#He is always eager for his decisions to be Someone Else's Fault it seems

[mywrittings]

lust 01 / anthony bridgerton

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: the man you despise so much is suddenly in the arms of someone else and that makes you realize you actually have real strong feelings for him

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 1.3k

a/n: hii everyone! long time no see, a lot has been going on. but i have missed writing so much because it is my special place where i get to write and escape reality for a moment. and so i have finished watching bridgerton season 2 and... i was SHOOK. had to write something about mr anthony, hope you like it!

part 02 | part 03 | part 04 | part 05 | part 06

Anthony Bridgerton. One if not the only person that has been irking you and continues to mendel with your life. It’s like everytime you think you got rid of him… there he is again. Although it is not entirely his fault. Your Mama has been eager to get you married this season even though you were not picked as the Diamond this year. Which was unexpected as everyone and their mother thought it would be you. But to you it was great, as you did not wish to marry someone just so you can get a title or have someone to sponsor you. You wanted something real, real love which seemed impossible. But that brings us to the person mentioned in the beginning,

Anthony.

Pretty much everytime there is some kind of ball or perhaps another event, you are met with him. It doesn’t help the fact that your Mama and his have been really good friends for years. Naturally both of them have started hatching up a plan to make the two of you one happy couple, icing on the cake - marriage.

But you could not stand it. Everytime they tried to have you two talk or dance, you would make up an excuse or grab someone else to dance. Both you and Anthony know why you did not wish to be around him. That talk he had with other men outside, not wanting to marry for love, did not sit right with you. Because you were looking for someone that loved you and would protect you. You would not feel safe around someone like that knowing that they do not love you.

Anthony kept trying to court you, he saw a potential in you, something he hadn’t seen in any other girl thus far. Even the Diamond of this season did not turn his eyes, no matter how hard the poor girl tried. He was fixated on you and he loved a challenge.

It was a lovely night and her Majesty was hosting a ball. She did not like that nobody was really paying any attention to her Diamond this year and feared what Lady Whisteldown might write next. But she knew that if she managed to get Anthony Bridgerton to ask her Diamond to dance, other suitors may follow and the actions would prove her decision was right.

‘’Mama, I really wish not to go,’’ you sighed, looking at your pastel blue dress in the mirror ‘’I want to have at least one night for myself, away from that clownery.’’

‘’My dear, it is her Majesty’s ball. You have to go, otherwise it will not be a good look for any of us. Plus I’m afraid she is really only doing this for her Diamond.’’ your Mama says, placing her hands on your shoulders, giving you a soft smile.

‘’But that is wonderful! All the attention will be on her, why would anyone notice I am not present?’’ but you knew someone would notice you are not there and perhaps even try to come to your home, looking for you.

Your Mama tried saying something but you quickly interrupted her ‘’Nevermind, I’m going.’’ with a half smile as you turn around and bolt past her, down the stairs where your carriage was already waiting.

Arriving at the ball a little late, you walk into a very glamorous place. You have been to every single ball, hosted by the Queen but it would seem as if she exceeds herself each time. Each ball there is more bling, more flowers, more food… She never fails to impress. And if there is one thing you would have to pick that you liked out of these ball’s is the music. It was absolutely stunning and you liked to close your eyes, listen to the instruments and how they’d play at their own pace. The Queen would always find the best orchestra to play, her music choice was never poorless and that is something that you quite liked from her. She always knew how to take care of her guests.

The dancing had already begun but that did not bother you as much. The card on your wrist would soon be filled with fake names you were making up in your head, as you really did not wish to dance with anyone tonight. Sure enough it was filled with many familiar faces. Some already busy on the dancefloor, turning in circles with their dancing partners for the night.

Your Mama walks behind you and in no time she is standing beside Lady Bridgerton. They greet each other and soon are having a very heated chat. But what was odd is that you did not see a sign of Anthony. He would usually accompany his Mama, wait until you would appear and then swiftly come towards you. Tonight he was not there.

A really weird feeling passed through your stomach and you did not know why that was. As your eyes searched across the room, looking at different faces, gowns and more bling that stung your eyes, you noticed that the Queen was smiling rather… happy. Following her eyes you finally land on a strong muscular back with delicate hands wrapped around his waist.

It was Anthony, dancing with this season’s Diamond.

And suddenly it was as if the entire world had turned upside down. For a moment there, the room got quiet. The chatter among the guests died down, the music went silent and the lights around dimmed. Your eyes were glued to Anthony and the Diamond, dancing, holding each other so gracefully. His hands went up to her hands, catching and moving them to his chest. He stared deep into her eyes, as she did back to his.

‘Why am I feeling like this?’ you think to yourself, a high pitch sound going off in your head. Anthony dancing with another girl should not be a problem to you. It should’ve made you feel good, finally getting him off of your back but then again… why in this very moment does that make him something else to you? Why do you in this very moment wish that it was you instead of her? Why do you wish to be held like that by him?

The liveness comes back, of course only to you as all of that was just in your head. Your mind was going crazy, many different thoughts went through your head. Not being able to focus at one not even for a mere second, as you glance back at Anthony.

He spins the Diamond around, having her back touching his chest, as his hands grab her waist once the music’s beat changes. And you find yourself searching among his face, for any sign of happiness. Anything at all that would make it seem as if he is enjoying this. How did he even end up dancing with her? But most importantly why does this scene cause you so much pain?

Anthony’s eyes travel beyond the guests and land to yours.

There was no time to compose yourself, you were shaking in your place, your eyes getting bigger, slowly filling with tears. A dance like this to make you this upset?

You realized standing there, exchanging gazes with him made you look like a fool. So you pick up your gown and sprint your way out of the room. Soon you were met with cold air, that yet was pleasant to feel on your skin, as a way of getting your thoughts straight. Moon shined down on the garden, in front of the house. All sorts of different flowers were inviting you to take a walk down the grassy path and clear your mind.

But it wasn’t even a mere second, when you stepped into it a deep voice echoed behind you.

part 02

[anonbeadraws]

Randomroll for @witchy-queer, story for Jacint below!

✨i do commissions!| If you fancy tipping✨

Jacint was a people person. Minotaur. It couldn’t be helped, he was raised in a tavern, owned by his loving but ever presently busy parents, what else could he grow to love? Well, besides ale, i suppose. The tavern was filled everyday with new patrons and old, goblins and giants and orcs, that called the sprawling and odd shaped tavern their Local in the deep Verredain mountains. The tavern was warm, filled with food and flowed with drink and such things only lead to happy customers who will happily regale a tale or two of their own travels to the excitable little calf Jacint. They would sit him on their table or comfortably their lap (or on the floor if the story teller happened to be smaller than the growing boy), and tell him anything and everything. 

