#shes so talented though so she made another better less busted one

[helpistolethesecharacters]

Death Does Not Discriminate Between the Sinners and the Saints

Part 1

Tony Stark x Male Demon Reader

Word Count: 3361

This is for the amazing @charliedakotariley who keeps absolutely making my day with all the sweet things they say.

This one is a bit angsty, but there is fantastic tooth rotting fluff at the end for anyone who gets that far. Keep yourselves safe and don't read anything that will make you go down a bad path.

Warnings: The title kind of says it, we are going to be dealing with the concept of a loved one dying in this. NO-ONE ACTUALLY DIES.

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

Y/n had known for months now that something was wrong with Tony. They had gotten past the hurdle of Tony's new self-consciousness thanks to the arc reactor that was a part of him now, or at least Y/n thought they had. He had spent weeks reassuring Tony (in and out of bed) that he still found him attractive.

Of course, the rest of the world would be surprised to see Tony Stark be self-conscious about anything, but they didn't know him like Y/n did. He found Tony's public persona to be hilarious. As a literal demon he loved to watch Tony wind up anyone who thought they could get under his skin.

That had been a surprise to Y/n. He had approached Tony at a party one night for a little bit of fun. Hey, he wasn't about to censure himself, he was a demon. Fun was what he did best.

As cliche as it is, Y/n hadn't expected to fall for the dashing young man so many years before. He sighed for at least the tenth time that night. They had been together for years and still no-one had connected the dots.

'Friends my ass,' Y/n snorted as he thought back to that latest tabloid headline, 'or Tony's ass, as the case may be.'

The problem right now was that Tony was avoiding him. Y/n watched disinterestedly as Tony got eye-wateringly drunk at his birthday party.

Y/n was long over the days where all chaos was his preferred fun. That had stopped when he fell properly for the billionaire. He much preferred it when the chaos didn't stem from his boyfriend getting drunk, putting on his Iron Man suit and proceeding to destroy large parts of his home.

Pepper stood beside him looking equal parts furious and worried. She was alternating between biting her fingernails and sighing in frustration. She looked up at the much taller man.

"Isn't there anything you can do to stop him Y/n?"

Y/n's expression soured.

"No, he hasn't told me what's bugging him. He hasn't even looked at me once tonight."

That was when Rhodey came busting in wearing one of Tony's other suits. For a minute Y/n considered getting between them, but then he decided that if Tony couldn't be bothered to even talk to him, then he could get out of his own mess.

It wasn't until Y/n was back in his own apartment staring out into the darkness of the night sky that he realised what it was that had been bugging him.

Tony smelled like death.

----------

Y/n was a man of many talents. As a demon, he had lived for over a hundred years, all the while, seemingly never aging a day. He had been all over the world and met (and ruined) many amazing people. (Thank the devil for the light telepathic abilities he had that allowed him to make people see him as human looking. Well, at least more human than he really was.)

He had never once been in love. Until Tony. Y/n was starting to regret not getting closer to other humans over the years, because now he had no idea how to deal with the idea of Tony dying.

What was he going to do? He was a demon, they lived for over a thousand years at least. That was like the lowest natural age to die for a demon. He couldn't live the rest of his life without Tony, he was his everything.

That pulled Y/n up short. When had he fallen so low as to be so affected by the death of a lowly human? But that lowly human was Tony, his adorable chaos-creating boyfriend. He wasn't even dead yet, but Y/n was already acting like he was gone.

A glimmer of a thought flickered through Y/n's head.

There had to be something he could do, instead of sitting back and letting this happen. Tony could NOT die. Y/n wouldn't let it happen, no matter who had to fall in his place.

'How do you stop the death of someone who doesn't even know they are dying. If only there was a google search for something like this.'

Y/n grinned manically. They had healers in Asgard. Some of the best in the universe. He had heard whispers of paths between the realms here on Earth. Heck, he had even used some of them himself, how else did you think he got here in the first place?

Y/n's face set in determination. He could do this. He would stop Tony from dying even if it meant his own death.

He wasn't a demon for nothing after all.

-----------

Getting into Asgard shouldn't have been that easy Y/n lamented as he stepped out into the lush forest that surrounded the portal. He was pretty sure that there was supposed to be some all powerful, all seeing God that watched over the realms. Y/n wasn't sure what to do about that, but figured that if there wasn't a squad of Asgardian guards waiting to arrest/remove him on arrival then he must not be a valid concern.

Y/n bared his teeth at the thought. He considered letting his perception field fall and making a big dramatic entrance, but let it go.

'For Tony.'

Y/n walked as carefully as he could through the forest. It wouldn't do to get all tattered and look even more suspicious than he already would.

Luckily it didn't take more than an hour to get to the edge of the forest, and even more luckily it bordered on the golden city itself.

Y/n stopped to take in the grandeur of the city of Asgard and thought that he must be the only demon to have ever set foot in this realm. How ironic that he wasn't even there to try to destroy it like so many of his kin had dreamed of doing.

No one really paid Y/n much mind as he made his way into the city proper. It turned out Asgardians were taller than humans generally speaking, so Y/n actually fit in better here than on Earth where he just about towered over everyone.

He even saw a couple of other people with skin as pale as his was, and the same white hair. No one had eyes like his though. Y/n knew that his eyes looked like the lava that covered so much of his home realm. They even glowed if he got too emotional.

This realm was so much more open. The streets were wider, there was so much more room to move than on Earth. Y/n was starting to feel like a tourist, gaping at every little thing in the city. That wouldn't help him in blending in, but he couldn't help it. He had the sudden urge to see if he could do a full spin and not knock anything over.

That had been one of the hardest things to unlearn when he first made it to Earth. His long armored tail was pretty unwieldy in such tight enclosed spaces, so he had had to learn to balance all over again with his tail tucked closer to his body. Unfortunately his perception field only changed how people saw him, so if they tripped over his tail and really looked to see what had tripped them, they sometimes saw what he really looked like. Luckily for him, they were usually written off as insane or, as one really unlucky woman found, it was written off as women's hysteria.

Y/n reined that thought back in and tucked it away for later. If he got out of this alive he would think about it later.

Y/n was sure that the best healers would work in the palace, but that would mean trying to sneak in and abscond with a royal physician. That would be noticed much more quickly, and would be met with a much harsher response.

Y/n set his shoulders back in determination. He would just have to be incredibly convincing, or this would go sideways much too quickly.

'Well,' Y/n thought grimly, 'at least that would solve the problem of watching Tony die slowly.'

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

The palace was quiet. This was just too odd. Something supernatural must be at work here.

Y/n was starting to freak out. He had made his way into the palace totally unhindered, and even his admittedly amazing luck had never been that good.

He slunk around another corner, still on high alert. Which was why he didn't miss the shimmer in the air that meant something else was in this space with him.

Y/n shot out an arm at it, aiming for the same height as his own neck.

His hand caught around a slimmer neck than his own, and he tightened his grip to almost unbearable for a demon. He wasn't about to underestimate the people of Asgard.

The stories of Asgardians from back on his own realm lauded them as incredibly strong and fast, and able to live as long as demons themselves.

The Asgardian struggled fiercely for a moment, but when it became apparent that Y/n was stronger than them, they slumped and dropped whatever incantation had allowed them to be invisible.

They appeared to be male, and around the same age as Y/n, but then, so had Tony when they had first met.

Y/n shoved the man away from him hard, and took up a fighting stance.

The other man sputtered and heaved in deep breaths to make up for his previous lack, thanks to Y/n. He looked pretty pathetic, laying against the wall, black hair falling over his face, which was red from lack of air.

"Why have you brought me here mage?"

The man looked up, affecting a surprised expression.

"What makes you think I have brought you here? Are you not an assassin, here to remove either the King or Crown Prince? Both are in the throne room, if you were interested."

Y/n remained in his stance, passive.

"I have the feeling that you know why I'm here already."

The man pulled himself up at last.

"Fine, I might have sensed you when you first stepped foot in our realm. I must say, I haven't seen anyone from Helheim before. Whatever are you doing here, a place that some have dubbed the promised land, home of the Gods?"

"You don't half think highly of yourself, do you?"

The man's response is a sneer.

"I need help."

Y/n stood up from his stance. It didn't feel like this man was going to attack him, and he could hardly ask for help much less receive it while preparing to attack.

He definitely gave off an odd vibe, but it wasn't an 'I'm about to kill you and all of your family just for breathing near me' vibe.

The man looked positively delighted.

"A demon of Helheim needs help," He crowed. "What can I, the humble Loki of Asgard, do to help you Oh Great Demon of Helheim?"

Y/n's left eye twitched, but he reigned himself in once again. Just because Loki seemed like he would benefit from a good smack upside the head, that didn't make it his job to deliver it.

"My, paramour, is in need of a healer. We do not have the ability to heal him, and I will not see his life ended without every attempt having been made to save it."

Loki apparently noticed the pause at the beginning of my request.

"My, my, what type of paramour could you possibly have that would warrant such a delicately put request? Surely not another demon, I thought you were nigh on indestructible?"

He was wandering around Y/n now, getting closer in his circling, all the better to whisper intimidatingly in his ear.

"Perhaps, to be in such desperate need of rescue that you, a demon, would risk everything by coming here of all places, your 'paramour' is something a little more frail?"

Y/n took it back, Loki was pure evil. He grit his teeth and squashed the urge to deck him in his smug face.

"Me thinks, perhaps, something so frail as, a human?"

They stood face to face in silence.

"Your silence speaks volumes my dear."

Y/n lost the battle. With a cry of outrage that came from somewhere deep inside he leapt at the smug God and prepared to smash his stupid face into pieces.

Shockingly his fist simply went through Loki's face. The image rippled and flickered out as it did so.

It flickered back into place beside him.

He spun into a roundhouse kick and the God went down.

"Stop! Dammit, just stop!"

'Some God,' thought Y/n.

"I was sent to get you."

Y/n was done with these so-called Gods and their mind games.

"What do you mean you were sent to get me? Spit it out!"

Loki looked up and glared at Y/n from his position on the floor.

"You were Seen. The moment you stepped foot into Asgard Heimdall Saw you and reported it to the All-Father. Luckily for you Queen Frigga Saw that you weren't here to attack, and that you only sought our help. I was sent to collect you and bring you to her rooms."

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

The Queen turned out to be much sweeter than Y/n had assumed. He had heard stories of course, but how much could be believed from the daughter who was banished to Helheim?

"Y/n, come, sit. How was your trip dear?"

Y/n was confused. She was acting like they were old friends. As far as he knew he had never met the Queen of Asgard before.

"Ma'am, I'm here for aid. My partner is not long for our home realm. I could smell death on him."

Y/n looked at the ground and clenched his hands into fists.

"I can't lose him. I thought once before that he was gone for good, but he fought tooth and nail to come back to me. Now I am having to sit and watch as something pulls him ever closer to deaths waiting arms. Please, I'll do anything, but please, heal him."

Y/n knew he was begging, but what else could be done. He had thought maybe he could intimidate a regular healer into healing Tony. After that was hazy, but he had been prepared to do anything that would be necessary to make Tony better.

This was not going to plan. He couldn't do anything to make the Queen decide to help him, he would just have to appeal to her softer side.

Frigga knelt by Y/n's side and softly took one of his hands in hers. Her eyes softened as she took in the genuine distress on Y/n's face.

"There is nothing to be done dear. No, don't panic, your loved one is fine. You were right, he was dying, but events have conspired to keep Tony Stark alive. Something needs him still alive, and I am talking about something bigger than you or I. He lives, and at this moment is going just a little bit more out of his mind than normal in his search for you."

Y/n was on his feet and by the door before Frigga had even finished speaking.

"Wait!"

Y/n turned, not wanting to waste another second when he knew that Tony was looking for him, but not able to be disrespectful of the one who had given him hope back.

"Eventually, when you are both ready for that next step, come back and bring your partner. I can organise for one of Idunn's golden apples. You can grow old together."

Tears gathered in Y/n's eyes at the offer.

"But, why? I'm a demon. Tony is a human. Neither of us are anything special. Why are you offering this to us?"

Frigga smiled, beautiful but so broken.

"Because you remind me of someone. So passionate and loyal to the ones who you love that you are willing to flatten entire realms."

Y/n didn't know what to say to that, so he turned back to face Frigga fully. He bowed from the waist to her.

"Thank you Queen Frigga of Asgard. I am in your debt."

Y/n heard her words spoken softly as he left, not entirely for his ears.

"Will you ever forgive us, my dear daughter?"

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

Tony was broken. He had thought that the lowest he could get was knowing that he was dying from something that was supposed to be saving his life.

He was wrong. When he had finally come up for air after the whole thing with his arc reactor, Shield and the Hammer Fiasco as he was calling it, he had realised that he hadn't seen Y/n since his disastrous birthday.

He had searched for what felt like forever. Not even Jarvis could find any mention of Y/n anywhere in the world. It was like he had dropped off the face of the planet.

Tony was now spending his time in his boyfriends apartment. He was sure that when he finally came back from wherever he had been, this was one of the first places he would go. He loved his boyfriend, but they were both equally as vain as the other. Any big dramatic entrance back into Tony's life would need to be planned out meticulously by Y/n. So he was sure if he just waited in his apartment he would see him again.

He was not wrong, he realised with rising hope as he heard the door swing open. He poked his head up over the back of Y/n's couch, hair a mess, goatee completely unkempt, knowing that he was wearing rumpled clothes that hadn't been washed in a few days.

In short, he was the only thing that Y/n wanted to see when he got home.

They collided with a slightly painful thump, banging limbs into each other, but not caring in the slightest.

"Oh God, Y/n, I'm so sorry! I--"

"Tony! Thank God you're alright!"

They fell into hysterics at this. Both knew that it wasn't funny at all, but after all the stress they had been through lately, simply being in each others arms was the most amazing feeling in the world.

Neither of them wanted to move, but common sense won out in the end, and they found themselves on the couch some time later.

They had pulled a soft blanket out of somewhere and where wrapped up together, totally unwilling to move for as long as possible.

"I was so scared when I realised you were dying. Why didn't you tell me?"

Tony had never heard Y/n so quiet before. He sighed heavily.

"I wanted to, but then whenever I tried to tell anyone, it wouldn't come out. It was never the right time, and then I realised that I didn't want anyone's last memories of me to be clouded with the knowledge that I was going to die soon. You especially. I didn't want you to have to carry that around, that I was dying and there was nothing you could have done about it."

They were silent for a while after that.

"Maybe that makes me selfish, but I couldn't bear the thought of adding to the hurt you were already going to feel when it happened. God, I'm so sorry."

Y/n just pulled Tony in closer, wrapped him up a little tighter into his arms.

"It's okay, but next time, tell me. I know you remember that I'm a demon. You have the best memory in the world. Next time you have some unsolvable problem, let me in. There might be something I can do that you can't, but even if there isn't, we would still shoulder that problem together. There's nothing I would rather do, than try to help lighten the load."

Tony was crying now, he could feel the tears dripping openly down his face, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I love you, so much it hurts. Never leave me."

"I will always love you Tony. You've changed me irrevocably. If there ever was a point where I could have turned away from you, if was long ago. You're never getting rid of me now."

#Tony Stark x male reader #Male reader #iron man #tony stark #Iron man 2 #Loki #Death does not discriminate between the sinners and the saints

[aggravatetheaxe]

PLS POST MORE ABOUT JEN/HANNAH (Jen specifically cause ive seen a lot about her but NOT ENOUGH) who are they, what are they like, what’s their relationship to the boys?? Are they free next Saturday????

[FOAMING AT THE MOUTH]

okay Jen I know a lot more about than Hannah so I'll do her first. but PLEASE do send another ask about hannah.

jen jen jen jen jen

(jen and bo by @billydraw)

playlist

tag

quick facts about jen:

jennifer "jen" nicole fournier

identical twins with giovanni fournier, her brother (gio is a trans man) (he's also @waxhouse/@vonclosen's oc)

born in 1975, would be thirty in 2005. again i'm not sure of her sign but she'd have to share it with gio (gemini? is that too cliche? leo? aquarius?)

5'7", rectangle body shape with a fuller bust (gains weight after being with Bo for a while, having some kids), wavy light gold hair that she likes to wear in braids or cut chin-length, hazel eyes and those thin-ass eyebrows that were popular in the early 2000s. pierced ears and a small stud in her nose, but she's not really attached to the stud so she'd probably let it go once she was in ambrose

american of french and scandinavian descent

agnostic; raised vaguely catholic

heterosexual, one of my few het characters (she's one of the good ones bois); i can see her being on the aromantic spectrum because of trauma reasons, though. she has a hard time opening up to romantic/sexual partners.

born and raised in the suburbs of detroit, MI. her and gio's mom is a prosecutor for a small firm and their dad is an orchestral cellist.

their parents were life-long democrats, progressives, and patrons of the arts, but they weren't the best parents. they tended to be overbearing and perfectionist, putting a lot of pressure on their kids to succeed. especially their father, whose talent didn't necessarily match his ambitions and who was insecure about making less than his wife. jen's sibling took to this pressure a lot better than jen did, you could say

jen and her identical twin (born tiffany) grew up very close to one another. because of their closeness, jen was able to defend "tiffany" from bullies, though the job became a lot more difficult when "tiffany" came out as trans and started going by giovanni. it was 1990, so you can imagine the bullshit he went through

their parents were so laser-focused on keeping gio safe through all that bullshit (good) that their care of jen totally fell to the wayside (bad) - unless she was failing a class, of course, then they had time to scold her

jen and gio were 15 at that point, and while gio was getting attention, jen's life kind of spiraled out of control. she started failing in school, which only made her home life worse, which made her school life worse - a vicious cycle. she ended up making some really shitty decisions and by the time she was 16, she was dating a 19 yr old college student, scott fowler

scott was a piece of shit. he drank a lot, and tended to coax jen into doing dangerous shit with him, like going to parties and getting in the car when he was drunk, etc... he made her feel special and mature and the attention he gave her (even the negative attention) made her feel important. plus, he was physically intimidating and was constantly picking fights over her, which, after a lifetime of being The Protector, made jen feel small and nice for once

unfortunately he was also abusive. it started out as emotional abuse, but escalated to verbal abuse and then physical abuse as he became dependent on alcohol. he eventually started doing things like taking her money and fighting with her family and friends

he didn't like how close she was to her "freak dyke sister" - jen began to fear for gio's safety, and once scott became really bad with the physical abuse, her own. eventually the situation became untenable and during a particularly heated fight, she struck him on the side of the head with a metal bat, causing his death

she was arrested for the crime. since scott had not been threatening deadly force but she had used deadly force against him, she was tried (as a juvenile) and convicted of second degree murder. she was sentenced to 5 years in a juvenile prison but only served 2, walking free at age nineteen.

at this point, giovanni was already going to college. as jen likes to say "he went to julliard ... i went to juvie." after her probation period was over, not wanting to face the shame of her parents anymore, she followed him to NYC and started living with him. the twins were very happy to be united long-term!

she tried to go to school herself for a little bit, but she didn't get as much financial or personal support from her parents and guides as gio did. her major was history with a minor in english. however, it didn't take long for her to give up and drop out.

she went on to work as a waitress, and occasional seasonal/part-timer at various retail places

personality wise, she's pragmatic and very much a get-it-done type but has a tendency to be pessimistic. once you're close to her, she's surprisingly warm, but she has a lot of trouble sticking up for her personal boundaries. she values her alone time but just as much values the time she gets to spend with her brother, with whom she's still extremely close.

she loves history, specifically war history, and especially the world wars. more than anything, she's interested in vintage vehicles - jeeps, motorcycles, tanks, planes. she could rattle off the make and model, or at least take an educated guess, of any wartime land or air machine from 1910-1970. sea vessels she's a little shakier on.

she's also a fan of muscle cars, but that's an expensive hobby to get into, so she always just admires from afar. sometimes she'll go to those car shows just to look

growing up around detroit, her dream job when she was little was to work in one of the automotive factories. when she was a baby she used to tell everyone and embarrass her classist parents.

she wants to write a book about WWI and WWII land vehicles, maybe several books, but she doesn't really have the time, resources, or knowledge to do so while she's in NYC. she pretty much has to be working and taking free time where she can get it.

having been incarcerated and then living in new york city, she's pretty clever or "street smart," i guess. she has a will of iron when it comes to emotional and physical pain. she follows her gut instincts and uses what's at her disposal to get herself out of sticky situations. she's used to wearing emotional armor and burying her feelings deep inside, unlike gio, who very much wears his heart on his sleeve and has a tendency to explode with messy emotions

she has mixed emotions about killing scott. on the one hand, he was a total douchebag and shouldn't have been treating her that way. on the other hand, she feels remorse for having ended someone's life; she never meant to kill him, and has no delusions that she should be anyone's judge, jury, and executioner. on the other-other hand, the person she feels most terribly for is her younger self. the trauma of being abused, the trauma of killing someone and the subsequent trial, and the trauma of being incarcerated isn't something any child should have to go through, and she'd be lying if she said it didn't fuck her up bigtime

she and gio were never raised with dogs but she's always wanted one. the loyalty aspect of them fascinates her.

has some breathing problems from living in NYC post-9/11, just a little cough and occasional shortness of breath. gio was smart and masked up, worked very hard to preserve his lung health, etc., since he's an opera singer, but jen didn't

she likes to read, but mostly prefers non-fiction or stories that are heavily inspired by real people/real events. same goes for movies. she LOOOOVES documentaries, seriously, just put her in front of a documentary

her music taste is typical of a woman her age in NYC during the mid-90s: alanis morissette, ani difranco, tori amos, suzanne vega, fiona apple, as well as grunge/alt bands like nirvana, stone temple pilots, pearl jam, hole, the smashing pumpkins, NIN, etc. etc. etc...

facts about her and bo:

she and gio end up in louisiana during a road trip. gio is about to work abroad in paris and jen can't really take the chance to go with him, so they decide to do one last hurrah road trip up and down the coast

they end up taking backroads, etc, and avoiding the interstate because they want to take in more of the scenery. roll into ambrose following signs and hoping for gas.

(cont. below for length)

they split up looking for signs of life in the town; gio goes to the house of wax while jen goes in and out of a few shops, finds a bathroom, and generally wanders around confused. while she's doing this, bo emerges and clips their fanbelt - tried and true way of keeping people where he wants them. for good measure, he punctures their fuel injectors

jen comes back, tries to start the car. eventually runs into bo and thinks it's awful convenient that her car broke down just as a mechanic shows up. he tows her car and chats with her a while, but she's suspicious

meanwhile, giovanni is making friends in the house of wax. he sings and plays piano and vincent is transfixed. vincent can be just as vicious as bo, but he's still human, he's lonely. he decides to track down bo and talk about keeping this one, something he's never done before.

he and bo come to an agreement and carry out their plan, trapping the twins instead of murdering them right away. gio forms a quick emotional connection with vincent and begs for jen's life - at this point, he hasn't seen her since they split up. he doesn't know if she's even still alive. vincent takes it into consideration and tells bo

meanwhile, jen has been getting acquainted with the torture room. her treatment is light because he doesn't have her down there for very long before vincent chats with him, passing on gio's suggestion that the twins help out around the house and help keep the town going. it's getting hard to manage it all with 3 people, and lester works a lot

with some convincing, bo acquiesces and brings jen up to the house. she and gio are still not allowed to see each other at this point. she uses her brain and tries to subtly gain control of the situation, eventually manipulating bo into having sex with her. he has a lot of complicated, messy feelings about this and treats her like crap for a while

it isn't long until she confides in him (probably while he's threatening her) that he's not the only murderer between them. after her story, he gains a level of respect for her and eventually treats her better

jen and gio are eventually allowed to be reunited and jen eventually comes to care for bo

she doesn't want him to murder people. she has nothing against the people who come through town, and honestly, the whole wax things really disturbs her. bo is obviously super fucked up batshit crazy and deluded beyond anything she could ever fix, so she's not out to fix him, she's just out to make their relationship work

maybe that makes her evil, but that's none of her business. she's not getting in his way

that being said, she would probably try to get him to stop in little ways. at least get him to agree to making a wax town without all the bodies inside, or promise to stop after the town was full.

however that turns out, jen and bo have two sons: bowie (faceclaim: young rob lowe), then about five years later, vic (faceclaim: jonny devaney/@jauncydev from tiktok)

aside from the murder, ambrose just pisses jen off. it's not like the cities she's used to, and while a little country living is nice in moderation, she can't stand how far away everything is or the fact that there's no people. it's boring.

she spends most of her days cleaning up around the house and town, but once that's done, what better to do with all the time in the world than try and write that book she always wanted to write? bo even gets her a laptop when the typewriter pisses her off

she knows he prefers fiction, but every time she finishes a chapter, she prints it off and he reads it. he takes it surprisingly seriously and thinks she's a stellar writer, though he rarely compliments anyone verbally. he also likes feeling special, being the first one to read what she wrote... even if it never actually gets published

still, ambrose is boring. jen doesn't want to/can't leave bo, though, so when she's really worked up she vents her displeasure by working on a long-term project: building a 1:1 model of a M4A3 sherman tank. if bo sees her working on that tank, he knows he's gotta drive her into the city for a couple days or somethin'

they have a few differences in music taste but she comes to love bo's dad music, and he kinda sorta tries to understand her weird lesbo feminist music. they bond more on the alternative, grunge, and industrial. he's always trying to get her to sing, but she's uncharacteristically shy about it - gio's the singer, not her... she has a very nice voice, though

omg just imagine their books together. his small, torn, wrinkled and cracked to shit thriller/sci fi/horror paperbacks and her BIG ASS HARDCOVER tomes called stuff like "NAZIS ON SPEED: HITLER'S DRUG FUELED THIRD REICH" and "THE LAST LION: WINSTON CHURCHILL, DEFENDER OF THE REALM" .... i love them so much...

#jen #jen fournier #bo sinclair x jen fournier #bo sinclair x oc #bo sinclair x s/o #bo sinclair #slasher x oc #slasher oc

[anthrofreshtodeath]

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Inspiration struck last night 👀 - putting this here so you can let me know if it's worth continuing/if you would want to read more of it. Super AU!

