaned in “you gotta choose between us if you want to have some fun and we’ll make it worth while and if you want to leave you have to kiss one of us.”

I was disgusted by this display, they were playing against me to choose for my freedom. But I had a plan “So I have to choose somebody that confessed to me to stay and have fun or kiss them to leave?” I asked to the 3 boys for clarity.

“Yes that is correct” said Mirio very eagerly like I was going to choose him.

I turn to Mary “May I have this kiss? I’ve had fun with you and I feel very unsafe being pressured to choose between naked man, weed number and shy McGee.” She nods and we give a very light kiss and I stand up from the kiddie pool I was sitting in “Now that I made my decision, I’ll be taking my leave from one of the lamest parties I’ve been invited to.”

“Wait up, let me walk you to your car” Mary stood up and retract her scales and fins “I’d hate to see any of these boys following you and pressure you to do anything else.” She put her arm through mine and her friends also stood up to escort me. “If you 3 do so much as follow us outside, you’ll have to face the wrath of me and my friends. I don’t care how strong you are, you don’t pressure girls to kiss you if they want to leave. I hope you 3 never reproduce!”

I was floored by the power of those words and how it made the boys back off. When they took me to my car, I hugged all of them for coming to my aid. We exchanged social media handles and then I left. It was a bit past 10pm when I got to the dorms, everyone was in their rooms and didn’t notice when I got there. I changed out of my wet clothes and got into bed. The next day, I woke up at exactly 10am and I was pumped because it was finally winter break, christmas was a week away and school resumes a few days before the start of February. I come out of my room and straight to the kitchen and everyone greeted me and my brain cells weren’t clocked in to do their job.

“Good morning! FELLAS!” I spot the baguette on the counter “is it gay? to eat bread?!” I hit the hardest dab anyone has ever seen.  The girls were confused but the boys laughed but then got serious like they were pondering on my question.

“Wait! IS it gay to eat bread?” asked Sero as he looked at his plate “I mean it’s in the shape of a dick.”

“GUYS! with that logic” Mineta said with wide eyes “breadsticks, bread DICKS!” I wish I knew how to describe the room with the boys hollering that they confirmed that eating bread is gay and the girls now more confused than ever before. All the while I was just standing there and I wasn’t being serious. Bakugo and Kirishima come to the kitchen.

“Guys! do you think eating bread is gay?!” Kaminari asked the other two.

“What kind of- WHO SAID THAT SHIT?!” Bakugo yelled, ready to fight whoever said that.

“Woah woah woah there Bakugo!” Kirishima tried to level the situation “I firmly believe eating bread is gay on the account that you use your mouth to eat a dick shaped thing BUT I will never give up bread.”

I crept my way to the coffee maker because I did not want to get bashed for being on my dumb shit so early. Todoroki and Midoriya then enter. Same question asked, but this time Midoriya pondered the question and Todoroki went back to his room. Iida then came in and locked eyes with me but he was soon hit with the question.

“Iida-kun! Is it gay to eat bread?” Mineta spoke up.

“HOW IS IT HOMOSEXUAL TO EAT BREAD?!” he yelled and chopped furiously at that dumb shit.

“Palma-san brought it up and I need your opinion” Mineta retorted “are you pro-bread or not gay?”

“Wait- PALMA-SAN SAID THAT DUMB SHIT?!” Bakugo yelled as I was about to eat a piece of the baguette “do you have any idea the fuckery you just caused?!”

“To be fair” I put my bread down “I just asked the question, Mineta took it to the extreme with the bread politics. I don’t think bread is gay but if it was, I’m still going to eat it.”

Breakfast was calmer after that and I was sitting in the commons room to see the pictures of last night’s lame ass party. Iida came up to me “Hey um mind if I sit with you?”

“Hm? Oh sure go ahead.” I was distracted by the video of the mini fight that broke out after I left the party.

“How was the party?” he asked as he scanned my neck for any hickeys.

“Eh it was lame, Mirio tried to kiss me and it wasn’t fun because everyone doesn’t know how to have fun at one. I made a new friend and I came to the dorms at around 10 last night.”

“Wow it must’ve been lame if you came back so early” he tried to change the subject “so um now that you’re indefinitely free until school starts...do you want to plan some things with me?”

“You want to plan more than just that coffee?” I locked my phone and thought about it “what did you have in mind?”

His mind blanked, he didn’t think she’d pick up that he wanted to plan more things “Um like maybe spending Christmas with my family, going to the farmers market, going to a skating rink...”

“Woah slow down there Tenya” he was talking so quick I couldn’t pick up what he was saying “lets just set the day for the coffee!...how does Monday sound?”

“That sounds great! I guess we’ll talk more about other plans later.”

Before I could say anything, Midnight walks in “Oh Itati! Just the girl I was looking for” she was carrying a small box and a folder that I recognized as my official documents folder “I have a delivery and good news.”

“Thats great!” I jumped up “lets go to my room then.”

“Why can’t it be discussed out here?” asked Iida suspiciously.

“Don’t be nosey Tenya” scolded Midnight “you and your brother have a habit of being up in everyone’s personal business. And this is no exception, if you could please give us some privacy.”

“Sorry, but she’s right” I stood up “girl stuff, you wouldn’t understand.”

“I see” he didn’t understand what that meant “I’ll be going now.”