Jacint would tell you he had the perfect childhood. Jacint had no preference, he loved hearing the grumblings of the local miners about iron deposits and how ‘steel isn’t worth the anvil it’s made on these days’, just as much as the rip roaring adventures from the former rogue who’d made their retirement in the clean mountain air. As long as it was about ‘elsewhere’, Jacint wanted to know. He’d only really known the comfort of his tavern home, his parents being too busy running the place to take him elsewhere or really spend any quality time with the little one.  The patrons had some idea of their conundrum and seemed to all have agreed, without really discussing it, that the boy would not struggle for company or care while the taverns doors were open. There was rarely a time when the boy was not learning to play cards or discovering how dwarves could communicate by colour choices in their jewellery or very quietly, and out of view of the bar, learning from the rogue how to properly charm and pick a pocket. (Jacint didn’t do very well at this last one, he always felt too bad and rushed to return the item, his big earnest amber eyes smoothing over any complaints. The rogue decided to teach him to forge signatures instead.)  But as much care as his parents and their patrons could give him, Jacint grew up not knowing what he wanted to do, his life at 17 was at a loose end. He had learned pieces of trades but non grabbed him and he had no interest as a publican, besides helping as waiting staff and the odd bar work at rush hour. He had seen his parents life for himself, no time for themselves, no life outside of their tavern, no time to learn anything else or to want anything else. Yes, that was one thing Jacint knew, that he wanted to want to learn more, to lose that need would hurt his heart more than anything.  So his parents turned to the knowledge of their patrons, asking each new and old face to add their opinions as what should be done of the Tavern’s collective son. The eventual decision, after many heartfelt pleas and compassionate arguments against such an act, was that Jacint should be sent to the closest monastary. It’s far away, yes, but you will learn so many useful things there! and so many more books than we could provide, said his parents, trying their best to look hopeful as they helped load a cart of his few belongings. Perhaps, you will find the path you were looking for, added one of the patrons, a great scarred orc who was trying not to sniffle into their ale And consider, interrupted the rogue who perhaps knew the forlorn Jacint’s heart best ; all the new stories you’ll hear as you go. It was the last that helped Jacint, sat on the back of a mining cart that would take him part of the way there, waving goodbye to the only family and home he had known. That there was more, elsewhere.   The monastery was a small crumbling place, dug into a valley, and very different from the warm tavern. But there were books, as promised and new people, even if they were only interested in training and Ki and keeping themselves warm in the draft halls. But Jacint was a warm person and did his best to make friends with his fellow students, even if his rather larger form was a little clumsier than them in training. What he looked forward to most was the outings though.  Despite the monastery being quite isolated from the world, the Monks put it upon themselves to visit the surrounding villages, dispensing wisdom, medicine and sometimes the odd chore. It was their duty to keep the people around them safe and secure and Jacint was always the first to volunteer. Despite his size initially being, perhaps a little surprising to the halfing villages nearby, he quickly became quite popular amongst the people. He was kind, eager to help and to learn their ways and even happier to lend an ear as he worked. For some people, his help was physical, heaving logs or just keeping the children out from underfoot for an hour or so. (No one made a finer pony than Jacint, the children all agreed.) And for others it was his kindly nature and open heart that helped. Making a pot of tea and listening to the story of a life well lived or a heart broken or a loved one lost. He even helped the less popular of the people, the drunkards (a state he knew well and knew well how to help) and the pick pockets and the cruel, as it was his duty to do.One such being was Agata Flainfoot, an old bedridden widow who had driven all that wanted to help away, and now was only visited by the Minotaur. She had spat and sniped and said words that Jacint had only heard muffled under hands as a child as he cleaned and gently wiped her face and heated casseroles sent with him by kind neighbours. She had done so for months and he had stuck it through. It was his duty, even if it was hard, he reminded himself as he tended to the scratches she had left on his arm on his last visit. Even if other people repaid his kindness with food or flowers or a simple kind word. It was his duty and his promise.  He would still try to make conversation as he worked, talk about the day or question where an item on her mantle came from. Mostly there would be sniping, sometimes silence but as time went by, she would reply. More often than not to tell him to be careful with her things and when he once replied that; he would be careful, he was not a bull in a china shop it surprised him to hear her laugh. He would not hear it again from her, in the months he knew her, but it was something he held in his heart. The rusty ill used laugh from a sad, lonely woman. So, when she passed, he was not fully surprised when he got a letter sent from what remained of her family. What surprised him was that she had left him something. As he opened the sealed envelope, he had remembered some of her belongings being different from the rest of the village, as if they were foreign, though she had never answered his questions on the matter. She had never told him and now, never would. But she had left him something.   Inside the enveloped was a map, hand drawn and severely noted, of a forest, beautiful and vast with great stone pillars, lain in broken patterns. Scrawled on it, with fresh ink was; Go find them It was possibly, the last scrawling of a crazed and lonely person, a joke from someone who had enjoyed cruelty. Possibly. But researching possible places for this forest gave very few answers but there was enough there to make Jacint believe that there could be something in it. Something real. Go find them. Them. Them. ‘ Them’ was a tempting word. ‘It’ was a fine word and would probably convince others far better but ‘Them’ meant people, and people meant stories and perhaps Agata had listened to his heart more than he had known. Jacint had gone to his elders and shown them his discovery, told them this story but they had turned it down, as they had duties and of course, Jacint had acquiesced. Duties would always come first. So of course, when asked to deliver a document to a sister monastery across the country, being one of the strongest and most reliable of them, Jacint had eagerly agreed. It was his duty, of course he would. And the old map, well, if it happened to have been in his bag as he was packing, that was no-ones fault and if nothing else, the country was big and there were plenty of stories to hear on the way.  

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter five rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

“Why are you in such a mood?” Ned asked his best friend as they walked to their college campus. Peter had been grumpy all morning and Ned was quick to notice. He usually showed up at Ned’s door exhausted but eager to share the adventures from the night before, but he seemed defeated today.

“I got my ass beat last night.” Peter grumbled as he shouldered his backpack.

“By who?” Ned wondered.

“I don’t even know.” Peter sighed. “I think it was some kind of alien.”

“What’d it look like?” Ned asked. It wasn’t uncommon for Ned to ask a million questions after being told something Spider-Man related. After all, he was the guy in the chair.

“Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” Peter said swallowed and tried to push the previous night from his mind. He’d rather focus on this morning, and the moment he had shared with you. Peter felt such a strong connection to you, and he would’ve stayed on that rooftop all day if he could.

“Describe it to me.” Ned pleaded, tearing Peter from his thoughts.

“I don’t know. It was like eight feet tall, black, and bald. And it was super veiny.” Peter grimaced while Ned’s eyes widened.

“Oh my God. You fought Shaquille O’Neal?” Ned gasped.