Jane cut the engine of her Ford Ranger just outside the tiny strip mall off of Sixth Street. It had been a splurge just after she got brought on as the head baseball coach of Empire High School, a treat for herself for finally getting a big-person job and generating some regular income. Her mother had convinced her to do it, actually, because Jane had been on the fence for months, waffling so many times that Angela piled her in the family Buick and dropped her off at the dealership. Find your own way home, Angela had said, and it better be in that brand new truck.

Now, Jane was thankful for the push, because southern California summers in her old Civic with the busted A/C were no fucking joke. They were still no joke now, but at least she could blast cold air on her face when needed. Like now: even at six thirty in the morning, temperatures climbed above eighty in early August, and she settled into the discomfort of an already damp back. At least her front still looked fresh. She glanced in the rearview mirror one last time before she got out, taking off her adjustable black cap with her school’s insignia and smoothing the tied-back black hair on top of her head. Presentable and believable: a baseball coach with a ponytail and a Nike dri-fit short sleeve windbreaker over her t-shirt.

She hopped out, satisfied enough to not be looking like a hooligan, and when she planted her turf shoes, she could tell the asphalt was already on fire. The boys were gonna be whiny as hell this afternoon. That made her grin just a little bit. She ambled up to the donut shop-slash-panaderia on the corner, straightening her posture when the door jingled and signalled her entry.

The short, middle-aged woman with her graying hair in a bun and an apron around her waist brightened when Jane approached the counter. “Buenos días, Coach Rizzoli,” she greeted with a smile and voice so cheery, she’d obviously been up for hours already. Probably baking as Jane finished weight-lifting in her backyard before the sun came up.

Jane smiled softly in return. “Buenos días, señora Gutierrez,” Jane said, deferential even though at nearly 5’11”, she must have been almost a foot taller than Mrs. Gutierrez. “Como está?” Short Spanish phrases sounded pretty darn good in her mouth, she had to admit, for all the Sicilian she heard growing up, and for being a product of Santa Ana. Spanish was more common than English in a lot of her friends’ homes growing up, so she caught on quick. At least enough to carry on a polite conversation, if needed.

“Bien, gracias. Tengo sus conchas aquí,” Mrs. Gutierrez asked as disappeared behind the counter to find what she was looking for, Jane’s order, reappearing with six pink donut boxes.

Jane opened her nostrils wide to take in the smell of flour, sugar, and a hint of cinnamon for the white conchas, her favorite. It was enough to feed a small army, which felt just about right for the staff meeting she had been tasked with supplying breakfast for. The first of the new school year. “Qué bueno,” she replied, not sure if she was referring to Mrs. Gutierrez’s overall well-being or the pan in the boxes. She pulled out her cash to pay, slipping her wallet in her back pocket, and in the seconds that it took her to do that, a single, piping-hot styrofoam cup of coffee appeared on the counter in front of her.

“Y un cafecito come le gusta,” said Mrs. Gutierrez with a wink and a smile. Occasionally, she did this, and it was her way of taking care of Jane, one of their family’s best customers.

Jane had learned not to refuse it. She just blushed and bowed her head a little bit, her lips pursed in a bashful smile. “Muchisimas gracias,” she said, taking a sip. Mrs. Gutierrez always left the cinnamon stick in it and added minimal creamer, just how Jane liked. Jane held back a moan. She decided she’d partake of the rest in the car, and then pocketed her change.  She picked the boxes up by the string tied to them and huffed, ready to begin the day. “Y el Jonny?” she asked, and Mrs. Gutierrez nodded her head towards the back of the bakery.

Jane nodded and made her way toward the door so she could pop around. “Qué tenga un buen día, Coach,” Mrs. Gutierrez called after her.

“Igualmente!” Jane replied, already on her way. She deposited her haul on her front passenger seat, keeping her coffee in hand, and then walked over to the alley between the Gutierrez bakery and the block wall separating it from the Cardenas market just across the way. She put her hat back on, threading her ponytail through its opening, and adjusted her Oakley sunglasses as she stood by the dumpster that Jonathan Gutierrez currently filled with broken-down cardboard boxes.

He heard her shoes scuffling his way, so he turned. “Coach Rizzoli! It’s early as hell,” he said, “what’re you doing here?” He sweated through the ribbed tank on his torso and the black basketball shorts on his hips. Jane commiserated, having helped her dad out on many a plumbing job in the summer when she was in high school.

“Well, first day for teachers is today,” she said, sipping her drink. “And I had to get some of your mom’s pan for the meeting. They’d expect nothing less. I’m here lookin’ at you because she exhausted all my Spanish skills, and I needed to remind you that practice starts at one today.”

Jonny, as tall as her, lanky too, smirked. “I’m sure you could’ve found a way to say that to her,” he teased, knowing that she couldn’t have, not well.

“You’re a riot. One o’clock, and not a minute later, a’right? I will not hesitate to bench our centerfielder for opening day if he’s late,” she warned. Then she started to turn.

“That’s like seven months from now!” Jonny whined, setting his box cutter down and running a hand through his thick black hair. “I got work today! Last day before school starts next week!”

Jane rolled her eyes. “The perfect hair thing may work on the girls at school, kid, but it won’t work on me. Find a way to make it happen - if you get into Fullerton, it won’t be because I sent you, but because you did it on your own. Part of that means showing up to practice on time. Even in August.”

Jonny sighed. His mom would understand, but his wallet would be crying. “I’m tryna save up for a pickup like yours, though, Coach,” he tried, batting his eyes for extra sympathy.

Jane laughed, and then he did. “Listen. You show up for practice on time every day this year, and you and me’ll have a talk about replacing today’s wages for that new Ranger, a’right?”

“Ok,” Jonny said quietly. He knew that Jane knew they didn’t have much money. And he knew that she knew most everything about him - she meant what she said. She’d taken him under her wing when she’d noticed his boundless talent and his faltering attendance. When she found out it was to make enough money to keep him and his brother on the team, she’d covered the cost in full. That was two years ago, and now that Jonny was an incoming senior, they’d righted the ship together. There was only a little more to go until he applied to the school of his dreams, the one with the killer baseball program and just miles from home.

It didn’t hurt that Jane was the first woman to play ball there as a range-y second baseman, was eventually drafted from Fullerton. He wanted to follow in her footsteps as best he could. “Good. See you then, kid,” she said. He knew that she knew the best way for him to do that was to grind. To eat, sleep, drink, and shit baseball.

“Hey Coach!” He called after her as she made her way back into the alley.

She turned around. “What’s up?”

“I wanna focus on my forearms this year. Should I go the Altuve way?” he asked, smiling.

The Jose Altuve way: banging sledgehammers into tractor trailer tires. Jane guffawed. “I’m not saying do it, but I mean hey, guy’s 5’5” and hitting thirty dingers a year in The Show, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jonny said. “I’ll take it under advisement. Thanks,” and with that, he waved Jane off. She spent the rest of the ride to school thinking about how to safely incorporate forearm work into the team’s regimen in a way that didn’t involve sledgehammers.

The bread had made her truck smell like heaven, and it was the perfect olfactory accompaniment through the working class neighborhoods of Coronita Heights - the part that she felt more comfortable in. She’d grown up down the 91 in Santa Ana, one of Orange County’s most vibrant cities, and her street looked a lot more like these than the ones that Empire High School sat on.

But Empire was one of the top 15 baseball programs in the state, and she had jumped at the opportunity to coach when she’d been approached about it. She packed the few boxes from her parents’ house, used the rest of her signing bonus to put a nice down payment on a house in Coronita Heights, and hadn’t looked back. It had been good for her - she kept in shape, used that teaching credential she’d worked on at Fullerton to teach PE, and led the Knights to a CIF championship in the five years she had been there. She hunted another.

Soon, the burger joints, smoke shops, and insurance spots gave way to expensive houses and palm trees, and she saw the massive campus come into view. She hopped out of the truck once she parked near the office toward the front, downing her coffee and tossing it in the trash. She tugged her belt, looped through her white baseball pants, making sure the fit was good, and then she took the breakfast out.

Another school year was about to begin, and she was determined to make it a victorious one.

___

Maura smoothed her dress in the full-length mirror of her bedroom for what must have been the hundredth time. It was tasteful: sleeveless, dark blue, with a thin black patent-leather belt around its waist. She paired it with black heels, and she looked good. She knew, intellectually, that she did, but this happened every time she started something new: the nerves kicked in and she doubted herself. She curled her impeccably styled hair behind her right ear out of habit, and then made her way downstairs for breakfast.

Her palatial home in Anaheim Hills sat overlooking the city below, still sleepy at six-thirty in the morning. She was anything but, having already completed her run and entire grooming routine. She perused the options within her double door refrigerator, still quite imposing even under the expansive wooden beams on the ceiling that ran from wall to wall. She thought about eggs, protein always a good start to the day, but then remembered the expected temperature and decided a cold breakfast of yogurt and berries would be best.

Again, it was too hot for warm coffee, but the massive cold brew dispenser she had readied just a few days prior called her name and she filled a tumbler with it and her favorite almond milk creamer. She’d have one cup with breakfast and a refill for the road, as she always did from May to October. She reveled in routine; it was what helped her not to shake as she brought a spoonful of honey, dairy, and strawberry up to her lips.

Today, despite her several years of doctoring, would be her first job with the living since residency. In fact, it would be her first non-clinical job, well, ever. Even when she had volunteered for research, it had been in pathology labs, or oncology centers, or Alzheimer’s wards. Now, she would head the pilot program for a pre-med track at Empire High School. Well, pre-pre-med, she corrected herself. The point of the program was to prepare students from non-private and non-charter school backgrounds for the rigor of medical school. And, as a graduate of the Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, as well as Boston Cambridge University for undergraduate work, Coronita Heights Unified thought her very qualified to head its inception.

Maura was humble, so she did not consider that they also factored in her copious research articles within the field of pathology, nor her several awards from the Medical Board of California. But they did, and so today she started her teaching/counseling position that included Advanced Placement Anatomy and Physiology, as well as Advanced Placement Biology and an elective of honors molecular pathology to boot. She had negotiated that last one to retain a taste of her passion outside of teaching.

Satisfied both with her breakfast and her mulling, Maura rose from her stool at the kitchen island, its white marble counter still gleaming from its recent clean this weekend, and made her way to the sink. She rinsed her bowl, placed it in the dishwasher on the top rack with the others, and then washed her hands for twenty seconds. Soap on, palm scrub, back-of-the-hand scrub, webspace scrub, for as long as it took to hum happy birthday to herself, twice.

She reveled in routine.

She unscrewed the lid of her tumbler and placed it under the dispenser in the refrigerator again, watching dark coffee wash over ice cubes with pleasure. The properties of matter, their predictability and regularity, calmed Maura. She could predict where each rivulet would go with accuracy, and then watch the change of color with no surprise when she poured in her creamer. She could control how light or dark it became, and thus control its flavor. She savored that one last ounce of control before she screwed her lid back on and walked over to where her purse and rolling cart awaited her at the front door.

She took one last look behind her, at the open concept living room so large it needed a sectional couch that no one used because people hardly ever dropped by, at the kitchen with state-of-the-art, industrial appliances that often cooked meals for one. It was her home, even if all of that were true, and the way that the southern California sun poured in through her floor-to-ceiling windows thrilled her. It thrilled her the way it had the first time she set foot in LA, for her first day of classes. She let that embolden her as she locked the door and stepped into her S-Class.

Navigation popped up as soon the engine roared to life, already pre-programmed with the route to Empire High School. She saw the calculation of a twenty minute drive, rearranged a few numbers in her head as she thought about the day of the week, the time of the morning, and the unpredictability of the 91, and decided twenty minutes was probably just about right. She’d given herself a cushion for twenty-five, and with a glance to the men’s style cartier on her wrist, she smiled and pulled out of the garage towards the main drag that would lead her to the freeway.

She jumped out of nerves and surprise when the system notified her of a call coming in. She smirked when she saw the caller ID: Dr. Nina Holiday, Hoag Hospital. Maura pressed the call accept button. “Need a consult already, Doctor?” she teased, her own voice always just a bit foreign in the morning after not having heard it for hours.

Doctor Holiday scoffed on the line. “You wish,” she replied, and then there were beats of silence. “I just wanted to call to wish you good luck on your first day. And to see if you’d reconsider.”

“If this is Hoag’s way of trying to lure me back, by making their premier neurologist do all the dirty work, I think I’m going to have to pass,” Maura said, and Nina laughed.

“No, this is just a friend saying you’re gonna be missed is all,” said Nina. “But I respect what you’re doing.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Maura demured. “Pathology is in... very capable hands with Doctor Pike,” she said, and then immediately the two women guffawed.

“You couldn’t even get it out before you started laughing!” Nina asserted, “see? We’re up a creek with no paddle!”

“Whom the department decided to hire in my stead is not my business,” Maura replied professionally, “especially if they do not take my recommendations into account,” and then with more spice.

“You right, you right. And I know I said it before, but I respect you for this. I think my road to medicine might have been a lot easier if I had someone like you at my high school to guide me through,” Nina said seriously. “Just answer me something: you didn’t leave because of Ian, did you?”

Maura stiffened. She hadn’t wanted to think about that on her first day, but here Nina was, dredging it up. Maura wrung her hands on her steering wheel. “No. Not really,” she answered, and that was the truth. The timing of it all had just been awful.

“Ok. I just… with him being gone, I didn’t know if that would be better, or if you’d be haunted by ghosts, you know? If you stayed.”

“I think I needed a fresh start either way, Nina. I really do,” Maura said.

Nina took the hint that they were done talking about it. Her voice turned chipper again. “I’ve got a call at seven, so I have to go, but I’ll talk to you soon, ok? You can tell me all about your first week. Maybe over bottomless mimosas.”

Maura sighed with relief. She would need that. “Sounds great. Nina?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for calling. I’m… I’m going to miss you, too,” Maura confessed.

“Aw, Doctor Isles, don’t get all mushy on me,” gushed Nina. “Bye. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” Maura said after the line had gone dead.

Nina’s call had lasted most of the ride. Maura was grateful. Nina had been one of the few people to get to know her at Hoag. The hospital itself had a very competent staff. Excellent, really. And Maura was one of the best, so this led to a never-spoken, always-felt air of competition. It didn’t really lend itself to friendship. But Nina had consulted with Maura so often, that a comfortable working relationship eventually morphed into a casual friendship. That turned into drinks on the rare weeknights they had off and brunch on Sundays at some of the best spots in Orange County.

They promised to continue, and they would of course, but for the first time in their friendship, they didn’t work a floor away from each other, and Maura resolved that while she would do everything to keep it alive, she had to acknowledge the change. Fittingly, as soon as she did so, she drove into the staff parking lot at Empire High. Her new beginning.

Her welcome e-mail mentioned a staff meeting today, Friday, in the lecture hall at the front of the school, refreshments provided. So, she pulled next to the gunmetal gray Ford Ranger to her right, and gathered her things. Her cart could wait until they were dismissed to ready their classrooms, so she deposited her fob into her purse and sipped on her coffee for fortitude as she followed the sidewalk pathway past the front office to the lecture hall. She had mapped out the route when she had found out about the meeting, deciding that touring campus on her own before she began would reduce her anxieties, as well as the possibility of unknown factors. It was also why she had arrived right on time: early meant possible one-on-one conversations with strangers, and late meant all eyes on her as she hustled in.

She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head when she reached the glass double doors of the hall, and breathed in one last time. It was a big, 360 degree breath: it engaged her pelvic floor and spread her ribs equally. It lowered her pulse and calmed her nerves, and then she was ready.

When she entered, she heard chatter. Lots of it. When she turned the corner and yanked open the wooden door of the room itself, she was shocked to see what looked like most of the staff already deep in conversation in their seats. Some stood, others stretched their legs over a couple of seats at once, some laughed and some nodded seriously. For a moment, Maura panicked, then checked her watch again. She felt her heartbeat fall a little bit when she looked up to the front and realized that no-one had started the meeting. In fact, there was a small line at the sign-in sheet, so she decided that rather than have a breakdown in the walkway, she should join the line.

She mustered as much courage as she could and stood behind the last woman, who smiled at her politely. Maura smiled back and thanked whatever powers that be that the woman didn’t try to engage. The line moved quickly, and staff members grabbed what looked like sweet bread just off to the side of the table as they signed in. She forewent the sugar and decided just to take the requisite printouts instead. By then, things started to feel a little more like a normal job orientation, so she turned on her heels to make her way back to the crowd.

The confident turn ended up being another mistake, however, because as she started to walk, she saw no openings. It was like the middle of a very bad dream, in which she needed so desperately to blend in, but all she could do was stand out. She felt eyes on her as she passed tables full of other adults, she heard conversations quiet and alter when she walked by.

However, just as she was about to give up and stand all the way in the back, someone called out. “Hey,” the voice was firm, raspy, and kind. She turned instantly and it kept talking. “You need a spot? I was savin’ this one for my brother, but, big shocker, he’s late.” Seated at a table in the middle of the hall with an all-white backpack on the empty chair next to her, two aluminum bat handles sticking out on either side of it, was… “Oh, and I’m Jane. Rizzoli. By the way.”

Jane Rizzoli. Maura thought the name fitting. Jane was so tall and so dark-featured and so handsome that she needed an Italian surname. And by god, she had one. One with a trilled-r and a plural i and everything: it was perfect for her in the way that all its sounds signified abundance. Maura’s mind rambled and she caught it; she wasn’t even sure how the phonotactic rules of Italian applied to Jane’s physicality, but they did, and Maura sat next to her without hesitation. She chanced one glance to the length of Jane’s torso as she curled to put her elbows on the table, and then she met Jane’s dark brown eyes.

It was then that she realized that Jane probably awaited some kind of response. “Maura Isles,” said Maura, holding her hand out. Jane shook it and Maura was not at all surprised by the firmness of the shake.

“Hey Maura. I’m uh, I’m the head baseball coach here. I also teach PE,” Jane explained. Then she looked down at herself, her uniform and the bats in the backpack now on the floor. “But you probably guessed that.”

Maura smirked, and laughed softly. “I don’t like to guess. It puts people in awkward positions. But I would say there’s lots of evidence to that fact, yes.”

Jane laughed openly and then took her hat off. “Well, I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you’re the hotshot doctor that they hired for our new pre-med pipeline.”

Maura raised a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “And why would you assume that?”

“You talk like a doctor. And you dress better than everyone else in this room. Real doctor-y,” Jane wagged her own eyebrows up and down.

Maura watched Jane’s crooked grin, rapt. “One…” she began slowly, “doctor-y is not a word. Two, what if I were independently wealthy and taught, oh say, English?”

Jane shrugged. “Words are made up. And are you? Independently wealthy?”

Maura’s mouth twitched in humor. “Yes,” she answered. Jane threw her head back in defeat. “But, I am also the doctor piloting the pre-med program here.”

Just like that, the slender column of Jane’s neck brought her head forward again. “Thought so!” she said. Just as she did, The man who Maura knew from his photo online as the school principal walked in. People started to hush as he made his way to the front podium. Even she turned her attention, until there was the distinct warmth of whispering by her ear that dismantled all other thoughts. Jane was speaking. “Well, Dr. Isles,” she responded, “welcome to Empire High, then.”

#rizzoli and isles #rizzles #lauren writes rizzoli and isles fan fiction #the high school teachers baseball California AU no one asked for lmao #not sure if it's too niche or if there'll be interest for it #but it feels like if I do continue it it should be long? #idk we'll see

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mission of Mercy: Five

“Bucky,” you protest, “I’m okay.”

Bucky frowned and tilted your chin up, wanting to get a better look at your busted lip and gently dabbed at it with his now damp handkerchief. “I guess that answers my question about what you actually do,” he said, keeping his voice very, very quiet. He didn’t trust himself not to yell. He wanted to shake you until your teeth rattled. And then kiss you stupid. And then maybe shake you again. 

He was so happy you were alive but… furious at you for running headlong into the fight to start with. In his mind’s eye, he could see an old man. Standing at his window and mourning another lost loved one. His shoulders were bowed and there was a cup. A leather cup on the table that held dice. And he couldn’t make himself put them away. But he couldn’t look at them either. For some absurd reason, that bothered him more than the thought he might have lost you. Or that your mother would have to bury… or pretend to bury another child. 

You don’t answer him, looking away. It was true, you had a specific specialty. You could talk. And not just talk. You could read people so well that you could get inside their heads. Make them believe you already knew things you had no earthly way to know…And now Bucky knew that you could do it. Something that you weren’t sure how to feel about. You didn’t advertise your talents… nor did you use them terribly often. But. You could understand why Bucky might be… reticent to spend much more time around you than he had to. And you could feel yourself bracing for a “let’s be friend’s speech” or a cold, brooding silence. 

The man watched you avert your eyes to the dirt and dust that coated your hands. And having seen you in action, he was acutely aware of two things. You were dangerous and most importantly, if he’d kept his mouth shut, the building would not have exploded. 

__________

Across the lot Sam meant to start forward. He meant to talk to you. Or Pull Bucky away from you, he wasn’t sure. The other man looked quietly furious and Sam felt a knee jerk reaction to protect you. Even if he knew you didn’t need it. 

But. Steve threw an arm across his chest and shot him a warning look, mindful of Bucky’s hearing. And Sam felt himself relax. It was good to know that he wasn’t the only one paying attention. And as Sam glanced around, taking a second to take his eyes off of you, he noticed that a lot of people were watching. Albeit, a lot less obviously. 

_____________

For a long time. Bucky was quiet. And you let it be. Letting it stretch out ahead of you like unspooling ribbon. Letting him think. But when he finally did speak, you started. 

“I think it’s safe to say I’m not the weirdest person in this relationship,” Bucky said, smiling a little.  And you chanced looking up at him.

Bucky kissed you gently on the forehead, mindful of a wicked spot of road rash near your hairline. “You’re a 105 and have a metal arm,” you protest, smiling a little. “I just cold read like a shitty fake psychic.”

“That’s more than cold reading, Darlin’,” he said softly, brushing a metal thumb against your cheek. “That man didn’t stand a chance… until I opened my dumbass mouth.”

“You’re not mad at me?” you ask him. 

“Furious with you,” he chuckled, “But. Not because you can get in people’s heads. What the fuck were you doing, doing it without backup?”

“They always send me in alone… Or mostly alone,” you answer. “It can get pretty upsetting to watch me find pressure points. We had a rookie agent take a shot at me once… So.”

Bucky frowned, “What- no. Not anymore they don’t.”

“Bucky,” you caution.

‘No,” Bucky said softly, “I’m pulling rank. Sam or I are going with you from now on. ‘Specially now that I know to shut up.”

“But-”

“He’s got a point, Y/N.”

Steve’s voice makes you both turn and you sigh, “Steve-”

“No really,” Steve said smiling a little, “If we’re sending you in unarmed, you need some kind of backup.”

“I’m never unarmed,” you snorted. 

“Maybe not,” Steve chuckled, “But you can’t exactly talk to a bullet.”

“I can talk to the person firing it… Or better. Let them talk. Talking people usually aren’t shooting.”

Bucky sighed and pulled you against his chest, resting his chin against the top of your head. Steve made a tactful retreat and Bucky kissed the top of your head. “I thought I lost you for a second,” he said softly. 

“I’m like a bad penny,” you say smiling a little, “You can’t get rid of me.”

Bucky couldn’t say anything to that. He just tightened his grip on you and kissed the top of your head again. Thankful that you had gotten out of the way. Thankful for the adrenaline that had let him throw rubble away from where you had been standing. And for the rest of his life, he’d never forget the relief that washed over him when you picked your way carefully over the debris, coughing and dazed. 

“I called your mom.”

Sam’s voice was the next one to make the two of your tun and you groaned. 

“Why?”

“A fucking building came down on your head,” he groused, “And for about 10 minutes we figured you were under it.”

“Sam-”

“She’s your emergency contact!”

“Did you get her on the phone?”

“I left her a voice mail and told her to call me,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

You snort and exhale slowly, “She’s probably most of the way into her margarita at the swim-up bar. I’ll talk to her tomorrow too.”

Bucky frowned but didn’t say anything. He knew, of course that your relationship with your mother was… strained to put it lightly. Though. When he said he knew, he only knew from overheard snippets of phone calls. Even if private, you never talked too much about your family. Not of the brother that you lost or the dad you never really knew… if you knew him at all. And not of your mom. The closest thing Bucky got to gossip or real information was the little things that Sam or Joe had told him. Or rather… let slip out of your earshot. But. Regardless. He filed this away for later. It was one more piece of the puzzle that made up who you are.

#Bucky x reader #winter soldier #Steve Rogers #sam wilson #hurt/comfort #fluff #angst

[365days365movies]

April 12, 2021: Mrs. Doubtfire (1992) (Recap)

Hey, Robin Williams. Been a while.

I’m sorry that I haven’t watched your movies for a while, and that I always skip your comedy stand-up when my phone’s on shuffle. I just...let me explain. Since I was a kid, you were one of my favorite entertainers. That might as well have started the day I was born, because...well, we share a birthday, fun fact. But it definitely continued with the first movie I ever saw in theatres.

While I don’t quite remember the first time I saw it, Aladdin was one of my favorite childhood movies, and I knew that you were the voice of the Genie from an early age. You might have actually been the first actor I ever knew by name. Which makes sense, because your stardom during the ‘90s was nearly unparalleled.

The next film I remember seeing (and hearing) you in was Ferngully: The Last Rainforest. That also starred Tim Curry, who would also be a major figure of my childhood. It also wasn’t the best movie, in hindsight, but it is the only time I’ve heard you rap since.

But eventually, I watched your forays into live-action, too. Jumanji, Hook, even the objectively bad Flubber, are all movies that I vividly remember watching during childhood. I was really excited for Flubber, even, and I LOVED Jumanji growing up. I liked Hook, too, but I appreciated that more as I got older.

Of course, during this time period, you also made less family-friendly films. The Fisher King, Good Will Hunting, Dead Poets Society, Good Morning Vietnam, and What Dreams May Come were all very successful, and cemented your reputation as an actor. I also haven’t seen any of them. In fact...I don’t think I’ve seen any of your dramatic roles, and that’s something that I’ll fix this year. Hell, in a few days, I’ll watch The Birdcage, another of your big hits of the ‘90s.