We go into my room and she hands me the package as she sits down “Ok so I got your feminine hygiene products and good news!”

“Alright, whats the news?”

“Since your program got the large donation, the whole intel dorm is going to be redone and will accommodate for all the incoming for A class. In addition, we’ve accelerated your switch over and you’ll be moving to the proper dorms on Feburary 7th, your birthday!”

My jaw dropped “Really?! Now I’m super excited!”

“Yes, now for the good but a bit boring news.” she takes out a few documents “heres a peek at your 2nd year schedule, as you can see there’s a lot of holes in it. You have options of taking up another non-general ed course, take up 2 free periods or do some under-study credit and assist Mic in the advanced english courses.”

I look over the schedule and I have homeroom, vehicles and mechanics, Math 2, Strategy and Communications and an empty space. “I see that I don’t come in for the hero course strategy and communications until 2nd term?”

“Oh since you took a 3rd year course this past school year and passed, you have a free pass for any other strategy based course work. That class is 1st term strategy and 2nd term hero to control center communications.”

“oh alright, then I can I do a combo of having that term 1 hole as my free period and the empty slot as understudy for Mic?”

“You got it” She took the document back to write my request “Alright that’s all for now, we’ll be releasing the official schedule the week before school starts. Stay warm and be safe Itati, you can call me anytime if you need anything.”

“Thank you Midnight” I hugged her “I’m so fortunate to have you as my adult reliance, I appreciate you.”

“Aww stop I’m going to cry” she said welling up with tears “it was the least I could do.”

She leaves and I get to putting away my products. I keep thinking about my move in and how things are going the way I want them to. It’s finally not a huge dumpster fire that I didn’t cause but have to deal with.

-End Chapter 20-

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#bnha #mha #self insert au #not canon #chapter 20 #will update regularly #ask me anything

[spongeekat]

The 6 Times Peter Wanted To Reveal his Identity (And the 1 Time He Did) Chapter 2

read on ao3

Masterlist Here

As always, HUGE thank you to my beta reader @alurkerofnote who was super patient during my busy ass weekend! 

Day 2- Monday

“Peter?”

“Five more minutes, May…”

“Peter, dude, your phone won’t stop buzzing and the professor is getting annoyed.”

Professor? Shit.

Peter shot instantly awake, the blurry image of Mary Jane’s fire red hair permeating his sleep-heavy eyes. He gingerly picked his sore body up until he was sitting up, wiping the moisture that had gathered on his forehead away. As promised, the professor was making direct eye contact with him while she continued to speak, and her finger pointed sharply at Peter’s cell sitting on the edge of his desk. Sheepishly, he retrieved it and mouthed an apology. His thumbs drug the notification screen down, finding a few texts from an unknown number. He absently tried to listen to the lecture, but he must have slept through quite a few key concepts, because he had no idea what was being discussed. Well, just another night he’d have to spend teaching himself from the textbook.

Curiously he swiped until he arrived at his texting app, and the harassment he was receiving suddenly made sense.

hey petey-pie checkin in since u didnt message me

luv dp

u getting these???????? is this a fake number?

pls tell me u didnt die.

hellooooooooooooooo

im gonna sing until you answer

since uve been gone i been lost without a trace

i dream at night only i can see ur face

i look around but its u i cant replace

i feel so cold and i long 4 ur embrace

i keep cryin baby BABY PLEASE

OH CANT U SEEEEEEE

holy fuck balls this dude wont put down his gun ill finish the song later but pleeaaaaseee text me back <3 or ill come over

That last text was sent 3 minutes ago, and Peter could only imagine his poor next door neighbors’ faces if Deadpool decided to show up at their door. He hurriedly typed up a reply before that chance even came close to becoming reality, trying to ignore the romantic connotations of the song.

Sorry. In class. I’m doing fine. Not dead. Please don’t stop by. I live next to an elderly Hispanic woman that would have a heart attack if she saw you.

There was a uniform page turn in the rows surrounding him, and he took that as his cue to flip the page in his book. Wade hadn’t responded yet, and Peter briefly considered dipping out of school to make sure Mrs. Moreno wasn’t calling the police if Wade really had decided to show up.

i was calling my ride but im glad to hear back from u

do u need anything??

warm milk, a big hug, an xbox one?

“Who are you texting? You look like a dork.”

Mary Jane’s whispers distracted Peter from his stupor, and he realized then he had a grin tugging at his lips that had only appeared upon reading his texts. He wiped the stupid look from his face and sucked in a breath to give a well-thought out reply. “No one.”

“Ah.” The redhead pressed the tip of her pen against her rosy lips, giving Peter a knowing smile that had heat crawling up his neck. “A guy?”

“Oh my god, MJ, it’s not like that. I’m just on an app.” Peter whispered back more insistently, flipping his phone over on the desk. “Just funny pictures.”

“Mhmmm.” Mary Jane’s hum was too insincere, and it was clear she wasn’t about to let this go. “Well, you should get back to your ‘funny pictures’ before they disappear.”

“I will.” Peter murmured and swiped his phone from the desk, tucking it back under the edge of the desk. His eyes read over Wade’s texts a few more times, a few different responses dancing on his fingertips, before he finally decided to type.

I’ll be fine. Thanks for checking in.

