#the grey man au

[deliciousangelfestival]

Be Mine

Character: soft!dark Lloyd Hansen x Lawyer!Female Reader

Summary: "Didn't I tell you before? I'll make you my wife," he murmured. The secret relationship between the heir of Hansen Corporation and the company lawyer took a dramatic turn.

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

A/N: By the way, this is the male version from Love Me A Little

'Click'

As you entered, the heavy click of the door echoed through the spacious penthouse apartment, exhaling deeply to release the pent-up stress from another grueling day at Hansen Corporation.

Working as a company lawyer had its perks but came with many responsibilities that grew taller each day.

Switching on the lights, you were startled to find someone seated on your plush couch. Your uninvited guest exuded an air of confidence, legs crossed casually as he waited for you.

"Stressful day?" Lloyd's smooth voice broke the silence, his gaze fixed on you with a hint of amusement.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Lloyd. What are you doing in my place?"

"I made a spare key," he replied nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. One of the downsides of working for Hansen Corporation was your complicated relationship with its heir, Lloyd Hansen.

The relationship between you and Lloyd was complicated and steamy at the same time. However, you knew you had to end this secret relationship since he would be engaged to another influential family, much like his own.

Rolling your eyes, you made your way to the fridge, craving the cool relief of a bottle of mineral water. Opening it with a satisfying hiss, you took a long drink, the cold liquid soothing your frayed nerves.

As you reached to set the bottle down on the counter, Lloyd intercepted it with a smirk, taking a swig of water while holding your gaze steadily.

With a frustrated sigh, you held out your hand, palm open. "Give me the key."

But Lloyd's smirk only widened. "No," he replied teasingly, daring you to challenge him further.

You heaved a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "Lloyd, you're going to be engaged to someone. We have to stop this."

Lloyd fell silent, his expression inscrutable. Sometimes, his silence unnerved you, sending a shiver down your spine. Then, he let out a low chuckle, sending a chill down your spine. "And throw away all the memories we've made in this place? I don't think so."

His arms crossed defiantly over his chest, his gaze unwavering. "I never thought you could be this cold. Am I the only one who's invested in this?"

Leaning in closer, he locked eyes with you, his voice low and intense. "Besides, I don't like her at all. Her eyes lack the fire that burns in yours. Yours are brighter, full of determination and resilience. That's why you wanted to be with me."

Your jaw clenched as you met his gaze head-on. "So what if I'm ambitious and a workaholic? At least I know where I stand. We can't be together, Lloyd."

But he reached out, cupping your cheeks in his hands and drawing you closer. "That's what I like about you," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "You're a hardworking woman."

His touch sent a shiver down your spine, but you pushed his hand away, the intensity of his gaze unnerving you. "Stop joking, Lloyd."

But his expression remained serious as he spoke, his words sending a shockwave through your senses. "I may enjoy making jokes, but not about this. I'm serious. You won't be my mistress. I'll make you my wife."

You gasped, disbelief coursing through you as you struggled to comprehend his words. Pushing against his chest, you tried to put distance between you, but his grip only tightened. "Stop it, Lloyd."

But his resolve remained unshakeable as he locked eyes with you, determination burning in his gaze. "I'm not joking. I'm dead serious. I'll make you my wife."

You couldn't believe what you had just heard. Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to burst from the sheer weight of Lloyd's words.

Without a second thought, you seized his hand and practically dragged him towards the door with all your might. Despite his towering stature, you were fueled by a surge of adrenaline, determined to put an end to this madness. "You need to go," you insisted, your voice strained with urgency.

But Lloyd only chuckled, his amusement evident even in the face of your desperation. "I'm not joking," he insisted, his tone resolute. "I'll show you just how serious I am this time."

You hummed in response, successfully pushing him out of your apartment. As the door clicked shut behind him, you leaned back against it, your chest heaving with exertion. Closing your eyes, you let out a heavy sigh, willing your racing heart to calm.

It would be a lie to say you had never dreamed of becoming Mrs. Hansen. But you knew deep down that it was impossible, given the vast difference in your social status.

#########

A few days had passed since the tense encounter with Lloyd in your apartment, and you returned to work at the company, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy. You hadn't seen or heard from him since that night, and you hoped it would stay that way.

But as you focused on reading through a stack of documents, the hushed whispers of your colleagues caught your attention, drawing you into their gossip.

"I never thought a playboy like him would get engaged," one of them remarked.

Another nodded knowingly. "Well, it's normal for the 1% like them to strengthen their connections and business through marriage."

You gritted your teeth, the bitterness rising within you at their nonchalant discussion of Lloyd's engagement. But before you could voice your frustration, one of your colleagues let out a piercing scream, "OMG!!! OMG!!!" Causing everyone to turn and stare.

"What the-?" you began, but your words trailed off as the screaming girl approached you, her phone held out eagerly.

"OMG... You and Lloyd?" she exclaimed, her voice shrill with excitement as she thrust the phone towards you.

Your eyes widened in shock as you looked at the screen, revealing a photo of you and Lloyd cuddling intimately on a beach resort. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks—Lloyd had posted the photo, for all the world to see.

As the realization sunk in, the office erupted into chaos, with whispers and gasps spreading like wildfire. "Turns out there's a secret romance in the company," one of your colleagues remarked, fueling the fire.

One of your colleagues chimed in with a speculative question. "Does this mean the engagement is cancelled?"

"Shit," you cursed under your breath, feeling the eyes of your coworkers boring into you. With a sense of urgency, you gathered your composure and swiftly left the floor, making a beeline for Lloyd's office.

Whatever his intentions were, you needed answers, and you needed them now.

You didn't bother knocking; you simply barged into his office, disregarding even his secretary's attempts to halt you. As you entered, you found him lounging in his leather chair, every inch the powerful and commanding figure.

He was already waiting for you, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief.

"What are you planning, Lloyd?" you demanded, your voice dripping with both frustration and anticipation.

A smirk played at the corners of his lips as he leaned back, the leather creaking beneath him. "To show the world the woman I love," he replied, his voice husky with desire.

Your pulse quickened at his words, your body responding to the raw intensity in his gaze. "Your family will never accept someone like me," you protested weakly, though the fire in your eyes betrayed your true feelings.

Lloyd's expression softened as he rose from his seat, moving closer until there was barely any space between you. "Stop doubting yourself, my love," he whispered, his voice low and seductive. "My family knows about us, and they've given us their blessing. They can't wait to welcome their future grandchildren."

Your breath caught in your throat as he trailed a finger along the curve of your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. "I'm not pregnant," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

But Lloyd only chuckled darkly, his touch igniting a fire within you. "That's why we have to work hard," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear in a tantalizing caress.

Leaning in close, he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Didn't I tell you before? I'll make you my wife," he murmured, the words dripping with desire and determination, igniting a fierce longing within you.

You shivered at the sensation, your senses overwhelmed by the electric tension between you. Unable to resist any longer, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting in a fiery kiss that left you both breathless and hungry for more.

"Oh, how you wish you could hate him."

Author Note: Hey friends,

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Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

#dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen fanfiction #the grey man au #soft!dark lloyd hansen x y/n #soft!dark lloyd hansen x reader #soft!dark lloyd hansen imagine #soft!dark lloyd hansen #soft!dark lloyd hansen x you #dark!lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen x you

[the-antiapocalyptic-man]

Teenagers, amirite?

#marvel #fanart #redesign #au #x-men #uncanny x-men #scott summers #cyclops #basilisk #hank mccoy #beast #bobby drake #ice man #warren worthington iii #angel #archangel #jean grey #marvel girl #phoenix #red marvel

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Grey Zone 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Lloyd I guess is the only man worth writing.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

The nearest bathroom is diagonal down the hall. Only a half bath with a sink, a toilet and a tall cabinet in the corner. You work at removing your makeup with micellar water, dragging the cotton pads over your eyelids and down your cheeks. 

You watch your reflection, a loud growl rising from your stomach, a tic in your temple. You need your morning matcha but you didn't pack your powder, you didn't think of it. You mourn your tin forgotten in the cupboard at home and grab a fresh pad.

More than tea, you need a shower. You assume the main bath must be downstairs. You shove the bottle and leftover pads into your black leather pouch and tuck it under your arm.

As you come out into the hall, you nearly walk into an unexpected wall. Not a real wall but Mr. Hansen. You step back, trapped in the doorway as he smirks at you.

“Morning, sunshine,” he reaches to touch your naked cheek as you flinch, “don't you look fresh as a daisy? I don't think I've ever seen you without at least a couple layers on.”

“Mr. Hansen,” you croak and shy away, “excuse me–”

He doesn't move as you attempt to sidestep him. In fact, he gets closer, rescinding his hand to grip the door frame. He tilts his head as his other hand comes up to play with the hem of your shirt.

“I got my own shower. A nice big tub too if you need to clean up,” he purrs.

“That's fine,” you gulp, heat speckling over your skin, “I can just use the main–”

“You can't,” he interjects, “your dad's in there tearing the toilet out.”

He laughs at your gobsmacked expression. He leans in, letting out a slow breath as you look anywhere but in his eyes. He growls as you squirm.

“Let me show you my room,” he insists, “no funny business. There's a lock on the bathroom so… I'll just listen and use my imagination.”

“Please, I–”

“You know you're even sexier like this. How about we tag team this. Shower together? Or relax in a nice hot bath–”

“Stop!” You catch the shriek in your hand. He chuckles, his hand dangling above you as he leans even closer.

“You can put on that sexy little piece I got you,” he touches your hair, “fuck, you got me hard again.”

“I…” you gulp, panic welling in your chest and locking up your throat, “I cant–”

You don't think. You can't as your ears are ringing at his suggestions. Every word confirms that you didn't dream up last night. You shove past him and he lets you. If he didn't want you to get past, he'd make sure of it.

He cackles as you hurry down the hall, nearly running into the door as you scramble to open it. He sighs out his amusement as you trip into the bedroom. Your heart is thumping furiously.

“Don't worry, I like the chase, sweetheart,” he calls after you, “you just wait till I catch you.”

You slam the door and lean against it, sliding down onto your ass as you squeeze your leather pouch. You have no doubt he will catch you. It's only a matter of time…

🖤

So much for a vacation. You're pent up in the guestroom, staring longingly out the window at that unreachable beauty. You don’t dare emerge in case you run into your ravenous host.

You wonder how you missed the signs. Were there signs? You couldn’t have guessed his intentions. Why would Mr. Hansen want that? With you?

The thought of telling your parents makes you laugh. Not with genuine amusement, more sardonic acceptance. They won’t care. It’ll be the same reaction you got when you told them about your bullies. 

There’s no escape either. You’ve come too far to turn back. Your dad will want to stay and do your work and your mother will savour the opportunity to day drink without judgment. So there you are; stranded.

You jolt as a sudden roar brings you away from the window. Your father yells your mother’s name a second time as you rush to the door, not thinking to stop yourself before you have the door open. As you enter the hall, you hear another door opening further down. You go to the top of the stairs as your own name drawls in the air.