“Keep your voice down. I did not fight Shaquille O’Neal.” Peter whispered harshly. Ned always seemed one step away from blowing Peters cover. Peter gave bashful smiles to the passing students who gave him weird looks upon hearing Ned’s words.

“Terry Crews?” Ned continued. Peter rolled his eyes at his best friend and starting walking to class.

“No. This is serious.” Peter said, his voice heavy with annoyance.

“I know it’s serious. You got beat up by The Rock.” Ned remarked. Peter fidgeted with the strings on his backpack, still bothered knowing he was beaten so easily by Venom.

“The Rock is Samoan, not black.” Peter corrected.

“I know. But I heard “bald” and I just automatically envisioned The Rock.” Ned defended.

“There’s another thing. It had this huge, gaping mouth with rows and rows of teeth. I keep thinking about it.” Peter shivered. “It came so close to me. And its tongue was super long. It was like a cracked out frog.”

“So a ninja turtle? You got beat up by a ninja turtle?” Ned gawked.

“It wasn’t a ninja turtle.” Peter snapped. “ It was black, remember?”

“So an emo ninja turtle.” Ned deadpanned.

“It kept saying “we”. “ Peter remembered.

“What do you mean?”

“There was only one of them, but they only referred to themself as “we” as if there were multiple of them.” Peter explained.

“Do you think there could be more? Like an alien army or something?” Ned asked incredulously. Peter hadn’t even thought about that.

“Maybe. I remember something else, it’s name was Venom.” Peter recalled. He distinctly remembered those words coming out of the creatures mouth.

“Venom?” Ned repeated, clearly finding it cool.

“Yeah. And I told it my name. I used my regular voice too.” Peter realized. He usually disguised his voice when speaking, but he had been so scared that he forgot to. It haunted him knowing the creature now knew who he was and he wondered if it knew both of his identities.

“Wow. This is so cool. Not cool for you, because you might die. But this is super cool for me.” Ned smiled as he envisioned what Venom might look like.

“Thanks, ned. Actually, wait.” Peter stopped in his tracks. “One more thing happened.”

“What?” Ned whispered as they approached their class.

“Venom was about to eat me but then it started talking to itself. It sounded maybe like it was having a conversation with someone? I’m not sure, I could only hear one side of it.” Peter explained. “It put me down, well it threw me down, and let me go. But before it left, it said something about a girl. I don’t really remember. I was too focused on catching my breath.”

“Catching your breath? Were you running?”

“No. It choked me.” Peter told him as he lightly touched his neck.

“Kinky.” Ned smirked as he took a seat next to Peter in their class.

“That’s gross.” Peter stifled a laugh. “Did I tell you about this morning with Y/N?”

“No. Tell me.” Ned said. He wasn’t disappointed in the change of topic. He was glad Peter had moved on on from Liz, finally. Peter recounted the discussion he had with you that morning, barely getting through it without blushing and laughing at certain parts.

“I really like her, Ned. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. She’s so amazing. I barely know her, but I can tell already. I want to know everything about her. I want to hear her full story. And most of all, I want to be a part of that story.” Peter declared but frowned suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” Ned asked.

“After our talk, we just kinda sat there staring at each other for a while.” Peter began. “She kinda leaned in, and I did too, but then this seagull flew by and scared us half to death. We laughed about it but the moment was gone.”

“So you almost kissed her?” Ned smiled. “Why is that upsetting you?”

“Because what if that was our chance and I blew it?” Peter feared. “What if that seagull was a sign from above that I was in way over my head? Like God was asking me who I was to think I could just kiss the most perfect girl in the world? She’s so cool, Ned. Way too cool for me. She’s already had a boyfriend and I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

“If it’s meant to happen, it will happen.” Ned assured him.

“Or, the same thing that happened with Liz will happen.” Peter argued. “I won’t tell her how I feel and then she’ll be gone forever.”

“Then don’t let that happen.” Ned reasoned. “Tell Y/N how you feel. Do it tonight, before you go on patrol. And if she doesn’t feel the same, then at least you’ll know. Isn’t it better to know?”

“When did you become such a love expert?” Peter teased as the professor walked into the room.

“Since I started dating Betty. She’s opened my eyes to what love really is.” Ned shrugged. “Tell her tonight. Then tell me how it goes. I’m here for you either way.”

Peter nodded and gave Ned a thankful smile before turning his attention to the professor.

On his walk home from campus, Peter spotted you walking down the sideways. Ned’s words of encouragement rang in his ears and he made a brash decision.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!” Peter called after you, making you turn around.

“Hey Parker. How was kindergarten?” You teased him.

“Alright alright. Majoring in chemical engineering is hardly kindergarten. And I’m only one year younger than you.” Peter reminded you. “I don’t want you to have a heart attack on me, grandma.”

“Watch it, sonny.” You kept with the joke. “I’ll hit you with my purse and then say something mildly racist.”

“Just like my grandma.” Peter laughed in amusement. “We’re gross. And not funny.”

“We really are.” You scrunched your nose. “Couple of gross ass orphans.”

Peter laughed again, feeling comfortable enough with you to joke about a tragic situation.

“Look, Y/N, I really enjoyed our talk this morning. I really enjoyed all our talks so far actually. I guess I just like talking to you. ” Peter began. He looked nervous all the sudden, like he lost his stamina. You raised your eyebrows hopefully, as there were only so many ways this conversation could go.

“I like talking to you too, Peter.” You said honestly, hoping he’d continue. Hoping he’d ask that question. Your answer seemed to give Peter the confidence he needed to go on.

“Really? Um, that’s great cause I really like talking to you too. I already said that. Oh god. I’m crashing. I-“ he began to flail and you calmed him down by taking a few steps closer. You were almost touching at that point. He stopped talking immediately and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Is there someone you wanted to ask me, Peter?” You asked slowly as you looked at him through your eyelashes.

Damn. He was tall too.

“Yes, actually. I, um, will you…would you maybe want to-“

“Hiya kids!” A gravely voice came from the front stairs of your apartment, completely cutting Peter off. Peter looked up and angrily rolled his eyes.

“Don’t look now. It’s Henry.” Peter grumbled. Henry was the creepy neighbor with the foot fetish.

“Oh Dear God.” Peter said in a low voice.

“What?” You panicked when you saw Peters expression change.

“You’re wearing flip flops.” He pointed at your black painted toes and you felt the color drain from your face.

“Run!” He whispered harshly. You bolted into your apartment and Peter ran into his. Once inside, Peter blew out an angry breath. He had been interrupted twice in one day when trying to talk to you, and he worried that it was a sign.