In truth, these past few weeks had been brutal. Between tensions building in the city, accompanied by the rise of crime, and the press being hot on his ass every time he missed an opportunity to bring someone in to justice, he had been missing sleep and stressing harder about trying to become a more efficient hero in the city. The meal that Wade had forced on him was the first time he’d even touched real food in almost 2 weeks. Being pressured to have a ‘night-in’ had taken quite a lot of stress off of Peter’s shoulders for at least a day, but it also meant his body realized he was willing to let it rest for a little bit and was fighting him to try to catch up on more sleep. While the night before had been completely humiliating, it had been relaxing to be taken care of. For a little bit he and Wade had acted like more than a set of heroes, and the memory of his kindness was still burning hot in his mind.

But he wouldn’t let this go on for longer than a day. It was wrong to lie to him, even if it felt this good to pretend.

----

Being Spider-Man was simultaneously the biggest stressor and most freeing part of Peter’s day.

Saving lives and stopping crimes ranging from petty car thieves to mutant bank robbers was difficult. Balancing two lives that intermingled more often than Peter would have liked was even more difficult, often lying to the people he cared about the most just to keep them safe. It was hard navigating the grey-area between morally just and lawfully sound, and there were multiple occasions in which he felt like a criminal running from police after just busting a potential felon doing potentially bad things. He operated more along the lines of a vigilante than a hero in most cases, and it took a severe toll on his mental health. Especially lately, when the city seemed to be getting more dangerous as the presence of superpowered people increased, he had been slandered in media every which direction. Even Mary Jane praising his decisions had stopped helping. He felt like he was starting to become completely alone in the heroing thing.

And then there were the nights he was over the moon with ecstasy; adrenaline buzzing low in his ears, wind rushing up the corners of his mask and breezing over his lips, his webs snapping out from his wrists and catching his fall in perfect rhythm so he soared through the low city buildings like a bullet, his worries and stress melting off every second he spent in the air. Peter’s own personal drama and angst seemed to matter less when his focus was on helping others. No matter what was happening in his own life, he left it on the sill of his bedroom window. When he was out on the streets he was Spider-Man, not a kid struggling to keep his head above water. He had strength, allies, and a will to do good. Grades and sleep felt way less important than his obligation to New York.

Still, there were slip ups. Sometimes his lives intermingled uncomfortably close and he was left covering for both of his personas.

Peter didn’t expect Deadpool to be at this fight. His fists were preoccupied knocking a goon on his ass when the sharp zing of sharpened metal cut close to his ear. His spidey senses hadn’t gone off, warning him of the impending sword, and when he jut his chin back to check who was behind him, he knew why. They never went off when he was around Wade anymore, because he wasn’t in danger around him.

That didn’t stop the anxiety that flooded his chest cavity a second later, however. He had gotten close to making a smartass comment so they could commence their banter that took place during every fight, when the memory of who he was under the mask- who Wade was now acquainted with- hit him hard.

Shit.

“You weren’t planning to keep a good fight like this from bad ol’ me, were you? Spidey, I’m shocked!” Wade greeted as he kicked back one of the men running at him with a bat, slicing the object in two. He’d gotten pretty good at the injuring and the take-downs without the actual murder. Peter grunted in response, maintaining his focus on jabbing, webbing, and jumping out of the way when his instincts called for it. “And here I was, hoping I’d see that tight butt come swinging past me tonight.”

“Not now.” Peter muttered, ducking just in time to miss getting his skull bashed in by a dude with a crowbar. Why crowbars? Why were henchmen so obsessed with their crowbars?

“Aww, okay, I see. You’re mad at me. Was it for ditching you last night? Because I swear, I was doing good! See, there was this kid about to do a triple flip face plant into the asphalt behind my apartment, and I really wanted to make sure he was okay, ‘cause he was alone and it was late and stuff, and-”

“Can you not talk for like, a second?” Peter didn’t mean to use such an aggressive tone, especially not on Wade who deserved it the least, but hearing Wade talk about him to him when he didn’t even mean to… it was making his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He slammed his knuckles into the jaw of one of the larger men surrounding him, receiving a crack in return. Oof, that would leave a bruise.

“Oooookay, Spider-ooni. I’ll let you focus.” Wade forfeited easily, catching a heavily swung and splintering 2 x 4 with his forearm.

Peter released a satisfied sigh that he didn’t really mean, his lean body hopping out of the way of a kick to the side before he shot a web at the attacker’s face.

---

The fight only lasted another few minutes. The goons, that had decided to test their pride rather than flee the scuffle they were at a clear disadvantage in, ended up face-down on the pavement, hands bound in web-handcuffs, and with a few broken noses or crooked arms scattered among them. Peter had been a bit too forceful tonight, he could admit, but it had been hard enough to focus on reeling in his strength when there was someone else on his brain.

And then said man had showed up and blew his head right open.

They were currently kicked back on a vacant apartment balcony, Peter sitting on the rails while Wade stood a few feet away but very much present, pulling off his gloves to assess the extent of the blood stains on his armor. It was chilly, and Peter knew he’d have to head home soon, but he couldn’t really deny Wade’s invitation to hang out for a little bit after all he had done for him the night before.

Even if Wade didn’t know he was the same kid he’d been ‘saving.’.

“Soooo…” Wade cut into his thoughts, his voice drawing Peter’s attention back to the surface. He glanced over at his fighting partner, surprised to see his face aiming off somewhere else. Wade acting timid was an odd sight. “You okay?”