But why haven’t I seen them up to now? Well...I was going to watch these films, about seven years ago. But...I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. Because it hurts. A lot.

I know that this is a downer, but my relationship with Robin Williams today is tainted by his tragic death. I was fucking BROKEN when his death was announced, and I really haven’t been able to watch him since. I’ve seen Aladdin recently, but that’s about all I could stand to watch. I mean, the guy shares a birthday with me! I’ve always loved his comedy stylings, and his improvisational skills are something I’ve internalized to a certain degree.

So, yeah. This one’s tough. But, it’s about time I moved on, and celebrated the man’s career for what it was: stellar. And that also brings up an important question, that some of you have probably asked by now:

HOW HAVE I MISSED MRS. DOUBTFIRE, WHAT THE FUCK

I KNOW I KNOW OK?

Look, I’m not entirely sure how I haven’t seen this movie, because I’m MORE than aware of it! I remember it airing during the ‘90s, my Dad AND girlfriend love this movie, and I know FOR A FACT that my family owned both the DVD AND THE VHS of this movie! So, how? HOW HAVE I NOT SEEN IT BY NOW?

I honestly have no idea, but let’s fix it now, huh? Yet one more man-dresses-as-woman movie this month! And no, I am not watching White Chicks...because I’ve already seen White Chicks. Also, it’s...problematic.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

 Recap

Daniel Hillard (Robin Williams) is a voice-actor, and a good one. Which, given that it’s Robin Williams, isn’t entirely inaccurate. He’s also a voice actor with a spine, as he morally objects to a scene in the cartoon that he’s performing for, in which the main character smokes. By the way, I’m 99% sure that this cartoon is animated by Chuck Jones, and it looks well-made.

Anyway, this leads to him quitting the cartoon altogether, and allows him to pick up his kids early from school. These kids are Lydia (Lisa Hykub), Chris (Matthew Lawrence), and Natalie (Mara Wilson), and it’s Chris’ 12th birthday. Daniel arranges a...surprisingly large party, given that it’s completely impromptu, and it comes with a petting zoo and complete trappings. However, it’s not a party of which his wife will approve.

This wife is Miranda (Sally Field), a successful architect and the breadwinner of the family. After getting a call from the neighbor about the party, she comes home and busts the outrageous party. And for the record, I’m entirely on Miranda’s side here. This party is INSANE, and very irresponsible, given the fact that Daniel currently has no job. And yeah, he’s a very loving father, and a good person, but...it’s too much.

Miranda feels the same, and after 14 years of frustration, she realizes that she no longer loves Daniel. In a genuinely sad scene, she tells him that she wants a divorce. And she goes through with it MUCH to Daniel’s detriment. He has no home, as he’s staying with his brother, Frank (Harvey Fierstein) and his partner Jack (Scott Capurro). He also still has no job, meaning that he has no way to provide for his children. This means that he has no ability to provide, and the judge awards Miranda full custody. Oof.

However, this is a conditional arrangement, as another hearing for joint custody will be held in 3 months, and if Daniel can get a home and job in that time, he has a chance. He performs a litany of voices and impressions with his court liason, Mrs. Sellner (Anne Haney), which amuses me, but not her, and he gets a job in order to be with his kids for more than one day a week.

Meanwhile, Miranda IMMEDIATELY starts dating fellow designer and old flame Stuart Dunmeyer (Pierce Brosnan), like, almost before Daniel leaves the house. He bids a heartfelt goodbye to his kids, with the promise that he’ll see them on Saturdays. And now begins the absolute hatred and petty bitchiness of Daniel and Miranda! Seriously, it’s...it’s fucking terrible, and it takes away from my sympathy from either side. I get that divorce is rough and ugly, but GODDAMN, neither of them perform the act with any form of tact or grace.

This is put on display during the kids’ visitation to Daniel’s semi-crappy new apartment, which doesn’t even seem that bad, to be honest. Miranda dropped them off late and picked them up early, as if to slowly starve Daniel of time with his kids, which is extraordinarily shitty of her, fuck me. Daniel’s not taking it well, understandably, but then does something...really dumb, when you think about it.

See, Miranda’s looking for a nanny, to help watch the kids and clean the house during the week. Daniel volunteers his services, which is actually a good idea, but Miranda says she’ll think about it, which we ALL know means no. I DO NOT like Miranda, even if I understand the initial reasons for the divorce. She’s being especially spiteful, and it’s not a good look.

Daniel’s stupid idea, though, is to change the phone number on the ad for the nanny, which Miranda shows him before she takes the kids. Instead, he calls her number, and pretends to be various terrible applicants, until finally supplying his own applicant: the completely fictional Euphegenia Doubtfire (Daniel Hillard).

Daniel plays Mrs. Doubtfire as an elderly British woman, and a seasoned nanny in her day. Which is why it’s weird to me that, when he does to Frank and Jack to help him make an elaborate disguise as Mrs. Doubtfire, that they go through various other impressions and get-ups. Which, yes, is goddamn hilarious, but also makes NO SENSE, given that they’ve already established her character to Miranda. Funny, but nonsensical.

But, regardless, Euphegenis Doubtfire comes into being, and introduces herself to Miranda and the kids. Mrs. Doubtfire is exactly what Miranda’s looking for, although the kids aren’t exactly overjoyed, ESPECIALLY the oldest, Lydia. Also, during this first meeting, Miranda openly bad-mouths Daniel in front of the kids, in just the WORST fuckin’ way. I genuinely dislike Miranda A LOT. Again, the divorce was certainly justified, but I REALLY don’t like her. Daniel loves his kids, and they’re HIS kids, TOO. Stop using them as weapons against him, OOOOOOOOOOOH I DON’T LIKE MIRANDA

Anyway, that evening, after she’s officially been hired by Miranda, Mrs. Doubtfire heads home, only to find court liason Mrs. Sellner waiting to speak with Daniel. After a litany of puns, and a humorous changing scene, Daniel accidentally throws the Mrs. Doubtfire mask out of the window, and is forced to improvise through equally humorous circumstances. Hence, the above meringue mask scene. Has anybody tried that, by the way? Could that work as a groundbreaking beauty technique? Or would the sugar just feed the skin bacteria and give you acne? Genuinely curious.

Now going between his job as Daniel and the nanny job as Doubtfire, Daniel’s not doing too badly for himself. The nanny job begins, and Mrs. Doubtfire IMMEDIATELY contrasts with Daniel, creating a disciplinarian atmosphere in place of Daniel’s formerly loosey-goosey attitude. Which is interesting, and it works! I mean, it’s not how I would parent, but it does work. Doubtfire makes the kids to their homework, rather than watch TV, and then attempts to make dinner. Instead, though, the dinner’s ruined, and Daniel orders takeout and makes it LOOK like homemade food. And it looks good, too! Daniel’s full of hidden talents.

After dinner, as Mrs. Doubtfire’s leaving, Lydia apologizes for backtalking her earlier, and thanks her for making her mom happy with everything she did that evening. he also says that she’s still a bit messed up about her dad being gone. And yeah, it’s sweet-but-sad. 

Going forward (and in a montage set to Aerosmith’s Dude Looks Like a Lady), Mrs. Doubtfire takes care of the family, and Daniel even betters himself to become a better Mrs. Doubtfire. Which...to be honest, Daniel REALLY should’ve done this before. I get that he needed the pressure of losing the kids to do this, but...look, Daniel really wasn’t that responsible of a parent, and the fact that THIS is how he learns to be so is...not great. Like, here’s an example, OK: take Donald Trump.

Yeah, I know, what’s this politics doing in my peanut butter? And WOW, that reference is older than me, but anyway. Let’s say that, in two years, a new politician comes on the scene, and her name is Karyn Walldottir. She has somewhat centrist views, and behaves in a way that’s inclusive to the majority, and backs up her claims and promises with evidence (at least true enough for us to suspend our disbelief). This is, of course, Donald Trump disguised as a woman in order to gain custody of the United States of America again. Naturally.

Karyn Walldottir gets elected in 2024, and all of her policies are markedly different from Trump’s and Biden’s, but leaning closer to Biden in progressive standpoints (assuming that that worked for him come 2024). While Trump is doing this specifically to be president again, he ends up revising his personal policies, and being a better person and president for the country. A literal impossibility, I know. But suspend your disbelief to ask this question:

WHY THE FUCK WOULDN’T HE DO THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!

OK, now that that dumbass (and mildly horrifying) thought process is concluded, let’s get back to Mrs. Doubtfire. In the process of Mrs. Doubtfire’s ingratiation with the family, Miranda’s been dating Stu, whom Mrs. Doubtfire subtly insults when they meet. And yeah, Daniel’s being a little petty here, but it makes a bit of sense at least.

That night, after an accidental intrusion by Chris when Mrs. Doubtfire is going to the bathroom, Daniel’s basically forced to tell Chris and Lydia his little secret, which Lydia’s happy about, but Chris is understandably weirded out about. But, they agree to keep the secret from their mom and younger sister.

At his OTHER job, delivering film reels from a TV station, he witnesses the filming of an extremely boring kids educational TV show, and comments as such to another man watching. As he quickly learns, this is the owner of the station, Jonathan Lundy (Robert Prosky), on whom Daniel makes a good impression.

In the meantime, Mrs. Doubtfire has a talk with Miranda about their love lives, real and fictional. Daniel realizes how badly Miranda had been suffering in their marriage, which she never told him because...well, he never seemed to take anything seriously. Which is entirely fair...but this is why Miranda’s a tricky-ass character. She’s got two sides: there’s the justified caring mother and strong woman, and there’s the PETTY ASSHOLE who genuinely doesn’t care about Daniel or his feelings AT ALL. Jesus.

And Stu...look, Stu is LITERALLY a Gary Stu, who’s mostly perfect. Sure, he’s not always been that way, but he definitely is now! He’s responsible, wealthy, in love with Miranda AND her kids. And yeah, at a country club that he’s a member of (OF COURSE he is), he privately badmouth Daniel in front of Mrs. Doubtfire, calling him a loser, and...yeah, he’s not really unjustified in that statement. Fact of the matter is, Stu is barely even a plot device.

Meanwhile, in Daniel’s day job, he finds himself alone in the studio, where the toy dinosaurs from the TV show are still sitting on the table. He plays with them, gives them voices, sings some songs, and impresses Mr. Lundy, who’s there in the shadows after all that. He’s impressed, and invites Daniel to dinner to talk about a potential future show at the network.

But then, it’s also Miranda’s birthday coming up, and Stu’s holding a dinner for her, to which Mrs. Doubtfire is invited. Trouble is, it’s at the OH FUCK IT. YOU know what this is. It’s at the same time and place as the Mr. Lund meeting yaddayaddayadda LOOK. We ALL know how this is going to end. It’s the GODDAMN LIAR REVEALED TROPE AGAIN. And here’s the thing:

I FUGGIN’ HAAAAAATE THE LIAR REVEALED TROPE

You know, that thing in movies (especially family movies of the ‘90s) where somebody starts off a situation with a lie, they get deeper and deeper into that lie, grow close to people under false pretenses, and then OH NO! THE LIAR IS REVEALED! And everybody’s angry and/or sad, the liar slumps off, defeated and broken, but then realizes the error of his ways, while everybody else realizes the same thing, and he comes back to vindicate himself, and is welcomed back with open arms. And it introduces unneeded tension AND I HAVE ALWAYS FUCKING HATED IT.

Let’s list the examples, shall we? A Bug’s Life, Aladdin, Mulan, The Road to El Dorado, Chicken Run, How to Train Your Dragon, Klaus, Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted, Megamind (SUBVERSIVE MY ASS), Over the Hedge, Rango, Toy Story, Steven Universe (the whole Pearl/Sardonyx arc, which went on for WAY too long), the list goes on and fucking on. And I GODDAMN HATE IT. Not to say it can’t be done well. Disney actually usually does a pretty good job with it, and Dreamworks uses it A LOT, but almost always pretty well. But sometimes...GOD. Either way, it’s still used FAR too fucking much. And look. Here’s another one. Joy.

Look, at this point...I will freely admit that I'm biased against this trope, but it’s also obvious where this is headed. Basically, Daniel switches back and forth between the dinner with the family, and the dinner with Mr. Lundy. With Mr. Lundy, he gets absolutely SMASHED. Great. Great decision, Daniel.

So, yeah, Mrs. Doubtfire’s also smashed, which is pretty goddamn apparent to them all. At this point, I’m wondering why Daniel, as Mrs. Doubtfire, didn’t just say she was sick as hell, and had to go home. Or, considering the fact that Daniel proposes her as a show idea regardless, the switch wasn’t even necessary! And that means that none of what’s about to happen, happens. Or, here’s a crazy thought, maybe Daniel shouldn’t have POISONED STU’S FOOD WITH CAYENNE PEPPER THAT HE’S ALLERGIC TO! 

YEAH! Because that causes Stu to go into anaphylactic shock for a hot sec, causing him to choke. Mrs. Doubtfire does the right thing and gives him the Heimlich maneuver, and in the process, SURPRISE! IT’S BEEN DANIEL ALL ALONG! BUH BUH BUHHHHH DA DA DA DAAAAA DA

Yeah, so Miranda is understandably ENRAGED by this revelation, and it’s all over. Daniel represents himself in court at the custody hearing, but the judge deems his “lifestyle” dangerous for children. Which...yikes, Judge, that statement didn’t age well AT FUCKING ALL. But, given Daniel’s admitted stupidity with this whole idea, he’s not wrong about the dangerous part. But, I have to say, Daniel’s speech in his own defense is nice...although he also says he’s addicted to his children, so let’s throw a second yikes on there for good measure.

The speech moves Miranda...but not enough to prevent Daniel has his custody stripped away from him! GOD THEY BOTH SUUUUUUUUCK. Daniel’s a broken man, and Miranda and the kids are similarly broken without him and Mrs. Doubtfire. However...Daniel’s career isn’t broken AT ALL, as Mrs. Doubtfire is now a kid’s show host! Yeah! And she’s a hit! And again, it brings me to wonder why Daniel DIDN’T APPLY HIS OBVIOUS TALENTS LIKE THIS IN THE FIRST GODDAMN PLACE

Realizing that she made a mistake, she goes to the set during the filming of a show. She congratulates him on the show, and he replies by stating how broken he is now! Thanks, Miranda! Well, after an argument, and after Miranda sees how badly she’s messed up someone she used to care for, they come to an agreement: joint custody. FINALLY GODDAMN IT

And good, because I don’t want them back together. I have to give this film props for that: they acknowledge that these two are NOT good for each other, and they deliver a message in the end: families are families, no matter how they’re shaped. One mom, one dad, uncle or aunt, grandparents, adoption, two separated or divorced parents...oh, also, two dads or two moms. Yeah, that isn’t said in Mrs. Doubtfire’s final monologue, which is odd considering Daniel’s brother and his life partner...but it’s also kid’s TV in the ‘90s, so I guess that sadly makes sense. And with that, and their new family arrangement, Daniel takes his kids on an afternoon out, as himself.

...Look. That’s Mrs. Doubtfire, yaddayaddayadda LOOK. I don’t dislike this movie. In fact, here: have this mini-Review:

Cast and Acting - 9/10: Good, although Brosnan was a little stiff.

Plot and Writing - 5/10: It’s an idiot plot, what can I say? It’s actually based off of a book, which was a surprise to me, but it was adapted by Randi Mayem Singer and Leslie Dixon, and...eh. Still an idiot plot.

Directing and Cinematography - 8/10: It’s Chris Columbus, you get what you get. Definitely has that Home Alone flair to it.

Production and Art Design - 8/10: I mean, yeah, the Doubtfire disguise was good most of the time, but...I dunno, I could still tell it was Robin. But, still, it was good. Took 4 hours of makeup, fun fact.

Music and Editing - 8/10: Music by Howard Shore (ooh, Howard Shore!) was pretty nice, especially the ending theme. Editing by Raja Gosnell was...RAJA GOSNELL???

OH GOD. Yeah, OK, I see what happened here. Also, I didn’t know he was an editor! I just know him as the director of the Scooby-Doo films, Beverly Hills Chihuahua, The Smurfs films, Big Momma’s...

...OK, no, I am not doing Big Momma’s House OR the Madea movies. THE TROPE-BUCK STOPS HERE! I am moving on to something else! But, of course, I have to sum this up in a Review. See you there!

#mrs. doubtfire #mrs doubtfire #chris columbus #robin williams #sally field #pierce brosnan #harvey fierstein #robert prosky #mara wilson #comedy april #user365 #365days365movies #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #moviegifs

[khadij-al-kubra]

Worst Impressions are the First (ch 7)

Main Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil (Human AU)

Pairings: Romantic LAMP

Word Count: 5036

AO3

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Author’s (longer than usual but it’s for good reason) Note: *The Apocalypse—2020. Zoom in on a plague rat turned writer. She has survived thesis projects, getting a Master’s degree, burnout, writing and illustrating a children’s book, being a slave for the U.S. census bureau, months of overthinking anxiety spirals, and one or two incidents involving an asshole skunk. But now, battle weary yet unwavering in her love of art and love for her loyal readers, this onesie-clad tea slurping book dragon....has finally arisen from the ashes*

I LIVE BITCHES!!!!!!! And I am SO SORRY for taking so long!!! I’ve been hard at work, been editing like a mad woman, and I even have a beta now! The gorgeous and talented @humbletortoise So I  am OFFICIALLY off hiatus!!! *cue confetti canon* 

Also, one of the biggest reasons I’ve taken so long to update is because I’ve spent the past month or so essentially retconning the fuck outta this fic. I realized looking back at earlier chapters in this story that, although I was proud of them at the time and greatly appreciate the positive reactions, they were...not my best work. (shitty first drafts if I’m being honest) That’s because, at the time, I was trying to split my attention between writing this fic and working on grad school stuff, which resulted in my writing for this not being as best of quality as it could have been upon first posting. This story deserves my best, and so do all of you. So now I hope to give you that. 

I encourage you to go back and re-read the previous chapters up till now (trust me, they’re near unrecognizable to the first drafts, but in the best way). Or if you don’t feel like doing that, you can just continue on from here. totally cool. For the sake of convenience and my own sanity, I’ll attach the AO3 Link to this fic from the start. I may also start just posting chapter updates on tumblr but only have the link to the chapter and add my reader tags. Again, for the sake of my sanity because Tumblr is a bastard when it comes to posting fics. (Also PLEASE let me know if there are any tagging issues if anyone’s on my tags list; yet another reason i’m considering just linking my fics in the future)

Anywho, without further ado, at LOOOOOONG last, here is the next chapter!

Chapter 7 - (POV Roman)

When Roman had offered to walk with Logan to class, it was only partly out of an innate sense of chivalry; a side of himself that he rarely got to show on account of being a socially awkward gay disaster. Though mainly, he saw it as a chance to get to know his second soulmate better.

He certainly hadn’t expected two long minutes of civil but silent walking. Well, as silent as a stroll through their school could be with its usual racket buzzing around them. With a vocabulary as big as the continents of Africa and Eurasia combined, you’d think Logan would be more of a conversationalist. Alas. He merely walked in step with Roman. They glanced over at each other every so often, but Logan stayed tight lipped and seemingly impassive; fiddling with his bumblebee hair pin every now and again. Damn. Looked like he was going to have to make the first move.

Roman was bad at this. How did people usually…Oh yeah, common interest. That’s a thing. He wracked his brain for some sort of ice breaker. One that’d make him look cool and calm or, something, in front of Logan. He was a fairly decent student though not quite mathletes level. He could compliment his outfit maybe? Was that too forward? Too shallow? Maybe he could find common ground? That was as good a place to start as any.

“So! So uhh…What kind of music do you like?” Roman asked. Yeah, that’s good. Everybody likes music.

Logan glanced at him. “Can you be more specific?”

Roman’s brow furrowed. “I mean, like, your favorite genre of music to listen to?”

“Classical,” said Logan in a clipped tone.

“That’s cool. I don’t really listen to classical myself.”

Logan only hummed, his face neutral. Roman was really hoping for more than that. A few awkward seconds passed, then Logan spoke up.

“Are you perhaps a fan of the classic Sherlock Holmes novels?” He inquired.

“Um, I haven’t gotten around to the books yet, actually,” Roman said, scratching his earlobe. “I mean, I’ve heard great things about them. And I’m a big fan of the Robert Downey Jr. movies.”

“Ah. I see.” Logan said, giving him the judgiest side eye.

Come on, Roman thought. Give me something to work with. “Oh! What about theater?”

“What a frustratingly vague inquiry.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to get to know my soulmate a little better.” Ay come jode, work with me here, man!

Logan sighed. “While I understand and appreciate your intention, I believe ‘getting to know someone’ as you put it, requires a certain level of specificity. Anything less indicates a somewhat shallow level of sincere interest, and I greatly despise shallow conversation. That said, if you’re inquiring as to whether or not I enjoy theater, no. I don’t understand the concept of professional make believe, though I appreciate it as an art form. I assume you’re a fan?”

Is he seriously implying I’m shallow? Roman groused, pushing his red frames up the bridge of his nose. Ugh, forget it Roman. He’s throwing you a bone here. Take it.

“Obviously,” said Roman, gesturing dramatically. “I mean I’m no actor—Eesh. No. Yikes—but everything about the artform enthralls me. And I like all kinds of genres and eras of plays, from Shakespear to Ruhl, but musicals are by far my favorite, because like, there’s so much you can do with them design wise. I mean just look at how groundbreaking Hamilton was.”

For a second, Logan’s face actually softened, his eyes lighting up. But just as Roman thought they were finally about to make some progress, his stony companion was back to wearing that platinum puss.

“Ah. How… original.”

Roman blinked. “Are you saying my tastes are basic?”

“Well, yes.”

Augh! Okay. Yep. I don’t like him. Patton was going to be so disappointed, and Roman was too. He’d wanted so badly to get along with all his soulmates, but Logan was a snob! Way less intimidating than Virgil and his ilk, but still a jerk. I wonder if soulmarks can make typos or something? Thank the stars they’d already arrived.

Roman and Logan filed in with the rest of the class for seventh period. Somebody had the liberty of opening a window– the AC was still busted in this classroom– so for once there was actually a decent breeze cutting through the usual mucky Florida humidity. Still smelled like it would probably rain later. Good thing Roman had packed an umbrella just in case, Mom’s orders. His hair looked too good today to be wrecked by frizz.

Roman took a seat at his desk, running distracted fingers over the carved letters in the wood while he mulled over his predicament. Just look at him over there, thought Roman as he glared at Logan, not two rows away from him. Sitting with his hands clasped on the desk all smug—of course he’d be near the front—and with such disturbingly good posture. What is he, a robot? Who is he to call my interests basic, the NERVE! And okay, sure, like Hamilton, sometimes I get over excited and shoot off at the mouth. But great Zeus, does that guy show passion for ANYTHING besides academics? Roman blew a raspberry, plopping his head in his hands.

He always thought soulmates were supposed to get along, even as just friends for life. Balancing each other out, bringing out the best in you and forming a deep connection—that was the whole point. He sighed to himself. Cymbals clashed less than he and Logan did.

He was stirred from his brooding by the bell. Apparently Mr. ‘Call-me-Terrence’ Williams had materialized without him noticing. Okay fine, he should probably pay more attention, but he was having a crisis here.

“Afternoon everyone,” Terrence greeted in that measured, upbeat tone of his.  

He draped his navy blue blazer over the back of his desk chair and rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbows. Roman pitied the poor guy;  he had to teach sauna of a classroom all day. He could see the glisten of sweat on his teacher's smooth forehead as he wrote things on the board. Yet he still kept a pleasant attitude towards his students.

“Alright class!” Terrence started, “Today we’re covering the next section on the American Revolution. Specifically, the Battle of Yorktown...”

Roman mentally punched the air. My time has come. He opened his textbook to the right page but didn’t bother looking at it. He already knew most everything about Yorktown. Not just because he’d listened to the Hamilton soundtrack fifteen and a half million times, but also because he’d done actual research on the event and time period that the musical took place; There was always the off chance he’d get to stage crew or, heck, even dramaturg the show. He liked to be prepared.

“So the battle of Yorktown took place in 1781, but a great deal of its success was thanks to the French Allies. Many especially aided in fighting the British Troops surrounding New York. Now who can tell me where the French Soldiers first landed?”

Roman half raised his hand. He was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Logan.” Terrence called.

Roman turned to Logan desk, where his hand was held high and mighty.

“The French Ally ships first landed in Rhode Island, then made their way to Chesapeake Bay,” said Logan, adjusting his glasses. Not even a hint of second guessing in his voice.

“That’s right!”

He almost missed the quick smirk on Logan’s frustratingly pretty face. Look at that smug—thinks he’s so smart...Okay yes, he is smart, but he doesn’t have to be a show off about it. Terrence continued through the passages, calling on a student every now and again to review. Of course, Logan got called on most and he got every answer right. Roman didn’t feel like raising his hand anymore.

“Of course there were many turning points in the revolution, but Hamilton’s return to the field for Yorktown was a key point.” Terrence continued on. “And keep in mind- this was a man who up till now had never been in a position of command before. Not to mention the mental strains he must’ve been under, especially having had to miss the birth of his son Philip, the first of three children he had.”

Wait a sec. “Well, that’s not right.”

Even though he’d muttered, apparently Mr. Terrence still heard him. “Come again, Roman?”

Shoot. “Um, I said,” Stop sounding timid, you know you’re right. “I said that was, um, wrong.”

The whole class turned to him. Oh great, history class has its eyes on me. Roman cleared his throat and tried to look taller.

“What I mean is: Hamilton had eight kids, not three. And on top of that, Phillip was born a few months after they won the Revolution, not during, so Hamilton didn’t miss the birth of his son. I mean sure, it’s a small thing, but the devil’s in the details as they say. Heh.”

Terrence gave the most insultingly bemused look. And Roman definitely heard a few kids snickering behind him. He glanced quickly at the culprits and felt his ears go hot. This is what he got for putting himself in the spotlight.