Back at the apartment, you sat on your bed with headphones in. You were prepping for your interview with Cletus Kasady by writing down some questions you wanted to ask him. It was hard figuring out what to ask a serial killer. You looked at your notepad and sighed. All you had written down was “but why tho?” in sloppy handwriting. You tore out the page, crumbled it up, and threw it at the trash can. When you went to write something else down, you noticed the paper ball still stuck to your hand. You shook your hand but it still wouldn’t come off.

“What the hell?” You grumbled as you shook your hand.

“Oh. This might be our fault.” Venom said suddenly.

“What might be your fault?” You asked as you continued to shake the paper off your hand, but to no avail.

“We sort of went inside Spider-Man when we were talking to him yesterday.” Venom said timidly and the paper ball dropped from your hand.

“What?” You demanded and Venom went silent.

“Come out here.” You said, like an owner to a dog.

“We’d rather stay inside.” Venom said softly.

“Get out here now. You need to explain yourself young lady.” You said sternly. Venom slowly manifested and looked at you with sad eyes.

“I’m 600 million years old, by the way.” Venom added. “You can’t call me young lady.”

“What do you mean you went inside Spider-Man?” You ignored her comment.

“When we were choking him we put one of our tendrils inside him and swirled around.” Venom explained. “He didn’t even feel it. We did though. He’s very squishy on the inside.”

“You…what?” You didn’t even know where to start. “How does that explain the paper sticking to me?”

“We think we absorbed his powers.” Venom said. “We used to watch videos of him on YouTube after you went to bed. He can stick to walls and stuff. We think that’s why the paper ball stuck to you.”

“Since when can we absorb powers?” You wondered as you looked at your hands.

“We never had a host before. We don’t really know how it works.” Venom reminded you. “But back on Klyntar, our home planet, the Grandmaster used to tell us we could absorb the powers of superhuman beings. Judging by your newfound stickiness, we think it worked.”

“What else can Spider-Man do?” You asked. “Since you’re such a big fan.”

“He can shoot webs out of his wrists. And he can return lost dogs.” Venom answered, sounding a little annoyed.

“Do you have something against Spider-Man?” You chuckled a little at her tone.

“We hate what he did last night. He thought we were the bad guy, and he let the real bad guy get away. He judged us before he had the full story. We’re not a bad guy.” Venom defended. You were surprised to hear how passionate she was about this and gave her a soft smile.

“Let’s not worry about Spider-Man right now. I want to test out our new abilities. Let’s rock and roll, baby.” You cheered, complete with rock and roll hands. The second you touched your middle finger and ring finger to your palm, a black, web-like tendril shot out from your wrist and stuck to the ceiling. You stared at the web with a gaping mouth, weakly shaking your wrist to see if it would stay attached.

It did.

“Maybe that’s one of our new abilities.” Venom said. You looked back and forth between her and the gooey web coming out of your wrist.

“Oh my God! What’s happening?” You screamed. You took your fingers off your palm and the web retracted back into your wrist. Looking at your wrist incredulously, you made the rock and roll hand again and the same web shot out from your wrist. This time, it grabbed the ceiling fan.

“V-Venom?” You asked. You didn’t know what to say.

“Try to aim it at something.” She suggested. You aimed your wrist and the lamp across the room and touched your fingers to your palm. The black web shot across the room and grabbed onto the lamp. You quickly yanked your arm back to pull the lamp towards yourself. The lamp flew across the room, smashed you in the face, and left you with a bloody nose.

“Ow.” You cried, gingerly touching your nose.

“We see this as a absolutely win.” Venom cheered. You shot her a look and went to get cleaned up.

After about a week of practice, and very little work on your questions for Cletus, you had a better handle on your webbing ability. Of course, the week also consisted of long talks with Peter on the roof, late patrols of New York, the occasional run in with a criminal, late night FaceTime calls with Peter, and beating the shit out of Spider-Man, twice. Venom eventually grew bored of using the new powers around the house, so it was time for the final test.

You stood at the rooftop ledge and looked down, talking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

“It’s a long way down.” You commented.

“Yep.” Venom replied in your head.

“We could die.” You added.

“Yep.”

“Ready?”

“We’re ready.” Venom grinned as you transformed. You stepped off the ledge and fell freely for a while, screaming the whole way down.

“Stop being a little bitch! Shoot a web!” Venom yelled. You aimed a web at a building and began to swing. You were too close to the ground and ended up knocking over a bunch of tables at an outdoor restaurant. People ran away in fear while others took out their cameras and recorded.

“We’re not here to hurt you! Peace and love!” Venom shouted as you continued to swing through the steers of New York. People began to cheer upon hearing your words.

“Do you hear that, Y/N? People are cheering. They love us.” Venom said happily.

“I love us too.” You replied. You were even happier than she was. You knew how much it hurt Venom to be seen as a monster, it was why she hated being called a parasite. You also knew it was why she hated Spider-Man. He was praised for stopping bad guys while Venom was seen as one of the bad guys he needed to stop.

“Hey, what is that thing?” A man called from the street. Venom stopped swinging and landed on the street. You proudly turned to the crowd of people, a massive grin on your face. There it was, our favorite question.

“We…are Venom.” Venom growled. People took pictures and videos of you from a distance.

“You can come closer. We won’t hurt you.” Venom assured the crowd.

“Are you like the anti Spider-Man?” Someone asked.

“Spider-Man is a joke. He can’t protect this city like we can. We are no Spider-Man. We are Venom.” Venom roared. A few people took a step back and you began to feel uneasy.

“Hey, King Kong. I want a word with you.” A sassy voice quipped from the crowd. A man in yellow sunglasses and a suit stepped forward, and you bet your ass you recognized him.

“My name is Tony Stark. Heard of me? Of course you have. Would you mind coming back to my tower with me?” He asked, but it felt more like a demand. The people in the crowd slowly dispersed and soon, you stood there alone with Tony.

“Be nice. Say yes.” You told Venom.

“Who is this guy?” She asked out loud.

“I just said my name.” Tony said, slightly annoyed.

“He’s a really famous inventor. I’ll explain later. Just follow him please.” You begged. Venom gave Tony a once over and followed him to a limo.

“Yea, you’re gonna ride up top big guy.” Tony said, patting the roof of the car.

“Girl.” Venom growled. Tony looked surprised.

“My apologies ma’am.” He raised surprised eyebrows. You rode on top of his car all the way to his tower, wondering what he could possibly want with you.

The inside of his tower was huge. Tony lead you to a lab that was bigger than yours and Peters apartments combined.

“I’ve seen videos of you on YouTube. Seems like you and Spider-Man aren’t the best of friends.” Tony remarked as he pulled out an iPad.

“We will crush his bones and snort them like cocaine.” Venom growled. Tony was just as surprised to hear that as you were.

“Now that’s a visual.” Tony smirked. “I’ll have you know, Spider-Man is a friend of mine. He’s not your biggest fan either but from what I’ve seen, you’ve done this city some good since you’ve been here. How long has that been?”