“Huh?” Peter’s stomach churned and he blinked, even if the action was hidden by lenses. “Yeah?” No. “Why?”

“You’ve been acting funny, that's all.” Wade shrugged, and tucked his arms up against the balcony to lean on the rails. “You avoided me like all last week.”

“What? No I didn’t.” Peter said defensively, confusion clear in his voice. He had been making his plans for days, and sure, that may have lead to him feeling too awkward to really hang around Wade, but they just hadn’t seen each other that was all.

He hadn’t made an effort to find him until that night, though, either.

Wade paused, as if he was thinking of responding but decided against it, before his tone changed and he seemed to drop it all together. “Well, it’s okay, I did a lil’ heroing on my own anyways.”

“Oh really?” Peter asked with awkward amusement, tucking his ankles between the vertical railings to keep his balance a little better.

“Yup. I stopped a kid from killing himself and I’ve been checking up on him every day. I figured you’d be proud of me since you like all that righteous stuff.”

“So you only did it to impress me?” Peter asked flatly.

“What? No no no, Spidey, I did it because I didn’t wanna watch another good person die alone. Plus, if he was like bad or something I wasn’t gonna try very hard, but he was really hot- which I know, is totally shitty to think since he was getting ready to dive, but he just seemed like a depressed nerd and I guess that might kinda be my type. Actually, that’s not entirely true, because I like when someone can make me laugh, and long walks on the beach, and...”

Peter felt a tinge of jealousy in his stomach at his description of the boy he’d saved, which was ridiculous, considering it was him. He tuned out of Wade’s ramblings and squeezed tighter onto the railing, feeling the metal bending under his fingers. Maybe it was better to keep his identities secret. After all, Wade seemed so proud of himself for ‘helping’ Peter. Was it worth taking that away? He could just avoid Wade in his personal life. The man would give up if he realized his efforts weren’t being reciprocated and Peter stopped serving as entertainment.

That’s probably all he was. Charity fused with an audience.

“...But I guess that’s why I dated that crazy chick two years ago. She had a super cute face but she was also obsessed with ending the patriarchy and killing men. I think she stabbed me a few times in my sleep, too. But I guess crazy and crazy make a great match. Even if we ended pretty badly.”

“I think I’m gonna head back.” Peter announced, tucking his toes underneath himself until he was stood on the fence. Wade straightened, looking up at him inquisitively from the balcony floor. “I have an early morning.”

“We’ll meet up tomorrow night, though, right?” Wade asked hopefully.

“We’ll see.” Peter murmured, before he shot web fibers off into the dark and took off with a leap.

#spideypool #spiderman #deadpool #fanfic #spideypool fanfic #marvel #spideypool big bang 2018

[onlycags]

Movie Night 7 | Çağlar Söyüncü

Oof. Here it is, y’all. please don’t hate me after this chapter…

Word Count: 5,058 (oops) June: You Alternate Title: Euro2020 Ruins Lives

- - -

The final match of Leicester City’s Premier League season came the week after movie night. Çağlar got you a seat where James usually put you - you guessed he had coordinated something with James about it, but you didn’t care, as you got to be at the final match of the season.

You proudly wore your jersey with Çağlar’s name on it, not caring who saw it. The paps had linked you with Madders ages ago, but you hadn’t appeared anywhere in the tabloids since 2018 and you were grateful.

The match was a brilliant one, and the home crowd at King Power was amazing. It was scoreless until the 90 +2-minute mark. You screamed the loudest when Çağlar sent a pass to Evans, who sent the ball flying into the net in stoppage time, winning the match against Everton.

After the match, you ran onto the field  straight to Çağlar. He picked you up, and, without thinking, you kissed him. “I’m so proud of you,” you murmured, running your fingers through his hair. “You looked so sexy out there tonight.”

“I love that you are wearing my name tonight - I like letting everyone know that you are mine and I am yours.” Grinning from ear to ear, you kissed him again, loving every moment of this celebration.

“CAGS!” Madders yelled, jogging up to the two of you, his expression grim. “[Y/N], you need to go. Now. I don’t know how many pictures the paps got, but they definitely got enough of the two of you,” he looked around, emphasizing his point.

Your stomach bottomed out and you thought you were going to be sick. “No no no,” you muttered, covering your mouth with your hand. You turned to Çağlar. “Text me when you’re back at your flat and I’ll come over.” Turning to Madders, you gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Tell Ben I said congratulations and I’ll see him at movie night in three weeks.”

“Will do. Be safe. Text me when you get back to your flat.”

“Okay. Bye.” You hurried out of King Power, waiting with the crowds for the buses to take you back into Leicester City Proper.

When you finally got on a bus, you stood with your head down, buried in your phone. You didn’t want to attract any attention to yourself. Cold shock washed over you when you found the first article tweeted out by The Sun Football.

BREAKING NEWS: LCFC’S ÇAĞLAR SÖYÜNCÜ OFF THE MARKET?!

Hands shaking, you tapped on the link, impatiently waiting as it loaded. When it finally loaded, you couldn’t breathe. Right below the headline was a photograph of the two of you not even thirty minutes ago, kissing, with the caption: Çağlar Söyüncü kisses [Y/F/N] [Y/L/N], formerly linked with James Maddison.