You stop and look over at Lloyd– Mr. Hansen, struts towards you. Your eyes ping away from him the moment you see him. He wears only a pair of white swim trunks and they don’t go far down his thighs, exposing the thick muscles and leaving his torso entirely naked. He’s in better shape than you imagined, not that you ever thought about that.

You flit down the stairs before he can reach you, towards your father’s hollering and your mother’s chirping. A gush of water ripples over the hardwood as you follow the commotion to what appears to be a dining room. Your parents stand in front of the open doorway from which the water pours out.

“I told you not to use the goddamn sink, Connie,” your dad snarls, pointing a wrench in her face.

“Ooops!” She blathers, a wine glass firmly in hand, “I was just rinsing some fruit. I can’t drink on an empty stomach, Ray!”

Lloyd comes up beside you and rests his hand on your lower back. You stiffen and step away from him. He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest, making it look even buffer. You peek and notice the edge of black ink on his pec. You turn back to your parents’ show, hoping they can distract your host.

“It’s barely noon,” your father retorts, as close as he’ll ever come to telling her not to indulge.

“It’s barely noon,” she mimics and sticks her tongue out. “Maybe you should’ve turned the water off, Mr. Fix-it.”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine,” Lloyd interjects as he comes forward, dropping his arm, “You know how to fix this stuff, huh, Ray, and Connie, why aren’t you enjoying the pool? Perfect place to enjoy some chardonnay.”

Your mother flutters her lashes drunkenly as she faces Lloyd. You see how she blanches before a grin twists her mouth. She’s shameless as she takes in the breadth of the mostly naked man in front of her. She licks her lips and wobbles.

“I could fix it if everyone wasn’t in my goddamn way,” your father chides. “Shit idea bringing everyone up here. Never get this done.”

“Oh, you know what,” Lloyd snaps his fingers, “I got a great idea. Connie, why don’t you camp out in the pool house? There’s everything you need. A bed, kitchen, a toilet not gushing sewage onto my floors.”

“Pool house?” Your mother echoes curiously, her head tilting one way than the other.

“Didn’t I mention it? Yeah, you must’ve seen it, right behind the pool,” he emphasizes the last word as if it’s obvious, “and I can take the kiddo up to Moose Ridge. It’s like an hour north. Get out of your way for a bit, huh, Ray?”

“As long as you leave me alone,” your father crosses his arms and turns back to watch the toilet gargle. 

Your mother pouts and slurps her wine, “you’re leaving me alone? With him?”

“No, Connie, imagine, a pool house all to yourself,” Lloyd puts his arms over her shoulder, “just you. No husband, no daughter… You and the pool and all the wine you can drink. Isn’t that vacation for a hardworking mother and wife like yourself? You know the old man’s not gonna be sleeping and if he is, he won’t make it that far.”

“But… ugh, you shouldn’t have to put up with her,” she lowers her voice, but not enough for you not to hear.

“She’s right,” you agree, startling her as she gives you a caught look, “you could drive me back down to civilization. That might be for the best.”

“Eight hours? It’s not that far to the Ridge,” he insists, “unless you wanna crash in the pool house with mama.”

“Oh please,” your mom spits, “haven’t I been through enough?”

“I don’t care what ya do,” your father spins and snarls, waving his wrench, “I need you out. Go. Anywhere but here.”

“Then it’s decided,” Lloyd claps his hand, turning to smirk in your direction, “we’ll meet again when you got this all done up, huh, Ray?”

Your dad doesn’t answer. He grunts and enters the bathroom, shoving his hand down the toilet. Your mother hums and drains the last of her glass. She holds it up as she admires its emptiness.

“Before you leave, where’s the rest of the wine?” She trills.

You cringe. This can’t be happening yet you’re all too sure he planned it all so precisely.

🖤

You hole yourself up in your borrowed room. You make no move to pack your things or get ready for your imminent relocation. More akin to an abduction. You just can’t, you’re paralysed with inaction. 

This is the one time you need someone to listen to you. To hear you, and as usual, they don’t. They refuse to. Lloyd knew they wouldn’t, he’d witnessed their indifference for so long, and turned it to his benefit.

That one question lingers. Why you? Maybe it’s just that. That you are vulnerable, an easy target. No one special, just a convenience. Not any different than what you were to your parents; a check mark on a list, nothing deeper than that.

There’s a tap at the door. Just one, the soft rap of knuckles. You don’t need to wonder or ask who it is. You already know. He lets himself and why shouldn’t he? It’s his house. The trap he set.

“Almost ready– woah, come on, sunshine, we got road to burn,” he proclaims, “ah, you know, I forgot to mention, there’s a pool at the Ridge. And a hot tub. Way better than this place.”

You look at him. You sit with your back straight against the headboard, legs stretched out down the bed, dressed in your typical black, though today it feels particularly mournful. You just stare. What do you say? What can you say?

“Well, honey, you can never claim I don’t care of you,” he grabs your empty duffel and goes to the dresser. He slides open the top drawer and starts shoving your clothes back into the depths, “which is exactly what I’m going to do,” he looks at you over his shoulder and sticks his tongue out, flicking the tip crudely.

You shake your head and stare at your feet, the shiny black pedicure on your toenails and your silver toe rings. He can’t make you go if you just don’t move, right? 

Your vision blurs as he moves around the edges. You hear him shifting around, searching, digging in your things. He puts the bag heavily at the foot of the bed but you don’t react. You’re in a trance, the kind you used to put on when the girls in the halls called you names.

“Alright, I think that’s everything but really, all you need to bring is your sweet self,” he approaches you, breaking your shield as he taps the tip of your nose. You look up at him past your heavily mascaraed lashes. “Aw, don’t look so pathetic. Sweetheart,” he bends, leaning over you, “your whole life you’ve been wanting to be wanted and guess what? I fucking want you. So let’s get this show on the road.”

You flinch. That last part, that cliche, it’s something your dad would say. You frown as you notice the strands of silver woven through the dark blonde combed back on his head. You suspect if he didn’t keep the sides shaved, there’d be more gray there. He’s not that much younger than your own father.

“What is that look for?” His eyes narrow and his smile falls.

“I don’t want to go,” you fold your hands in your lap and turn your head straight.

He scoffs and laughs as he stands up straight, “I didn’t ask.”

You don’t answer. You don’t move an inch, planting yourself in a silent protest. He can’t make you go. You don’t care if this place smells like toilet water. You’re too afraid to go with him.

His soles scuff on the floor as he sucks his teeth loudly, “you don’t have to put on this act for me. I won’t think you’re a slut, I’d prefer it if you were.”

You shudder and turn your face away from him. Why won’t he leave you alone? 

“Alright,” his tone deepens, “I’m starting to get annoyed, sunshine, so let’s stop playing this game. Here, there, we know how this ends. Don’t act so innocent, you’ve been flirting with me since before we even got here.”

“Flirting?; You sputter, “no, I…”

You don’t even know how to flirt. You never had anyone to flirt with.

“Those cards, bullshit. That was all you, sweetheart. Or maybe they aren’t and we should let fate take its course.”

“Please, go,” you quaver as you clutch your hands together. “I don’t want you.”

He exhales and puts his hands on his hips. He has no response. You shake your head lower your eyes. You slouch in defeat.

“You’re old and I’m not interested,” you murmur, “I’m done being a joke.”

He laughs suddenly, starling you. You wince as he drops his hands and rolls his shoulders. He clucks as he comes closer to the bed. He bends and reaches for your chin, forcing your head up. 

“Old?” He sneers, “we’ll see about that.”

He dips his head and before you can react, he loops his arm around you and pulls you against him. He stands as he swings you over his shoulder. The breath is pushed from your stomach as your weight pulls at your head and feet. You wriggle as he carries you loftily, reaching with his free arm to grab your bag from the bed.

You cry out and slap his back, kicking your legs as you try to free yourself. What is he doing? He can’t just do this.

“Lloyd– Mr. Hansen,” you plead as you claw at the back of his shirt, “put me down. Let me go! Mom! Dad!”

Lloyd chuckles as the whirring of a drill reverberates through the house. He ignores your struggles as he comes downstairs. He is entirely unbothered by your resistance.

“Don’t tire yourself out, sunshine. Daddy can’t hear you over his work and mom’s already passed out by the pool.” He angles you through the front door, “besides, this isn’t about them. This is you and me.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #the gray man #the grey zone

[silusvesuius]

fly high

#my art #ildari sarothril #flat chested queen #the scar on her face is just decorative to make her look more outwardly scary but she probably got it when n*loth missed some spell on - #- accident or something and she walked off her face almost being torn in half like a man so that n*loth wouldn't think she's a little - #- bitch for crying even though she;s never experienced that type of pain in her life and couldn't even fathom it up to that point and it - #- gave her permanent brain damage #i learned to draw her just so i could put her in my dr*gon ball au cause i figured out who she will be but she's FUN ok #also i still don't like white hair on dunmer Bruh but hers can be explained by her greying in 0.0004 after n*loth ripped her chest open #idk she's been through a lot ig :)

[dxrksong]

lmao little baby men meets the BatFam.

After getting babyfied, the group sticks together until Danielle goes off on her own. Danny tries to go after her but ends up getting separated and lost.

And that's how Damien found him!

Don't worry Dani quickly found the group again but once they found out Danny is lost, they freak out!

Wes probably finds Danny first and sticks to the shadows to gather info and blackmail material. (Oh wes...)

Then Danielle, who once again wondered off.

About a week or so later Sam and Tucker find them Via Wes that found them looking around nearby.

And of course since the main three plus the baby of the group were in one place, the resident heavy hitters made it their job to both berate and protect them. (Even though they were more than able to protect themselves)

Wes just pinged Valerie on her tracker after some rouges tried to break into Wayne manor and she dragged Dash with her.

And ofc the parents of the group found out where the children went after they dissapeared! Automatic assumptions of kidnapping occurs and they openly threat the batfam.

With Dan being the oldest, he's the biggest one of the group, which made the Fam immediately assume that Dan was the mother of all these small ghosts.

Dan is not amused with that fact.

He's a man, damnit! He has a beard and everything! Stop dressing him up with insultingly, sparkly, pretty bows!!

Everyone else finds it hilarious.

So when Wes finally shows himself and visibility being a bigger threat than Dan of all people with the whord of evidence piled against them. They begged Dan to stop it with the number of kids.

Dan has no control over that. They do not know that. Dan is contemplating babyfing other ghosts just to spite them.

Next thing they know ghosts like Vlad and Poindexter show up after getting zapped by the fentons, who have gone more or less on a rampage lmao.

With every new ghost, the Batfam freak out more and more.

Constantine is eventually called and IMMEDIATELY nopes the fuck away from Gotham the MOMENT Danny makes eye contact with him.

He tells BatMan that he could not PAY him ANY amount of money to go back there.

Damien sends the phantom Fam after him somehow.