“Two weeks.” Venom answered.

“I thought so. I’d never seen you before then. And since your arrival, petty crime has dropped significantly in Queens. Criminals are too scared of getting eaten to do anything. Don’t get me wrong, I love Spider-Man and I’ll kill you if you tell him that, but no one fears him. He gets the job done, but there’s always another job to do. With you, on the other hand, your mere presence is preventing crime before it even happens.” Tony smiled to himself, like he was just given a new toy. “You’re scary, is what I’m trying to say. But you’re a good guy. It’s rare. I want it to stay that way. I want you on my team.”

“Team?”

“We’re called the Avengers. We had a bit of a falling out but the name still stands.” Tony waved his hand. “We fight bad guys together. Really, really bad guys. I think you could us some good. Plus, you’ll be taken care of for life and we’ll only call you in for serious threats. But I need a few things from you first.”

“Like what?”

“Your story.” He pointed a finger at you. “How does a giant, anthropomorphic alien wind up in New York City?”

“It’s a long story.” Venom answered.

“We can trust this man, Venom.” You told her telepathically. “I’m gonna come out okay?” Venom hesitated and Tony looked impatient to know more.

“Are you sure?” She asked you. Tony looked confused.

“Am I sure?” He pointed to himself.

“Not you.” She said. Tony looked around for who else Venom could be talking to and found no one.

“I’m sure.” You decided. “This guy is one of the good guys. We can trust him. I promise. I’m coming out.”

You slowly transformed back into yourself in front of Tonys wide eyes. Venom stayed in her snake-like form and rested on your neck.

“Hello, Mr. Stark. My name is Y/N L/N.” You shyly introduced yourself. “This is Venom. We want to help.”

Tony’s face shifted from shocked to impressed as he looked you over.

“I gotta say, I did not except someone like you to be inside that scary monster.” Tony chuckled.

“We’re not a monster, Mr. Stark. We want to help people.” You reminded him.

“I can see that.” Tony nodded. “That’s why I’ve been developing you a suit.”

“When did you do that?” You wondered. “We just met.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve been designing it while you talked. I want you to have it incase you and Venom get separated. That way, you’ll be protected until you’re back together.” Tony explained as he showed you his ipad. Sure enough, it had a drawing of a suit on it.

“I’ll get started right away. I just need a little piece of Venom. If I make the suit using her skin, you’ll have the total protection you need.” You looked at Venom for consent, who nodded and extended a tendril towards Tony. He quickly snipped a piece off and put it in a container.

“When will the suit be ready? A few months?” You asked as Tony tapped the container. Tony stopped looking at the container and laughed.

“Y/N, I’m a genius inventor. Go get lunch. It’ll be ready when you’re done.” He said.

And he wasn’t kidding. An hour and a half later, Tony presented you with a suit. You ran my fingers over it slowly, not wanted to disturb a single thing. You looked at it in awe, completely speechless at what he had created.

“Go on, try it on.” He shrugged casually. You grinned from ear to ear before rushing to the bathroom to put it on. You came out soon enough with tears in you eyes.

“You like it?” Tony asked. You looked at your covered hands in amazement. The suit was jet black, like Venom was, and hugged your body like a second skin. There was a big white spider symbol on the front, the complete opposite of Spider-Mans small black one. You figured it was a nod to being called the anti Spider-Man and it was perfect.

“Well?” Tony was still waiting for an answer. You looked up at him just as a few tears fell down you cheeks.

“We didn’t celebrate my birthday growing up because it was the anniversary of my moms death. I used to be so upset every year.” You blurted. Tony looked like he didn’t know what to say and you couldn’t blame him. That was something deeply personal and you had only just met him.

“What I’m trying to say is, I get it now.” You explained. “All those missed birthdays were for a reason. I didn’t get gifts those days because I’m getting the ultimate gift right now. This is the most amazing thing I could’ve asked for. I cannot thank you enough Mr. Stark. I’ll never take it off.”

“You can’t take it off anyway.” Tony told you. “When you don’t want to wear it, it absorbs back into your skin like Venom does. And it’s equipped with Venoms essential abilities. It’s bullet proof, knife proof, taser proof, spork proof and so on. And you can still shoot your webby things. You just won’t have super strength, super speed, or that Venus flytrap mouth of yours.”

You tested it out and shot a web towards his desk. You grabbed a pen and caught it with ease, then looked at Tony for approval.

“That’s the best I could do. It’s no Iron Man suit but it’ll suffice.” Tony said casually. You couldn’t take it anymore and rushed towards him to hug him tightly.

“Thank you.” You said into his chest. Tony patted your back awkwardly and you let go.

“It’s nothing. You can thank me by not eating Spider-Man. I know he’s annoying but he doesn’t mean any harm. Now go forth and do good.” Tony requested.

You swung back to the apartment and landed on the roof. You turned back into yourself and made your way down the steps to your floor. After this mornings conversation with Peter and the incredible suit from Mr. Stark, you were having a great day. For the first time in years, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

[queerplatonicpositivity]

Hi, I was wondering if you might have any advice to give. There's this boy in my class that I barely knew that asked for some of my socials and I gave it to him because I was flattered and have been really struggling to make friends because I get anxious about interacting with people, so it felt like a good opportunity to make a friend. Also he just seemed like a nice kid so it was really sweet, y'know? We've been texting back and forth now and he alway seems really eager to talk to me and get to know me and my interests more which is really nice. Because of how sudden this was and the way his friends seemed to be encouraging him to talk to me initially I wonder if he did this because he had a crush on me? That's the typical 'boy asks for girl's number' thing but nothing like this has happened to me before. Maybe I'm overthinking this but if he asks me out I'm not sure what I would do. I'm pretty confident that I'm aroace, but since I haven't dated anyone, I think I'm open to the idea of trying it? Even though I don't think I'll experience any of the attraction and I definitely don't want it to get sexual, I think I could enjoy dating for the company and affection? But a QPR has always seemed way more appealing to me because platonic attraction is something I experience and I feel like I might enjoy a platonic relationship with elements traditionally considered romantic (like hand holding for example). I don't think I'd be brave enough to explain it to him and I honestly don't know where to start explaining it to him in a way he'd understand. He's not queer and he doesn't know much about being queer, at least from what I know about him. Very very few people know about my sexuality so it would be intimidating to explain that as well. (It doesn't help that some of his friends act weird and ignorant about gay people, although they claim to 'not have a problem' and probably seem fine to him. Thankfully, I've never seen him do this but still.) I doubt our relationship would go far regardless since we're both still in high school but I really don't want to ruin what relationship we have or could have because he could percieve it as a rejection or something. And I don't know if it's fair to him to say yes to a romantic relationship without being transparent about the way I feel either so I really don't know what to do if that's something he's interested in me for or if something like this comes up in the future. That got looong whoops

Hi, Anon! That's definitely a tough spot to be in. One thing I want to reassure you about is that you don't ever have to do anything you don't want to do. And also that someone else being hurt because you don't want to do something does *not* mean that you should've said yes, and it doesn't mean their feelings are your "fault."