You skimmed the article, your face heating up as you read all the assumptions by the gossip site.

It is unknown just how long the pair have been together, but Söyüncü was seen giving [Y/F/N] his jersey back in February.

The picture below was clearly you, wearing Madders’s jersey while a shirtless Çağlar held out his jersey to you.

The pair were seen again after the crushing defeat against Liverpool.

Your heart sank further as one of your most private moments with Çağlar was shown in multiple photos for the world to see. You remembered the moment in March so clearly - how it felt to hold him against you, the butterflies in your stomach as he reached out to touch his hoodie that you were wearing. You tapped on the photo, spreading your fingers to zoom in on his expression, fascinated by how intense he looked. You hadn’t known just how it had looked to the outside world, but now you knew.

Below that, there was a grainy video taken by someone from this evening. You saw yourself running towards him and jumping into his arms. The video zoomed in on The Kiss. You didn’t dare turn the volume on, too scared to listen to what people could possibly be saying.

Thankfully, your bus stop was the next one, and you got off, head still buried in your phone. You made the mistake of clicking on the comments - 300 and counting - and immediately wanted to cry.

CSLover4ever wrote: She’s not even that pretty?! Our boy can do better!

Anonymous wrote: He picked HER?! YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME?!

BadBoy24 wrote: Hey babe, if you get bored of him, my DMs are always open ;)

LCFC_Fan wrote: First Madders and now Soyuncu? Has this bitch got no shame?! Next she’ll be after Vardy or Schmeichel SMH

Liverpool4Life wrote: Whore’s probably fucked half the team by now. Damn shame that Caglar would want her now.

You were in tears by the time you got to your flat, closing and deadbolting the door. You heated water for tea, needing something warm to hold. As you waited for the water to boil, you called Madders instead of texting.

“Are you okay?” was his first question when he picked up.

“Did you see the article that The Sun Football already ran?” You asked, your sadness quickly being replaced by anger.

“Hold on.” There was silence followed by a low growl from your best mate that quickly turned into a sea of expletives. “Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Madders yelled so loudly that you held the phone away from your ear.

Wearily, you nodded, then said, “I know,” once you remembered he couldn’t see you. “I made the mistake of reading the comments,” you admitted, feeling like an idiot.

“None of what those fuckers have to say is true. It’s just a bunch of jealous wankers who have nothing better to do than sit behind a computer screen and say nasty shit to people they will never meet.”

The kettle whistled and you poured yourself a cuppa, wrapping your free hand around it as you made your way over to your sofa. “I know. It just hurts. Someone wrote about how ugly I am and another called me a whore and-” you trailed off, trying hard to keep the tears at bay.

On the other end of the line, you heard Madders explain to Çağlar what was going on. You heard his string of Turkish curse words, and something muffled in English that sounded like he was coming over.

After affirming James that you weren’t going to be going online anymore for the day, you hung up. There was a text from Çağlar, confirming your suspicions that he was, in fact, coming over. Thirty minutes later, there was a knock on your door. You checked the peephole before opening the door to make sure it was him.

“I’m so sorry,” were his first words as he enveloped you in a hug. The full weight of the day hit you and you broke down in tears, clutching at his shirt. Wordlessly, he picked you up bridal-style and brought you to your bedroom, setting you gently on your bed. He laid down next to you, running his hands up and down your arm, trying anything and everything he could to soothe you.

At some point, you fell asleep, mentally and physically exhausted from the day’s events. You awoke underneath your bedsheets, Çağlar nowhere to be found. Everything came rushing back, making you want to cry again. Reluctantly you dragged yourself out of bed to find Çağlar in the kitchen, standing shirtless over your stove. You walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle, your cheek resting in-between his shoulder blades. “Feeling better?” He asked, stirring something in a large pot.

“A little, yes.” You peered around him, trying to figure out what was in the pot. “What are you making?”

“Red Lentil Soup. It is my grandmother’s recipe. It is almost ready - only ten more minutes.” He turned, leaning down to kiss you softly.

You retreated back to your bedroom, grabbing your softest blanket and wrapping it around yourself. You sat on the sofa, picking up the remote on your telly to find reruns of Love Island. Ten minutes later, Çağlar was handing you a bowl of warm soup. You ate quickly, not realizing how hungry you were.

You downed two more servings of soup, smiling at Çağlar’s embarrassed blush when you complimented him on his cooking skills. The two of you cuddled on the couch as though it was a movie night, but the silence was awkward.

Çağlar was the first to break the silence. “I leave for Turkey in three days for the EuroCup.”

Your stomach dropped for the second time today. “I almost forgot,” you responded, chuckling ruefully as you played with your hands.

“I will be gone until mid-July,” he continued, and your heart sank further, “assuming Turkey goes far in the matches.”

“I know.”

“I wish I could be here with you for your movie night.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, willing yourself not to cry.

Çağlar spent the next two days with you, only leaving your flat to go workout for a few hours each day. You stayed off your phone, only responding to texts from people you currently felt like talking to, letting them know you were alive.

It all fell apart the second day. You were getting restless after feeling trapped in your flat going on three days. You wanted your space back - as much as you loved having Çağlar with you the past two days, you couldn’t function like you normally would.

When he got back from his workout at 9am, you were already in a mood. He opened the door and walked over to you, trying to press a kiss to your cheek before going to take a shower. You moved away before he could kiss you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“I can’t do this,” you said, surprised at how quickly the words came out.