@tourettesdog @bigjbonk

#sorry i keep tagging you lmao #i just like them too much #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #jason todd #dc x dp au #dc x dp crossover #richard greyson #tim drake #dc red robin #nightwing #dc red hood #Robin #damien wayne #damian al ghul #little baby man #little baby men #valerie grey #tucker foley #pharoh tucker #sam manson #plant sam #dani phantom #danielle phantom #dash baxter #dan phantom #jazz fenton #wes weston

[ncis-nerd]

Grey November

mood board

an evermore inspired au

☆ older avenger natasha romanov x younger reader

☆ warnings ~ age difference, angst, injuries, flirting, hurt/comfort, picky eater, problems with food. (warnings to be added)

☆ natasha romanov never really cared how she was treated until a glimpse of sunshine showed her what care and love looks like

☆ reader hired by steve rogers to sit in on meetings and take notes after too many "he said she said

want more?

▪︎ who is reader?

▪︎ natasha romanov

join the taglist?

parts released every monday and wednesday at 7pm est

taglist: @ssa-shaylam @madamevirgo @radcherryblossompainter @midastouch013 @dumbasslesbi @krystallevine @ellieromanov @midastouch013

#my writing #my fic #grey november au #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha x you #black widow #nat x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x you #Nat au #natasha romanov x reader #the black widow #iron man #the avengers #steve rogers #natasha romanoff imagine #avengers au #natasha romanoff x female #black widow angst #black widow fic #black widow x you #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #avengers

[eggbreadboi]

How do racers deal with feather damage?

ft. Niki Lauda

Niki Lauda famously returned after his accident in 1976 with red synthetic feathers replacing the majority of his flight feathers, as well as some of his median and lesser coverts. His refusal to hide the extent of the feather damage he sustained did a lot to champion openness around feather issues in F1 and to bring imping to the FIA's attention as an area of racer's lives that needed to be regulated.

Similar in medical magnitude to an orthodontic aid, imping is a relatively painless practice that allows for a comparatively quick solution to feather breakage. Affixing the replacement feather to the existing feather shaft allows for the replacement to be lost in the next molt, identical to a natural feather. There are three primary options for replacement feathers used in imping:

Mass-produced synthetic: These synthetic feathers are produces based on age and wing type specifications, working well enough for the vast majority of people. However, they are often rather obvious, even when painted to resemble natural plumage.

Donor: Often more expensive, especially for those with rare wings, donor feather implantation relies on finding a perfect match wing-type, feather number, and development-stage wise. These feathers perform much like the original(barring the added weight of the joining agent) and blend seamlessly into the recipient's plumage.

Custom-made synthetic: These are often used by racers, in concert with donor feathers. These feathers are created based off a highly detailed model of the recipients undamaged feathers, serving as either a perfect copy of the lost feather, or an idealized version. They can be customized to minimize weight and improve aerodynamics, even when compared to natural plumage. In an attempt to avoid abuse, the FIA has decided that synthetic replacement feathers used by racers may not weigh more than 5 grams less than the natural feather they are replacing. Starting in the 80s racers often used feathers in unnatural colors. Some prefer to have them hand painted in attempt to conceal their injury, but this practice is becoming more noticeable for its rarity.

A necessary addition to the discussion of imping are so called long term prosthetic feathers. These are used in the case of extensive damage to the quill and attachment site of the feather. Unlike replacements used in imping, these are only ever synthetic, and are not meant to be lost in the molt. Prosthetics are attached through a two step process. First, a quill-shaped anchor point is surgically implanted into the cleared attachment site of the lost feather. Second, when the implant has healed, a synthetic feather is attached where the anchor point protrudes from the skin. This two-part construction allows the feather to be changed out when it becomes worn. These prosthetic feathers are common among burn survivors and those whose feathers didn't develop fully.

#feel like this is a little half-assed #sorry #in love with the bird people grey with age concept tho like actually genius #old man Niki's white wings... #the fact his prosthetic feathers are still bright red even though he switched them out many times in the intervening years #f1 wing au #f1 jet pack racing au #f1 #formula one #niki lauda #just bird nerd shit #classic f1 #f1 wing au lore #worldbuilding #egg’s art

[i3utterflyeffect]

It would be funny if Mango responds to victim's threat by trying to strangle them.

"How. Dare. You. Threaten. My. Kid."

dsgjkldjslkj. i mean, he was hurt pretty badly (that split in his cheek is probably not going to go away) but if he wasn't he would beat the shit out of victim for sure

if he still had his staff it would go much worse for vic lmao

(reblogs > likes)

#random grey worker outside: why do i hear pigstep. #but yeah. king's an old man and he can't kick someone's ass with a torn-open face and shoulder and various other wounds #pitch's art #tommy's stickmen tag #king merc au #ava king mango #ava king orange #ava mango #ava mango tango #avm mt #avm king orange #avm king mango #avm mango #avm mango tango #ava mt #animator vs animation #animation vs animator #ava/m #ava purple #avm purple #ava victim #ava #avm

[mooncheese3]

the man called otto au, old man!sj and the luo family. he was not able to escape wyz in the iac bc wyz decided not to sneak into it, instead spending that week in a brothel to waste away a truly big bag of coin he was lucky enough to snatch.

cw // suicide attempts, suicidal thoughts

bc of this sj wasnt able to find out what happened to yq and cultivate,and so stayed a mortal. one day wyz comes across another kid, and tries to off sj since he'd outlived his usefulness. sj outsmarts him, so wyz just leaves with his new assistant, not finding sj enough of a risk to keep alive.

sj wanders, able to get by with money he'd acquired via the things wyz taught him--all very much illegal. one day he stays a bit longer in a town, and ends up staying the night in a brothel. apparently when you assist them in kicking out a horrible customer, they wouldnt mind it so much if you were to sleep in their storage room for free. (his pretty face also helped lmao. the only privelege sj has is pretty privelege, but even that doesnt come often). one night turns into a few days, and a few days turns into a week, and suddenly sj works there.

there he becomes friends with some of the prostitutes, and finds himself with a pseudo little sister with the name sisi

a few years pass; by this point hes a young adult. sj decides to travel around. he still hasnt accepted that yq could be dead (even if his head tells him its very likely yq is), so traveling would mean possibly getting closer to wherever yq may be. he moves in the general direction of cqms, as that was yq's destination. he goes through towns, cities, forests and roads, takes on odd jobs and errands but never begs--never again--yet despite all of that no hide nor hair of his older brother can be found. sj considers going to cqms directly, but if he were being honest...

yq tended to see the good in people. while not a bad thing in itself, it usually led to shitty things happening to people like them. added with the fact that yq was a runaway child slave with no money, wore clothes that kept the cold in rather than out, was illiterate and never learned how to mapread, had never traveled so far on his own with only a vague sense of where he was going, with unkown humans, demons, creatures and plants everywhere on his trek,,, the chances of sj finding his older brother decaying rather than breathing was too high

going to cang qiong and not finding yq there... to him, it would be as close to a confirmation that yq was dead. so he avoids it. (he doesnt stop himself from listening in on conversations about cang qiong, though)

thats how he spends most of his life, traveling and seeing the world, learning about all sorts of things on the way. he spends the freedom hed fought for in what he feels to be the fullest without being around people he doesnt already know. if yq really was dead, then hed be seeing the world for both of them while he could.

when days are too hard and the thought that he'd sent his qige to his death is too strong, sj feels the temptation to follow yq into the afterlife. the sword hed stolen and the dagger up his sleeve find themselves in his hands all too often on those nights, yet no injury ever appears on himself and he breathes just fine the following morning

one day he goes back to the brothel he used to work in, and discovers that sisi isnt there anymore. after catching up with his old friends he travels again, southward where the brothel theyd transferred some of their staff stood

eventually he and sisi reunite. she introduces him to her friend, meng shi, and her son, meng yao. hes appalled when he finds meng yao reading a fake cultivation manual, so he teaches meng yao how to tell a fake from a legitimate one. he also teaches him how to /get/ a legitimate one under a fair and affordable price. sisi wheedles sj into teaching meng yao more, so he does

sj goes back on the road, and somewhere along the way settles in a hut along the luo river. but even when he lives on the outskirts of the village, which was already a decent distance away from any cultivational sect, he still hears news of the head disciple of qiong ding peak's achievements in the defeat of tianlangjun. one thing leads to another and sj finds out that yqy is in fact his yq

a confrontation happens; yqy is beyond happy that sj is alive, if a little shocked and scared that all hes seeing is a ghost his mind conjured up. like canon sj asks why yqy didnt come back, and since yqy is a do or don't there is no try person (this mentality really fucks him up), yqy doesnt give any "excuse" as to why he was gone. he was a coward, incompetent and careless in his rush to go back to the qiu manor. the fact that he went back too late and /tried/ to save sj but found the estate in ashes didnt matter. to yqy, it is the end result that matters, not the effort and process it takes for him to get there. he didnt save sj, and that was that.

in the face of what sj went through, what he experienced was miniscule. look at them! while yqy was dressed in expensive fabrics with a face that looked no older than 20 bc of his high cultivation, sj was dressed in simple and cheap robes with signs of age, hardship, and days under the sun. what right did he have to stand here and make himself seem pitiful and sympathetic when he couldnt even save sj? in the end, all he says is a wretched "im sorry for not saving you."

(hc that yqy always had this mentality, it was just worsened by his shizun. yes hes totally downplaying everything he went through on his quest to try to save sj. yqy has serious self-worth issues)

sj refuses to go to cqms with yqy. hes far too old to cultivate so all he'll end up doing there is be a servant. in sj's view that was akin to returning to his old life, just under a different master in a far bigger "estate"

yqy visits often, leaving behind trinkets sj could pawn or sell and bags of money to keep himself fed and warm. he tries to reconnect with sj, but (like canon, just even worse) sj is not having it. to sj, these "gifts" are bribes for him to stay quiet to keep yqy's pristine reputation. sj drives yqy away, but always finds himself watching as yqy leaves. it seems that therell always be a small part of him that wants his older brother back.

as sj gets older he gets sicker, experiencing aches and pains and dreaded headaches.

yqy notices, and so starts to leave medicine as well.

the longer this goes on, the more yqy looks sad and regretful. the dark cloud that hangs above his head grows darker each time he arrives and is chased away

sj abruptly thinks that he should disappear. when he was gone, yqy was doing well. its only after he showed back up in his life that yqy seemed to start being more miserable.

it of course didnt help that sometimes one of yqy's martial siblings accompanied him on his visits. always staying on the outskirts of his property, but always with an odd and/or dissaproving look on their face. sometimes, sj would faintly hear them tell yqy that coming here wasnt worth it, or at least something similar to it (sj doesnt see the harsh and downright terrifying look yqy would then send that person)

the first time he seriously tries to end his life, it is unexpectedly cut short by a rapid knocking on his door

THIS IS WHERE THE LUO FAMILY COME IN!!! mme luo comes knocking on his door one day, carrying a small feverish toddler. she has no money to go to the nearest doctor (this particular doctor likes charging too high), and the closest neighbor that hasnt already ignored her pleas for help is sj

sj aggrievedly lets her in, giving mme luo an appropriate dose of medicine so she could be the one to coax the kid into ingesting it. the child ends up recovering fairly quickly, and as thanks mme luo leaves a delicious plate of fish in a woven basket for sj

sj returns the basket. mme luo fills it again with another dish, this time with a bowl of sweet and sour pork with bokchoy soup

following the movie, everytime sj (otto) tries to khs, his attempts are unkowingly thwarted by the people hes shown kindness to

at some point mengyao (now very newly named jgy!!) encounters sj again. jgy doesnt stay long, since he does have to return to the jin sect, but he helps around the house. he cooks sj breakfast, teaches binghe etiquette, and becomes an indulgent culinary student to a very eager to show off binghe

each time someone barges into his life, sj always tells them to fuck off. most times he lets them in anyway, but others he shuts them out.