I can see what you mean about how trying to explain queer stuff and qpr stuff is A Lot and not something you necessarily want to get into with him.

If he asks you to go on a date with him (or to be "dating" each other), then if it is something you want to try, you could say something like, "I'm not really into traditional dating, but I do like hanging out, keeping each other company, and doing things like holding hands. Is that kind of what you had in mind?" If he says yes, you could try it.

Maybe you try it and you like it, so you keep doing it. Maybe you try it, and it doesn't feel right, and then you can say, "Hey, I don't want to keep doing this together. I'm glad we met, and I'm glad we could try it out, but it's not really working for me. I hope we can be friends." You're never obligated to keep going with something if it turns out it's not something you enjoy. And maybe if that happens, he wouldn't still be up for being friends, and that's okay, too. Sometimes people just don't/can't really be in each other's lives after that, and that's okay. It's up to each person to take responsibility for just themselves and their own feelings and decisions, not anyone else.

Which is why I wanted to reassure you that you being open and honest about what you want and don't want is never "ruining" something. I have definitely felt that way, and I know it's hard to fight those messages. But one or more people in a relationship (any kind!) feeling forced to say or do things they don't really want or feel is the kind of thing that ruins relationships. Or people not respecting other people's boundaries. All you can do is take ownership of your own feelings and actions, and it's up to the other person (or people) in the relationship to do the same with their feelings/actions.

I really hope that things go smoothly and you can have the kinds of interactions with him that you want, Anon. Please feel free to come back and give us updates if you feel comfortable. =D

[ibijau]

Futures past pt2 / On AO3

Lan Xichen awakens from a dream that isn't his, and must make a decision

Lan Xichen awoke to a desperate scream stuck in his throat.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he was going to…

His throat relaxed at last, just enough for him to wail in despair. Heavy tears stained his face and he curled up on his side, still half choking, scratching at his own neck until it bled.

Footsteps came to his door. He heard a voice calling his name, familiar and filled with worry, but he was gasping for air too badly to answer. The only sounds he could make were sobs and weak, pained moans. Getting worried, his uncle entered his bedroom and hurried to his bed.

“Xichen, what’s wrong?” Lan Qiren asked, grabbing his nephew’s hands so he wouldn’t hurt himself anymore, checking his forehead for a fever, his wrist for a pulse.

Lan Xichen’s heart was beating too hard, too fast, nearly making sick, and still he couldn’t quite breathe. He grasped his uncle’s hand, needing the comfort, the closeness. Needing the reminder he wasn’t alone, because…

Because he would be alone, someday. So desperately alone, and it would be his own fault.

The thought, the memory that didn’t quite belong to him, wrenched another sob out of him.

“Is something wrong?” Lan Wangji’s voice asked from further away.

Through the tears, Lan Xichen spotted his younger brother hovering in the doorway, so sleepy he hadn't even grabbed his ribbon, looking quite worried. Out of habit Lan Xichen tried to open his mouth and comfort Lan Wangji, but all that came out was a breathless growl that made the younger boy even more distraught. 

It took a long while for Lan Xichen to calm down. Lan Qiren stayed at his side the entire time, having sent Lan Wangji back to bed. Holding Lan Xichen's hands, he hummed a melody, a lullaby of sorts which soothed his nephew, just as it had when Lan Xichen had been a child. 

"It was just a nightmare," Lan Xichen said when his voice returned to him. "Apologies for the inconvenience, shufu." 

"A rather strong one then," Lan Qiren replied. "If you want to share it, I will listen." 

It was tempting. But if Lan Qiren didn't believe him, Lan Xichen would seem mad. And if he did believe him… Lan Xichen shivered at the thought. He couldn't burden others with that, it would be too cruel. 

He shook his head. 

"It was only a bad dream," Lan Xichen said. "With your permission, I will stay up a little and find ways to occupy myself until I feel like sleeping again." 

"I might have medicine to help you fall asleep," Lan Qiren offered. 

"No need, I just need a little more time. Please don't let me inconvenience you any longer, shufu." 

Lan Qiren looked unconvinced, but did not insist, and soon enough Lan Xichen was left alone again. 

The first thing he did was to stand up and go to the window, where he filled his lungs with all the fresh air he could. Nights were cold, each breath made his chest burn a little more, but he didn't stop until the pain was nearly unbearable. 

The second thing he did was to light a candle, take some paper and ink, and start writing. 

He wrote for most of what remained of the night, lest he should forget some crucial detail about that dream he'd had. Or rather… not a dream, not quite. A memory then. 

His memory, and yet not. 

The entire life of the man he would become, if nothing was done to set things right. 

A man who would be blind to injustice. A man who, while seeking to protect his two dearest friends, would only push them faster to their death. A man broken by the weight of every wrongful choice he had made, after spending nearly half a lifetime trusting the wrong person. 

In short, a man Lan Xichen did not want to become. 

Exhausted and wrecked by emotions that weren't entirely his own, Lan Xichen had no way of knowing why this knowledge of the future had come to him. He was only certain that this vision, awful as it had been, was no mere fantasy. This had happened, or would happen, unless he took proper measures to prevent it. 

Having finished writing it all down, Lan Xichen hid his grim prediction and went back to sleep, falling on his bed like a stone. No more nightmares plagued him that night. A small mercy. He wasn't sure he could have withstood it again. 

When morning came, Lan Xichen rose at the habitual hour and tried to get ready for the day. The habitual rhythm of the Cloud Recesses allowed for few exceptions, and he didn't want to call more attention upon himself by asking for favours. But as he was getting dressed, his uncle came into his room, took one look at him, and ordered him to take the day off. Lan Xichen ought to have protested, but this suited him too well.

First, because he was exhausted. 

Second, because he needed to come up with a plan. He had half expected that in the sunlight, that vision of his would melt like snow in spring. Instead, it only seemed to have taken a stronger hold upon his mind. This would happen, because it had already happened. 

Lan Xichen sat on his bed, his half feverish notes sprawled in front of him, and considered the situation. 

There was a war coming, but that was no surprise. Nobody with any understanding of politics could have missed that. If nothing else, Nie Mingjue was craving for a chance to start that war, eager to avenge his father. 

Speaking of Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen would play such a role in his death that it wouldn't be exaggerated to call him a murderer (someone would, the memories told him) though the actual plot was due to Jin Guangshan and some other person Lan Xichen had yet to meet, that Jin Guangyao who he would be so fond of. 