“Do what?”

“Play house with you, knowing you leave tomorrow! Yeah, sure, we’re exclusive, but I meant it when I said I didn’t want to be a WAG and now it feels like you’re my boyfriend and I’m your girlfriend and we’re hiding from the paps because they just found out about our secret relationship.” You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Oh wait! That basically happened, except you’re in my space and I want you to leave, but I can’t ask you to leave because you’ve been taking care of me these past two days and if you weren’t leaving tomorrow, I would make you leave and not come back.”

Anger flared in his eyes. “Do you think that it has been easy to take care of you the past few days? You have been moping around as though you have nothing to do and that everything is awful because now the press has pictures of us! Did you ever think to ask me how I feel about the whole thing?”

“Okay, Çağlar, how do you feel about the whole thing?”

He crossed his arms and sighed. “It does not matter now. If you do not want me here, then I will go.”

“Are you serious right now?! I can’t fucking believe you!” You scoffed, willing yourself not to cry. “Obviously, this wasn’t meant to last.”

He nodded, the gesture in agreement breaking your heart. “Goodbye, [Y/N].”

Just like that, he was gone.

You awoke on the third day, the bed empty.

You cried into the pillow that smelled like him, already missing him.

***

When you were finally able to get out of bed, you called Madders.

“Would you like to do something today?” You asked in lieu of a greeting.

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“Just spending time together. Nothing fancy.”

An hour later, you found yourself at James’s flat, sitting on the floor as Diego attacked you with kisses.

“How are you coping?” James asked when Diego settled down.

“I’m…okay,” you paused, trying to find the right words to describe everything you had been feeling the past few days. “It’s been hard but I’m coping. I haven’t been on the internet since Saturday, and I think that’s helping.”

“Everyone knows The Sun Football is just trashy gossip. Look at that stupid article they posted about me showing up to that match in that £6500 Louis Vuitton backpack in September.”

“Yeah.” You were silent for a moment, debating whether or not to tell Madders about the fight you and Çağlar had before he left. Deciding against it, you occupied yourself with Diego and your best mate for the better part of the day.

***

A few days later, you were saying goodbye to the boys going to St. George’s Park. You knew it was less than an hour’s train ride away, but it still sucked. Madders hugged you tightly, going over his kilometre-long list of Diego’s needs for the month that you were already well-aware of.

“Don’t fret, Mads. Besides, you’ll be back in a couple weeks. I know you don’t leave for the Czech Republic until the 20th.”

“See you for movie night on the 17th, love.”

You hugged him one more time, turning your attention to Chilly. “Take care of yourself,” he whispered, holding you tightly. You sighed, closing your eyes briefly before letting him go.