he goes too far one day, so mme luo does her mom thing and somehow gets him to open up. shes always tried to get him to do that, but sj always closed himself from others. this one time, sj tells her about his past and explains why he acts the way he does

while it is indeed the only time hes done so, he begins to allow himself to grow closer with others and let them get to know him, just as much as he gets to know about them

eventually, very slowly, qijiu begin to reconcile. yqy finds the courage to tell sj that he was hasty and was trapped within the ling xi caves, that he did go back, just too late. while theyll never be like they were before, they still had each other in the end

it would be nice if, unlike canon, him helping people inadvertently gets him to live, yk? kindness spreads kindness, that sort of thing

#original shen qingqiu #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #mama luo #baby binghe #sisi #meng yao #the man named otto au #watch the movie im being for real rn #its so good and its so sad #found family is so HMMSNN #yqy sheds tears everytime he comes back and theres more grey hairs on sj's head #sj is all “qige stop crying its natural🙄🙄🙄” #binghe steals hearts everywhere he goes #he also punches jgs in the family jewels the one time he visits his yao-gege #yqy of course helps binghe deal with the political aftermath #ive been having a lot of thoughts about the antagonists of mxtx becoming a family #i just think itd be neat

[universitypenguin]

Summary: Princess conducts interviews with witnesses in Fredericksburg to learn more about the disappearance of Li Wei and Zoe Chapman. Meanwhile, Lloyd confronts Tate Corbin about what he saw the night Julia went missing, but the answers only lead to more questions.

Word Count: 5,064

Masterlist

Author’s Note: I’d like to dedicate this chapter to @nomadstucky. Without her, I never would’ve been able to dig my way out of this latest writing slump. Her feedback was critical to getting this chapter moving in the right direction when I was going off the rails creatively. Thank you so much!

Warnings: Allusions to domestic violence, discussion of murder and other criminal behavior. Minor use of foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors.

Chapter XXIII

The cabins were in good repair. Seeing them in person disrupted the mental image you’d formed of the Chapman Bible Camp. It wasn’t the neglected place of crumbling disrepair you’d imagined it to be. Words like charming and neat came to mind, rather than decrepit and gloomy. The cottages were arranged around an ellipse shaped quad in uniform fashion, like spokes on a wheel. Their vibrant colors were reminiscent of the famous bathing boxes at Brighton Beach. Each one was painted a different shade of the rainbow and trimmed in a contrasting hue. The yellow cabin had purple trim, the green cabin fuchsia pink, and so on.

Instead of the Adirondack style commonly found in rural Virginia, the cabins boasted steep, angled roofs and front-facing gables adorned with whimsical gingerbread bargeboards. The whole aesthetic was so unabashedly Queen Anne that the cabins could’ve blended in with the homes on San Francisco’s famous Postcard Row. They seemed both too sophisticated and too cute for these primitive woods.

After her husband passed away, Mrs. Chapman had sold the bible camp. It was now in the hands of a musician who’d turned the tabernacle into a concert hall and rented out the cabins on Airbnb. Zach was fetching the keys from the owner while you waited on the porch of the converted tabernacle.

Standing here, you wondered if this visit was a fool’s errand. This morning Lloyd had called to tell you he’d be leaving the search party this afternoon to cover Roth’s interview with Tate Corbin. After hanging up, you’d itched for something productive to do. The abduction had injected a fresh sense of urgency into the investigation, but you’d agreed to keep your distance from Harmony because Lloyd was worried that Shun Nguyen would return to familiar surroundings. It was a reasonable assumption, one you didn’t have a counter argument for.

Still, you’d itched with a need to do something, so you’d turned to the mystery surrounding Li Wei and Zoe Chapman. Now that you were actually here you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d drifted off course. The place to look for fresh leads was forty miles north of here, yet this was where you’d come.

What breakthroughs did you expect to generate digging into a case that was almost twenty-five years old? You were about as far from a lead as Pluto was from the sun.

Gravel crunched as Zach came up the walk behind you.

“I got the keys,” he said.

“The place looks better than I expected. More charm, less gloom.”

“Like a fucking rainbow in the woods,” Zach said, inserting the key in the lock.

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s creepy, though.”

“Creepy?” you asked.

“The place feels off. Too pretty for its history, like Gettysburg without a war memorial.”

- - - - -

Zach went to explore the camp and forest while you waited in the concert hall for your witnesses. Twenty minutes later, the first of two former employees arrived.

Mrs. Koep was a petite fair-skinned woman with thin lips and a broad face. She wore a white button down with a silk scarf draped around her neck and carried a pink Michael Kors purse. Her handshake was firm when she introduced herself as the camp’s former groundskeeper. Right behind her, the other ex-employee Mrs. Brittenridge entered the hall. Mrs. Brittenridge was the opposite of Mrs. Koep. The former administrative assistant and camp nurse was tall and thin. In contrast to Mrs. Koep’s carefully coiffed appearance, Mrs. Brittenridge wore a plaid button down with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, straight leg jeans, and scuffed suede boots. Her dark brown hair, worn in a shaggy bob, gleamed with red highlights that complimented her olive complexion.

If they hadn’t introduced themselves, you’d have figured Mrs. Brittenridge for the groundskeeper and Mrs. Koep for the nurse. You sat down together in the pews. The two women took the second row while you sat in the first, angling yourself to face them.

“Thank you for coming,” you said.

“Of course,” Mrs. Brittenridge replied.

“Why did you want to meet us here?” Mrs. Koep asked.

“My colleague, Zach, is exploring the grounds, and I thought the familiar setting might help jog your memories.”

Mrs. Koep’s chin lifted. “My memory is just fine.”

Mrs. Brittenridge shot the blonde woman a tired side-eye, but didn’t comment.

“Rolling Stone magazine said your law firm is investigating the murders in Harmony,” Mrs. Koep said. “Is that true?”

“I’m afraid I can’t comment about ongoing cases.”

She scowled.

“We’re glad someone’s looking into Li Wei and Zoe’s disappearance again, and we’re happy to help anyway we can,” Mrs. Brittenridge said.

“I was hoping you could fill in some blanks surrounding Li Wei’s disappearance. What was she doing just before she disappeared?”

Mrs. Koep answered first. “She was supposed to take the campers on a nature hike before lunch, but never showed up. I learned she was missing when Mr. Chapman came to the potting shed and asked if I’d seen her.”

“The last time I saw her was that morning,” Mrs. Brittenridge said. “She came into the office to fill up her water bottle.”

“What time was that?” you asked.

“Eight-thirty,” Mrs. Brittenridge said.

You turned to the other woman. “And you, Mrs. Koep?”

“I caught a glimpse of her around nine. She was heading into the woods.”

“And Zoe?”

They debated whether Zoe had been with Li Wei that morning or not, but neither one could say for sure. With some more questioning the women decided their last official sighting of the little girl had been on Friday afternoon.

“What about Li Wei’s personal life?” you asked.

Mrs. Koep scoffed. “Non-existent. Her social life fell off a cliff after Zoe was born - some people even compared her to Boo Radley.”

By the icy glare she shot at Mrs. Brittenridge, you could guess who ‘some people’ had been.

“Betty, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You were right, though! She was a recluse! She was bored and lonely. All of her friends had gone off to college and left her behind.”

“She had Zoe, and her parents. You were there for her, too,” Mrs. Brittenridge said.

“It wasn’t enough,” Mrs. Koep said, wringing her hands. “Her mother should’ve pushed her to date, to get out and socialize. She practically was Boo Radley in the end.”

Mrs. Brittenridge sighed. An uncomfortable silence settled, and you waited to see if they’d continue. When they didn’t you pivoted to the main line of questioning you hoped this visit would shed light on.

“Who was Zoe’s father?”

Mrs. Brittenridge stiffened. Beside her, Mrs. Koep’s expression transformed from distraught to frosty. Neither of them answered. You retreated to a less aggressive position, realizing the delicacy of the subject called for coaxing, not pushing.

“Mrs. Koep, you worked here the longest. Since 1982, if the records are correct. Were you close with Li Wei?”

“Yes. She used to follow me around everywhere, always wanting to play in the dirt when I was planting flowers. I had kids who were a few years older than her, so I didn’t mind.”

“Did she ever confide in you about Zoe’s father?”

“Li Wei was a quiet girl,” Mrs. Koep said.

“She was quieter after she had Zoe,” Mrs. Brittenridge interjected.

You weren’t getting any useful information from the direct approach. Despite their obvious dislike of one another, the women were working in concert to dodge your questions.

A strategic retreat was in order.

“Do you have any theories about what happened to Li Wei and Zoe?”

Mrs. Brittenridge lowered her gaze, but Mrs. Koep offered a theory immediately. “I always assumed it was an accident of some kind. There’s a lot of abandoned mining shafts in the area.”

Mrs. Brittenridge’s lips compressed into a flat line.

You smiled at the former groundskeeper. “Mrs. Koep, would you mind taking my colleague, Zack, around? It would be nice to get the perspective of someone who knows the area.”

“Of course.”

“Mrs. Brittenridge, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to see where the administrative building was.”

“There’s not much to see. The new owners tore it down.”

“Any familiar spots would be great,” you said.

You led them out of the tabernacle and Mrs. Koep headed east to where Zach was inspecting the tree line, while Mrs. Brittenridge turned west. She walked to a picnic table hidden behind a grove of trees and sat down on one side. You took the place opposite her.

“This is where I used to take my breaks.”

“It’s a pleasant spot.”

“It’s private. You wanted to get me alone, so go ahead. Ask,” Mrs. Brittenridge invited.

“Do you know who Zoe’s father was?”

“No. Li Wei and I were friendly, but we didn’t have a relationship where she’d be comfortable sharing such personal information.”

“Would Mrs. Koep know?”

“Maybe. Betty was like an aunt to her. I always assumed she’d confided in her, but I’m not sure.”

“How long did you and Betty work together?”

“Seven years.”

“Were you full or part time at the camp?”

“Full time, May through August. I was a school nurse at Monroe High.”

“Li Wei graduated from Monroe, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“What was she like as a student?”

Mrs. Brittenridge considered the question before answering. “She was very smart, especially in English and exceptional in art. She wasn’t the most outgoing person, but always had friends.”

“You’d say she was well liked?”

“Absolutely,” Mrs. Brittenridge said. “She wasn't exactly shy, just reserved. The kind who thought before speaking.”

“Was she much of a partier?”

“Not in high school.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And after?”

“Sometimes when you’ve led a sheltered life, a little freedom goes to your head.”

“Got it. One more question. Why don’t you and Betty get along?”

“I had a cell phone in 1992.”

“Mmmhhh.”