His other closest friend in that future he foresaw, and someone whose death he took a more active part in (but only reluctantly, someone would say, only when forced, and ought he not be ashamed that even after everything he still favoured the wrong friend?). 

There were other matters of course, his father's death, his brother's decades long infatuation… but Lan Xichen felt that what truly caused the vision to come to him was that matter with the men who would be his sworn brothers. 

It was for this that he was blamed and shamed by the one person he'd most overlooked, whose opinion had gone from utterly inconsequential to being of utmost importance. 

Nie Huaisang. 

Even with the certainty of those future memories, Lan Xichen half wanted to laugh at the idea that Nie Huaisang could ever harm anyone. 

It wasn't that Lan Xichen looked down on the younger boy, and more that he didn't pay enough attention to him to feel anything about him. Nie Huaisang was foolish, lazy, and spoiled, three things Nie Mingjue frequently complained about even though he had his share of responsibility in that, being the one who did most of the spoiling. Aside from that… Lan Xichen future memories told him that Nie Huaisang was, or would be, an artist of some skill, and that was the only compliment he would have been able to pay him, for the longest time. 

Nie Huaisang would also be a cold, ruthless man ready to risk countless lives for revenge, one who would grow to hate Lan Xichen, one who would let him stand beside a murderer for a decade because he suspected him of being an accomplice. One who would tell him… 

Lan Xichen found himself nearly choking again, the memories overwhelming him once more. He had to painfully force each breath in, then out again, until his body remembered how to do it. 

Nie Huaisang, if pushed to it, would turn into a terrifying man. But at present, he was still just a foolish and innocent boy, so if Lan Xichen made an effort, surely he had time to make Nie Huaisang see that he could be trusted in a crisis. 

Of course the plan was to avoid the crisis in question. Nie Mingjue couldn't be allowed to die, not when he was Lan Xichen's dearest friend, not when his death would have been so cruel and unjust. Lan Xichen, who now knew too much about certain people, felt certain he could change this terrible future he had foreseen. Still, just in case, it wouldn't hurt to get Nie Huaisang on his side. 

It wouldn't be fun, but it might turn out useful someday. 

  -

The first thing Lan Xichen did, once he had decided on a course of action, was to head for Lan Qiren's office and ask his uncle whether it might not be prudent to have copies of the books in their library, at the very least those most unique or precious. That library would burn someday, and it was something his future self would always regret, even if this at least really hadn’t been his fault.

Lan Qiren blinked at him like a startled owl. Lan Xichen almost laughed, and then nearly cried, hit by the sudden realisation that his uncle was roughly the same age he would be when the truth about Nie Mingjue’s death would be revealed, if not a little younger. He tried to hide it with that beard of his, and the difference in generation had made it less obvious to his nephews, but Lan Qiren wasn’t old at all. He must have been so young when he started caring for his nephews.

“Why would we need copies?” Lan Qiren asked. “The chances of two books being needed at the same time are low, and patience is a good quality to practice."

Lan Xichen bit his lip, trying to find an explanation that wouldn't bring forth too many questions. Before he could, his uncle spoke again. 

"That dream last night wasn't just a normal nightmare," Lan Qiren guessed. "Your spiritual energy wasn't circulating right, I thought it might have been a qi deviation, but… did you see something instead?" 

"Something terrible is coming," Lan Xichen confirmed. After a brief hesitation, he added: "The Wens are looking to start a war. They will start it, given half a chance. We have two years, more or less." 

Lan Qiren looked shaken by the news, but not particularly surprised as such. 

"They will attack us? Here?" 

Lan Xichen nodded. "The library will burn, and other parts of the Cloud Recesses as well." 

Habitations, a few classrooms, part of the training grounds… but the true loss was really the library, the heart of their sect, the source of so much knowledge. 

Lan Qiren was silent for a while, weighing their options. 

"If we take direct action to make duplicates, it will call attention to us, and draw the Wen's suspicions. I will start making copies of precious texts myself, along with others I can trust. For less sensitive documents, I will assign their copies to disciples in need of punishment. It will be educational for them, useful for us."

"I'll help as well," Lan Xichen offered. 

"I expected you would volunteer,” his uncle said with a thin smile. “Was there anything else to that vision you had?" 

Lan Xichen hesitated. 

He thought of that boy he had yet to meet, Wei Wuxian, who would raise the dead and use them as deadly weapons, sowing death and destruction around him, all because he'd sacrificed everything for his beloved shidi. 

He thought of Lan Wangji with his back shredded by the discipline whips, weakened to the point he nearly died, yet unrepentant. 

He thought of the Lotus Piers slaughtered, of Nie Mingjue dead, of his own guilt driving him to withdraw from the world. 

He thought of Nie Huaisang, going from overlooked little idiot to becoming the most dangerous man in the cultivation world. 

"No, uncle," Lan Xichen said. "There was nothing more." 

At least, nothing that he should burden his uncle with, when he already dealt with so much. 

Let Lan Qiren save the library, and Lan Xichen would find a way to solve the rest. 

  -

In spite of preparations for the upcoming new batch of guest disciples, Lan Xichen found time to start copying some treaties. It was not easy work when no mistake could be tolerated, but that difficulty was actually welcome. It helped him be more tired, and being truly exhausted was the only way he could fall asleep since that vision of the future. 

Contrary to his expectations, the vision hadn't faded with time as a true dream would have. Instead it melted into his own memories, manifesting as a particularly vivid series of déjà-vu. Much like true memories, Lan Xichen found he couldn't actually remember every single detail of every moment. Unless he had been paying attention when those future memories formed, then he remembered as little as he might recall what he'd had for breakfast on a specific day five months earlier. 

So when the Nie juniors arrived, a few days earlier than expected, Lan Xichen wasn't surprised. His other self had been annoyed by this interruption to everyone's schedule, but now Lan Xichen was just curious to meet Nie Huaisang again, knowing what he was capable of. When Lan Qiren asked him to come greet those Nie disciples, Lan Xichen agreed very quickly.

Because of the long climb up the mountain, because his cultivation was so poor and his general capacity so low, Nie Huaisang was breathless and sweaty when he arrived at the gate of the Cloud Recesses. Combined with his short height and his frail stature, it made for a sharp contrast with the disciples accompanying him. Lan Xichen just couldn’t imagine anyone less scary than this boy who chatted rather too easily with Lan Qiren, disregarding the difference in age and capacity between them. Nie Huaisang really had little to show for himself. He wasn’t even particularly good-looking presently, though he would become surprisingly handsome in due time.

Nie Huaisang would become many things, over the years.