“Roman, I applaud you for participating in the class discussion,” Their teacher started gently, “but I’m afraid you’re wrong on this one. If you read your textbook close you’d see in the fifth paragraph where it mentions from one of his later letters—“

“Actually Mr. Williams, if I may, Roman is correct.”

Roman saw Logan at his desk, one hand raised while the other adjusted his neck scarf. Was the teacher’s pet actually… backing him up?

“It is a common misconception that Alexander Hamilton only had two children, even more so modernly, what with the musical having only named two of them. However Roman has clearly done his research on the plays historical accuracies, which is more than I can say for some.”

Logan shot a cool but scathing look at their recently snickering classmates and they withered. Roman fought the urge to point and laugh aloud. He did however stick his tongue out real quick. What? He could be shy and petty at the same time.

“My guess,” Logan continued, “is that this textbook edition is also either misprinted or outdated, judging by the publication date in the copyright section.”

Brows furrowed, Terrence looked at the textbook laid open on his desk. He flipped back to the front, before pulling out his cellphone—“I’m the teacher, I’m allowed to do this. You guys aren’t.”—and after what Roman guessed was a quick Google search, their teacher looked up. His eyebrows drawn in a ‘hm, well damn’ expression.

“Looks like you’re right, Roman. And thank you Logan for bringing to my attention about the textbooks. I’ll have to talk to the principal about hopefully getting some updated materials. But we’ll see how that goes,” Terrence, muttered the last part, though Roman was close enough to catch it. Terrence cleared his throat and moved back to the board. “Maybe if we call on assistance from the inside. Much like how the Sons of Liberty sent in Hercules Mulligan to spy on the British...”

“Perhaps if we knew of an immigrant who was unafraid to step in,” Logan said just under his breath.

No one else seemed to notice the reference, but when Roman did, he felt like a mini volcano about to burst rainbow lava. Apparently there was a lot more to his soulmate than first meets the eye; and now that he knew, Roman was determined to see more of it. The rest of class passed quickly and everyone filed out to the halls as the first bell for the last class period of the day rang. Roman made sure to catch up to Logan on the way out and staccato tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Logan?” He said.

When Logan turned, he swore time slowed down for a moment. The brilliant boy’s skirt flared around his waist, and somehow his skin glowed even under the dull, inconsistent school lights. His posture was erect yet natural, he could have been raised among nobility. Amidst the stench and clamor of loud sweaty students, Logan was as poised and striking as the goddess Athena. Oh...

“Yes, Roman?” Logan asked.

Roman gulped. “I uh, just wanted to thank you for backing me up in there.”

“Thanks are unnecessary,” Logan said. “I detest when someone is shamed by other students for speaking up in class, regardless of whether or not they have the correct information.”

“Well regardless, thanks for coming to my aid in the face of academic danger.”

“Dramatic, but my pleas—oof!”

A hurried passerby bumped into Logan from behind, rushing off with a half-assed ‘sorry’. Logan, caught off guard, stumbled right into Roman’s arms. The two looked at each other, cheeks filling with heat. Roman caught a whiff of something faintly floral on Logan, something natural– a lavender and honeysuckle perfume, perhaps. It was heavenly. They were still in the middle of foot traffic though, so he maneuvered them to the side. Which was tricky since Logan was still so close to him and also a good two inches taller with the heels.

“Well,” Roman flashed his pearly whites. “Seems you’ve fallen for me.”

Logan pulled away, but his lips quirked upwards in a teasing smirk. “Oh please, I merely stumbled into you.”

“Ah, but stumbling is the first step towards being swept off your feet.”

“Bold words from an abashedly charming homunculus in such an… eye catching ensemble.”

Did he call me charming!? He composed himself, “Hey, don’t let the sweater vest fool you. I may be short but I’ve got guns.”

“Aaah. But mind over muscle, as they say. Do you find yourself up to the task?”

“Only if it’s you, my brainy blossom.”

Roman’s class was in the other direction, but Logan didn’t need to know that. They walked through the halls, conversing. class was still in the next ten or so minutes, but Roman was having fun. Banter with Logan felt surprisingly easy. Natural like they’d been at it all their lives.

“By the way, was that a ‘Guns n’ Ships’ reference I overheard, pastel poindexter?” Roman asked.

Logan cleared his throat. “It… may have been, yes. I found myself unable to resist toppling the figurative dominos.”

“In other words, you seized the opportunity you saw,” Roman said, matching his own reference to the source’s cadence, which got a chuckle out of Logan.

“Precisely. Under more casual circumstances, I may have even recited Lafayette’s part.”

“You can rap? You can rap Guns n’ Ships? Like, the whole thing, no tongue twists?”

Logan stopped for a moment, turned to Roman. The taller boy cleared his throat, and after a moment wherein he seemed to mentally restrain himself, he simply adjusted his glasses.  “I have an appreciation for poetry.”

Roman blinked rapidly. Holy shit, he’s an even bigger nerd than I am. He definitely needed to see that at some point.

They turned a corner, stopping just outside of the science room. Some students were going in to take their seats, and the teacher was already making notes on the board. Logan pulled an AP Physics book from his backpack, but made no move to leave, much to Roman’s delight.

“So then,” Roman leaned against the eggshell wall, “How come you acted so indifferent earlier and called my tastes basic? Oh, and I think I remember you also implied I was shallow?”

Okay, yeah, he was still kind of salty about that. But then he saw the shamed look on the nerd’s face, and Roman wished he could have taken it back. Logan looked at his shoes then back at him.

“To be candid I was… hesitant to show the full extent of my enthusiasm. In case you thought I’d be—I believe ‘being the most’ is the term— it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caused someone to lose interest in conversing with me due to informational overload. I nearly bored my Aunt Patricia to sleep once talking about a fascinating article on jellyfish. And considering how I blundered our initial meeting—“

“Pfft, ya think?” He mentally slapped himself again when Logan went tight-lipped and turned to go. “No, no, wait. I—I’m sorry. Truly. ...Truth is, I was no gentleman either. I’m not always great at thinking before I speak. It’s why I’m so awkward around people. Takes a while for my true charming nature to shine through.”

“Clearly. Still, you show a level of interpersonal aptitude that I, well, lack.” Logan fiddled with his hair pin again and a stray hair came loose. “Reading people and expressing emotions has never really been—It’s something I struggle with.”

Much as Logan tried to maintain his cool composed posturing, Roman could tell that this was something that really bothered him. He tried so hard to seem put together and confident and serious, but really he was just as awkward and insecure as anyone. Roman smiled softly and stepped closer to Logan, reaching up to tuck the loose ebony strand behind his ear.

“Hey, everyone’s got things about themselves they can work on. Including me,” Roman smiled. “And believe me when I say that I will never judge you for being passionate about something you like. So if you ever want someone to ramble about jellyfish or Sweeney Todd to or—I dunno, calculators or something?—I’m all ears.”

Logan’s cheeks went pink and he gave a hesitant yet sincere smile. “That’s...very kind of you, Roman. And coincidentally, I also greatly enjoy Sweeney Todd. The use of iambic pentameter and alliteration to give a succinct synopsis to the story in just the first sentence alone is pure brilliance.”

“Right!? I mean the man’s a mad genius. I’m dying to design sets for one of his musicals someday. Like last year? I came up with the concept of having the Sweeney Todd sets done in a way that highlights the class differences with the characters.” Roman went into a small three minute ramble regarding the specifics before he cut himself off abruptly. Logan was blinking rapidly, a look of mild shock crossing his feature. Roman nearly started sweating; Had he messed this up again?

“That… that’s ingenious”

Roman’s ears were burning. Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!

“Hey, Logan!” They both startled and turned to an impatient cheerleader with a ginger undercut and they/them pronoun pin shaped like a coffin. “What’re you doing just standing out in the hall, ya dork? Oh, hey Roman.”

“Uh. Hey, October,” Roman said, waving awkwardly to them.

“I told ya, Red, you only get to call me that when we’re working on a show.”

“Wait, October? Red? You two know each other?” Logan asked, brow arching.

“Kind of. They sometimes help out with costumes for the drama club,” said Roman. And they have terrible timing. I mean seriously Tobes, we were having a moment.

“Come on Lo, class is about to start, and you promised to go over my homework with me real quick beforehand. See ya ‘round, Ro.” Toby grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him into the classroom. “You can fill me in on what you were doing with Red later.”

Logan followed his—apparently—friend into their classroom, but he shot Roman an apologetic look over his shoulder. Roman bounced a bit on the balls of his feet before following halfway into the room. Logan was in his seat with Toby showing him an open notebook. A teacher in a tight grey hair bun was writing on the board. Students at their seats were chatting, and some looked up at the short dork in red who burst in. For once Roman ignored them, his mind set on one last attempt at wooing his green skirted genius while he still had the nerve.

“Hey, Logan,” he said. “I’ve also got some great layout designs for an Into the Woods set. If you’re interested, maybe we can meet up after school and I can show them to you? Maybe we talk a bit more over iced lattes or something?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Prince, seventh period starts in five minutes,” said the teacher. “Unless you’ve suddenly transferred to my class, I suggest you stop distracting my favorite student and get going.”

“I’ll be gone in just a second,” he said. “Well?”

Logan smoothed the silky fabric of his pink scarf and said, “That sounds optimal, Roman. I’ll meet with you. By the first floor water fountain perhaps?”

Roman grinned. “I shall be counting the minutes.”

“Mr. Prince,” said the teacher with a warning glare.

Roman blew a kiss at Logan and then ducked out of the doorway. Was he embarrassed of himself? Oh definitely. Did he regret it? Absolutely not. He felt ten inches tall.

Now to complete the quest of making it to class in time. He slid off a shoulder strap to unzip his classic Mickey backpack, getting out the notebook and the relevant homework. He found them amidst the mess of spiral notebooks, granola bar wrappers, two textbooks and rainbow sticky notes. But something was missing from his folder.

“Where are those– it should be here.” He could’ve sworn he had his stapled the blocking notes in his folder. No, wait, the last place he saw them was— “Ah shoot! I left them in the tech closet again.”

Under normal circumstances, Roman would’ve grabbed them after school, but the auditorium was locked on weekends. He’d have to wait till Monday to get them and that just wouldn't do! he wanted to show Logan his notes today! I’ll bet David Korins never has these kinds of problems. Okay, okay. Still got four minutes. He could rush to the auditorium, grab the notes, and then head straight to class. I should have enough time, right? Right. Besides it was only Spanish Class, he was already pretty fluent after all those summers visiting his grandparent in Nicaragua. He spent most of class time dreaming up blocking notes anyway.

Despite not being totally convinced by his own argument, Roman immediately turned on his heel and started running in the opposite direction. After a teacher told him no running in the halls, Roman power walked through the halls with a skip in his step and a song in his heart, feeling absolutely gay in both senses of the word. Logan had actually called his idea ingenious! And the way those sharp eyes softened just for him- he would squeal if not for the fact that it would draw too many eyes to him. The halls were still filled with a few stragglers rushing to the last class of the day, and he was already trying not to get caught being late for class.

Now he knew how Maria felt in West Side Story. Y’know, before Act 2. Oh sure, they’d gotten off to a shaky start, but as the Bard’s adage on the course of true love said; and Roman felt it in his gut that this was certainly the start of true love. Not just with brilliant Logan but also with soulful Patton as well. He didn’t know how an awkward geek like him ever got so lucky in the soulmate department…Then again, there was still the matter of Virgil. So maybe not so lucky.

Roman touched his arm, remembered flustered yet flattering purple words. I know they both said Virgil is secretly sweet and I can sympathize with the terrors of closet town, but COME ON! Virgil? Really? That gloomy gladiator? There had to be a mistake in that. After all, Patton liked to see the good in everyone. Logan was much more of a skeptic, but he does seem to have a blind spot with sarcasm. Maybe Virgil was messing with them somehow. Even if he’s not a jerk jock, the guy’s still kind of a creepazoid; with his dark eyes and cheeta-esq gait and those probably huge muscles hidden under that bulky jacket and big hands...

His gay disaster train of thought came to a merciful halt as he reached the auditorium. Roman pushed open the doors, took a pause to breathe in the quiet comfort of this chapel of the arts. Okay yeah, chapel was maybe a little kind for the school’s auditorium which doubled as the drama Club’s rehearsal space/prop closet backstage/Mx Joan’s unofficial office because the school didn’t fund the arts programs enough. Even so this space was Roman’s sanctuary. The place where he could help create magic from the shadows, bring stories of those gone and living to life. Here, Roman found something of a community with his fellow backstagers, glee club losers, and budding thespians (the nice ones). So he loved every squeaky stage plank, every duck taped seat cushion and every speck of dust that floated in the spot lit air like fairies.

Mx. Joan wasn’t around for once, thankfully. Probably in the teacher’s lounge or rendezvousing with the school nurse or something. They were pretty chill and Roman knew he was their favorite student, but the choir director/drama club moderator/music teacher (this school really needs to fix its funding habits) wouldn’t have been too keen on Roman being deliberately late for class.

Roman walked down the aisle and to the side room by the stage. It was originally a janitor’s closet, but their club moderator transformed it into a ‘Crew Only’ Storage Unit… Okay it was still a closet, but with less bleach and more coils. This was where they kept important equipment for semester shows, like the lighting and sound boards, along with other supplies. Roman made a quick mental note to get more gaffer tape later, seeing their supply was low.

He looked through the small pile of scribbled and highlighted sheets with the lighting cues for the spring show. I’ve really gotta get a binder for these…Ah-Ha! Here you are! Roman pulled out the stapled sheets titled ‘Into the Woods Dream Set’ and carefully shoved them into his bag. Perfect timing too. He might just be able to make it to class after—

RIIIIIIIIIIING

“GAH!”

What the heck? He could’ve sworn he was alone in there, but that yelp just now said otherwise. Up close, Roman saw that the curtains were rustling, accompanied by sounds of heavy breathing and moaning, yet not a footstep to be seen or heard.

Holy SHIT, this place IS haunted! I KNEW that backdrop fiasco last semester wasn’t caused by cheap slit plywood. My supplies are the best quality allowance money can buy. Great Macbeth’s bloody knife, I TOLD Kai we should've sprung for a ghost light! Remus always teased him for being superstitious but look who’s laughing now.

He dashed back into the crew closet and grabbed the heavy push broom leaning in the corner. Roman Prince was NOT about to be caught unawares and possessed by the ghost of a disgruntled student without a fight. He would defend his domain of imagination!

Roman slowly climbed the stage steps, wielding his broom like a bow staff, turned the curtain corner where the noises were coming from and was about to release a war cry on the—

“Virgil?”

Roman nearly dropped his weapon at the sight of Virgil Alighieri—star athlete, object of his fears and supposed soulmate—curled in on himself trembling and crying.

His jacket was pulled over his head like a hood, yet Roman could see the tear stained face peeking out from underneath. Virgil’s eyes were squeezed tight, making the dark circles he’d never noticed before more prominent. There was no denying the athlete had muscle but he was more lithe—thin enough for Roman to wonder if the guy ate enough. Virgil’s trembling could rival a chihuahua, shaky hands clutching his knees, and he was clearly in the midst of a bad panic attack.

Roman had built Virgil up in his mind as being like some odd combination of Hades and Ares. The strong silent wolf within his pack of jocks, a surging thunderstorm just waiting for the right nerd to come along and piss him off enough to strike down like the bolt of Zeus.

Someone to be afraid of.

But now? Seeing him in this state, all alone and whimpering like a wounded animal...it broke Roman’s heart.

He set the broom down gently and carefully crouched down in front of Virgil. “Virgil,” he said softly. “Virgil, can you hear me?”

Virgil let out a breathy sob but otherwise didn���t seem to register him. Just how long had he been sitting here like this?

Roman was at a loss for what to do. Sure he knew plenty of people with anxiety but never saw someone having an actual panic attack before. He did know that if he didn’t help the other calm down soon, Virgil was liable to pass out. He’d never wanted to hug someone so badly in his life. Roman tentatively reached out a hand but stopped. What if touching him makes it worse? What if I startle him so badly he actually has a heart attack!? Maybe I should get the nurse. But I can’t just leave him like this.

He caught sight of the colorful soulmarks written on Virgil’s arm. Saw his own harsh thoughts: ’Dios mio, he’s staring right at me—like he wants to punch my face!’ 

Roman took his shame and forged it into steel. I won’t abandon you...my soulmate.

Virgirl’s let out a hiccuped cry, and this gave Roman an idea. Something from back when he was a child. It was probably stupid and a long stretch, but it was all he could think of. He readjusted himself so that he was now sitting right next to Virgil, making sure not to startle him. Roman cleared his throat, then as softly as he could, he began to sing.

“Come stop your crying, it’ll be alright.

Just take my hand, hold it tight.”

Roman one and carefully gentled his hand over Virgil’s. After a moment, he felt a light squeeze, and that encouraged him to keep going.

“I will protect you from all around you.

I will be here, don’t you cry…”

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#KDsWriting #First Impressions AU #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #romantic lamp #LAMP #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remy sanders #soulmate au #polysanders #soulmark au #soulmate tattoo #tw panic attack #fanders #hamilton refrences #hopeless gays #nicaraguan roman #because i say so! #FINALLY off hiatus

[eponinemylove]

aftg tattoo/flower shop au

@essence-29

so it’s wymack’s parlor and he still technically runs it and everything but he’s tired most of the time and he lets kevin pretty much take over

kevin has almost no tattoos himself except one he got that he deeply regrets (in my mind it’s bc riko was his piece of shit ex boyf and pretty much made him get it, but however u want to imagine the backstory of this tattoo is up to you)

anyway he runs the shop with his dad. matt, renee, and seth all work there

andrew runs the flower shop around the corner (managed by betsy). he could not give less of a damn about the parlor tbh. he barely noticed it existed

he’s more of a piercings guy anyway but it’s not like he’s against tattoos

at least, he didn’t care about the parlor until him and renee became friends

i imagine they met at the flower shop when she came in and ordered some for allison. maybe they started seeing each other around more and more, and you know how andrew makes friends. he probably followed her to work one day and they went from there.

either way they’re besties and they work on the same block. so andrew goes in and out of the tattoo parlor fairly often to pick up renee or have lunch.

him and kevin obviously run into each other at some point, probably more often than not

at first they ignored each other’s presence but then andrew started to notice kevin

tattoo artist without (many) tattoos? interesting. he won’t talk about the tattoo he does have? very interesting. he flinched when someone dropped a glass of something and it shattered? now you have his attention

and of course kevin can’t help but notice the hot, 5-foot-nothing guy who comes in at least once a week to harass his patrons and distract his employees

both of which are definitely crimes andrew commits regularly around the parlor

andrew invites kevin out for drinks one night after they’ve been noticing each other for a while. it’s not flirtatious or romantic, but it does feel... weighted. kevin goes. renee and the others are there too, vaguely, but he still manages to end up spending most of the night alone with andrew

they talk. a lot. it’s really slow going because neither one of them particularly feels like talking, but they do. or they come to a mutual understanding at least

they have a weird relationship after that that none of kevin’s friends or andrews relatives can even pretend to understand, but you know what? whatever. they’re KevinAndAndrew

i don’t want to say they’re attached at the hip, but they totally are. anywhere kevin is, andrew follows, especially if kevin is drinking. and they’re not even nice to each other. that’s the confusing part for the others. just looking at them, you wouldn’t even think they were friends, much less maybe-kind of-dating?

so this goes on for a couple of months, and just when everyone thinks they’re getting used to it, neil comes in

literally no one was ready for him. he shows up at the tattoo parlor one day and just applies for a job. no resume, no interview. straight up walks up to the front desk and asks for a job

kevin wants to throw him on his ass but matt says the least they could do was interview the guy

(neil probably looks all kinds of a mess. not like insane or dirty, but just generally disheveled and exhausted and... neil. he looks like neil)

kevin still thinks this is a waste of time, but he lets neil show him what he’s got

no one was expecting neil, but they definitely weren’t expecting him to be so goddamn good

it’s hard to tell if he’s a natural or has actually had years of hardwork and practice, but he’s an amazing artist and he knows his way around a needle

so they hire him.

matt becomes quick friends with neil. seth and neil don’t get along, per se, but they’re almost the exact same brand of asshole so there is a sort of solidarity between them

renee obviously is nothing if not entirely pleasant to neil, but he still has issues trusting her

and kevin? well kevin kind of hates his newest hire

he complains to andrew about him nonstop. about how he’s stupidly talented and a complete bastard and gets along with people but in a chaotic sort of way that makes kevin anxious and annoyed and

kevin has a lot to say and andrew is more than inclined to listen

it’s a surprise to no one when andrew is in the parlor the next day, scoping out neil for himself

oh, and i should mention that neil has literally NO tattoos. not even one. (his mother would never allow something so easily recognizable)

neil barely notices andrew until he confronts him after his shift. i don’t know what he would say, but it would go pretty much like how their meeting went in the books, just probably without the racquet

a fight immediately breaks out that matt and kevin have to break up. renee knows better

yeah neil and andrew don’t get along

andrew is very interested though. so he does what andrew always does. he gets nosy. and personal. and mean

it takes him a surprisingly long time to find any information on neil. he thinks it might be a fake name and kevin assures him that it’s definitely likely, which helps exactly none.

eventually the only thing he manages to gather is that neil has one hell of a temper and could start a fight in an empty room. he also won’t take any shit from anyone, whether it’s from andrew or some random Karen screaming at one of his coworkers for giving her daughter a tattoo she didn’t approve of. he can and will tear someone to shreds, and as much as kevin hates it (“Neil that’s bad for business, you can’t verbally abuse the clients”), andrew is very amused

kevin secretly also really likes neil. it’s hard not to—he says everything kevin wouldn’t dream of and sees through all of kevin’s bullshit. also he’s ridiculously hot and incredibly good at his job, and there’s nothing kevin appreciates more than talent and competence

after, idk, a month? of getting nowhere to unraveling neil’s past, andrew invites him for drinks.

kevin is there of course and pre-approved the decision. matt comes along bc he doesn’t trust andrew in the slightest and he loves neil. renee is there to make sure no one actually gets murdered. seth just shows up bc he thinks something funny might happen, like another fight

not strictly relevant, but allison, dan, and nicky working at the bar/club they frequent??? a Concept.

andrew and kevin are both pretty surprised to find out that neil doesn’t drink. they try and “convince” him otherwise, but neil refuses and short of drugging him, there’s not really anything they can do

nothing really happens the first couple of hours. nicky flirts with neil a couple of times, neil doesn’t notice, the usual. things take a turn when neil spots kevin’s tattoo. other than that, the night was a bust

since this is an au, idgaf what’s in their past. reader interpretation, use ur imagination, go crazy. however, whatever kevin was involved with, neil was somehow tangled up in too. that part stays the same

he doesn’t mention it

he doesn’t mention it

he doesn’t mention it

and then, of course, he mentions it

it’s not on purpose or in anyway eloquent. they probably get into some sort of fight while closing up and it just slips out

there’s a moment of “oh shit”, the complete understanding that passes through the two of them

they don’t mention it

except they do, because andrew finds out

he and neil have a another “talk” bc yeah andrew might run the flower shop, but if neil brings trouble from kevin’s past back to him now, when he’s doing so much better, andrew can and will actually commit homicide

and that’s the start of their relationship!

well, no, not really. neil still takes a while to warm up to them, and a while longer to start feeling any sort of romantic attraction to them. and of course that’s after he realizes they’re even a couple, because trust me, with those two is always questionable whether or not they’re even friends. or acquaintances. or on speaking terms

also they have to eventually talk about everything. set boundaries, clear the air. neil gives them piece by piece looks into his past. it’s slow work, but it’s a little bit of trust given by someone who has never trusted anyone before.

yeah so anyways everyone thought KevinAndAndrew was confusing? well they don’t know what the fuck is going on with KevinAndAndrewAndNeil

what they do know is that kevin and neil do some of the best tattoos in the country. what they do know is that andrew and neil take smoke breaks together in the back alley, halfway between their two shops. what they do know is that andrew and kevin have adopted neil into their relationship and the three of them are so close-knit, it almost becomes impossible to find one away from the others at any given moment

what they do know is that at least twice a week, the short, blond, very scary flower-shop guy walks into a tattoo parlor and a 6-foot tall intimidating tattoo artist and 5’3 ginger with a sharp tongue and sharper attitude immediately stop what they’re doing and go meet him

that’s pretty much it. scary blonde who sells roses for a living falls for scary tattoo artist who doesn’t seem to believe in tattoos. both these idiots then fall for the (not at first glance) scary new guy who is obviously trouble, because this is a tatto/flower shop au, and everyone loves the broken badass with a heart of gold.

there’s something to be said here about the most intimidating and kick-ass power couple (throuple?) ever

also it’s funny bc based on appearances alone, everyone expects neil to run the flower shop, and kevin and andrew to do tattoos. boy are they in for a surprise though, because andrew knows every single flower you could ever think of sticking in a bouquet, and neil could operate a tattoo gun blindfolded

ALSO they all get matching tattoos at some point bc they’re idiots and in love and it probably has a whole crap ton of heartfelt meaning that i don’t want to explain bc i feel like i’ve rambled forever at this point and still said nothing significant

oh and neil 100% gives kevin a coverup, replacing his old tattoo with something else.

there’s all kinds of plants decorating the parlor courtesy of andrews shop, and neil and kevin design andrew’s logo

and betsy makes everyone flower crowns at some point. andrew refuses to acknowledge it i’m any way, but dutifully wears it regardless. neil wears it to work the entire day, and after hangs it in his office-thing. whatever tattoo parlors have. kevin straight up refuses to wear it but neil wears him down and he puts it on for like 20 minutes. there’s even pictures to prove it

#I'M SORRY THIS CAME OUT SO LONG #aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #kevin day #kandreil #kevandreil #tattoo/flower shop au #flower shop & tattoo parlor au #renee walker #matt boyd #seth gordon #dan wilds #nicky hemmick #david wymack #betsy dobson #Allison Reynolds #au #aly's asks

[fancifulwhump]

i’m a simple bitch who likes seeing jaskier get kidnapped and geralt having to rescue him lmao

AN:   as you ask, so shall you recieve.   protective geralt going from beast-mode to soft??  that’s my jam, dude

In Geralt’s complete defense, the risks of leaving Jaskier unattended — of which past experience had proven were many — really paled in comparison to a Devourer attack.