“Go kick some ass, you two. I’ll see you in three weeks.” You laughed as Madders and Chilly sandwiched you, kissing your cheeks at the same time.

~~~

The next three weeks passed fairly quickly. You caught up with friends you hadn’t seen in a while, dodged the paps, and texted Madders. It was nice to catch up and spend time with people who weren’t completely engrossed in football and who had lives outside of the sport.

Your friends wanted to hear all about the crazy shit you had been up to and you were more than happy to oblige. You went out to clubs and danced all night, then spent the next morning hungover at brunch, but it was the most fun you’d had in a long time. Don’t get it wrong, you loved movie night but it had been so long since you’d had any real girl-time and it was nice.

It had been three weeks and you hadn’t thought much about the events from the last match, blocking everything that had to do with football that weren’t your mates’ twitter accounts, and making yours private. Luckily, nobody had tried to reach out to you for comment and with the EuroCup about to start most of the tabloids seemed to be focused on that.

You were putting the finishing touches on your flat, having spent the afternoon cleaning. The guys were due to arrive any minute and you couldn’t wait. You hadn’t had any time to reach out to Çağlar, but you knew that Turkey had been playing well so far. Besides, you knew that going back to Turkey was always special for him and you wanted him to focus on his family and football.

Chilly and Madders arrived first, bursting through your door with so much energy that you couldn’t help but focus on them. “ We missed you so much!” Mads shouted, picking you up and spinning you around. You were dizzy and laughing when he set you back down, happy to see your best mate.

“Me too,” Ben agreed, enveloping you in a much tamer hug.

“Who’s all coming again?” You asked, trying to find the message in the group chat that held the guest list.

“Grealish for sure. Harvey, Winks, Abraham, Rashford.” Chilly listes off names from memory, stopping to take a swig of beer.

“Don’t Forget about Ruben and Mount!” James adds, pointing a carrot stick at his teammate, the serious look on his face making you laugh.

“I think that’s it. It’s gonna be a pretty low key night,” Chilly added, making you sigh with relief.

“Did you see Vardy’s Insta post from his family vacation?” Madders asked, eating the second half of his carrot and going back for more. “So cute!”

“I saw Fuchs’s Insta story today - going back to Austria with his family for the month is such a good idea.” You sighed, jealous that Madders played for the national team because it meant that you two couldn’t take that Swiss Alps ski trip you’d been planning since you were fifteen.

“The Three Musketeers should be here soon, too,” Ben said, looking up from his phone. “Pérez, Gray and Barnes are carpooling here.”

“Who’s driving?” You asked, taking a sip of your vodka tonic.

“Barnes snapchatted me a pic and it looks like Pérez is driving,” Ben responded.

“Oh thank God!” Madders sighed dramatically. “They’ll actually be somewhat on time.”

Everyone arrive shortly after, and the night was anything but low-key. The boys were loud and boisterous and had you laughing so hard you’d probably be skipping ab day at the gym tomorrow.

You hardly left Jack’s side once he arrived. He kissed you on the cheek and pulled you into a hug that had you missing Çağlar. “How ya been, Love?” He asked whispering in your ear.

“I’ve been okay. This past month has been crazy, though.” You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his middle. “I’ve missed you. I’m glad you could make it.”

He smiled down at you. “Me too.”

The guys were sitting down on the couch, chatting away while you picked out the movie - yes, in all your haste you had forgotten the most important aspect of movie night - and decided on This Means War. Just as you were about to put the DVD in - yes, you were old school and you owned it - Harvey gasped. He leaned over and showed his phone to Rashford, and from there Rashford leaned over and continued the game of telephone. Everyone’s eyes flickered over to you and then they looked away.

Your stomach dropped. “What’s going on?” You asked warily, trying to figure out the guys’ expressions. “James,” you spoke, turning to your best mate, “What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On?”

“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” James grimaced as he handed you his phone.

Dread washed over at you as you read the article on James’ phone.

Çağlar Söyüncü Cheating? The Turkish defender spends his time with a hot blonde during his down time from the Turkey National Team.

Pictures of Çağlar with a supermodel-like woman followed the brief ‘article’. There was a photo of him kissing her on the cheek, her touching his arm, and her hugging him after Turkey’s first win of the EuroCup. Your heart sank as you noticed her wearing a Turkey jersey with his name and number.

Tears formed when you saw the final photo - a screenshot from Instagram that she had posted with the caption translated from Turkish into English ‘Always happy to see my guy win! 😘’

“Are you okay?” Jack asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You took a deep breath in and pasted a smile on your face. “Yeah. Let’s just watch the movie.”

All of the reasons you normally loved this movie were all of the reasons you were annoyed at it right now. You sat next to Jack, snuggled into his side, torn between wanting to text Çağlar and doing something stupid like make out with the man beside you.

You felt like Reese Witherspoon’s character, except you only had one guy that you couldn’t figure out.

Onscreen, Lauren Scott has just found out about Tuck and FDR knowing each other. Involuntarily, tears streamed down your face at the tortured look Reese Witherspoon wore as she uttered, “I trusted you.”

You stopped paying attention to the movie after that, burying your face in Jack’s chest, hoping your quiet sobs weren’t distracting.

The movie ended and you let Madders turn on the lights while you raced to the bathroom to wash your face. Unable to take it anymore, you grabbed your phone.

Five missed calls from Çağlar, three voicemails, and ten texts. You read the first text and threw your phone back on your bed, not wanting to cry again.

Çağlar: It’s not what you think.

Composing yourself, you walked back out into your living room, watching the guys say goodbye. You hugged Jack, whispering, “Stay after everyone leaves, please?”

Chilly and Mads hugged you and you wished them luck as they left. The rest of the England National team gave you hugs which made you smile. Some of them you’d only met tonight but you knew that if Madders ever brought them around again they could be some of your best mates.

You closed the door behind the guys and turned to face Jack. You knew what you were about to do was wrong, but if Çağlar was going to spend his time in Turkey with a woman, you could certainly sleep with Jack Grealish without consequences. It was self-destructive and deep down you knew it would destroy everything you and Çağlar had, but you were angry and hurt and wanted to hurt Çağlar like he was hurting you.

“How would you feel if I kissed you right now?” You asked as you walked towards him, backing him into a wall.

“[Y/N], you don’t want to do this,” Jack whispered, his voice thick. His gaze flickered to your lips, and he licked his own.

You rolled your eyes, too hurt by Çağlar’s text to care. “I do. I remember how good it was the first time. You were all ready to kiss me back in February. What changed?” You placed a hand on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat.

“I saw you and Cags together. That’s what changed. If you kiss me, you’re only going to regret it.” His breath hitched as you slid your hand up his chest and gripped the back of his neck.

“What if I don’t? What if Çağlar and I aren’t together anymore?” You stood on your tiptoes, your lips brushing his earlobe as you whispered, “Kiss me, Jack. Please.”

In a flash, his hands were on your hips and you were against the wall. You moaned into his mouth as he kissed you. A brief thought passed your mind as you kissed him back - he wasn’t Çağlar. Your hands slid under his shirt, enjoying the feel of his body underneath your fingertips. Jack broke the kiss to take his shirt off and yours followed, too. His gaze roamed over your body appreciatively. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder as he slid your bra strap down. “Fuck.”

You grabbed his hand and led him to your bedroom. As Jack kissed his way down your body, all you could think was that he wasn’t Çağlar, but you couldn’t deny that it felt good to be wanted. You lost all thought as his scruff brushed over your stomach as he unbuttoned your jeans and tugged them down your legs.

~~~

You woke up the next morning with Jack’s arm wrapped around your waist. “Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Hi,” you whispered, turning to face him. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Love. I knew it was a bad idea to kiss you, but I did it anyway. I also know it’s not a good idea for you to ignore Çağlar when he’s been trying to get ahold of you for almost twenty-four hours.” He smiled ruefully, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “And if you two do breakup, I’m always here for a rebound.” He winked cheekily, making you laugh.