“You’re too young to understand, aren’t you?”

“Probably.”

“Back in the early nineties, only drug dealers had cell phones, or at least that’s what people thought. I had one, which immediately roused her suspicions. To add insult to injury, I set up a website for the camp in 1996, then persuaded the Chapmans to put in a computer station so the kids could email their parents instead of writing letters. You’d have thought I suggested we convert to Satanism.”

You ran through your follow up questions and then walked Mrs. Brittenridge to her car, thanking her again for coming.

Then you headed down the curving path, around the oval lawn, past the cabins, to the garden shed. Zach was waiting outside.

“How’d the tour go?” you asked.

“I don’t think she likes me,” he said.

“Welcome to the club.”

Zach smirked. “Oh? Your charm met its kryptonite?”

You sneered at him, ignored his silent laughter, and stepped over the threshold into the plywood floored shed. The only source of light was a rectangular skylight on the roof.

Mrs. Koep was standing on the far side of the shed with her back to you. Her hands rested on a high table constructed from two-by-fours and MDF board. She stared at the garden tools that hung from the pegboard behind the table. Despite her chic clothing, she looked far more at home in this spartan surrounding with its crude furnishings than she had in the concert hall.

“I missed this place,” Mrs. Koep said, breaking the silence. “It’s weird to miss somewhere that smells like manure and gasoline, but I did.”

Mrs. Koep turned around and leaned against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. It was time for the confrontation.

“You knew Li Wei better than anyone,” you said.

“I like to think so.”

“Do you really believe she and Zoe fell into an abandoned mining shaft?”

“No, I don’t. But that’s what I want to believe, so I do.”

“Is it easier that way?” you asked.

“Being in denial for twenty years isn’t easy, it’s a survival mechanism.”

“What exactly were you in denial about, Mrs. Koep?”

It was stuffy and warm in the shed, but she rubbed her arms as if trying to generate heat.

“At first, you let yourself believe something irrational. Then… when reality breaks through the facade… you make yourself believe it because you can’t accept the truth.”

“You know something about Li Wei’s disappearance that you’re not telling me.”

“You’re very blunt for someone so young.”

“Thank you.”

“I wish I’d been that way when I was twenty-five. It would’ve spared me a divorce.”

This time you didn’t respond, just nodded.

“Li Wei didn’t give me the name of Zoe’s father. She said he was from up North - I think she meant D.C. - and that he’d been in a fraternity. They weren’t in a relationship or anything like that. Zoe was the product of a one night stand.”

“Did he know about Zoe?”

“I’m not sure but I think she would’ve told him. Whatever the case was, he wasn't in the picture. Li Wei was dating someone else.”

Excitement surged in your blood. That hadn’t been in the file. “Really? When did she start seeing him?”

Mrs. Koep squeezed her arms, gripping them until her knuckles turned white.

“Some time in March.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police?”

“Because I was afraid her parents wouldn’t approve. I didn’t want to start any trouble for her.”

You nodded. “And you’re sure the relationship began in March?”

“Pretty sure. I always came up early to start on the flower beds. He drove a motorcycle - not a Harley, it was a sporty thing, like the one Tom Cruise rode in Top Gun. I saw it parked in front of her cottage a few times.”

“Did you ever see her boyfriend?”

“A couple times, from a distance,” Mrs. Koep said.

“Can you describe him?”

“Caucasian, early twenties, with dark blond hair. I guess he was about six feet tall, give or take. He looked a bit like David Beckham.”

“You spoke to her about him?”

Mrs. Koep nodded. “I warned her that if I’d seen her sneaking around with him it was only a matter of time before one of her parents caught on.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me it hadn’t been serious and that they’d broken up.”

You swiped open your phone and pulled up an image of Julia Xiarong.

“Have you seen this woman before?”

She studied the photo carefully. “I don’t think so. Who is she?”

“She was related to Li Wei. A friend of hers said she’d been looking into her family history in 2002 and uncovered records of an adopted cousin.”

“How did she know they were cousins?”

“There was a family mystery about her uncle. He fought in the Chinese Civil War and fled to Taiwan in the 1940s. No one ever heard from him again. She found his death certificate and learned that he’d had a daughter who died in childbirth, which led her to Li Wei’s adoption records.”

“Was there proof Li Wei was related to her?” Mrs. Koep asked.

“If you mean a DNA test, I don’t believe so. Her friend said she came to Fredericksburg in March 2002 and tried to get in touch with Mrs. Chapman. I don’t know if they connected or not.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if they did,” Mrs. Koep said. “Mrs. Chapman had Alzheimers. She’d lost everything but her long-term memories by the end of 2001. Her sister came up from Arizona to take care of her. She stayed on for a year until it was time to move Mrs. Chapman into a memory care unit, then sold the camp.”

“Is it possible she met with Mrs. Chapman’s sister?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you have a number for the sister?” you asked.

“In my address book. I’ll send it to you.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Koep squinted at Julia’s picture. “She’s dead isn’t she?”

You cringed internally, realizing your mistake. Detective Roth was going to have your head.

“I do recognize her. She was in the Rolling Stone article.” Mrs. Koep’s eyes narrowed. “You found Li Wei and Zoe’s bodies, didn’t you?”

“I can’t share any information about the investigation.”

You braced yourself for her to unsheathe her claws, but instead of lashing out, she opened her tiny pink purse and handed you a card. It was an old-fashioned calling card with her name, phone numbers and email address.

“When you can release their bodies, please call me. They deserve a proper funeral.”

“That’s very thoughtful. Especially after all this time.”

“It’s the only thing left. I can’t do anything else for them now.”

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I’m sure talking about this wasn’t easy.”

“I wish I could’ve been more helpful,” she said.

“On the contrary. You were very helpful.”

Mrs. Koep looked confused. When you didn’t elaborate, she sighed. “Alright then. Is that everything?”

“Yes. Zach can walk you to your car.”

You watched from the doorway of the shed as the pair walked down the ellipse shaped path towards the tabernacle and the parking lot beyond it. When they were far enough away, you took out your phone and dialed Annabeth Greene.

She answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey, how’s it going? Have you made any progress on your case? The one with the cousins?”

“That’s why I’m calling. Do you remember running Li Wei and Julia’s DNA samples?”

“Of course I do. It’s the most interesting thing I’ve cracked in months.”

“What about Zoe’s?”

“The little girl?” Annabeth asked.

“Yeah.”

“I thought I already sent you an analysis of her DNA.”

“You did, but I was wondering if there would be any way to identify her father?”

Annabeth sucked in a long breath. “Ugh. Look, I can try, but I’m not optimistic. A lot of genetic libraries have closed the loop holes that allowed us to use ancestry DNA to identify suspects for law enforcement.”

“I’m not law enforcement.”

“You’re as bad as Lloyd.”

“Can you do it?”

“If I loosen my definition of ethics,” Annabeth said.

“You’re the best. I owe you.”

“Uh-uh. Lloyd owes me. It’s going to be something good, too. Expensive. You tell him that.”

“Will do.”

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

In a semi-private alcove within the vast common room of Fairfax Fields Assisted Living facility, Lloyd faced down his prime suspect. Tate Corbin didn’t look eighty-three. His face was wrinkled but his posture was impeccable. Also, he seemed to be made of Teflon, because nothing stuck to him. It wasn’t charm that formed the protective coating that resisted Lloyd’s best interrogation tactics. Just the opposite - the Teflon shield surrounding Corbin was constructed of impertinence.

None of his usual tricks were working, and that pissed Lloyd off. He was good at two things in the interrogation room: getting a rise out of someone and building a sense of despair that made them unravel. Corbin was immune to both tactics.

First, there was no getting a rise out of Corbin. The man existed in a perpetual state of annoyance; the only dependent variable was the subject of his ire. Second, Lloyd didn’t have any actual evidence and therefore wasn’t equipped to build a sense of despair.

He wished he’d brought you along. If he had, he probably wouldn’t be sitting here listening to Corbin monologue about his various hatreds. Mr. Corbin hated scarlet macaws, because his neighbor had one and it wouldn’t shut up. He hated New Jersey and their subpar roads that were always under construction.

Trying to forge a connection, Lloyd empathized with that sentiment and inadvertently triggered a cascade of grievances.

The architecture of FedEx Field was hideous and the Washington Commanders had been on the downhill slide ever since they’d let Kirk Cousins sign with the Vikings. Tate claimed to despise Roger Goodell, Jerry Jones, and the entire NFL organization. And he loathed the football commentators on TV, too. They didn’t know shit about football. He preferred to watch the games on mute these days. Lloyd really, really didn’t want to agree with Tate Corbin… but he was right about a lot of things, especially the Commanders letting Kirk Cousins go. However, he wisely kept his agreement to himself and sat back, waiting for Corbin to run out of steam.

There was a rant against the commissioner of baseball, which didn’t have enough context for Lloyd to figure out whether Corbin hated the office or the individual who currently occupied it. Without a segue, the topic shifted to how social media addictions were the younger generation’s smoking. As much as he hated social media, Tate also had plenty to say about the mass media, and he didn’t hesitate to bend Lloyd’s ear about it.

Tate had been talking for almost ten minutes straight before Lloyd found an opening to put the conversation back on track.

“I hate dogwood trees,” Corbin said.

“You had a disagreement with Shun Nguyen about a dogwood tree, didn’t you?”

“Eh?”

“Dogwood trees,” Lloyd repeated, louder.

Corbin turned up the volume on his hearing aides. “Yeah, I did. That damn tree was growing over the fence and he wouldn’t trim it! Claimed he didn’t have the time!”

“We need to talk about his girlfriend’s death.”

Tate turned his head. His eyes shifted to the window. Uncharacteristically, he didn’t offer a comment.

“I’m here to talk about Julia’s death and the missing women,” Lloyd said.

“Always back to that, huh?”

“The investigation has been re-opened.”

“It’s old news. What’s there to talk about?” Corbin asked.

“You were convinced that Shun Nguyen killed Julia, is that right?”

“Damn right. They were always scrapping. I told her straight out that he’d kill her someday, but she didn’t listen.”

“Were you familiar with any of Dr. Nguyen’s other victims?”

Tate’s initial chattiness had waned. He shrugged. “The whole town heard about them. Heck, most of the country did.”

“Tell me about it.”

Mr. Corbin ran his tongue around his teeth. An expression of disgust, like he’d just bitten into something rotten, flashed across his features. The silence lengthened between them and Lloyd decided to prod.

“Did you know Stacey Moore?”

“Her grandfather and I golfed at the same course. We never played together or anything, but we’d see each other at the bar sometimes. I suppose you already know Maya Sutton interned for my accountant.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’ve done your homework. Everything I’ve told you was in the files, so you tell me - what’s the point of this? What are you getting at?”

Lloyd uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

“In 2002 you claimed you saw a man walking across Nguyen's lawn on the night Julia went missing. I think you were lying.”

Tate straightened, his scowl darkening. “Lying about what?”

“You didn’t see a man. You made it up.”

“Why would I do that?”

“To throw the police off your scent.”

Realization dawned, and then Tate chuckled. “You think I’m the killer?”