Rather, an attack by multiple Devourers, at the same bloody time, with the tenacity of a pack of wild wolves. The flesh-craving beasts showed little interest in a Witcher’s mutated blood. They wanted human flesh, and human alone. A reign of terror stretching on for weeks before Geralt happened upon the poor mining village in the mountains made that clear enough. People could no longer venture from their homes without risk of being torn to bits by a sulking monster. Geralt’s arrival was a blessing to them. Jaskier’s presence — for, having hit a creative dry spell, he'd been following Geralt for the last few weeks, to “fan the flames of inspiration” — was just convenient. 

Geralt never liked using the bard as bait. This had nothing to do with any moral qualms; any time Jaskier involved himself in a kill, things got complicated. He simple had a talent for getting in the way. Trouble was drawn to him like a magnet; rather than avoid it, the idiot almost seemed to invite it. Geralt tried to keep Jaskier out of the way during jobs because bailing him out of danger was more trouble than any amount of coin was worth.

That, and he’d rather not see his companion be mauled or swallowed whole by a monster. 

Sometimes, however, Jaskier’s presence during a job could actually be useful. Like it or not, Geralt had to put him to work.

“This isn’t my first time playing irresistibly seductive meat-sack, you know,” huffed the meat-sack in question, carefully fastening his lute to a pack strung along Roach’s side. When Jaskier looked up at Geralt, his eyes glittered. Whatever thrill he got from being in mortal peril, it was probably worrying. “Practically used to it by now. Could make it a profession. Thank the gods I’m here, too, or what else would you have done? Picked up a nice, juicy steak from the market, and dressed it up like a toddler?”

Geralt snorted, unsheathing a dagger from his belt. It was a small, silver-bladed thing — better for throwing than stabbing, though it could be useful at close range. The hilt was almost too small for his hands. In Jaskier’s, it fit perfectly.

“Only if you need it,” he said. Jaskier gripped the blade, eyes wide with fascination, before nodding and tucking it into his own belt. “Quick slashes. If you have to stab, stab deep.”

Of course, Jaskier couldn’t fight, and he certainly didn’t stand a chance against a monster… but at least he wouldn’t be completely helpless.

So, Jaskier was sent on ahead, and did what he did best — played the oblivious fool. Only when he’d blustered along the mountainside for about ten minutes, leading Roach along as the Witcher silently trailed them both, did their plan show signs of success. In the distance, a few rocks shifted. Pebbles rolled down the mountainside. The faint trill of birdsong went quiet.

Jaskier had been humming to himself, but his voice cut off abruptly. His head raised; he glanced around. That was all he had time to do before a blur suddenly shot out of the cave, launching itself at him.

And another, and another — more than Geralt expected.

In a few swift bounds, he was in the middle of the fray, cutting Devourers down in midair. This was just enough time for the bait to make his escape. With the battle begun, Jaskier leapt on top of Roach and sped off — “somewhere safe”, Geralt had told him.

So maybe Geralt was the fool, for assuming the hapless bard could look after himself. At any rate, he trusted Roach to keep Jaskier out of trouble; the horse always had more sense than he did, anyhow. 

An hour, maybe, or less — that’s how long it took for Geralt, covered in Devourer blood and a few new scratches, to follow the trail his horse and companion left, only to come up empty handed. Not being able to hear Jaskier’s annoying caterwaul was the first sign of trouble. Coming across a lute in the bushes, smashed and abandoned, was the second.

Picking up the remnants of the familiar instrument, Geralt’s hands tightened around the wood; he sighed through his nose, barely able to restrain his own frustration.

Served him right for letting Jaskier near his bloody horse... and letting them both out of his sight.

Witcher senses were better honed for tracking than even the most astute hunter. It also helped that the bandits didn’t bother to cover their tracks well. The left a trail of broken twigs, snapped branches, and footprints behind them. However much of a head start the group — Geralt counted five sets of footprints, maybe six — had on him, it didn’t take long to track them down.

Even so, it took long enough. Too long.

He could smell the blood before the noises reached his ears. Perhaps the senses hit at the same time, and he just didn’t register; as soon as that metallic tang hit his nose, all-too-familiar, Geralt saw red. Blood meant nothing on its own, but this blood held a familiar scent — he’d recognize it anywhere. It was as familiar to him as that annoying voice, or that smirk any time Jaskier said something he thought was particularly funny. Blood could belong to anyone, but Jaskier’s blood was his, and Geralt could smell a lot of it.

Blood, and noise, and shouting — not Jaskier’s voice, but a stranger’s rough tone, spitting venom in a language Geralt faintly recognizes. A horse’s frustrated wail. Sharpening blades. And underneath it all… a strangled whimper.

Geralt found the bandits’ campsite.

As for whatever happened at the campsite… well, he couldn’t be held responsible.

By the time the last of the thieves took off running into the forest, stumbling over himself in horror, the bandits’ camp was utterly quiet. Before his body hit the tree, the big one had been making an awful lot of noise. So was the quick one, when he hissed at Geralt and tried to draw his sword; thankfully, Geralt was quicker. Now, in the silence, with nothing but his heavy breathing as he came back to awareness, Geralt could see everything.

Roach was unharmed, tied to a tree. She stomped her feet as Geralt came closer, as if applauding his quick work… but Geralt’s attention turned in a second, from her to the other side of the clearing. Silence reigned there as well, and it was unnerving. 

Jaskier was never silent. Jaskier didn’t know how to be silent. 

The figure slumped against the base of the tree, chest bound with rope and head bowed, did not make a sound.

The stench of blood grew overwhelming the closer Geralt got. He had to force himself not to focus on it. Instead, he honed in on Jaskier’s heart, beating a steady rhythm in his chest. Not faltering, not stuttering — he was alive, then. Unconsciously, a sigh of relief escaped Geralt, loud in the silent woods.

Then he saw the blood staining a head of dark hair, trailing down Jaskier’s jaw.

“Shit.” Immediately, he dropped to one knee, hand finding his companion’s shoulder. The battered captive’s face scrunched you in pain when Geralt gripped it. “Jaskier. Hey! Jaskier.” Unwilling to hurt him any further, Geralt shook his companion lightly. “Wake up.”

It was just enough — or maybe the pain from Geralt’s touch pulled him back into wakefulness. Jaskier stirred, head sluggishly rolling on his shoulders. For a moment, he struggled to lift it, as though his skull were filled with lead rather than gray matter. When he finally managed, he blinked sluggishly up at Geralt, pupils blown wide. Concussion, then, Geralt thought, and had to bite back another curse.

“Ah hah — the mighty Witcher!” Jaskier’s head fell back like a doll’s; still, he offered Geralt a wide grin. His teeth were stained with blood, from the busted corner of his lip. “Knew you’d come for me. It was only a matter of time. Caught about half that fight, I think. Just half. Til you threw that one lad down the hill.”

Was it any surprise that even half-senseless, Jaskier still didn’t know how to shut up? Geralt just took it as a good sign that he was talking. While the bard blathered on, he busied himself checking Jaskier over for further injuries. His shoulder was probably dislocated; he’d have some colorful bruises in the morning; there were a few deep scratches along his face and bare forearms, like he’d been dragged through brush…

“Mmm. Geralt. Hey.” Jaskier’s movement was sudden — like a marionette unable to control his own limbs, his arm raised, landing heavily on Geralt’s shoulder. When Geralt looked up, Jaskier’s head was lolling to the side. He seemed to be putting in a valiant effort to stay awake. Half opened eyes remained trained on Geralt, warm with an emotion Geralt could not name, but left him feeling immensely guilty. He should have gotten here sooner. He shouldn’t have let Jaskier out of his sight in the first place.

“Look,” said Jaskier — and, very deliberately, nodded towards the thug still crumpled at the base of a nearby tree. The tree’s trunk had a dent in it. Geralt wished he’d thrown him harder. “In the pockets,” insisted Jaskier, giving Geralt a weak push of encouragement.

Bemused, Geralt made his way over; hoisting the thug’s body up by the back of his jacket, he shook him out for any spare bits. A shower of gold pieces greeted him, along with a pair of rings… and a silver-bladed dagger, stained with blood. Geralt lifted the familiar blade, frowning at it. When his gaze turned to Jaskier again, a grin, bleary but proud, greeted him.

“Jus’ like you said,” Jaskier slurred, then let out a dry crackle of laughter. “I stabbed ‘im deep. And they did not appreciate that, let me tell you —“

“Damn it, Jaskier,” Geralt muttered, hand tightening around the blade.

Yet another mistake to tally for the day. Giving Jaskier a weapon was supposed to keep him out of trouble, not damn him deeper.

Without bothering to clean it off, Geralt rounded on Jaskier, blade clutched in his hands. Jaskier’s unfocused gaze tracked his approach with obvious effort. However hard he was trying to stay awake, he was fighting a losing battle. Even so, not a flicker of fear crossed Jaskier’s face at the sight of a hulking Witcher, advancing with a blade in hand.

Geralt cut Jaskier’s bonds in a few quick strokes. As soon as he was no longer bound to the tree, Jaskier slumped forward. It took Geralt’s quickest reflexes to lurch sideways, catching him before he could hit the ground. A dead weight in his arms, Jaskier let out a small moan.

“What is it?” Geralt demanded. As he shifted the injured man into an easier position, Jaskier inhaled sharply, face twisting up in pain. Another groan sounded through clenched teeth, but a second later Jaskier forced a strained smile.

“Kicked me in the chest — more than once.”

Geralt didn’t need to test the statement any further. As gently as he was capable of being, he eased Jaskier back against the tree. Broken ribs would be more of a headache than all of Jaskier’s other injuries combined, but hopefully he didn’t shatter so easily. Human bodies were so fragile; Geralt saw it every day, of course, in the remains of men torn apart by monsters. Seeing it firsthand was different. Seeing Jaskier, of all people, wounded and in pain… something in Geralt’s chest was drawn tight, like a clenched fist, and the more his companion swallowed back sounds of pain, the tighter it got.

“Better get you up, then,” he muttered. Jaskier nodded, face still screwed up. A long moment passed before his hand tightened on Geralt’s shoulder, and it took yet another moment before he managed to hoist himself upright.

Finding his feet was another challenge. Geralt did his best to offer support without brutalizing Jaskier’s injuries further. No sooner did he pull himself up, however, than Jaskier began to teeter. When his gaze slipped out of focus, Geralt’s arm twined around him. He caught him just as Jaskier’s knees began to buckle.

A yell shattered the illusion of quiet around them, ripping through Jaskier’s body like a physical attack. As fresh pain rippled through his chest, he shoved away from Geralt, who released him without protest. For a moment, it seemed certain that Jaskier would topple. His breathing heavy, each gasp an effort that nearly knocked him sideways, he finally managed to find his feet. Wide eyed, he gazed at Geralt, twisting a protective arm around his chest.

“I’m — I’m okay.” Jaskier put a hand up. “I’m fine. But next time — next time I fall, Geralt, don’t bother catching me.”

Geralt arched an eyebrow. In response, Jaskier shook his head. “I can manage on my own.”

And to his credit, he did. He managed to get on Roach, at least, and the horse carried him back the rest of the way. Jaskier didn’t lose consciousness once, no matter how his head lolled or his senses drifted. Geralt didn’t mind the slurred ramblings, weaving their way through utter nonsense. Only when Jaskier went silent did he worry. Each time, he looked up to find his friend fading, blue eyes half-shut, head falling against his shoulder. Geralt gave a bruising pinch to the flesh of his arm, and Jaskier awoke again.

The nearest inn was a night’s ride from their campsite, and it was getting dark already. By the time they made it back, there seemed little sense going any further, especially with Jaskier in his state. He fell into his bed as soon as Geralt had it laid out on the ground, and did not have the energy to raise his head, even when Geralt offered him a sip of much-needed water.

“‘M fine,” Jaskier muttered. His muted tone suggested he was anything but; Geralt wouldn’t argue, though, if rest was really what Jaskier needed. 

“We need to set your shoulder,” he remarked, keeping his voice low for Jaskier’s benefit. “And clean the blood from your head. That wound ought to be bandaged.”

Jaskier nodded along slowly, as thought everything Geralt was saying made perfect sense. His eyes were closed, expression unchanging, so however much he really understood was anyone’s guess. Frowning, Geralt took the liberty of wetting a cloth himself. Hesitating for just long enough to wonder which decisions in his life brought him to this point — to caring so deeply for someone so easily breakable, so human — he set the cloth against Jaskier’s bloodied face. As the grime was sponged away, Jaskier could not help but sigh in relief.

“That’s the stuff,” he muttered. “All I need. Just… rest, Geralt? Can we? Is that okay?”

Geralt considered him for a moment. “Yes, Jaskier. We can rest awhile.”

This was all he needed to hear. Jaskier smiled, setting his head back down on his pack once more; as his eyes drifted shut, Geralt fought off an instinctive flash of worry. Hand tightening around the damp cloth, he brought it back to Jaskier’s face, and continued cleaning the remnants of that bloody encounter.

Next time they faced down monsters, he might think twice about letting Jaskier out of his sight… but no matter what trouble he fell into, Geralt would always be there to pull him out.

#whump #jaskier #the witcher #kidnapping #geralt not sure how to be gentle with a hurt jaskier?? also my shit #Anonymous

[seriouslyhooked]

When We Collide (Part 1)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here. 

A/N: Hey everyone! Surprise! There’s a new fic I’m here to share with you all, and full disclosure, it is very different than my usual fare. You will be able to tell that from this first chapter, and for some of my readers it might be a bit too much. Not to worry, this is just a prologue of sorts, and next chapter will start in a brighter, more hopeful place (we will flash forward in time). Be advised that there is no graphic violence or anything like that, but the premise of this story involves Emma owing a debt to Gold (a mob boss in New York) that she has to pay. She’s working it off in a bar, but she’s not exactly free to go as she does. That’s a lot angstier of a situation than I ever like to deal with, so it’s temporary, but want to give you all the heads up just so you know. I suspect a lot of you will read this and think it’s not that bad, but I figure it’s best to give everyone the heads up. Anyway, I promise that this story will eventually be just as fluffy and feels-filled as my other stories, and I hope you’ll give it a try, even if you decide to skip this chapter and just join for the next. Also, just to shout out the excellent song that partially inspired this fic, you should all listen to the song ‘Collide’ by Tiana Major9 & EARTHGANG. It’s a really beautiful song, and I hope the fic can embody the feel of it as it continues to unfold. Thanks so much for reading, and hope you enjoy!

Maybe I’ll get lucky and everyone will forget I’m back here, Emma thought to herself as she counted up the bottles on the shelves, taking a quick inventory of what they had for the bar out front.

She also needed to keep this count to protect herself. She’d learned a few days into this gig that Gold’s men loved their liquor and they had a tendency to come back here and take it. Instead of letting them do that and then allowing her and her coworkers to take the blame, Emma came up with a system including locks on the door and an electronic documentation of what they had and when. There was no wifi hook up, obviously, as Gold made sure to keep a strict lock on their surroundings, but it did provide an timestamped trail that proved she was taking nothing from this place. Every night she cashed in her tips with Sydney, the bar’s ‘owner’ but really just Gold’s front man and lap dog, and she watched as the debt she owed grew smaller and smaller. In six more months she’d be free of this and she was doing anything and everything she could to shorten that time.

Thinking about her debt made a flare of anger rise in her belly. Truth was this wasn’t even her fucking debt, it was Lily’s, a woman Emma believed to be her friend. They’d met when they were still kids, both of them runaways, and though time had driven them apart, they reconnected when they realized they were both living in New York. Emma had managed to get steady, honest work and was doing her best to claw up from the nothing that she’d started with in life, and she thought Lily was doing the same. Boy had she been wrong.

It turned out that Lily didn’t pay her part of the rent with anything resembling clean money. She’d worked for Gold, and then she fucked him over and ran, leaving Emma none the wiser and thrust into the fallout of a crime she’d never committed. When that moment came Gold gave her two choices: pay off the money he was owed, or suffer a bit before accepting and still paying, but in a less desirable way. Emma chose the former, and she gave everything she had to the man, but it still wasn’t enough. Lily had managed to get off with almost 50k, and while that was chump change to Gold, it was more than double Emma’s savings. Still she’d promised to get him the money, to give him every paycheck she could, save for her rent and food expenses. But it didn’t satisfy the Crocodile, as people were prone to calling him. Gold decreed that she’d work in the bar and that was that. She’d also been ‘moved’ to one of the apartments above the place. But none of her actual belongings ever arrived. All she had was work uniforms and bare essentials. There was no TV, no phone, no nothing. She’d been graced with tattered linens, the most basic of household essentials (as in one plate, one fork, one of everything) and a bunch of dusty books on ranging topics left from tenants past. She also had a chip on her shoulder, created from the unjustness of this whole situation, pushing her to get out of this shit as fast as she could.

“Yo, Emma, you coming back at some point?” A voice asked from the doorway. It was one of her coworkers, a guy named August who she’d never had much to do with. He seemed pretty okay, but then again, he was here working for Gold and he didn’t even seem to have the whole debt-pay off factor going. That was a huge red flag, and one of the reasons Emma never trusted him much. “We got customers.”

“One minute,” she said, and waited until the door swung closed again. Knowing she was along she closed her eyes and took some steadying breaths, gearing up for what would no doubt be a terrible night.

It’s temporary. You just have a few more months. You’ve survived worse. You can survive this too.

When she felt strong enough to put her mask in place and face the raucous debauchery that awaited her outside, Emma squared her shoulders and headed out. Her eyes had to adjust quickly to the dimness of the lighting, and she took in the stronger scents of stale cigar smoke and piss that always clung to this place. No matter how much they cleaned after hours, there was no getting rid of the odor or the grime. This bar was better off burned to the ground and completely built over, but to the men who frequented it, this place was the closest thing they had to home. The Lair, as the neon sign outside advertised, was a total dive, and it was filled to the brim with low-rate mobsters and criminals.

This was one of those places that Hollywood constantly tried ripping off to no avail. In some ways it was completely corny and predictable, and so blatant in its criminal ties that it felt like a joke that everyone was in on. But the embellishments and adornments here were over the top and gaudy, too tacky even for a Las Vegas casino. Gold’s namesake was splashed everywhere, from the countertops to the barstools to the curtains on the back walls. When the finishing got gross and dirty, they’d be replaced, but the style was dated and straight out of the 70s. It was a mobster hideaway with no pretensions, and Emma always thought to herself that the cops should be busting in every night. This was an obvious den of misconduct, but no cops ever came. The reality was that Gold had half the police force in his pocket, and the other half were too scared to cross him for fear of what he’d bring down on them. Gold might be ridiculous and over the top, but he was powerful, and more than that he was smart, so smart Emma knew better than to ever try to run and think she could get away with it.

“Well, well, well. Ain’t you lookin good tonight, sweetheart?”

Emma fought the instinct to roll her eyes at the slurred and shouted words that crossed the bar top over to where she was standing. Two months into her captivity here, and Emma knew better than to let her baser instincts win out. Despite how gross this man was, and how underwhelming he was on any metric of attractiveness, Emma couldn’t cave to her want to blow him off. Doing so was a risk, and if she had any chance of surviving this hell hole, she could not afford to take those.

“What can I get you, Mr. Black?” Emma asked, ignoring the stench of sweat and booze that mingled with the man’s cheap aftershave. She looked at him for only a second before looking down again, knowing her best bet was to try and blend into the background and let these men set their sights on the women who actually wanted to be here.

“I’ll take a night in bed with you, darlin’.” Emma chocked down a gag but flashed an insincere smile as she shook her head.

“You know the rules, Black. I work for Gold in a strictly drink-serving capacity.”

“Damn waste if you ask me, putting talent like you up in the bar.”

A waste? Emma considered it a small miracle. Since the day that Gold’s men had swarmed her apartment with guns drawn, looking for Lily, Emma had been completely at the will of a monster. She knew from the second they apprehended her and brought her back here that she could be destined for anything. People talked about Gold in this city and there was no crime he was too good to partake in. He had brothels all over the place and a stake in the skin trade. He ran drugs and guns, made people disappear and black mailed anyone he could. He had no moral restrictions, and no love greater than the one had for money and control. He owned this city in almost every single way, and if he chose to, he could make her life even worse than it was now. So much worse. It sent a shiver up her spine to even contemplate some of the things she’d heard whispered about. But Gold, as dark and twisted as he was, did have a code, and he’d briefly explained it to her the night she was brought in.

“I’m a man who collects his debts, Miss Swan, but I am also a man who sees a whole story. You had nothing to do with Lily’s betrayal, I know this. You’re collateral damage, a source of collection through no fault of your own. The debt must be payed, but since you yourself have never wronged me, I’ll be good to you. You even think of crossing me, however, and you’ll live to regret it.”

Emma knew the truth when she heard it. Her gut was never wrong. Even with Lily, the problem wasn’t that Emma had missed her true colors, she’d just chosen to ignore the telltale signs of a problem person because she really had no other friends. She hoped that Lily may come around, that she’d get better and really try and make a go of things in an above board way, but with Gold there was no doubt as to the veracity of his threat. If he felt Emma was disloyal, he’d punish her, and if at the end of this there was any doubt that she’d turn on him, she would never be free. She had to be picture perfect in her actions. A pretty, polite prisoner who served their time and then kept silent. She was ready to do that, she just had to stick to her plan and keep her head up in the meantime.

As she made Mr. Black’s drink and got caught into the flow of the bar, serving men their beer and liquor until they all got drunk as hell, Emma counted down the seconds until the night would be over. She gathered her measly tips, and kept them guarded close, and she knew that tonight would be like every other. She was trapped here, in this darkness, destined to be unhappy but determined to survive. When she was free of this she’d go as far away from Gold’s hold as she could. She’d find a cabin somewhere, live a quiet kind of life, and she’d never put herself in this kind of position again. Her lesson had been learned – she could trust no one but herself, and though that was a totally lonely sensation, she had to try and accept it or risk hurting herself all over again down the line.

Suddenly, in the midst of the normal night’s activities, the front door blew open and Emma felt a tingling of anticipation when it did. She hadn’t looked in that direction all night long, never liking the people who would dare to enter here, but her instincts were screaming at her to turn around and look. She had no idea why, but when she obeyed the internal command, she was shocked into stillness, caught up in the sight of the man who’d just walked in.

Tall, dark, and fiercely handsome, this man was sin personified and so much better looking than the other thugs that came here every night. He didn’t look out of place though, aside from his attractiveness. The clothes he wore were made of leather and spoke to some dangerous intent. He made no show to hide the side arms he was carrying, one on his hip and one strapped across his chest, and the scowl on his face made him seem hard and unapproachable. For a moment, Emma had the chance to take him in, and despite the fierceness of his expression, she felt a flutter low in her stomach.

His chiseled jaw with the well-trimmed beard he had was hot, as was the symmetry of his features and the way his broad body clenched and she could see his muscles. But if someone were to ask her what stood out most about this mystery man it was his eyes. They were blue, like the ocean in places she’d only read about. They weren’t icy or cold, but warm somehow and so thoroughly enticing. She felt herself lost in them, and then he looked at her, their gazes connecting, and that sensation grew so much stronger. She felt a kind of pang echo through her ribcage the moment he took her in, and she watched as the hardness of his face shifted ever so slightly. It was a small tell, most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Emma did, and she knew that he felt this too. Whatever the hell this was – the man who’d just arrived was just as captive to it as she was.

“Ah, Captain, you’re here!” One of the regulars said, laughing and flailing about as only truly drunk men did. “Didn’t think we’d ever get you to The Lair. Thought you was too good for us.”

The man they called ‘Captain’ tore his gaze from Emma and moved over to the man who’d called him over. His stride was measured and almost graceful, and Emma couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes. This was so unlike her. She made it her business not to watch anyone too closely. The less she knew about what everyone was really up to the better, but she was intrigued by this newcomer in a way she’d never been before.

“Boss wants to see you, Alvin. Something about the McManus shipment.” Alvin blanched at the comment and swallowed harshly and Emma knew for certain that this man was in trouble with Gold. She didn’t have much sympathy for Alvin, and in fact most of her intention was focused on this stranger, who had the touch of an accent she couldn’t quite place. His voice was silky and low, tantalizing in a way, and she wanted to hear more of it. “Perhaps you’d like a drink for the road. Not sure when you’ll have the chance for another.”

“Bring them this,” Sydney said, materializing from nowhere next to Emma. She jumped at the unexpected intrusion into her thoughts, and looked at the two glasses.

“Is this rum?” she asked dumbly and Sydney nodded.

“The best. Captain likes the good stuff.”

“Right,” Emma said, moving over with the tray to the table where both men sat. When she got there, she was struck speechless again. Being so close to this man only added to the allure. He was even more interesting close up, and she lost her head a little bit at the sight of him, but tried to pull herself together as best he could. “Your drinks, gentlemen.”

Alvin took the drink and downed in, but the stranger took his time, glancing at her over the glass and nodding. He didn’t smile, but his eyes conveyed a warmth he’d shared with no one else here. “Thank you, love.”

Knowing she couldn’t linger, Emma moved back to the other tables, continuing her work, but when she noticed Alvin and the mysterious man standing up to go a few minutes later, she felt a dash of disappointment. He was leaving, and she didn’t even know his name.

Okay, seriously? What the hell Emma? He’s one of them. He works for Gold. You don’t care about him. You can’t care.

The voice in her head scolded her for her fanciful thinking and this completely mistimed attraction. It was so foolish to think of him as anything but a threat, but her heart lurched at the thought. She was overcome with these weird feelings. Being so drawn to a man so quickly had never been her style. Certainly not now when she was in survival mode. But as she turned around to fill a tray with empty glasses on one of the far tables, she felt a presence behind her. She whipped around too quickly, only to run into him, and if it hadn’t been for his steadying hands, one on her arm and the other on her tray, the glasses would have shattered.

“You all right, love?”