“I love you, Jackie-boy. Just not like that.”

“And I love you, babe. Just not like that, either.”

You made breakfast for the two of you, not one to let your friends go hungry. Jack left your flat a little before eleven and you sat on your sofa, thinking.

Just as Jack finished kissing your inner thighs and made a move to slide your panties down, you put your hands on his shoulders. “Wait,” you pleaded.

Immediately, he stopped what he was doing and laid down next to you. “What’s wrong?”

Those two words unleashed a flood of tears. You tried to speak, but all you could manage was a tortured whisper. “Çağlar.”

Jack held you in his arms as you sobbed for a second time that night. He listened as you rehashed all of the details, from how the two of you got together to the one text of ten that you read. He spent the night with you because he knew you didn’t want to be alone, and for that you were grateful.

You stared at your phone, gathering up the courage to listen to the voicemails and read the texts.

Taking a deep breath, you dialed your voicemail and entered your passcode. The voice informed you of your ‘first unheard message,’ and the tears started to fall as Çağlar’s voice came through your phone.

“[Y/N], please call me when you get this message. I just saw the pictures online and I cannot imagine what you are thinking. I miss you and I need to hear your voice.”

Second unheard message.

“My love, please, please call me. I know that we did not leave things the best, but I have not heard from you yet and I am getting worried. I do not want to explain over voicemail. Please, [Y/N]. Call me.”

Third unheard message.

The third message was a combination of Turkish and English, making you cry harder. He sounded so distraught, and your heart was in your throat.

You opened his text messages, already knowing what you would find.

Çağlar: It’s not what you think.

Çağlar: [Y/N] please answer me. I have training in a few minutes but I will be back soon.

Çağlar: I finished training hours ago and have not heard from you.

Çağlar: Please talk to me.

Çağlar: I understand if you are ignoring me, but I need to tell you what happened.

Çağlar: [Y/N].

Çağlar: Please.

Çağlar: I cannot lose you.

Çağlar: I need you in my life - you are the best thing to happen to me since football. Please.

Çağlar: I cannot do anything more than this. Call me.

You decided to FaceTime him, needing to see his face and hear his voice. He picked up on the first ring, his voice frantic. “Is it really you?” He asked, the disbelief in his voice and expression palpable through the phone.

“It’s me,” you confirmed, tearing up slightly.

“Hi,” he whispered, and you swore you could feel his smile all the way from Turkey.

“Hi,” you whispered back. “How has training been going?” You couldn’t bring yourself to talk about the article just yet, trying to focus on trivial things before getting to the heavy conversation.

“It has been good. We fly to Switzerland tomorrow and I am very excited.”

“I’ll be cheering for you on Sunday,” you said, a small smile on your face.

“Will you really?” he asked softly, his face lighting up.

“What do you mean?”

“I was not able to talk to you for almost a day after that article.” His expression turned somber. “I was afraid that I had lost you.”

Your heart sank as you pictured the woman Çağlar had been seen with. “Who is she?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment as he thought of the right English words. “She is my ex-girlfriend. Our families are very good friends and I see her a lot when I come home.”

Your laptop was open in front of you, and you pulled up the article again, focusing solely on the woman with your man. She was beautiful: long, dark hair; legs that seemed to go on forever; she was almost as tall as Çağlar and looked like a model. You thought back to the awful comments you had read almost a month ago now, and you couldn’t help thinking that maybe the faceless commenters were right - Çağlar could do better than you, and clearly he had at one point in time.

You were finally brought out of your thoughts by Çağlar calling your name over the phone. “Are you okay?” He asked, and your anger flared.

“Who broke up with whom?” You asked, not caring how hurt you sounded, your gaze still focused on the beautiful woman on your laptop.

“It was mutual. She was going to Milan to be a model and I was going to Germany to play football. It was an impossible decision, but we were young and wanted to focus on our careers.”

You hated that you had to ask the question, but you did it anyway. “Were you in love?”

“We thought that we were. Our parents were planning a wedding for us before we went our separate ways.”

“Do you still love her?” The tears were streaming down your face now, a choked sob escaping on the last word.

“I-” he sighed and your stomach dropped. When he spoke next, his voice was low and his expression tortured. “She kissed me. After the match with Wales.”

“That’s not an answer, Çağlar,” you replied, your voice hard.

“Yatağa mı dönüyorsun aşkım?” A female voice asked on the other end of the video. The woman on your laptop appeared on your phone, wearing nothing but Çağlar’s National Team jersey. You didn’t need Google Translate to figure out that she was asking him if he was coming back to bed.

“Bir dakika içinde,” Çağlar responded. The look on his face as he turned back to you told you everything you needed to know. “[Y/N] -” he started, but you cut him off.

“No, Çağlar. You go live your life and I’ll go live mine.” You smiled ruefully, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I’ll see you when you come back. I would be more upset, but I have no right to be mad because I slept with Jack Grealish last night.” You ended the FaceTime, your heart beating rapidly and your palms sweaty with nerves.

You spent the night tossing and turning in your bed, unable to sleep. You kept picturing Çağlar and his ex-girlfriend together, wondering what they were doing.

It was the first of many sleepless nights during Euro2020.

#cags series #movie night series