“You hated Shun and Julia.”

“And the others?”

“You’re not much of a people person, Mr. Corbin. That can be very frustrating. You couldn’t join them, you couldn’t beat them, so what does that leave? You kill them.”

“That’s pretty twisted logic,” Tate said.

“Six women are still missing and we have the bodies of three others, so yeah. The whole thing is pretty twisted.”

“I’m not much of a people person, Mr. Hansen, but I’m not a killer.”

“Can you prove that?”

Tate snorted. “Actually, I can. You see, you’re not the first person to accuse me.”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Peter Shaw, a reporter out of D.C. - obnoxious bastard.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“He tried to accuse me of being the killer in a story for some hipster magazine ten years ago. The editor called before they ran the story, trying to verify the facts.”

“What facts?”

“About my whereabouts during the times those other women went missing. Stacey Moore was the first, in June of ‘99. A few months later Maya Sutton disappeared. The next summer it happened again. Two more victims.”

“Do you remember their names?” Lloyd asked.

“Peyton Quirk and Kayla Ballesta.”

“They disappeared in the summer, too?”

Lloyd knew the answers to the questions he was asking, but he wanted to see if Tate did.

“Peyton disappeared in July and Kayla went missing during the first week of September.”

Lloyd pretended to make a note on his pad.

Tate continued down the list. “He took Lucy Lund in May 2001. Stephanie Young went missing in September.”

“You’re very familiar with the case, Mr. Corbin.”

“Of course I am. I was at Nguyen’s trial every single day, both times. Which is why I was able to track down the tickets and photos from my summer vacations in 1999 and 2001. There are three ex-merchant marines, guys I served with in the sixties, who can vouch for me. We’ve done a biennial fishing trip in Maine for the last thirty years.”

“Their names?” Lloyd asked.

He took them down, along with the phone numbers the old man rattled off from memory.

“You’re grasping at straws if you think I’m your guy,” Corbin said.

Lloyd had a sinking feeling he’d just grasped at said straws and they’d slid through his fingers. He clicked his pen and sat back, studying Tate carefully.

His body language was open and relaxed. He didn’t seem rattled by Lloyd’s prodding, which made him think the man was being honest. Of course he would check with the merchant marines to be certain but Lloyd suspected his alibi would check out. It was a shame Peter Shaw didn’t share information from his unpublished articles, because it would’ve saved Lloyd a trip.

“I didn’t lie, you know. I saw someone walking across Nguyen’s yard that night,” Tate said.

Lloyd noticed the way Tate’s left hand shifted to cover his right wrist when he said ‘someone.’

It was a subtle gesture of self-protection, the kind of thing you or Zach would be able to discern the meaning of. He couldn’t read the emotions on Tate’s face. Discomfort? Fear? Or was he gloating over some withheld piece of information? Being caught out of his depth was irritating. Lloyd switched tactics, dropping the confrontational strategy.

Corbin had a propensity to interject whenever he felt something was being misconstrued, so Lloyd phrased his next words as a statement instead of a question.

“You saw someone that night and recognized them.”

“No, I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t recognize them for sure. Not at the time.”

“But later, you figured out who it was,” Lloyd said.

“It was just a guess.”

“A name?”

Mr. Corbin adjusted the leg of his trousers, smoothing out a crease. “Guess isn’t really the appropriate word. Maybe you’d call it a… hypothesis?”

Lloyd wanted to grab Tate by the collar of his polo shirt and shake the answer out of him. Instead, he smiled, trying to school his features into a neutral expression.

“About a month afterwards, I had an epiphany, of sorts and the puzzle pieces just snapped together. There was a neighbor boy. He was college age but still lived with his parents. A big, strapping kid, just like the figure I saw.”

“Why do you think it was him?” Lloyd asked.

“I woke up that night because their dog was barking. I got up to see what was going on, but by the time I reached the window the dog had shut up.”

“Which house did these neighbors live in?”

“The one adjacent to Nguyen’s property.”

“Left or right?”

“Right,” Tate said.

Lloyd jotted down a note. “Anything else?”

“Like I said, I wasn’t sure if it was the kid or not. But he fit the general description of the person I’d seen, and that dog didn’t bark much. I figure that’s why the dog started barking - he’d smelled his owner.”

“Was he coming or going from the house?”

“Assuming it was him, he would’ve been returning to his house.”

“By cutting through Nguyen’s yard?”

“His parents had a security camera pointed at the front door,” Tate said. “I asked his father about their setup after things went down. I was thinking of getting myself a security system and he told me they only had the one camera for the front door.”

“And?” Lloyd prompted.

“Given the camera at the front door, he would’ve had to sneak in through the back. Nguyen’s yard wasn’t fenced. The easiest path would have been to cut through Nguyen’s front yard, go around the back of their house, and jump the fence into the next yard.”

“You never mentioned this to the police,” Lloyd said.

“Dealing with ‘em left a bad taste in my mouth. They’re idiots, the whole lot. Look at who they’ve got locked up now! One of their own evidence clerks! While I happen to think they’ve got the wrong man, I'm sure glad that fellow is off the streets.”

“Yeah?”

Corbin’s face scrunched. “With Leo McKenzie in the slammer Harmony’s DUI rate is about to go into free fall, if you catch my drift.”

“You didn’t think it mattered if you said anything or not.”

Tate grunted in acknowledgement.

“You seem to have this whole case figured out,” Lloyd said.

That earned him a smile. The old man leaned in, lowering his voice. “Want to know what else I think?”

Lloyd mimicked the posture, inclining his head.

“I’ve got a theory about why they never found any remains.”

“Really?”

“Copper Ridge Quarry.”

“I’m not familiar,” Lloyd said.

“It’s an abandoned mine, closed down in the 60s. Toxic waste. Acidic runoff. That’s where the bodies went.”

This interview was burning up more leads than it was generating. Perhaps he didn’t need to check out Corbin’s alibi after all, Lloyd realized. Tate definitely wasn’t their guy. The coroner’s findings on Julia and Li Wei pointed towards the other end of the pH spectrum, away from acid.

Even so, he played along, raising an eyebrow. “Acid.”

“It’s so strong it’s off the pH scale, into the negative numbers.”

“Interesting.”

“It’s more than interesting. Acid dissolves everything. No bodies, no evidence. Take my word for it - look into Copper Ridge Quarry and you’ll find your killer.”

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

Next - Chapter XXIV

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Masterlist

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Tag List:

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#the princess and the lawyer #series: the princess and the lawyer #the princess & the lawyer #series: the princess & the lawyer #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen au #chris evans character au #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans character x reader #the grey man fanfiction #the grey man fanfic #the grey man fic

[deliciousangelfestival]

Let Me Love You | 3 - B. Barnes

Character: college!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: On a mysterious, rainy night, Bucky witnesses a distressing encounter involving his crush.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , -

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. What are your thoughts? Please leave a comment; I'd love to hear your feedback. Thank you once again.

You and Bucky sprinted away from Lloyd, hearts pounding in sync with the rhythm of your hurried steps, the adrenaline coursing through your veins dulling the ache of exhaustion.

Pausing to catch your breath, Bucky turned to you, concern etched on his face as he asked, "Are you okay?" Your response was worn as you admitted, "No, I'm not okay. I'm exhausted. I just want to go home and hide under my blanket."

Ever the caring friend, Bucky offered to drive you back to your apartment, a gesture that elicited a heartfelt "Thank you, Bucky" from your lips.

Upon arriving at your apartment, after Bucky had kindly dropped you off, the sound of a knock on your door sent a shiver down your spine.

'Knock,Knock,'

Fear gripped you, your mind racing with thoughts of Lloyd's relentless pursuit. However, to your immense relief, Bucky stood on the other side of the door.

Returning with a thoughtful gesture, he handed you something, saying, "For you. Good food could make you feel better." Before you could utter a word of gratitude, he swiftly turned and disappeared, leaving you standing there with a mix of emotions swirling inside you.

You carefully examined what was inside the plastic, finding a comforting sight—a steaming bowl of chicken soup. Gratitude washed over you as you realized how much you needed this warmth to soothe your empty stomach.

Recalling past instances, you couldn't help but contrast Bucky's thoughtful gesture with Lloyd's indifference; he never once checked on you when you were sick. Shaking your head, you pushed those memories aside, recognizing that they belonged to a time that was now behind you.

After luxuriating in a revitalizing shower to refresh yourself, you set about warming up the soup, eager to savor its nourishing goodness.

As you took the first sip, you felt the dizziness that had plagued you begin to dissipate, replaced by a comforting sense of relief. You made a mental note to express your gratitude to Bucky again the next time you crossed paths with him.

Just as you settled down to enjoy your meal, the shrill ring of your phone pierced the air, signaling an incoming call from your mother.

'Ring'

Setting down the soup spoon, you take a moment to sip the warm water, gathering yourself before answering the incoming call. With a deep breath, you bring the phone to your ear and utter a tentative, "Hello?"

On the other end, your mother's voice, Cecilia, sounds immediately concerned, "Don't tell me it's true you broke up with Lloyd?"

You let out a weary sigh, not wanting this breakup to escalate further, especially given your mother's fondness for Lloyd. "Yes, it's true."

Cecilia's tone turns to disapprove, "How? And Why? Don't let him get away, he's our golden ticket to get out from this town."

Your headache, which had just subsided, returns with a vengeance at her words. "Mom, he cheated on me."

Cecilia brushes off your concerns, "So? It's normal for a man with a bright future like him to have many women chasing him. You should've turned a blind eye. I heard from Lloyd's mother that a coach from the NFL league is recruiting him."

You exhale heavily, frustration bubbling up inside you. "I've worked tirelessly and studied hard to maintain my scholarship. I don't have time to watch whatever Lloyd does behind my back."

Cecilia's tone takes on a hint of resentment, "Oh, I see. Just because you became a St. Louis student, you think you're better?"

"That's not what I meant," you interject, feeling the conversation spiraling out of control. "You know what? I don't have time for this. Goodbye, Mom."

With that, you end the call and power off your phone, feeling drained. Glancing at the now unappetizing soup, you realize you just want to retreat into the solace of sleep.

The next day, with no classes scheduled, you requested a morning shift at work, preferring to avoid staying at your apartment to prevent any unexpected visits from Lloyd.

Today, you find yourself assuming the role of kitchen manager, a position you've earned through over a year of dedicated work, earning the trust of your manager. With the usual kitchen manager on leave due to health reasons, you've been tasked with overseeing operations for the day.

As you busy yourself assisting the cashier, your attention is drawn to the entrance by the familiar sight of Bucky and his two friends strolling in. Steve's grumbling about hunger prompts Bucky to suggest a visit to WHAM Burger, their usual haunt. Bucky insists on the visit rather than opting for delivery, eager for the chance to see you.

Welcoming them warmly, you greet them with a smile. "Welcome to WHAM Burger. What would you like to order?"

Observing your tired demeanor, Bucky admires your resilience and spirit. "Three cheeseburgers, three orders of fries, and three Cokes, please."

"Alright," you reply, masking your fatigue with determination. "You guys can take a seat, and I'll bring it over to your table."