“Um,” she licked her lips as her eyes darted up to and she nodded once. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Good. Just wanted to give you this,” he said, handing her a tip. It was generous. Like a couple hundred-dollar bills generous. It was way more than their drinks had been and way way more than she could ever accept. It felt wrong, but there was a part of her that was desperate to keep it. This would put her that much closer to freedom. It was almost a week she wouldn’t have to work. Still she pushed it back at him.

“I can’t. It’s too much.”

“It’s hardly enough,” he replied ardently and her brow furrowed as she looked at his face, the earnestness on it clear as day to her. “I know these men, love. There’s no way they give you what you’ve earned. Not tonight, not ever. So please, take it.”

“Okay,” she agreed after a moment’s hesitation, feeling gratified by the fact that she had earned this, even if he wasn’t the one who should have to pay. “Thanks…”

“Killian,” he filled in before she could decide to use the nickname that Alvin had called him by.

“Killian,” she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue and loving the way it felt as it passed through her lips. “I’m Emma, by the way.”

“Emma,” he replied with a grin that was there and gone so quickly she would have missed it as she blinked. As it was, she knew she saw it, and that look was even more breathtaking than the rest of him. No one had a right to be that sexy. No one. “Well, until next time, Emma.”

With that, he turned and walked away, cold and composed once more as he led Alvin out of the bar and headed off into the night. And though Emma knew very little about him, she had a feeling she’d just met someone very important. Through the mist of all the new emotions and excitement, she sensed, deep down, that this man – Killian – mattered, and that somehow, someway, their fates were intertwined, destined to lead them back to each other in one way or another.

Post-Note: So there we have it! This is a short glimpse into the fic, kind of like a prologue if you will. Next chapter will flash forward a bit, because this honestly was angsty enough for me to write. I do not want to dwell in the bad circumstances Emma finds herself in, and instead want to get us to a fluffier, if still a bit wilder place than I am used to. As the description says this will be an MC (motorcycle club) romance, and we’ll reveal how that will come to pass in the next few chapters. In the meantime, I would love to hear what you all think! This is a break away from my usual fare, and pretty much the opposite of the other fic I am currently writing, but I have wanted to write a story like this for a really long time. I’m eager to share the rest of this fic with you all, and hope you will join me on this fun new journey. Anyway, thanks for reading and hope you have a great rest of your day!

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan au #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs angst #cs au #cs mc au #cs motorcycle club au #emma swan #killian jones #gold is a bad guy #the whole storybrooke gang #ouat au #when we collide #when we collide au

[memxntomxri]

𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊, 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎, 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚖𝚊

𝘱𝘵. 1 - 𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢

𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - kozume kenma x oc

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 - childhood friends to lovers

𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤 - kozume kenma and ikeda sora have always known that they're different. the question is, what will they do about it? (aka the author's take on aromantic kenma in a queerplatonic relationship with a grayromantic oc)

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 - 2k words (in an afternoon, i am way too proud of myself)

𝘵𝘸 - mentions of suic!de, implied d3pression, internalized hom0phobia

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

philia (n.) - deep fondness for family or friends

Kozume Kenma is a (naturally) quiet child. Ikeda Sora notices this the first they meet, when their mothers drag them to the park for a playdate after hitting if off the day before at the supermarket. (Their mothers, of course, Kenma hid behind his mother's legs the entire time.) Sora disregards this (of course) and grins at him, beaming as bright as the sun. Kenma squints at her, as if it hurts to look directly into her visage. "Hey! My name's Sora, but everyone calls me So-chan!" she introduces.

Kenma looks away. Why is this girl so loud and enthusiastic? Even Kuroo wasn't that bad when they first met... "I'm Kenma..." he mutters. Sora's smile becomes wider, if that's possible. "Nice to meet you, Kencchi!" Kencchi? Where did that come from?

Sora grabs Kenma's arm, determined on dragging him to play on the monkey bars. "I'm in second grade - my teacher, Tsukamoto-sensei, is super nice! The other day me and my friend Hana made a flower out of paper, and..." she babbles on. Kenma lets her lead him around, offering no resistance, but no affirmation either. That doesn't seem to matter to the bright and bubbly girl, who continues chattering on, even without any response from Kenma.

Still, at the end of the day, Kenma knows her teddy bear's name, what she had for breakfast for the past three days, and that she thinks that girls who think boys are cute are weird.

The next time they meet, two weeks later (their mothers hadn't had time to organize another playdate), it's on accident. Kuroo, dropping by that morning, had forced Kenma out of the house (with Kozume-san's permission) to go to the local kid's volleyball club with him. Since they were all still in elementary, the teams had yet to be split by gender, and Kenma could hear the raucous screams of both high- and low(er)-pitched voices all the way from around the corner from the gym. He shrunk in on himself. "Kuro, do we really have to go?" he asks softly.

Kuroo laughs raucously and ruffles his younger friend's hair. "C'mon Kenma, I know you liked it the last time we were here!" Kenma grumbles and drags his feet, but still allows Kuroo to lead him into the air-conditioned gym. At least it's cooler than outside...

There, they find the club already in session - getting Kenma out of the house requires at least 30 minutes of wheedling and begging - and Kuroo is immediately rushed by a multitude of other children. (It's fine, it's normal - Kuroo's always been popular.) Kenma stands to the side, content on letting his friend catch up with his other friends. Suddenly, Kenma's vision is filled with dark hair, dark eyes, and a smile that is still too bright.

"Kencchi! Nice to see you hear!" The girl from the park - Sora, he thinks - chirps. "Do you play volleyball too?" Kenma nods shyly. "That's so cool! What position do you want to play when you grow up? I want to be a middle blocker! They're so cool! Like," Sora raises her arms in a blocking position that is actually quite accurate for someone her age, "bam! shutout!" she exclaims.

Kenma shrugs. "I guess I'm going to play setter." Sora looks at him quizzically, as if she can't comprehend why he isn't as enthusiastic as her. Then, her expression shifts back to pure sunshine. "That's so cool!" she repeats. "Can you set for me?" she asks excitedly. "Oh. Uh, sure." Kenma replies. To be honest, he's not certain why he agrees. He's never been the type to take on extra work, and he certainly isn't one to attempt to "make friends" (he's pretty sure this counts as friendmaking). But somehow, he finds it almost impossible to say no to Sora.

They see each other every week at volleyball club. Soon, weeks become months, months become years, and before Kenma notices, Sora has become one of his closest friends.

They've known each other for two months when Sora starts popping by his house at random hours (they live on the same street, apparently) with Kuroo so that they can drag him out to the riverbank and practice volleyball for hours.

They've been "friends" (Sora enthusiastically declared that they now fit the label during their second volleyball practice together) for five months when Kenma realizes that he's truly comfortable around her.

And with the tides of time, there is also inevitably change. For one, Kuroo graduates, leaving his two childhood best friends behind (only for a year, he insists). For another, Kenma discovers games, and there's no going back from there. Many other "friends" would have left him at this point - he can no longer be seen without his PSP, and it's ten times harder to get him outside to spend time with them.

Sora never minds, however. She knows Kenma like the back of her hand now (and Kuroo too, though to a lesser extent) and she also knows that he does deeply care for her. So, every day at 8PM like clockwork, Kuroo and Sora show up at Kenma's house with snacks in hand, ready to play Mario Kart or whatever Kenma has queued up on his gaming console for a few hours. During this time, it's mostly Kuroo and Sora's voices filling the air, but if you were to ask Kenma about what they had been talking about, he would have been able to give a summary point-by-point.

They also continue to play volleyball - Kuroo and Sora have become formidable blockers, and Sora is now strong enough that she can drag both Kuroo and Kenma one-handed. Kenma has also begrudgingly "leveled up", and he's the starting setter for their elementary school.

It's always been and always will be Kuroo, Kenma and Sora against the world. At least, that was what they believed as children.

Middle school brings a slew of changes. The three friends are back together, though they only meet together (all three of them) during lunch, and increasingly less as Sora becomes occupied with homework and Kuroo with his burgeoning popularity. Kenma's okay with this, he tells himself. But the small ache in his chest says otherwise.

They're still playing volleyball, of course. There have always been three things constant in Kenma and Sora's life: each other, Kuroo, and volleyball. Sora's talent is recognized almost immediately, and she starts having to go to more and more after-school practices as they whip her into shape for middle school tournaments. It's a little different for Kuroo and Kenma. While Kuroo's easy-to-get-along-with demeanor made him many friends on the team, the fact that there were just better people than him for the starting lineup frustrated him to no end. Kenma, on the other hand, was picked on just for being quiet and always absorbed in his games.

Of course, Sora and Kuroo find out eventually, and the two boys who were giving him trouble left school that day with quite a few bruises and a busted lip. ("Violence isn't the answer, Kuro." Kenma admonishes, his worry for his two best friends drawing him out of his usual shell. "But it's usually the question!" pipes up Sora cheekily. "Besides, Tetsu didn't even throw that many punches! I did most of the fighting!" Sora crows proudly, holding up her bruised knuckles as proof. Kenma sighs and hands her an ice pack, but inside he's secretly thankful that he has friends like these two. They may drift apart physically, but he knows that they'll always have his back.)

With middle school, of course, also comes the inevitable "Are you two, you know, together?" questions. Sora has always been bad at suppressing her need to show affection, and Kenma had gotten used to it over the years, so they both think nothing of Kenma riding on Sora's back when he's tired from volleyball practice (even though she just wrapped up her own practice, Sora is never too tired to carry him around) or Kenma giving Sora his chicken breast because he knows that that's her favorite.

They always deny it calmly, but the rumors are still there. And Kenma supposes that he can't blame them. Sora has never bothered to hide their friendship, and Kenma has never pushed her away. He wonders what liking a girl feels like. To be honest, Kenma is pretty sure that he's never had a crush. Yes, he cares for Sora very deeply and would give up his PSP for her (never tell her he would do so, she would never let him live it down), but his heart doesn't go doki-doki when she walks past and he never blushes when she throws an arm around his shoulders when they're walking down the sidewalk together.

Whatever, he thinks. They're still in middle school. Actual romance is so far off it might as well be the moon.

In their last year of middle school, Sora's father walks out on her mother, leaving them for another woman. The next day, Sora's mother (Ikeda-san always made him apple pie on his birthdays, Ikeda-san always looked at her husband like she wanted more, Ikeda-san, Ikeda-san, Ikeda-san.) is found unmoving and blue in their bathtub, water sloshing over the side as Sora sobs next to her, empty pill bottle in the sink.

Sora moves in with her older cousin, Ikeda Hitomi, three blocks away. Her father signed over custody without even a word of protest. Kenma finds it hard to resist the urge to call Kuroo and go rip into the scumbag. It's only three blocks, but somehow Kenma feels like it's a thousand kilometers.

Sora becomes cold and unreachable. She no longer comes for their 8PM gaming sessions. She still sits next to Kenma at school, but there are no more funny notes with caricatures of their duck-voiced science teacher, no more warm smiles, no more nudges to his shoulder when Akame smiles shyly at Haruto.

Sora has always been the one reaching out throughout their friendship, the one who kept the fire stoked, the one who started the conversation. When she withdraws, Kenma finds himself reaching across the gap, looking to fill the sudden empty space.

He shows up every day at 7PM with a hot container of food from his mother because he knows that Hitomi works late to provide for both of them (Sora's cousin is nice, but all of them know that it's too much for a 23-year-old waitress to be taking care of both herself and her baby cousin, but Hitomi will never give Sora up, because Hitomi isn't Sora's father, Hitomi loves Sora, Hitomi, even while physically absent, is always there for Sora, and that is why Kenma trusts her with Sora) and Sora can't cook to save her life.

He begins willingly putting down his games to play volleyball with her and Kuroo (it seems the only thing in life she still has passion for). He wakes up early every morning so that he can walk the extra 10 minutes to Sora's house so they can go to school together. He remembers to bring a scarf for her on winter days, because Sora has seemingly forgotten how to take care of herself.

It hurts Kenma's heart to see his friend like this, a shell of herself.

Eventually, it does get better. Sora doesn't go back to the bright and bubbly girl she used to be, but she does start talking more. She even begins giving small smiles whenever Kuroo cracks an especially horrible joke and Kenma shuts him down. Kenma knows that she'll never quite be the same, but he's happy to have at least part of his best friend back.

He knows that high school will be an entirely different beast, but Kenma's hopeful that it will be alright, with Sora and Kuroo by his side.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

© ʙᴇᴛʜᴇʏᴅᴏᴄʀɪᴍᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴇꜱ 2021 - ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ

#haikyuu!! #haikyu x oc #hq kenma #kenma kozume #hq fanfic #fanfic #queer platonic relationship #arospec #aro pride #aromanticism #character study

[katsuki-goodness]

Part 1 =>

Summary: You both have known each other since middle school and you knew of his rude nature towards Izuku. You also happen to be one of Izuku’s good friends.

For the lovely, @shoutodoki​

~

I knew coming to this school was a good idea. The thought of leaving Izuku alone with Katsuki was a mistake in itself because I knew he was going to say even more stupid things to him. Was I an ass for being an ass back to the blonde? No. I don’t believe I am but I know he would say otherwise. Katsuki doesn’t hold back either so I really can’t say I don’t deserve it. I have my issues but one of them is the explosive boy which happens to be in the 1A class in UA. He got in and I didn’t but at least Izuku did.

I worked hard, I know I did but others worked harder and they got the result they wanted. Most of us just don’t have as much of the natural talent as the others in that class regardless of how encouraging broccoli boy can be, I can’t help myself in thinking how useless I felt when I didn’t get in the hero course. Katsuki did and I still wasn’t mad. Natural talent, even with his hot-headed nature.

Seeing Izuku walking with his friends into 1A got me a bit teary. It seems like he forgot about me though, judging by how he didn’t even notice me when I waved to him. Its been a year since the first start of the year and this is a new year. Maybe I should have spoken up but he looked so happy. I didn’t know what to do so I walked away into my own class: 1B.

I do miss hanging out with green hair but at least he is doing much better now. It seems like Katsuki hasn’t been bothering him as much which is good. Adding to the fact that the sports festival is around the corner and my anxiety is going to rise so much. I am scared to not live up to the training that I have been doing alone. I want to make Izuku look my way again and remember his good friend, but I also want to show Katsuki how much I’ve grown, too.

+

It was the day, and the classes were grouped up in the stadium. I had looked around with the intention of finding someone I knew but everyone was pushed in here at random times so I knew the teachers were setting things up. I was surrounded by some 1C and support students, looking confused and even more on guard than I’ve seen them. Some look very confident but right now, I felt nervous. I am sure they are going to do something but I am still wondering what it is.

“Welcome everyone! This year will be a new and even more difficult challenge than the previous years!” Present Mic shouted to many of the students gathered in the stadium. “This year, we will be putting you to a test in this very stadium! Aside from the amount of damage you all might be taking, we will be securing the audience while teachers will be standing by just in case!”

So this was what they were planning? Fighting a titan or another teacher? Everyone was preparing themselves and I had to do the same. It took me a few seconds to realize that the ground was shaking, everything looking blurry and I saw what seem to be mecha. What is this?

“That thing is huge!” Someone shouted and many other students followed suit. It stood up straight and launched an arm straight to the ground, making me and a few other students jump away.

“Come on everyone! We have to work together to slow it down so we can destroy it,” Another said. I was agreeing to that but once I saw the source of the voice, he was already sprinting towards the mecha. A few others were as well, and I recognized them all. They all were so fearless, the look on their faces was serious and looked so determined. I had to do the same. I can use my quirk to slow down the mecha.

I used a mist I can use that travels at a fast rate to guide it to the feet and legs of the mecha, grabbing ahold of it as it traveled upward the leg.

“Nice job, Y/n,” I heard one of my classmates say. “Take advantage of this time! She won’t hold out for long!” A lot of students began to charge at it but the mecha had slashed at the students who recklessly jumped at it, sending many back as the class of 1A dodged so effortlessly. Many others had been following behind class 1A, like Shinsou who was staying back.

I shook my head and tried to concentrate and tried maintaining the mist around its legs. My arms began to shake a bit but I closed my eyes and looked back at the mecha. I tried making it travel higher than the ankle but my arms began to shake again. I had to keep it at its feet or else my quirk would disappear.

The mecha began to move again, swiping at the students and some of class 1A got pushed back. I closed my eyes as the wind that the mecha had produced came directly towards me. Kneeling down, I tried grabbing at the ground as I saw something slide next to me. I looked over, trying to open my eyes and saw a familiar curly-haired boy looking at me with surprise, his body straightening up as he called out,

“Y/n?!” I looked over, gaze fixated on him until it shifted to the mecha again.

“Focus,” I told him. He didn’t respond so I assume he had been looking somewhere else.

“Can you bring up the mist, Y/n?” I stayed quiet and tried moving the mist again but my arms started to shake again. I tried maintaining it again but it caused a huge shock wave of pain through my body that made my mist retract.

“D-dammit!” I cursed under my breath.

“Y-y/n-”

“Don’t worry about me! You guys need to take it down!” His started face, when I looked at him, did take me by surprise. He looked worried or maybe something was going through his mind, I wasn’t sure honestly. I still cared for him but it is not the right time. I'm sure he wanted to pass just like I did and standing here talking about it is not helping whatsoever.

The more time passes, the more aggressive it seems to be. So many students have been flung against the concrete of the stadium, many of which were injured pretty badly.

“Deku, you have a plan,” I asked him. He didn’t say anything. The mecha began to move now a little and I yelped, feeling my arms as if they were getting pulled with every step back it took.

“I-i’m sorry! I have nothing at the moment!” This was not his fault. I know how hard it can be. Looking at this machine has me very perplexed. I can’t think of anything either.

Suddenly there was a cloud of smoke that busted in front of us and someone rolled to me and hit me, making me lose control of my quirk and let the mecha free. Izuku quickly came my way but stopped once he saw the person stand up, growling loudly as he positioned himself in a fighting stance.

“That damn piece of metal thinks it can stop me?!’“ He had said. I sat up, holding my arm in pain, lightly rubbing it as the blonde in front of me ranted on. Izuku ran to me but I stopped him by lifting my hand up to signal to him to focus. The blonde hadn’t taken notice until Izuku stopped close to him and glared at the boy. I already felt his tongue sharpening to say something but Izuku’s eyes weren’t on him so it made him turn around to look down at me, his confused and angry face showing even more irritation than he already showed.

“Deku, we need to slow it down,” Ignoring Katsuki as I told Izuku, making the blonde even angrier.

“Hah! So they let you at this school too?” Katsuki said which of course meant he wanted to start arguing with me. I didn’t want to start off with him this way. Its been too long and I am not sure how my heart will take it. Not now, please.

“I don’t need you losing focus too Bakugou!” I shouted at him. I quickly got up, struggling to stay standing.

“Clearly you can’t even stand up straight!”

“I wonder who’s fault was that.”

“You think I wanted to land on you, you dweeb?!”

“Guys! It’s not the time,” Shouting out, Izuku glared at us but it only fueled him more.

“Whatever. Stay out of my way, Y/n. If I remember correctly, you couldn’t even protect yourself from others with weaker quirks than yours, so do us all a favor and quit.” I didn’t say anything to him. I know if I stay quiet, I will let him win but I don’t care. I was here to try to impress him but I realize now that it is only satisfying my desire to get noticed when I should be working to better myself for my own progress. I could not let Katsuki see me less. I already think that about myself but I can’t let anyone do it to me again, especially not him.

This whole time, Izuku looked away. He didn’t try to defend me and he didn’t show anything that made him think that Katsuki’s statement was false. It's true I could not beat other students but I always said I would never want to hurt someone else even if it required it. Even if I tried to, I couldn’t. I truly felt even more alone than I have ever felt before.

I looked around, trying to find some of my classmates, and sure enough, some of them were standing in a group and so I walked over to them. I was a bit wobbly but I managed. I'm not sure if I heard right but I heard a very irritated ‘tch’ coming from Katsuki who now walked away in the opposite direction towards the mecha.

Maybe it was wrong for me to think he would have respected me even as a student of this school. I was wrong.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #i was here bakugou ff

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Summary: Kagami and Adrien skate together, and the special guest arrives.

Word Count: 2644 | Chapter 2/3

XXX

“Woah, it’s pretty dark in here.  Are you sure Phillipe said it was okay to come?”  Adrien asked as the doors creaked open.

It was black as pitch inside.  If Nino hadn’t shown her the process photos of their decorations, she might have believed the rink was deserted.

“I’ve never lied to you,” Kagami replied.  Her ice skates clinked where they hung over her shoulder.  “Come on, let’s get that ridiculous wig off.”

“What? Is blue not my color?”  He grinned.  It was insufferably cute, even if Kagami now knew the affection she felt for him wasn’t romantic.

She pulled the wig off and tossed it aside.  That was the signal she and Nino had agreed upon.

Suddenly the rink bust into light.  Lasers of red and green glinted off the giant disco ball Wayhem had managed to hang at the top of the dome.  Normal fluorescent bulbs flashed to life as well, illuminating the crowd that had gathered in the stands around the rink.

“Happy birthday, Adrien!”  All of his friends shouted in echoing cacophony.

Kagami’s focus stayed trained on Adrien as realization dawned over him.  His wide eyes took in everyone grinning at him—Nino in the back by his DJ equipment, Alya waving from closer by, Wayhem charging up to be the first to greet him.

“You… you guys threw me a birthday party?”

“It is your birthday, isn’t it?”  Kagami laughed before taking his skates.  “I’ll hold on to these for now.  Go say hello to everyone.”

Before she knew it, Adrien’s arms were flinging around her.

“Thank you, Kagami.  I know how much work this must have taken to put together.”

She relaxed in his embrace, hugging him back.

“You know you’re precious to us.  If you want to thank anyone, it’s Nino who’s the mastermind.”

“I’m not surprised.  He’s brilliant.”  Adrien pulled back, only to give her a quick bisous.  “I know you were involved too.  Please, let me thank you.”

“O-of course, Adrien.”

They shared one last smile before Wayhem practically tackled him.  

“Adrien!  It’s so good to see you, man!”

Kagami backed away as the crowd advanced.  Even after all this time, large groups were difficult for her to navigate.  It was more than worth it to see Adrien so happy, though.

After hugs and bisous were exchanged all around, Nino kicked on the stereo.

“Alright, homies!  Who’s ready to get out there and break the ice?”

He played Friday I’m in Love—one of Adrien’s favorite songs—as everyone who wanted to laced up their skates and filed onto the rink.

“Please, you won’t catch me down in that cesspit.”  Chloé tossed her ponytail.  

“Aww, but it would be fun, Chloé!”  Her red-haired friend—Sabrina, if Kagami recalled correctly—smiled up at her pleadingly.  She already had a pair of turquoise skates on.  “If you fall, I’ll catch you!”

“Quiet!” Chloé pressed a hand to her mouth.  “Do you want everyone to know I can’t skate?”

“Considering you just announced it, I doubt you will keep it a secret.”  Kagami’s eyes narrowed.  Nino might trust Chloé now, but it was difficult to forgive someone who had abused Adrien’s friendship for so long.

“I bet you’re a professional figure skater, aren’t you,” Chloé muttered.

“No.  Skating is just a hobby.  But I could help teach you, if you would like.”

Kagami might not trust Chloé, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be civil.  Besides, she’d been wrong about a few of Adrien’s friends before.

Chloé blinked a few times.  “You would—?  I mean, thanks, but no.  I need to make sure the media doesn’t catch us here, anyway.  It’s the most important job, you know.”

“Of course.  Perhaps another time then.”  She dipped her head.

“That would be… nice.”

That settled, Kagami sat a little ways off to put on her skates.

“Kagami!”  Adrien plopped down in the chair beside her, looking brighter than ever.  “Did you see the cake Marinette made?  Alya says it’s got passionfruit icing!”

“I didn’t,” she replied honestly.  “Knowing Marinette, I trust it’s amazing.”

“She’s so thoughtful.”  He smiled while accepting his skates back from her.  “Do you know when she’s coming?  I want to thank her, but I haven’t seen her yet.”

Kagami’s brow furrowed.  “Alya didn’t tell you?  Marinette isn’t coming.”

“She’s… she’s not?”  Adrien’s head hung.  “Do you know why?  Did I do something to upset her?”

“I’m sure it’s not that.”  Unless it was because she’d learned of Adrien’s crush on Ladybug.  Marinette was always touchy when it came to competing for Adrien’s affections, even if she’d eventually put aside her rivalry with Kagami.

“She didn’t explain why she couldn’t come.  But she did say that you mean the world to her, and that she will make it up to you.”

“She really said that?”  His hand hovered over his heart, his face hopeful.

Kagami wondered why Nino thought it so important to bring Ladybug to the party.  Adrien looked just as thrilled at the idea of seeing Marinette.

“Yes.  Now until then, let’s make the most of tonight.”  

“Right.  Thank you.”

He swapped out his orange sneakers for white ice skates, and she caught a glimpse of the dragon sticker she’d stuck on his left blade back when they were dating.  It left a bittersweet taste in her mouth, but more sweet than bitter.  He was a dear friend.  He’d shown that nothing would change that.

“Dance with me?”  He asked while pulling her towards the rink.

“On the ice?”

“Why not?  I know you’re skilled enough.”

She had no doubt of that.  Adrien had always been a little less steady in his skates than her, though.

“Alright.”  She smiled.  “If you think you can keep up with me.”

“You know I never back down from a challenge!”

Nino was playing Don’t Think Twice as they glided out onto the ice.  She had to weave between other skaters—the arena had never been this crowded when she and Adrien escaped here before.  Phillipe must have been thrilled to admit so many patrons.

“Woah!”  Adrien skidded back when a young man with tall blond hair came barreling through.

“Sorry!”  Luka called, skating quickly behind him.  “This is XY’s first time on the ice.”

“Lu!  Look, I think I’m getting the hang of it!”

Kagami hid a laugh behind her hand as XY wiped out, “starfishing” (as Nino would have called it) across the ice.

“Nice moves,” Juleka deadpanned before gliding on with Rose.

“You have some interesting friends,” Kagami noted as she and Adrien started moving again.

“I’m not sure if XY counts as a friend, exactly.”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “He’s more like… an acquaintance, or a weird family member you have to invite to reunions.”