As they settle in at their table, Bucky notices you approaching with their meals. However, his attention is caught by the unexpected addition of 12 chicken nuggets on the tray. "Y/N, we didn't order these," he points out.

You wink playfully at him, a gesture of gratitude. "My treat. Thank you for your help yesterday, Bucky."

Bucky can feel his cheeks flushing as Sam, seated beside him, notices and flicks his ear.

"Ouch," Bucky exclaims, rubbing his ear sheepishly.

Your laughter rings out at Bucky's reaction, adding a lightness to the atmosphere.

The light atmosphere in the restaurant swiftly turned dark as Lloyd, accompanied by Nicky and the rest of the football team, entered the establishment. A smirk adorned Nicky's face, her presence feeling like a taunt as she appeared to flaunt her newfound proximity to Lloyd.

Lloyd's casual remark did little to ease the tension as he addressed you, "Don't mind us, we just came here for a quick breakfast."

With a flourish, Nicky produced her black credit card, offering to foot the bill, "My treat." The football team erupted into cheers at the prospect.

Lloyd, with a smile playing on his lips, added, "Great, and we could use Y/N's employee discount."

Nicky's gaze shifted to you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation "Really?"

Raising an eyebrow, you couldn't believe the audacity of the situation. "That discount only applies to me," you retorted firmly. Working here, you've always utilized the employee discount, which Lloyd had benefited from in the past.

But to expect it for a party of 24 people? That was pushing it. You knew that allowing such a large discount would likely result in repercussions from your manager, perhaps even costing you your job.

You felt the weight of 24 pairs of eyes bearing down on you, and under their collective gaze, you couldn't help but feel small. Even the manager's expectant look added to the pressure.

Then, a comforting hand gently grasped your arm, and you turned to see Bucky standing beside you. His reassuring nod gave you a sense of calm amidst the chaos, "It's gonna be alright."

"Huh?" you uttered in confusion.

As Lloyd crossed his arms, his disapproval evident, he glanced between you and Bucky with a dismissive "Tsk," unable to comprehend your choice.

However, before you could respond, the manager, Thesa, intervened. With a professional smile, she addressed the football team, acknowledging their presence with gratitude.

"Thank you for coming to WHAM Burger, our football champions. It's an honor to have you here. As a token of our appreciation, today's order will be on us."

The unexpected gesture elicited cheers from everyone, except Nicky, whose opportunity to embarrass you had been thwarted.

Feeling a wave of relief wash over you, you couldn't help but feel fortunate for the turn of events, even if you weren't entirely sure what had transpired.

Thesa's call snapped your attention, and you nodded in response. "Sure," you agreed before casting a quick glance at Bucky. "I'm needed in the kitchen. See you guys at the uni." With that, you hurriedly made your way to the kitchen, leaving the dining area behind.

As you scurried off, Bucky watched your retreating figure, a sense of concern etched on his features. However, his attention was soon diverted when he felt a gaze burning into him. Turning, he found himself locking eyes with Lloyd, who radiated hostility.

Beside him, Steve noticed the tension and issued a warning. "You better watch out, punk."

Bucky simply nodded in acknowledgment. "I know," he replied, his tone resolute.

Sam, ever observant, chimed in with a question. "Did you help Y/N just now?"

Before Bucky could respond, Steve jumped in. "Of course, he did. He can't let his crush get bullied like that."

The word 'bullied' lingered in Bucky's mind, igniting a protective instinct within him. He vowed silently to ensure you never experienced such treatment, especially not within his domain.

Indeed, while only a few people on campus knew, within WHAM Burger, everyone was aware that Bucky Barnes was the son of the owner of this famous food chain restaurant.

Yet, despite the recognition that came with his lineage, Bucky remained grounded and humble, striving to earn his place through hard work and dedication rather than relying solely on his family name.

And now, upon discovering that his number one girl is being underestimated like this, Bucky feels compelled to protect her.

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Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #buckybarnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x you #college!reader #college!bucky #college steve rogers #college au #the winter soldier #the grey man au #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x reader #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #let me love you series

[lyss-butterscotch]

hmmmm you only revealed the specialties for UI (toxicology and cheminology n shit) and GW (constructionlogy and architectology) what about the others

They're not exactly specialties. They're like interests, the stuff they research or indulge in when they're not working on the Great Problem. It's not really that big a deal I just thought they should like... have something they like to do outside their job especially now that the Ancients are dead

#rain world #gijinka #looks to the moon #five pebbles #seven red suns #no significant harassment #sliver of straw #unparalleled innocence #chasing wind #grey wind #man thats alotta tags i should stop #they have hobbies and shit basically #my art #lyss art #travel puppet au #lore art

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Grey Zone 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: This is what happens when I decide to say fuck it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

The scent of matcha dampens your corset. Lucky for you, it’s black and won’t stain. That’s the one worry you rarely face in your life; stains. Dark fabric does more favours than just slimming you.

Still, that sunny side isn’t enough to brighten your mood. Your day has been shrouded in dark clouds. Your wasted Starbucks matcha and spoiled study sessions weigh down your feet, the thick treads of your boots clomping down the pavement. And on the bus, you nearly fell right on your face with no seats free to sit.

You look up as you approach your father’s ranch house style home. He didn’t take much pride in you but the house was always a gem for him to show off. Almost all your life, it was under one renovation or another. He was always trying to fix things up, including you.

Your mother enabled his endless ‘improvements’ so long as he bribed her with something pretty. That was her thing. He builds, she decorates, and you are the one ornament that doesn’t fit. At least, that’s what it’s felt like since your turn towards black nail polish and fishnets at thirteen. Seven years later and there was still the same angst woven into your parental relationships.

You tramp up the steps of the porch, not noticing the figure sat on the handcrafted bench near the large squared paned windows. Mr. Hansen sits with a can of craft beer in hand, arching a brow at the can as he reads it skeptically. He glances over, not so surprised by your sudden appearance. 

You take your earbuds out as the racket scratches from the tiny speakers. You thin your lips, smiles not exactly your forte. He sits up and puts the can down on the bench.

“Tastes like fermented socks,” he says coolly, “your dad never has anything good.”

“Mm,” you grumble as you grip the leather strap of your studded knapsack. “Yeah…”

“You want it? Just don’t tattle on me,” he offers as he taps the aluminum brim.

You shake your head.

“I won’t tell,” he smirks.

“You’re right, it tastes like socks,” you say dully.

He chuckles and brings his hand up, smoothing his palm across the buzzed side of his head. He looks at you, a bit longer than usual. You have the urge to take out your phone and check your reflection. 

“I should–”

“That new?”

You speak at the same time. Awkward. Mr. Hansen isn’t usually that out of sync. He has a confidence that makes you feel even more clueless.

“What?” You blink and twist your toe into the wood.

“That shirt.”

You look down at the boned black corset with the violet trim, over a plain black turtleneck. You got it from a vintage store years ago. You’ve worn it so much, the boning holds the shape of your body. You shake your head and shrug.

“Hmm, looks nice.”

The compliment catches you further off guard than his solitary presence. He’s blunt and to the point. The only person you’ve ever heard tell your father the truth. And you know your style is not to everyone's taste.

Looking at him, it's definitely not his. Cream coloured pants, burgundy loafers with golden buckles, and polo striped in shades of goldenrod and garnet.

“Thanks,” you keep from sucking your lip in, not wanting to smear your lip stain. “I should… go.”

“Sure,” he sits back, leaning against the window frame, “if you see your dad, send him out. He ditched me like fifteen minutes ago to find some nonsense sports card.”

“Right,” you continue across the porch.

In your peripheral, his head turns but you don’t meet his gaze. You pull open the screen door, innately aware of him watching you. Why?

The interior door is ajar. You step inside and the spring of the screen snaps it shut behind you. You put your bag on the console table just inside, and lean on it as you unlace your boots. Your mother would subject you to her shrill disapproval if you leave dirt on the runner again.

As you stand, you check your reflection in the round mirror hung on the wall, a frame of golden oak leaves around it. You don’t look that bad. You fixed most of your smeared eyeliner before you left the mall and your lip stain has stuck pretty well. You might be a bit shiny from sweat but nothing egregious.

Before you can grab your bag, the screen door opens. You wince and look at Mr. Hansen as he enters. He is close as he lets the door shut softly and you quickly snatch your knapsack and move away from him. 

“Second thought, gotta hit the bathroom,” he explains but pauses and wiggles his nose, the gesture made more obvious by the trim of hair beneath, “smells like grass.”

“Uh, yeah,” you sling your bag from your elbow, “spilled my tea.”

“Probably a good thing if it smells like a lawn,” he scoffs and kicks off his velvet loafers.

“Probably,” you agree glumly and turn away.

“Too bad though. Hope you didn’t burn yourself.”

You stop again, at the bottom of the stairs. You glance back at him. He’s being strangely nice. This isn’t the same man who called you Wednesday Addams and teased you how he was certain that you must sleep in a coffin. Is something wrong? Is your dad okay?

“Hey,” your dad’s voice booms down the stairs above you. You spin and look up at his descent. He carries the old cigar box he keeps his collectibles in, “home early. Thought you were studying.”

“Yeah, uh, I’m just going to do it here–” you say.

“Your mother wants you to help with dinner tonight,” he doesn’t let you finish. As he nears he stops, looking you up and down like he always does. You have to know that he hates everything about you. “Colourful.”

“Dad,” you whisper a weak plea.

He doesn’t answer you as he shoulders past. You frown but don’t look back. You don’t want to show how much it hurts. Even if it happens every day, it still crushes you. It’s just clothes, why does he care so much? You remember the day he stopped taking you to car shows with him, the day you refused to take out your earrings. That was the switch.

“Studying, huh? Boring, but admirable,” Mr. Hansen comments, “think most dad’s would love to hear that from their daughters, huh, Ray?”

Your father just huffs, “depends what they’re studying.”

You keep on up the stairs. You won’t argue, not in front of company. Especially not in front of Mr. Hansen.

“Degree isn’t worth much when you dress like that,” you hear his remark before you get to the top. 

You peek back downstairs but can’t see the landing below. Funny, you got a job and they don’t care what you wear, they just want you to show up. If only you had the courage to say it out loud. If only it would make a difference.

You shuffle to your room, just down the hall from your father’s. He occupies the primary room and your mother sleeps in her studio, just the next doorway. They can be amiable, given they don’t spend too much time together. Their relationship is more transactional than affectionate.

You wouldn’t know much about that, though. You’re only guessing. The closest you got to a relationship was when Travis invited you under the bleaches… that’s a memory worth forgetting.

You close your door before you can get carried away. You stopped worrying about your parents’ marriage right before high school. You realised then, there wasn’t any use in fretting in it. In fact, you became almost hopeful that one day they would split.

You put your bag on your bed and look around. The vanity you painted black stands beside the dark curtains. Little bat stickers decorate the edges of the mirror, your collection of antique vials and painted bottles line one side, and your make up chest sits on the other. It’s your little cave, the one place no one can tell you who to be.

You turn on the lamp in the shape of a crystal ball. You undo your corset and peel off your turtleneck, leaving the damp clothing in the hamper. You pull on a black and white striped sweater instead. 