Kagami raised an eyebrow.  “You have a lot of family members like that?”  She had some odd relatives, but they tended to be excluded from family gatherings.

“Er… well, Nino says his family does.  I think all of my family is weird, but a different kind of weird, if you know what I mean.”

Kagami nodded, remembering the few times she’d met Adrien’s cousin Felix.  Not to mention the austere Gabriel himself.

Once they got to a clearer area, Adrien took both of her hands and began skating backwards.

“You’ve gotten better,” she noted.  “I still think you should let me take the male part, though.  I’m more used to skating backwards than you.”

“Fair enough.”  He effortlessly switched positions with her.  

At times like this, she remembered why she’d dated Adrien in the first place.  Not only was he sweet, respectful, and talented, but they were so alike.  They could glide in near-perfect sync from hours of easy practice.  He’d been the first one to take her routine hobbies and add a spark to them, make them truly fun.

Thankfully, those were all things that hadn’t changed.  It had hurt when he’d first admitted that he was still in love with someone else, that he didn’t feel it was fair to treat her as a second choice.  But she respected that now.  He’d made his decision, and she’d learned much more about herself since then, too.

Such as the fact that she might not desire romantic affections at all.

“New song,” Adrien said when Don’t Think Twice stopped playing and Wannabe by the Spice Girls began.  “This one’s not in three-four time.  You’ll have to give me something harder than a box step waltz.”

“Okay, I’ll stop going easy on you!”  

She let go of one of his hands, spinning him out and back in.  He almost skidded on the second spin, but she caught him and turned it into a dip.

“Looks like someone was getting cocky.”  She smirked.

“Nah.  I just knew you would catch me.”  He winked.

She laughed, pulling him back upright and beginning a simpler dance that Alya had taught her.  Something called a foxtrot, if she remembered correctly.

“Shouldn’t you be saving that kind of flirting for your girlfriend?”  

It was satisfying to watch the blush spread across his cheeks.  “My—?  I don’t have a girlfriend.  But if I’m making you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, I really should have—”

“Relax, Adrien.  I was only teasing.”  She squeezed his hand.  They continued gliding hand in hand, not pulling off any fancy tricks this time.

“Still.  I should be more considerate of your feelings.”

“I’ve assured you, you have nothing to worry about.”  She hoped her honest smile showed that.

“But—”

“I’m asexual, Adrien.”

He went silent.  Kagami tried to keep her strides even.  She’d realized this about herself for a while now—since shortly after they broke up—but she’d yet to voice it even to her closest friend.  What if he didn’t believe her?  Or worse, what if he believed she’d led him on in their relationship?  She hadn’t realized that the strong friendship she’d felt for him wasn’t romantic or sexual attraction at the time.

“Like Max?” He replied after a moment.

The response threw her for such a loop that she almost stumbled.  “Like—who?”

“Max Kanté.  From my class?  I can introduce you if you’d like; I saw him when we came in.  If you’re aro too, you might want to talk to Alix, she’s—”

A pink blur blew past them.

“—right there, actually.”  He laughed.  “You might want to catch her off of the rink, though.  She’s even more competitive than you.  It’ll be hard to get her to slow down.”

Something swelled in Kagami’s chest.  She’d felt fairly secure in her identity, but still very much alone.  Distant strangers on the internet could only provide so much comfort.  But if Adrien knew not one, but two people like her…

“Thank you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.  “That would mean so much to me.”

“No problem!  And I really hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable while we were dating.  Relationships are pretty new to me; I never even thought to ask.”

He was worried about making her uncomfortable?  He really was twice the gentleman she’d assumed.

“No need to worry.  I didn’t know I was ace at the time.  If I was uncomfortable, I would have told you.”  It had been a long road in realizing, and an even longer road in accepting her asexuality.  But there was no point in trying to deny who she was.  Seeing Adrien take it in stride was more of a relief than he could know.  “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

“Of course!  You’re my friend, Kagami.  I would never want to hurt a friend.”

Tears threatened to prick her eyes when he flashed her his brightest smile.  Before she could look like a complete fool, though, Nino skated up behind Adrien and tapped his shoulder.

“Hey, bro!  Hey, lady bro!  You mind if I borrow Adrien for a bit?  I want to show off my sick skate moves!”

Kagami laughed.  She could always count on Nino to keep things light.  

“Nino?”  Adrien looked shocked.  “Since when do you skate?”

“Since Kagami taught me!  Thanks again for that, by the way.”  He tipped his cap at her. 

“Why don’t we all skate together for a while?  It’ll be more fun that way,” Adrien suggested.

“Whatever my best bro wants.  XY took over the music, so I’m free for the next few songs.”

Adrien took both of their hands, and they glided in sync.  It was a bit more difficult with Nino, since he was still a beginner, but it was no less fun.  They even managed to dance a bit to the upbeat music.  

“This party is everything I could ask for,” Adrien said in the quiet between two songs.  “I can’t thank you guys enough.”

“We’re just happy to see you happy, dude.”  Nino clapped his shoulder.  “I don’t think this party has everything yet, though.”

Adrien’s brow scrunched.  “What do you mean?”

That was when Kagami noticed a figure in red skating towards them.  The crowd parted before her slow but steady strides.  

“I believe he means her.”  Kagami pointed to the red skater.

It was worth everything to see Adrien’s eyes widen, his cheeks turn pink, an expression of utter elation wash over him.  His grip on Kagami’s hand loosened as he clasped his hands in front of his chest.

“No way.  No way!  You got Ladybug to come to my party?”  He looked between Kagami and Nino, as if trying to figure out who to thank for it.

“It was all Nino.”  Kagami dipped her head.

“It was nothing.”  Nino rubbed the back of his neck.  “Alya did all the heavy lifting.  Her Ladyblog connections, ya know?”

Adrien looked like he was about ready to throw his arms around both of them, but that was when Ladybug reached their group.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said, sounding shyer than Kagami remembered her.  A frozen tiara glimmered in her dark hair, reflecting the laser lights that flashed across the rink.  “I heard it was someone’s birthday?”

“Me!”  Adrien practically shouted.  “I mean—uh, thank you so much for coming to my party, Ladybug.  I’m honored.”

He bowed so deeply, his skates nearly slid out from under him.  Ladybug hid a giggle behind her hand.

“You’re so cute—I mean—it’s super cute—COOL of you to invite me.”  She flashed finger guns at him.  

Kagami’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.  Was Ladybug always so awkward in social situations?  

“It was super cool of you to come!”  Adrien held her shoulders to steady himself as he gave the traditional bisous.  Ladybug’s face was bright red afterwards.

“Should we give them some space?”  Nino whispered to Kagami behind his hand.

“It would defeat the purpose if we didn’t, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re leaving?”  Adrien asked when he tore his eyes away from Ladybug long enough to notice.  “You don’t have to!”

“No worries, dude!  We’ve got to check on Chloé and make sure we’re still not on your babysitter’s radar.  We’ll catch up with you later!”

Nino dragged Kagami away, nearly sending them both to the ice until she steadied them.

“Do you really think Chloé is shirking her responsibilities?”  She asked.

“Nah, she seemed pretty serious about that.  I just needed an excuse to leave them alone.  Adrien would be too nice to leave us otherwise.”

“Oh.”  Kagami leaned back against the railing, watching Adrien take Ladybug’s hand.  They seemed well suited for each other.  Kagami had heard Adrien wax poetic about Ladybug enough to tell his affections were genuine, and Ladybug could protect Adrien from anyone who wanted to hurt him.  

Unless she was the one who ended up hurting him, in which case Kagami would have to test her sabre skills against the superhero.  

That shouldn’t be necessary. Kagami hoped they would find happiness together for at least one evening.

#what an ice surprise #ml #miraculous ladybug #kagami #nino #adrien agreste #fic tag #tali writes

[writings-of-dumpy]

George Weasley and the Girl in Ravenclaw: Part 4

Warnings: Blood, violence and mentions of torture. Also LANGUAGE and enter: spicy Raven

The summer holiday Raven spent at the Burrow was delightful despite the looming danger that You-Know-Who’s return presented. George could have never asked for a better way to spend his first magical summer than with his twin and the girl he loved, even if she wasn’t aware of his feelings. Fred and George would come up with ideas for their shop that they wanted to open in Diagon Alley after graduation, and Raven would help them out with how to do it practically all summer. George noticed Raven and his mum often went off on trips on their own and he found that to be delightful and a testament to Raven. His mum liked everyone, but he knows when his mum merely likes someone versus when she’s willing to accept them as her own. Harry, for example, made the cut almost immediately. Raven was almost just as fast.

That summer was slightly odd, though, because it was spent between the burrow and the Black residence. Raven didn’t seem to mind the travel, though, so George was happy enough to tag along. Through a severe amount of sleuthing, Fred and George had uncovered that the Order of the Phoenix was recruiting members, and all three of them wanted to join, but Molly made it very clear that finishing Hogwarts was a requirement for her children to join the Order.

George felt the last few days of summer were blurry as he sat in the great hall while a toad dressed in pink spoke about being friends with students. He looked over to Raven at her table and she had an unreadable expression. She managed to make eye contact with him for a brief moment, and the feast began.

“I don’t like that woman,” Raven said aloud on their way to Charms.

Fred and George gasp and smile, impressed. Fred spoke, “Never have I ever heard you talk about a teacher that way.”

“I’d barely call her a teacher. She’s a bureaucrat who just wants Fudge to like her. She doesn’t mean anything she says, it’s obvious,” Raven sneered.

George nodded. “I think you’re right.”

As the year progressed, Umbridge took it upon herself to make an entire wall full of decrees, and one of the only times George and Raven could be together without an IS Slytherin breathing down their throats was during DA meetings.

“Today, I’ll teach you all how to produce a patronus. All you have to do is think of the happiest memory—it can be anything!—and say Expecto Patronum,” Harry spoke aloud. “Okay, break off into groups and help each other out.”

“Alright, give it a go, smarty pants,” George teased Raven. She smiled and rolled her eyes, then thought for a moment.

After a beat, she held up her wand and performed the spell perfectly. Out of her wand flew a silver light that formed what looked to be a large ferret or a small weasel. George smirked to himself and was thoroughly impressed, but expected nothing less.

“What is it?” he asked her, knowing that she’d know more than anyone.

“A polecat. It’s a kind of weasel found in Europe,” she said with a smile and it trotted over to her. After a moment, it disappeared.

“Must mean you’re meant for a Weasley, hm?” George teased with a wink and a blush.

“Let’s see what yours is, then,” Raven challenged with a playful smile.

George thought for a moment. Happy thoughts, Harry said? Not just happy, the happiest. George brought his mind to the night of the Yule ball the previous year and pictured Raven so close to him and he felt his heart beat faster. Happiness swelled in him when he relived the night he nearly confessed his love and he felt for a moment that Raven was his to hold.

“Expecto Patronum!” he said with purpose and the same silver light came out of his wand and formed a medium-sized bird that flew over Raven, and then back to him. He smiled in delight at the creature he made.

“Hm, must mean you’re meant to be with a bird. Perhaps a Raven?” Fred hinted in a low voice only George could hear. George blushed hard as the bird flew away and disappeared, which left Raven in view.

“You did it! That’s amazing, George!” she congratulated and made her way over to him quickly and embraced him tightly. George held her close to him and smiled widely as he held her in the air for a moment. George smiled down at her in delight. For the rest of the lesson, they conjured patronus after patronus and forgot for a moment that the outside of these walls was a horrible dictatorship of a school.

As weeks turned into months, Umbridge only became worse. She doled out detention like it was nothing, and it was a place Fred and George often found themselves. Their usual pranks would cost them, and George did his best to prevent Raven from being associated with hem. As a muggle-born, she was most vulnerable to Umbridge’s harsh punishments. His cuts from her quills turned into a deep scar on his hand that he and Fred were trying to figure out how to cover or fade, but all of that would have to wait.

“Blimey, I believe it’s your turn to see the High Inquisitor, mudblood,” George heard a sniveling voice that could only belong to Draco Malfoy say. His head shot up and he saw Draco dragging a girl wearing Ravenclaw robes away.

“Hey, piss-head Milfoy!” George called, deliberately mispronouncing his name.

“George, no!” Raven’s voice called from beside the Slytherin.

His fears realized, George felt nothing but rage as he ran up the hall and slammed himself into Draco. He ignored Fred’s cries and Raven’s pleading for him to stop punching the blond boy, but George was driven by anger and fear for the one he loved. He couldn’t let Umbridge torture Raven, not without a fight. Draco’s nose was busted and bleeding at this point, and George felt two pairs of arms pull him off.

“Stop this at once, both of you! Mr. Weasley, my office immediately,” Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out through the courtyard. George realized that Raven and Fred had pulled him away from Draco, not the other IS students as he expected. “Miss Barrie, I trust you to take Mr. Malfoy to the infirmary.”

“Yes, professor,” Raven said. She offered a hand to help Draco up, but he ignored it and the two of them made their way toward the infirmary.

George received one of the worst reprimands of his life in McGonagall’s office. He stood there and barely listened to it because his mind was focused on how Raven was now not only going to be taken to be tortured by Umbridge, but before that she had to help the man taking her to said torture.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself, Mr. Weasley, because that behavior has earned you a week’s worth of detention,” McGonagall concluded. “And sixty points from Gryffindor.”

“I’m sorry, Professor. I don’t know what came over me,” George confessed. “I just hate what’s happening here, and when Draco used that slur and started hauling her away, I had to stop it.”

“You’re only one person, George. We all have to cooperate if we want things to run smoothly,” she said and sat in her chair. “I know that matters of the heart can be difficult, especially at such a delicate time, but think before you act.”

“I don’t want to cooperate with racists like Malfoy,” George muttered, echoing words Raven had spoken a few days earlier.

“I wasn’t speaking about cooperating with HIM,” she said coolly and gave George a knowing look. George let out a breath and nodded, then headed back to his dormitory.

On the way, he heard someone crying down one of the hallways. He turned and saw a younger Gryffindor, a first year no doubt, crying with blood on his hands. Fred was sat next to him and attempting to console him.

“I know it hurts, but it does subside. Look, our scars are already starting to fade,” George said as he knelt down next to the boy. The boy sniffled and nodded with tears rolling down his face still. Fred and George shared a look of hopelessness, then a glint in Fred’s eye sparked one in George’s as he assumed they were thinking of a revenge plot against The Pink Toad.

“Now, back to your dormitory,” George heard Umbridge’s sickeningly sweet voice say from across the corridor.

“Cunt,” he heard Raven’s voice swear at the teacher. George immediately stood upright and headed toward the voices.

“That’s another month’s detention, Miss Barrie.”

“In that case, get fucked, you hag,” Raven spat back.

George rushed over to Raven and pulled her away before Umbridge’s head exploded in anger and she cursed Raven right then.

“Come on, she’s not worth it,” George muttered in her ear. The pair nearly ran past Fred and the boy and once they were a safe distance away, George stopped and looked at Raven. Her face had been bloodied and he could see bruises forming around her eyes, and her lips had a few gashes and were swollen.

“Merlin’s beard, what happened in there?” George said.

“She wanted information, I told her no. She didn’t like that, so after a few punches from Draco and a torture curse or two, she decided detention for a month with her quills would be better,” Raven said. “Is my nose ring still intact? Mum thought it was nice on me.”

George looked at her nose and saw a small jewel still in its rightful place on her nostril. His eyes welled up with tears. “Yeah, it’s still there. I’m so sorry this happened to you, Ven… I wanted to protect you, but I may have made it worse.”

“No, I think I was the one who made it worse, George. Thank you for trying, though,” Raven said.

“You know, George, I think our talents lie outside the realm of academic achievement,” Fred said as he approached the pair with his head down. He then saw Raven’s condition once he looked up. “Bloody hell…”

“You know, Fred, I’ve been thinking exactly the same thing,” George said with a grin.

#george weasley #george weasley x oc

[gxdsetmxnsters]

You’re the One Thing I Can’t Let Go

Originally posted on both Wattpad and Ao3 ; Vent fic ; Scriddler ; mentions of  domestic violence : unhealthy relationships : alcohol : sex : unhealthy coping mechanisms

"I dunno what happened," Edward blubbered before angrily wiping his runny nose.

He was slumped against the chair he was sitting at with Selina sitting across from him with a concerned look on her face. It wasn't every day that Edward Nygma, aka the Riddler, dropped in for a visit, and it was much less common for him to come to her apartment in the beginning stages of a breakdown. Scratch that, it was something that'd never happened before, and she considered Edward a close enough friend to be concerned for his general wellbeing and current state.

"Try to explain," Selina said soothingly, unsure if reaching across the small kitchen table and putting a reassuring hand on Edward would help calm him down or cause more problems than it was worth.

"Dunno, dunno," Edward whined softly. He drew up his knees and balanced on the chair, hugging them to his chest. Selina almost asked if he wanted to move to the living room as the couch was more comfortable than a chair, but refrained. If Edward wanted to move he'd either do so himself or ask if he could.

"Was it Jon?" Selina asked carefully, knowing she had guessed correctly with the way Edward stiffened and sniffled loudly.

"Iddint always," Edward said, his current state making his words sound nasally and pinched. "It's always that prick."

"What happened?" Selina pressed, leaning forward and eyeing Edward, concern growing for the man in front of her.

She was well aware of the relationship between Edward and Jonathan, as was the majority of the other rogues, but only she, as far as she knew, was fully aware of how dysfunctional the relationship truly was. Sure the relationship itself was dysfunctional at best but it went deeper than just the simple assumption that it was dysfunctional.

The fact of the matter was the relationship bordered on being nearly as bad as Joker and Harley's relationship, but granted for different reasons. Selina had learned of this when Edward had shown up on her doorstep nearly a year ago with a busted lip and the clear signs that he'd been gassed with Jonathan's Fear Toxin.

Having managed to pry information out of Edward then, Selina had been mildly horrified by the behaviors and actions Edward and Jonathan took out on each other. She'd learned that such fights happened at least two to three times a week from arguments that often started out being petty.

Edward had confessed that he was at much of fault as Jonathan was for their "domestics", having given the other man more than one concussion by hitting him with his cane, and even the one time occurrence of breaking the man's arm, of which Jonathan had returned in kind.

"Jon didn't gas you again, did he?" Selina inspected the still crying Edward in front of her, relieved to see that there were, at least, no outwardly signs of Edward being, or having been, affected by the Toxin.

"Nuh uh," Edward shook his head and sneezed, easing his legs down so he was sitting normally.

Selina sighed before getting up and grabbing Edward the box of tissues that was sitting on the kitchen counter.

"I'm glad to hear that at least." Selina skid the box of tissues over to Edward who grabbed a few and wiped his nose. "I still don't understand why you're with him though."

"Not... Not all his fault." Edward hiccuped and looked at Selina with his red watery eyes. "I'm just as... just as at fault..."

He blew his nose again and Selina waited patiently for him to continue, sensing that he wished to.

"Sometimes... sometimes I wonder why I'm with him myself," Edward confessed. "I... I know it's not the best but I... can't stay away. I know it's probably bad, but I care about the bastard. Probably too much..."

His eyes lost focus as he zoned out, an odd detached look on his face a stark contrast to the emotional one he'd had moments before.

"Edward," Selina reached over and gently placed a hand on his to bring him back into the moment.

Edward jumped and yanked his hand away from Selina's, yes wide and wild looking before he calmed himself down. "Sorry 'lina."

Selina smiled slightly and waved a hand, "It's ok Ed, your reaction was to be expected."

Edward nodded before looking down at his hands which were now resting in his lap.

"Edward?" Selina prompted. "What happened tonight if Jon didn't gas you?"

"I..." Edward glanced up briefly before looking back down at his hands. "I don't know... I think it was another fight but... I don't know. All I remember is... All I remember is that Jon somehow managed to... confirm and deny something in the same breath and I..." Edward hiccuped again as fresh tears slid down his face.

"You're doing great Ed," Selina soothed again, "tell me what he confirmed and denied at the same time."

"I..." Edward sniffed and Selina fought the urge to make a face at how disgusting it sounded.

"Y-You know that for the past... two years Jon and I have... b-been a thing b-but it was never... anything official..."

Selina nodded slowly, "I'm aware of the fact, yes."

Truthfully she understood that part. Labeling someone as your partner, of the same sex or not, had its own set of problems in their line of 'work' so it was often not something that actively happened, or was made known, the majority of the time.

"W-Well," Edward's voice wavered as he started to subconsciously tear the tissue in his hands to shreds. "Somehow Jon and I... we got into a fight again and I thought... I thought it was gonna get bad 'lina, like real bad."

His forlorn eyes met hers again and Selina felt a tug on her heart strings. She hated seeing Edward like this. Whatever had happened to the normally upbeat and arrogant rogue must've been extremely bad if he was reduced to this, but Selina also knew the skills and talent Jonathan had at picking someone apart psychologically. It was one of the things that made him one of the more dangerous of Gotham's criminals.

"But... I don't know what happened," Edward continued quietly, shoulders hunched forward. "I don't know if Jon picked up on... what I was think of asking him or if it was something else but... he effectively acknowledged that I was his boyfriend before he..." Edward's voice cracked as a new wave of sobs wracked his body. "Before he broke up with me. Who does that? Who acknowledges after two years of being together that they're actually a couple before breaking up with them?"

His tone was laced with anger now, and Selina knit her eyebrows together, trying to formulate a response.

"I don't know," she confessed, deciding to be honest with him.

"Jon does, that's who." Edward bit out his words before he stood up and started pacing. He wiped at his eyes and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. "Fuck I need a drink. Do you have anything?"

"No," Selina said, "and I don't think you should be drinking either. It won't help anything."

"Fuck if I care!" Edward turned on his heel and glared at Selina. "I don't care if it'll help anything in the distant future, what I do care about is getting rid of this damn pain I'm feeling because I was emotionally hurt!"

"I know you were," Selina said, backing up slightly as Edward advanced on her. She slowly reached for the knife that was sitting on the cutting board. She'd been in the middle of fixing dinner for herself when Edward had interrupted her.

"Don't you dare," Edward growled, noticing the movement.

Selina sighed and raised her hands up in surrender. "Ok Edward, but you have to listen to me. Drinking away your problems will only make things worse. I know things hurt right now but you're stronger than this. You're better than this."

"Am I?" Edward's voice softened but it held a touch of bitterness. "Am I better than this? Stronger than this?"

"You are," Selina said, "don't end up like your father."

Wrong thing to say, and Selina realized her mistake too late.

"DON'T YOU EVER SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT AGAIN," Edward yelled. "I AM NOTHING LIKE THAT SON OF A BITCH."

"I'm sorry," Selina said, wincing at the raised volume in her small kitchen.

"I'm fucking leaving," Edward bit out, stalking towards the door that led to the hallway. "And I'm going to drink."

"Oswald won't take kindly to you getting drunk at his bar," Selina warned.

"Does it look like I'm going to go to that place?" Edward snapped. "I don't need the whole fucking city to know about what happened. No, I know of somewhere else that I can get drinks."

Edward let out a huff of annoyance as he left Selina's apartment, slamming the door behind him. He could careless if she was going to be mad at him for that later or not. The only thing that was on his mind right in that very moment was the idea of getting very, very drunk. A small part of him knew that Selina was right, getting drunk wasn't a solution to his problems but it would sure as hell numb the feelings he was going through and that was enough to convince Edward to do it.

Stumbling through the back alleys of Gotham, he found his way to the seedy bar he'd discovered years ago when he'd just been starting out on the criminal scene. The place was horrendously dirty but had good cheap liquor for those looking to get drunk quickly, as well as... other things. Yes, Edward mused to himself, perhaps tonight he would drown himself in liquor and sex, there was no other options that sounded appealing to him in that moment.

Edward failed to notice that Selina had followed him and that she was frowning deeply at his chosen place to self destruct. She may not have been able to stop him from going, not at least without getting hurt in the process, but that didn't mean she still wasn't going to stop looking out for him. She opted to leave him for the time being, expecting to find a very angry Scarecrow at her door demanding answers. Perhaps she'd give him one, after she finished carving up his face with her claws.

Feeling considerably more cheerful at the idea, Selina made quick work of heading back to her apartment and not a moment too soon. Not even five minutes after getting back there was a pounding on her door and Selina rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"For fucks sake Jon, I'll be there in a minute!" She hollered, taking her sweet time getting up from where she'd settled herself on the couch and walking over to her front door.

Jonathan paused mid knock as Selina yanked open the door and scowled at him.

"Where's Edward?" Jon had the gall to have a guilty look on his face, which only made Selina madder than she already was.

An indignant hiss came from her before she reached up and slapped him across the face.

"How dare you!" She raged as Jonathan took a step back, eyes wide with shock as he raised a hand to his stinging cheek.

"How dare you come here asking for someone that clearly wants nothing to do with you right now, and how dare you have the nerve to ask me where he is as if you didn't hurt his feelings!"

"So I did hurt him," Jon said in a low voice, a flash of guilt crossed his face.

"Of course you did!" Selina snarled. "And you're lucky that I have enough restraint in me to not claw your eyes out."

"I'd like to see you try, child." Jonathan's face darkened as a hand slipped into his pocket.

"Don't you go all Scarecrow on me," Selina narrowed her eyes. "Ed's not here. He was, but then he left."

"You didn't try and stop him?" Jon mimicked her by also narrowing his eyes.

"No." Selina huffed, "I tried but I didn't want to fight him. That would've been like kicking a man already down and while I normally love doing something like that, I don't do it to people I care about."

She put emphasis on the last few words and smirked inwardly as a look of guilt crossed Jonathan's features again. So the good doctor could actually feel emotions.

"Where is he if not here?" Jon glanced around distractedly. "I need to apologize. It hasn't occurred to me that something mattered that much to him."

"I don't know," Selina crossed her arms.

"You're lying." Jonathan's eye's snapped to hers. "Where. Is. He."

"Like hell I'm telling you if you're going to barge in on him with threats," Selina growled. "Especially since I know how you treat him."

"I-" Jonathan open and shit his mouth. "You know about that?"

"Yes I know about That," Selina retorted. "I know quite a lot more than you think I do, so don't go around acting like I don't."

"I see..." Jonathan thought for a moment. "You're still lying about knowing where he is. You do. Tell me. I promise I won't say or do anything to harm him when I do find him. I just want to make sure he's safe."

"Should've thought about that before you went and fucked shit up," Selina said darkly.

"Selina, I will only ask nicely one more time," Jonathan said. "Where. Is. Edward."

Selina eyed the man in front of her and quickly assessed whether or not if she should tell him where Edward was. There was genuine concern in Jon's eyes as well as worry. She also knew that Jon would not leave until he'd gotten an answer and while normally Selina could wait such behavior out, her greater concern was for Edward. If she was engaged in a stupid dominance battle with Jon, Edward had no one to make sure he was ok after he was done with whatever self destructive binge he was currently on.

"Fine." Selina relented. "But I'm only telling you because I'm worried about Edward, I don't care about anything else, much less how you feel."

"Fine by me," Jonathan said with a shrug. "So?"

Selina told him the address and Jonathan gave a quick nod and a short word of thanks before leaving. Selina shut the door and leaned against it, giving a short prayer that things would go smoothly.

Jonathan eyed the building he was approaching with disgust. It was shabby and barely looked like it was holding up. How on earth had Edward discovered a place like this? He stalked up to the door steeling himself to enter before the door fling itself open and Edward came stumbling out.

Jonathan was quick to grab him before he face planted and he screwed his nose up at the stench of alcohol and sex that clung to the man in his arms.

Edward made a sound of protest and wiggled out of Jonathan's grip, a slurred apology falling from his mouth as he realized who he'd ran into.

"Jonathan!" Edward glared at the other man and took a drunken swing of which Jonathan was able to easily side step.

"Edward darling," Jonathan tried to soothe as he continued to side step Edward's attempted swings.

"Don't 'darling' me," Edward scowled as he took a step forward but misjudged his foot placement and ended up tripping.

Acting on reflex, Jonathan caught Edward and wrapped his arms around the genius that was now struggling to break out of his grip.

"Edward, listen to me," Jonathan said quietly. "I wanted to apologize for what I had said. I was not aware that such things held actual meaning to you as we've been moderately happy with how things had been for the past two years. It was my mistake."

Edward paused in his struggles and peered up at Jonathan's face. Even in his drunken state, he was aware enough to where he knew Jonathan was being sincere.

"Reeaaalllllyyyy?" Edward slurred, still not completely convinced.

"Yes, really," Jonathan said. "Now then, why don't we make it back to our apartment so that I can put you to bed and make you something that'll help with the unavoidable hangover you'll have tomorrow?"

"Can't walk..." Edward muttered, all too happy to be slumped against Jonathan's body. Perhaps he was too quick to accept Jonathan's apology, but he was drunk after all, and apologies were few and far between where Jonathan was involved so even hearing one was enough for even Edward's currently inhibited mind to realize Jonathan was genuinely sorry for his actions.

"Don't worry my dear," Jonathan smirked as he picked Edward up bridal style. Edward yelped and wrapped his arms around Jonathan's neck, causing the taller man to chuckle softly.

"Don't worry, I won't drop you," Jonathan said. "In fact, I don't think I'll be letting go of you for a long while..."

He started to make his way to their shared apartment which he realized wasn't too far away from where they currently where. Interesting, he'd have to make note of it if Edward ever ended up running off to sulk again. Speaking of which... perhaps once he settled Edward into bed he'd pay a visit to whom ever had slept with his partner and touched what was his.

He busied himself with the thoughts of what he'd do to them as Edward let out a snore, completely passed out.

"As expected," Jonathan sighed quietly.

He passed under a half open window, the music drifting down to the street below.

I'm wondering why do all the monsters come out at night? Why do we sleep where we want to hide? Why do I run back to you, like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?

#enigmatic fear oc #enigmatic fear writing #scriddler #scarecrow #riddler #jonathan crane #edward nigma #edward nygma #scarecrow x riddler #cranigma #riddlecrow #vent fic #wattpad #archive of our own #monsters #monsters all time low

[mamamittens]

As promised, I’m delivering work summaries of the stories that are currently up to vote about which will be written, completed, and published on AO3 first! See below the cut! Titles may not be the same later on down the line, but it is the best I’ve got so far. And One Piece art-specific characters at the end!

Apricity - My Hero Academia

In a world where most of the population has a superpower and heroism is a viable career path, Yuki happens to be lucky enough to be one of the 80 percent born with incredible power. But she doesn’t really want to be a pro hero, in fact, it’s only made her incredibly lonely. An icy interior being seen as a frigid exterior. In the face of personal tragedy, perhaps the way to a happier life can be found in the halls of UA High. Maybe even friends. And who knows, she might even find out what it takes to be a hero, even without a cape and license.

Cuts Both Ways - One Piece

When the Spade pirates find a small, deserted island, they unexpectedly find another crew member and a chef (finally, some good food). Young, passionate, and talented, Joan is a perfect fit for their crew, even as she prefers to cook over fighting. But they can accept that from their unusually-tall-for-her-young-age crew member. With luck, and maybe even intervention from Whitebeard and his crew, Joan can find out how she got to that lonely island and the mystery of her strange ‘curse’. Perhaps her birth father is the key?

Dresden Ocean Waves - One Piece

Curious and mysterious, Emi seeks only three things. Answers, adventure, and freedom. On her journey to find out her past, and what she is, she finds her way onto the Moby Dick. Even with her eyes set on the past, Emi can’t help but think she can find her past and her future on Whitebeard’s crew. Meanwhile, said crew can’t help but wonder what Emi’s hiding under her hood--and what about the emerald she stole. From a Celestial Dragon no less! Maybe if they convince her to stick around, everyone will be satisfied!

Notice Me Not - One Piece

Calypso is a loyal marine in much the same way a sea king is a good fish. Only by the loosest standards and convenient happenstance wherein she has nowhere better to be. 16 and ready to retire already--and very ready to stop accidentally ending up in secret meetings--she takes the chance to repay her debt to Garp by saving his grandchildren. If she plays her cards right, she might even be able to get off the Moby Dick to retire peacefully on some no-name island for the rest of her life. The marines blissfully unaware that the Ghost of Paradise Lost is no longer actively in their ranks due to her devil fruit! Of course, the hardest part might be leaving before the Whitebeard pirates, as well as her newly adopted brother, get attached. Surely there’s time, right? Right? Why is Ace laughing? Why is Whitebeard laughing?!

The Sibling Type - One Piece

Isabella is a lot of things. Bold. Dramatic. Fond of jewelry, both horrifically expensive and ridiculously cheap. But never let it be said that she leaves good friends hanging. Even if their version of hanging is spending a lot of time around beautiful, dramatic rich kids as strange entertainment because of suspicious financial debt. She’ll gladly juggle her inherited jewelry company-related duties and indulging the wealthy elite’s desire for a good sibling role models to support Haruhi against the very ridiculous rich boys of the Host Club. After all, where would she be without her best friend? If she’s lucky, Haruhi might help her out with some new ideas she has for her company!

Arm Yourself - Pokemon Sword and Shield

Halia, mostly known by Hailey, would usually be described as quiet. Being selectively mute will do that. But there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was going places, though Hop would loudly ask where. To the top isn’t a question, but Hop would like to know how far to run before his best friend reaches her destination, because her ditzy demeanor is a lie. A dirty, filthy lie that only gained traction because he’s one of the few that Halia actually talks to, and no one believes him when he says Halia wrestles her pokemon for fun. She’s either a genius or absolutely crazy, and Hops isn’t sure even she knows most days. Regardless, Galar has no idea what’s coming when they start their journey to fight his brother, and neither do they.

If anyone wonders why all three One Piece characters end up on Whitebeard’s crew, it’s because I’m a slut for found family and a lot happens to the Strat Hat crew that I’m not ready to map out yet. Because good OC fanfics follow the plot and alter it depending on character dynamics, and a lot of the early stuff is very important later on down the line. And One Piece isn’t even done yet, so I’d have to find a stopping point in the main plot of an entire series or be doomed to write a fanfic as long as the source material. And. You. Can’t. Make me! Anyway, here’s the promised picture! I will grudgingly admit that Oden has gotten better at slightly more realistic female anatomy in more recent episodes, but that bust-waist-hip ratio still implies that at least half of their ribs are missing. And there’s not a lot of good reference pictures for gemstones, so just know that’s supposed to be Emi’s hair, literally. Very Land of the Lustrous, which was also an inspiration!

Vote here!

#Poll #one piece #my hero academia #bnha #mha fanfiction #ouran high school host club #ocs #archive of our own #update

[notyetneedcoffee]

Soul Seer

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: None this Chapter, but later

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Avengers 1, with time travel elements and hints of Infinity Wars. Does NOT follow cannon after Avengers. 

* * *

You stared at the locked door. The deep sinking feeling that you somehow royally screwed up made your stomach flop over. Sure, it was a nice conference room with interesting prints, comfortable leather chairs and carafes of coffee and water sitting full. You turned back to the tall dark wood door, a nice room with a nice locked door.  

Staring at the lock, wondering why you’d been brought here only felt mildly less disturbing than taking in the view. From this high in Stark Tower, you could see the massive devastation from the attack. Debris from buildings and alien ships created a horrific landscape. No one knew how many bodies there were under all that concrete. No one knew how many were human and how many weren’t.

It all seemed too much. Aliens. The sky opened up and aliens poured through a portal earlier in the day. The sun’s rays were just beginning to wane, but the day already lasted a lifetime. You’d been working, thankfully, in a laboratory in the middle of the 23rd floor. Apparently, your office was completely open to sky now. One of the techs said the Hulk smashed straight through and squashed a contingent of alien intruders with your desk.  

You glanced at the coffee, desperately wishing it was something stronger. You may not be much of a drinker, but a stiff whiskey would be good about now.

Instead, you stood and stretched to let go of some of the tension.  

The lock clicked and you spun to the door. Tony Stark walked in. Only he didn’t look the same. It wasn’t the tiredness around his eyes or the difference in his hair. It was his aura. The normal brilliant sapphire and energetic shots of indigo looked fractured by spidery veins of painful crimson and foggy white.  

He calls it your gift, you think it’s a curse sometimes. You could see auras, emotions, truth. You just saw more.  

“Y/N, if I need you to do something,” Tony spoke with his jaw so tight, you barely saw it move. “something difficult, something terrible, but something that may prevent events even worse than today from happening in the future, will you do it? I can’t explain anything more, and you can’t tell anyone. Ever.”  

You’d never seen such resolve from him. The weight of his request sat on your chest. It tasted like bitter coffee and tears. But underneath, buried deep, a flicker of hope pushed forth like winter crocus battling the snow to feast upon the sun. The generally driven, intelligent, yet jovial man you knew who craved instant gratification was gone. This was a different version, but Tony nonetheless, and he was asking for help.  

“You know I would. I don’t know what’s happened, but ...” You stopped, not know the words to convey the depth of the sorrow you perceived. Hot tears spilled from your eyes. Tony stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you. He held on tight for a moment. You clung to him, whispering “I’m sorry.”

He jumped back, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Come on, Miss Y/LN, time for you to get to work.”

Stark led you to a section of the tower you’d never seen. You didn’t have clearance. Although Stark, and even S.H.I.E.L.D., put your talents to good use, your exposure remained limited. This was Tony’s R&D floor. Glancing sideways at him, he made an over exaggerated shushing motion and you nearly giggled.  

At the end of the hall a wall of heavily armed men watched a door that looked more like the entrance to a high-tech bank vault. Likely it wasn’t too far from the truth. The men in uniform radiated aggression and fear, beating against you worse than heavy bass booming from broken speakers. Your steps moved a little closer to Stark.  

“Hey there, Red Dawn, I’m taking my specialist in to see the out of town guest. Make sure room service doesn’t bust in, won’t you?” Tony wrapped the armed man nearest the door with the back of his knuckles.  

“He’s in lock down.” The soldier shook his head.  

“Listen,” Stark’s voice went hard. “I’ve had a really shitty day, so I don’t want to argue with you. This is my tower, you’re still on my payroll, and until Fury decides to roll up and butt his nose in, it’s still my show.” He activated the biometric lock and motioned for you to enter.  

Inside a small observation room looked into another, empty except for a tall black-haired figure in green and black leather. He turned, staring at you with flaming green eyes. Your feet froze to the spot and your mouth went dry. In your sight, he shone like the terrifying fire of the sun.  

“Do not worry.” A deep voice rumbled from the corner. “His shackles bind his magic.”

“I saw him on the news. He’s the one.” Your eyes still did not leave the captivating gaze of the prisoner.  

“Loki.” Stark sighed.  

Your head snapped around. You expected rage, fear, wrath. Instead a mournful, tired resolve poured off of him. “I don’t understand. He just attacked us.”

“My brother is not himself.” An enormous man stepped out from the corner. You’d only seen pictures, but recognized him as Thor. However, he too looked different than the news clips from earlier today. You had to avert your eyes. He radiated a crackling white light. It was like an arch welder. He must have misunderstood. “Please, I do not mean to offend. Do not doubt. He will answer for his crimes.”

“It’s not that.” You got a better hold on yourself and turned back to him. Thor’s presences reminded you of high mountain running water. Fresh and vital. “I wasn’t expecting you and it was a little blinding.”

“The mystical vision thing.” Tony waggled his fingers in the air.

“You can really see the true nature of someone? See the truth behind the lies?” Thor asked, leaning forward and taking your forearm in his giant hand. His touch felt hot.

“Yes.”  

“What do you see when you look at me?”  

“We don’t have time for this.” Tony growled.

“You shine brighter than anyone I’ve ever met except for him,” You jerked your head towards the cell. “And the Ancient One who taught me to live with my sight.”

“Wait.” Tony cut in. “Ancient One?”

“When my brain tumor became terminal, I found her. She taught me to open up my sight, and by opening my sight somehow the tumor began to recede. It’s like I have to use that part of me, or it turns caustic.” You sighed, and gave Tony a small smile. “It sounds insane, but I always thought she was immortal or something. At least something more than human.”

“What of my brother?”

You looked, really looked, at Loki for the first time. Bright bluish silver bled to emerald in sharp spiky energy. It was not like Thor’s energy at all. It prickled like frozen fingers. Something else writhed around him, pulling at the more beautiful greens. It flowed from his head, deep violet and nearly opaque. Still, he stared at you with an unwavering glare.  

“What more is he?” You asked, not looking away.  

“Loki is a Prince of Asgard.” Thor began but you cut him off.

“Not that. I don’t know enough about Asgard to say for sure, but all people – all humans – have a similarity to them. He’s very different from you.” It just presented as a feeling. “He’s hiding his true face.”

“Uh, ‘cause he’s a liar.” Tony rolled his eyes.

“You can see that?” Thor breathed. “Can you see through his glamour?”

“Huh?”  Tony spun to look at Loki.

“I’m not sure.” Allowing yourself to open up a little further and trying to ignore the sensations assaulting your perception from the men beside you, the sight of Loki began to shift. A bit like a double exposed photograph, there were two in the same space. The handsome, dark and dangerous man with pale skin and radiant green eyes hovered just above the exotic being with patterned blue skin and red eyes. On his angular features, it was the most alluring thing you’d seen.  

“Blue.” You breathed. “Gorgeous.”  

“By the Norns.” Thor smiled. “This might work.”

“Speaking of which,” Tony took your hand. “You’ve got to get busy. I’m gonna let you in on the secret.”

You listened, having trouble believing even though you knew he was telling the truth. Today marked a crossroads. One direction led to half of everyone, everywhere, disappearing into nothingness. The other was unknown, but was the one path that may avoid that fate. Tony didn’t tell you details, but long ago you learned to suppress the curiosity when answers would likely gain you nothing and cause other people pain.

“You’re not the same Tony who brought me coffee yesterday, are you?”

“That was a long time ago, kid.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath. Tried to sort it all out in your head. The last twenty-four hours changed everything. Nothing would ever be the same again. “What do you need me to do?”

“Something is influencing my brother’s mind. We need him to see clear enough to tell the Avengers what is really happening so that we may have hope to battle the true enemy.”

“Avengers?”

Tony rolled his eyes, “Us. You know, the mighty heros.”

“Alright.” You moved towards the door, but stopped when Tony grabbed your arm. “I have to go in there.”

“Then we will stay, as long as we can.” Thor nodded.  

Your hands felt numb as you reached for the door. The ridiculous thought that you were thankful you’d worn jeans instead of a summer dress skipped across your mind. You felt stronger in jeans and boots. You entered the room, immediately noticing the window was one way. Loki had been staring directly at you through a mirror.

His chin rose, but his eyes trailed down your body and back up again. The corner of his mouth curved up. “Nice of them to send me such a lovely mortal to entertain me while I wait.”

“My name is Y/N.”

“I don’t care.”

Moving closer to him, cautiously, “I shouldn’t be here.” You felt his interest pique. “But I wasn’t going to let them stop me.”

He lowered himself onto the bench with slow control.  

You took a step closer. “I am fascinated by what I see when I look at you.”  

“What would that be, little mortal? An opportunity? Do you wish to serve your King?” He purred, deep and seductive.  

“I see your brilliance, a life force like I’ve never witnessed.” A wicked grin spread across his face at your words. You now stood just of reach of his bound hands. “But there’s something unnatural clinging to you mind, dimming the shining aura you project. What can I do to rid you of this darkness?”  

“Darkness!” Loki hissed viciously, leaning forward. “You know not of darkness, foolish girl.”

“It clings to your mind, flaring like an angry beast as we’ve spoken. While you stared at me through the mirror it was calmer.” You told him. “I can see it. It not you, not from you.”

“You know nothing!” He spat.

“Am I lying?” You made a calculated guess. “You’re the God of Lies. Am I?”

He stood with blinding speed. You couldn’t help the flinch, but didn’t back away. Loki leaned close, tilting his head, examining. The movements were feral, predatory. He smelled of something like cedar and leather. Up close you realized he looked equally beautiful and deadly.

“How?” Loki hissed, and you felt his breath on you cheek.

“I see energies, auras.” You whispered. “I’m an empath, and somehow at times I understand even more.”

Suddenly Loki’s mind smashed into yours. Like rough fingers digging into nerve sensitive flesh, it flashed with pain and you instinctively retreated. You heard his mental laugh. The severity of the situation wouldn’t allow you to back down, though. Knowing you could not fight, you surrendered. Breathing in the pain, you relaxed and opened up on the exhale.

He paused, thrown off guard.  

Your eyes locked for a moment, before you closed your eyes and tipped your face closer to his. Again you whispered. “Am I lying?”  

Loki’s intrusion felt less brutal, more cautious. He dug through your triumphs, your pain, your loves and your shame. The world as you knew it ended today. There was no point hiding. Your life was small, insignificant, in comparison to everything that happened. Everything that could happen. If Loki needed to see your mind to be convinced, then you would lay yourself bare.  

You were lightheaded when he withdrew. Feeling cool fingers on yours, you opened your eyes. Loki’s face no longer held the fury from a moment ago. It’s been replaced with curiosity. “You are a very rare Midgardian. I thought all of your kind died out a thousand years ago.”

“Will you let me help you?” You clasped his fingers. His nostrils flared, the darkness failed around his aura, rabid and angry. “The fury you feel right now, that just happened, it’s not yours. Something happened to you. I just want to help.”  

“I am here to subjugate your people.” A tendril of something close to shame broke the fierceness of his voice. “How many died by my hand today?”

“Don’t know. At this moment, I don’t care.” You gave him a sideways grin. “Come on, I’ve shown you mine. Show me yours.”

Loki tried to scowl, but a small genuine grin split his visage. “You’ve seen pain, Y/N. However, such agonies exist in my mind that your mortal body would never survive.”

“Please, Loki.”

“I don’t know what you think you will be able to do.” He trailed off.

“If we fight it together, I can help you identify what action it – whatever it is – takes. Let me help.”

“There are things I know.” He worked his jaw. “Secrets I have.”

“I’m not here to take your secrets. Any that come to me I will keep.” You knew Stark was probably loosing his mind over that statement, but you meant it.

“I do not have the control for what you suggest while these things are on.” Loki turned and looked at the mirror for the first time. “I could tear her mind apart without proper control. My mind is full of very strong defenses.”

The door behind you opened and Loki scowled hard. Thor walked in.  

“New look.” Loki scoffed. “Doesn’t suit you.”

“If I remove your bindings, what assurance do I have that you won’t kill her and escape?” Thor frowned.  

“Your army of toy soldiers in the hall are not enough?” Loki baited Stark.

“Loki.” You placed a restraining hand upon his arm.  

He turned back to his brother. Many unsaid words stretched between them. Somehow, though, you knew they communicated their intentions nonetheless. Eventually, Loki’s eyes softened. “I swear on Mother’s life that I will do everything in my power not to hurt her.”

“And?” Tony rolled his eyes.

“I will not try to escape during this exercise.” Loki smiled devilishly.  

“Yeah, well-“ Stark began, but stopped when Thor reached for Loki’s wrists. “Whoa, wait.”

“Loki would never swear against our mother. Never.”

As the bindings came off, Loki rubbed his wrists. “Now get out.”

“Listen, Reindeer Games…”

“Out!”

Thor pulled an anxious Stark from the room. Loki extended his hand in invitation. You accepted and allowed him to lead you back to the bench. Straddling the seat, facing one another, he pulled you close so your knees touched.  

“You’re sure about this, little one?”

Every logical thought in your brain knew this was a bad idea, but your instincts knew it was imperative. “Yes.”

Loki’s long elegant fingers cupped your face, intimately as if he were about to kiss you. His skin felt cool against your flushed flesh. His eyes, now relaxed, danced with swinging emotions. You could almost see the battle raging within him.

“You may encounter a mental barrier before I consciously lower it. We may have to start again if that happens. I will do everything I can to resist the urge to lash out. Do not push if I’m fighting.” Loki instructed.

“Go slow. Stay low. Don’t be a threat. Got it.” Your lip twitched.  

“Alright.” Loki sighed. “I’ll show you.”

Time lost all meaning as images, emotions, memories and primal urges blew about your mind like debris in a maelstrom. You quickly recognized that your mind saw the true Loki with sharp edges, while the other manifested in your minds-eye like dark gooey slime. The slime tried to latch onto you as you tore it free, but it was slippery and you flung it away. It vanished.  

With determination, you mentally tore at the slime, wrenching it free of the pieces of Loki you contacted. Each touch making you feel fearful, disgusted, as it preyed on your own darkest instincts. Loki’s emotions and memories grew stronger as you pushed deeper into the storm. Images of worlds you’d never imagined, languages you didn’t recognize, people you’d never seen, you somehow knew through the connection.  

Exhilaration and mischievous glee melded with acute curiosity and joy.  

You pluck at one cluster of memory and Loki’s entire being roared. It vibrated painfully through you. The slime pulled, but you did not move, did not let go. The pain and anguish slashed out. You took it. You cried. The pain remained, but the screaming stopped. You mentally pulled the piece to your chest, wiping away the dark gunk bit by tiny bit. Each clean patch shown fresh and raw.  

Loki’s voice howled through your mind. You wept and offered what soothing you could.

Horrid images flashed. Torturous burnings, painful cutting spikes, an alien purple face.  

Piece by piece you continued. The agony retreated. Other memories came into focus, not all of them bad. Eventually, you could only pluck at the smallest remnants of the darkness that once covered everything. You felt Loki pull back, gently.

As you came back to yourself, you realized you felt Loki’s cool breath upon your neck. You held each other tight, your hands in his hair and his clutching at your back. Your legs wrapped around his waist. Tears, still flowing, poured from your eyes. Loki sighed almost imperceptibly.

You opened your eyes.

Standing there, staring dumbly, were most of the Avengers...including the Tony you knew from your time. The others were gone.

Moments later you were marched into a large, locked down interview room with a proper table and more chairs than it could accommodate.  

“These really aren’t necessary, brother.” Loki held his hands out as Thor connected the bindings. “I promise I will sit through your interview as long as (Y/N) remains here.”

You sat in the chair beside him and fought the urge to put your head on his shoulder and nap. Bone deep exhaustion overtook you as soon as you’d pulled free of the connection. “Can we please get on with it?”

“Sure. Fine. I’ll start with the questions.” Tony threw his hands in the air. “What. The. Fuck.”

“I was sitting, seething away in my little cell, when your Soul Seer here wondered in. She said she sensed a malicious presence.” Loki grinned wickedly. “It wasn’t even me.”

“Huh?”

“What?”  

“Explain.” Thor leaned closer.

“Hold on.” Natasha put a hand up. “Soul Seer?”

“I see auras, emotions, and other. . .  things.” You sighed.

“Her mystical vision that Fury wants his grubby hands on.” Stark muttered.  

“There was something tainting him.” You looked at Loki. “It was malignant, feeding off of every negative emotion, every bit of pain. Even when I touched it, I felt the urge to lash out. I’m not certain what it was, but it was strong and self-contained. It reminded me of a parasite.”  

“Loki?” Thor dared to have the smallest glimmer of hope in his eyes.  

“She’s right. I knew it was there, but - because of it - I didn’t care.” He paused for a long moment. “Thinking clearly now, I know the difference. There’s much we need to discuss.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you set loose an alien army on the city.” Steve Rogers frowned heavily.  

“If Loki was under the control of an unknown entity, then-” Thor began.

“That’s according to just her.” Natasha cut in.  

At the same time Tony cut off Thor, “We don’t even know what it is.”

The door opened and another man walked in. You gaped and pointed. “It was like that, just a hundred times worse.”

They all turned to Clint Barton, then slowly turned back to you.

“He has the same ‘stuff’ clinging to him. Only it’s more of a light gray not black, and there’s only traces. On Loki, it was black and invasive. It was-”

“The mind stone.”

“Very good, Banner.” Loki drawled. “I’m amazed you put it together.”

“You were the one turning everyone into meat puppets, Reindeer Games. Let’s not forget that.” Tony growled.

“Who turned the stone on you first?” Thor grabbed his brother’s arm.

Loki’s jaw clenched. He stared hard at the table, silent.  

“Loki!” Thor growled.  

You placed your hand on his clenched fingers. Slowly they released, instead taking your small hand in both of his. “Thanos.”

#loki x reader #loki fiction #loki fanfic