You unpack your laptop and climb up on your high queen. The frame has curling iron posts, a particularly gothic design with a peak at the center of the headboard. You love it even if it scratches the paint off the wall.

You pile your pillows up, building a cosy nest to catch up on your work. It’s maybe ten minutes before there’s pounding on your door. Your mother doesn’t wait for an answer. You’ve learned not to expect her to. You look over as she flips on the overhead lights, ruining the subtle ambience of your bedside lamp.

“Uh, hello,” she snips, “your dad said he told you about dinner.”

You frown, “it’s only four–”

“Yes, and? I’m making a bouillabaisse. It needs lots of time,” she retorts, “besides, the table will need to be set for our company.”

“Company? You mean Mr. Hansen–”

“Er yeah,” she sniffs, “don’t be so dumb and stop asking questions.”

“Just curious,” you close your laptop and push yourself across the bed, “coming…”

Your voice trails off as your mother’s already gone, your door left slightly ajar. You huff and follow her tracks, her steps on the stairs as you get to the hallway. You pull your door shut behind you, checking to make sure the fault mechanism catches.

You continue downstairs and follow the impatient clanging of your mother. She’s never very subtle. She already has a glass of red on the counter. She’ll bark at you over it as she tells you exactly how to cook and refuse to do any of it herself.

“Oh, honey,” she says dramatically as she slams the soup pot on the burner, “you look so grim. What happened to that new gloss I bought you?”

“The pink stuff?” You utter as you pick at your sleeves.

“It went so nice with your complexion,” she preens, “it would look so nice with a new dress. I was online shopping today–”

“Mom,” you cross your arms.

“Don’t be a brat. You know, when I was your age, I would’ve loved if my mother still bought me clothes. She made me work for everything I had. She wouldn’t even buy me tampons.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“Don’t be sorry, get the fish out. Don’t forget the mussels…”

You do as she says. You take out the vast array of fish along with the vegetables she lists off. She empties her glass by the time you start adding ingredients to the blender for the base. You’ve never been a fan of the dish but the last time you tried to convince her on something similar, you went to bed with a stinging cheek. She pours a second glass as you run the motor, holding it extra long to override her nagging.

She leans on the counter, swirling her glass. You can smell her cabinet-laced breath. She’s tipsy already. You add oil to the pot and wait for it to heat up.

“You look so dreary in black,” she mopes, “what happened to my little girl?”

“I’m twenty,” you offer flatly.

“Oh, you started this long before that,” she snarls, “you never wanted to be pretty for your mama.”

“I…” you look down, “this is pretty. To me.”

“You look like one of those girls on the internet…” her head wobbles and she slurps from her glass, “I’ve seen the type. They wear tights like yours and nothing else. What are you always doing on your computer, anyway?”

The accusation scalds you. You shake your head and add the chopped onion, fennel, and leek to the hot oil. This isn’t the first time she’s made the insinuation. Like that time she found certain websites saved on your father’s iPad. It couldn’t have been him, he wouldn’t look at those things. And there was only one other person to blame.

“Schoolwork,” you sigh, “mom,” you look at her wine glass, almost empty again, “how about some water–”

“How about you don’t tell me what to do,” she points at you with a long red nail, “I am your mother, not the other way around.”

“I know,” you grab a rubber spatula and push around the veggies and oil. The fragrant aroma rises in the air. It stokes your appetite.

“Mmm, something smells delicious,” Mr. Hansen’s voice enters ahead of him as you glance over.

Your mother turns and leans her elbows back on the counter, pushing her chest out. You know this part too. Not just with him but the gardener and even the garbage man. Your eyes flick to Mr. Hansen’s before you quickly return your attention to the pot.

“Looks delicious too,” your mother slithers as she leers at him, “Lloyd, I didn’t even get a chance to thank you for the merlot!” She raises her glass sloppily, “there’s enough left for you.”

“Ah, Connie, that’s nice of you,” he replies as he nears, “but it’s cabernet, actually. And my stomach was turned by that craft bullshit.” 

He comes close to the stove, standing beside you as he peers down into the pot. The heat from the stove couples with that of his proximity. Your mother drains her glass and pulls away from the counter.

“More for me,” she chimes and grabs the bottle.

You feel a warmth on your lower back as Mr. Hansen’s cologne mingles with the scent of your cooking, “what’s for dinner, sweetheart?”

You realise he’s touching you. His hand slips under the wool of your sweater and his thumb rubs the skin along the top of your pants. You freeze and keep your hand steady as you simmer the veggies. You peek over at your mother, she’s too distracted with her glass.

“Bouillabaisse,” you answer in a brittle voice. You shift and his hand falls away, grazing the top of your pocket, a tickle on your ass. 

“Mmm, fish,” he purrs, “I’m starving.”

“Shoo, shoo,” your mother waves her hand at him, “won’t cook faster with you hovering around.”

“Fine, fine,” he raises his hands defensively, “don’t burn yourself, Connie. I see you doing all this hard work–”

“Oh, you,” she sneers and grabs the dish cloth from in front of you where it hangs from the oven handle. She whips the end in his direction, “no wonder you and my husband get along.” She snaps him with it again, “you’re a bunch of jackasses.”

He cackles, unbothered by her anger, but retreating nonetheless. You keep your head down and your mother takes another thick gulp. She scoffs.

“Men,” she slurs, “no good. If you won’t listen to me about anything, you take that in, hon. They’re all trash.”

You refuse to look after Mr. Hansen or think about the shadow of his touch on your skin. Men are confusing, that’s enough to keep you away.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #the grey zone #the gray man #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #au #dark fic #dark!fic #series

[sweetest-honeybee]

A very adorable commission for @slugknight113 :D

#and one of the rare times I render grey Wally 😂 #also 10/10 request I’m happy to draw the lil man with y’all’s OCs tbh #my art #commission #commissions #welcome home #welcome home project #wally darling #greyscale wally au

[dxrksong]

Bonus!

The ancients thought it was funny so they decided to pop in for a visit.

@tourettesdog @bigjbonk @autumnwulf @seraphinedemort @crystaldrops20 @blankliferain

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #jason todd #dc x dp au #dc red hood #dc x dp crossover #little baby men #little baby man #Dan phantom #plant sam #sam manson #pharoh tucker #tucker foley #valerie grey #dash baxter #sidney poindexter #danielle phantom #dani phantom #wes weston #jazz fenton #Clockwork #Pandora #Nocturn #OverGrowth #vlad plasmius #Vlad Masters #Batfam #batkids

[hallowsden]

DC x DP Idea Thing #4

Dual-sided Rebirth AU (Official name pending)

Brain had this idea for over a week (or 2...) now, rent-free, but what if Jazz, Dan, Danny, and Ellie all reincarnated as Harvey Dent's kids? Jazz and Dan are the old set of twins while Danny and Ellie are the younger set. Will all of them remember their past lives? I say majority of it.

This is before Harvey got scarred and became Two-Face and maybe the mother is someone before Gilda Dent? Idk, all I know is that all of them present as Metas despite neither Harvey or their mother had the meta trait (this is a case that Black Canary II falls under from what my research says), Danny and Ellie's powers showing from birth while Dan's and later Jazz's activated after.

Danny and Ellie were thought to be dead when they were born but they proved otherwise. Danny froze a nurse's hand while Ellie went into goop mode a few times. Later Dan and Jazz both set something on fire but for two completely different reasons, severity, and time. At least to say, Harvey here has a handful, especially if he was acting as a single parent here.

Harvey's gonna have a bit of a hard time first as a parent, regardless if this is pre-Two-Face era or not. Man here is (secretly) terrified at the thought of becoming like his father to his kids.

It takes a while but he gets used to the life of fatherhood despite also being busy as hell. The kids help out by behaving (as much as they can anyways), though, Jazz's powers do come in handy.

(She's like SCP-999 essentially here when she notices people are stressed in her proximity, for lack of better words. No one noticed she had powers till it manifested into harmless flames that had calming effects to it when nearby. With her powers + support from her and the rest of her siblings, they managed to delay Two-Face's debut for a while later on. But uh, yeah, her powers are gonna be very helpful for Harvey when Dan, Danny, and Ellie all gain more powers cause OOOOO BOY, blood pressure, am I right?)

Harvey becomes more motivated to get into Law after all his kid's powers were shown so they can be seen/treated as equals and not have Metas outright banned from Gotham especially, even though he keeps his kid's status as "metas" away from public knowledge. It later becomes an open secret though.

As stated earlier, the Two-Face debut is gonna be delayed. Jazz, Dan, Danny, and Ellie are gonna be very protective of their dad (and pa when they officially meet Harv) after the attack. Mother henning children. I feel like Dan's gonna empathize with both of them a lot in a way and have late-night talks with dad and pa about the darker thoughts they all have.

As much as they all tried, though, Two-Face is gonna make an appearance cause this is Gotham.

When Two-Face era begins, Harvey and Harv likely avoid the kids (even if Danny and Ellie are still teens while Jazz and Dan are in Uni) as their way of protecting them from overall villain stuff the two do despite all of them trying to reach out to him and supporting them, hoping they'll get better.

I'm ngl, I feel like Dan and Danny are gonna join the criminal business with their dad and pa (much to their protests) cause someone has to look out for them. Ellie joins in on occasions for chaos and shenanigans (cause yes) and Jazz is glaring at Arkham with so much contempt cause YOU AREN'T HELPING HER DAD AND PA PROPERLY! (As well as the other inmates but STILL- YOU CALL THAT PROPER MEDICAL PRACTICE- Jazz ends up burning at least something whenever anything about Arkham is brought up. Everyone in the family is scared cause her flames normally don't even singe a thing)

Jazz is creating her own practitioner-place therapy thing cause TO HELL WITH ARKHAM!

I... Honestly don't know what I'm writing here anymore. More exhausted then usual. Might add/edit later. Idk. Just- Reincarnation for Fenton Kids, Harvey being Gotham's original Famous Dad before Bruce (which speaking of- he's Uncle Bruce and Dan and Danny don't trust him which confuses Harvey and Harv), and just, angst, fluff, chaos, and shenanigans.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #Idk what is the timeline for this au anymore #Dad Harvey Dent #he's trying his best #Jazz Dan Danny and Ellie are a handful but they try as well #Dent Family beating the other crime families butts #Bruce is getting more grey hairs quicker because of the Dent kids alone #He questions why Dan and Danny hate him especially #Jazz and Ellie don't seem to hate him #Ellie likes to target him with pranks though so... #Seriously WHAT EVEN IS TIMELINE ANYMORE #I had help from Batpham discord with figuring out Jazz's powers #reincarnated au #i have no regrets #i am so tired right now #Idk what else to tag #Jazz really hates Arkham here #Dan and Danny are their dad and pa's left and right hand man #Even though neither wanted them to be mixed up with the mess they created #OH JEEZ IMAGINE THE ROGUES GALLERY MEETINGS #Ellie's gonna be recording those cause it always ends with both Dan and Danny trying to murder Joker #The Dent kids being Metas is an open secret in Gotham #Gonna go nap now