As Lan Qiren guided the Nie disciples toward the house that would be theirs for the duration of their stay in the Cloud Recesses, Lan Xichen watched Nie Huaisang attentively, trying to catch some sign of the sharp and cruel man he was destined to become someday. But there was just nothing, no hint of coldness, no particular cunning.

Nothing at all until…

“I’d love a tour of the Cloud Recesses!” Nie Huaisang excitedly asked, looking directly at Lan Xichen. “Lan gongzi, would you please give me a tour? I’m sure there’s no one who could do it better than you.”

Lan Xichen shivered. He didn’t think this had happened in the future he remembered… or could it be that his future self hadn’t committed such a thing to memory? He would have had no reason to, never guessing how important his interactions with Nie Huaisang would turn out to be. Quite possibly, he had just refused that request, busy with other things.

Lan Xichen tried to refuse, in fact, but Nie Huaisang was insistent enough that to deny him any further would have made him a bad host. Worse, it might have attracted questions from his uncle, who might have suspected that Lan Xichen hadn’t told him everything he’d seen in his nightmare. Besides, Lan Xichen had already determined he would make efforts to earn Nie Huaisang’s trust so the future wouldn’t repeat itself, so why not start immediately?

When the time came for it, the tour went rather better than Lan Xichen might have expected. Nie Huaisang was surprisingly attentive to what was explained to him about the Cloud Recesses, which went against what previous encounters and those future memories had established. But no, that was unfair, Lan Xichen realised. Nie Huaisang, right from the start, had always been quite curious about those very few things that interested him.

It was just surprising that the Cloud Recesses would fall in that category.

By the time Nie Huaisang asked about things to do for fun, Lan Xichen had relaxed a little, and even boldly suggested that the younger boy might be interested in trying new things, even musical cultivation if he wished. He felt quite confident that whatever had happened in that other future, he could easily avoid it. All he had to do was keep Nie Mingjue safe, keep Nie Huaisang happy, and everything would be…

“I do like music a lot,” Nie Huaisang said pensively. “My father used to say I have a good ear for it. Not like da-ge. He wouldn’t know one melody from another even if his life depended on it!”

Lan Xichen froze.

He could just see Nie Mingjue, in prey to a killing rage that only stopped with his own death. Nie Mingjue’s body, headless, desecrated, cut to pieces and held together only through sheer rage and red thread that his little brother had sewn into his flesh. And that melody, that twisted mockery of a Lan healing song…

Lan Xichen shivered at the moment, suddenly nearly as breathless as he had been when waking up from that nightmare.

But he had been well trained, and when he noticed Nie Huaisang’s worry, Lan Xichen pulled himself back together, forcing himself to smile and chat amicably in spite of the specter of a pain he refused to ever feel again.

This time, he would make sure no one he loved died because of his mistakes.

[antebunny]

Wei Wuxian, worst supervillain: part 2

Full series here.

-

“Wen Ning,” Wei Wuxian, with the urgency of a doomed man. “You gotta help me.”

“What’s the problem?” Wen Ning says immediately.

“Absolutely not,” Wen Qing says, without looking up from her book.

She’s sitting comfortably on the single couch in Wei Wuxian’s so-called villain lair. In reality, he couldn’t afford anywhere else, and the Burial Mounds are rent-free and neighborless. She still made Wei Wuxian buy the red couch, and it remains the only splash of color in the whole complex.

Wei Wuxian pauses, his palms still slammed down on the creaking table in the center of the room. Wen Ning continues mixing his tea. “Okay, first off,” he says, mortally offended, “you didn’t even know what I was going to say. And second, I wasn’t even asking you!”

“I’m answering for A-Ning,” Wen Qing says calmly.

“Wen Ning is a free man!” Wei Wuxian argues. “He can make his own decisions!”

“What do you need help with?” Wen Ning intervenes, dragging Wei Wuxian’s attention away from the argument.

“I’m not being taken seriously!” Wei Wuxian wails.

Wen Qing snorts. “Why would I?”

“I didn’t mean you,” Wei Wuxian says, once more mortally offended. “I mean the superheroes! They’re not taking me seriously as a villain! Last time I robbed the national bank, they just sent Lan Zhan, and we didn’t even fight!”

“Right,” Wen Qing says drily. “You just debated philosophy for two hours.”

“He had some interesting points,” Wei Wuxian mutters sulkily. “What was I supposed to do, just not debate him?”

“Yes,” says Wen Qing.

“I can’t just ignore Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says belligerently. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be concerned? If the superheroes don’t take me seriously, how am I supposed to secure the safety of your family? If I just rescue them the government will never stop hunting them!”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “It’s not my fault you chose the stupidest way to go about it. Now both of your siblings are mad at you.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to retort and then pauses. “Okay, but,” he tries, “it’s too late now! After last Friday–”

“There were easier ways to explain to Meng Yao where he got his psychic powers from,” Wen Qing notes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Both Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning flush bright red.

-

“–the truth, Meng Yao,” the Yiling Patriarch said melodramatically, and his black coat billowed out behind him as he stalked towards Meng Yao.

The young man scrambled backwards over the rubble of the destroyed convenience store, his honey eyes wide with fear at the sight of the masked supervillain loomed over him. He was the communications director for the superheroes before all this happened, but during this fight Wei Wuxian had noticed his fledgling psychic powers and looked at the young man, who happened to look eerily similar to Jin Zixuan, and realized what was going on.

“They never told you what happened to your father,” Wei Wuxian continued, easily cornering Meng Yao.

Back in the Burial Mounds, Wen Ning leaned towards his computer like he could merge into the scene. His fingers flew across the keys, as he suddenly remembered some quote about a father that would be perfect for this situation. If only he could get to his list of villain phrases fast enough–

Wei Wuxian paused as the line flashed in front of his eyes, projected by his mask. Without registering the words, he read it out loud. “I am your father!”

Meng Yao stopped cowering.

The Yiling Patriarch stopped stalking dramatically. “Ah, fuck,” he said, his pointed finger drooping. “Wait–I meant–”

Two superheroes landed on the pile of rubble beside Meng Yao.

“Darth Vader, The Empire Strikes Back,” Hanguang-jun said confidently.

“How are you so fucking stupid,” Sandu Shengshou said, almost wonderingly. Bright purple lightning crackled around his fingertips.

“Shut up, I don’t know you!” The Yiling Patriarch cried. “I meant Jin Guangshan! I meant Jin Guangshan!”

-

“I think Zewu-jun’s handling it,” Wei Wuxian says evasively.

Wen Qing snorts. “Sure.”

“The point is they’re not taking me seriously!” Wei Wuxian insists. “Wen Ning, what can I do to make them take me seriously as a villain?”

“Do something only a villain would do,” Wen Ning suggests.

“Well obviously,” Wei Wuxian says. “But what?” He pulls out the chair across from Wen Ning and plonks himself down in it. They both ponder this question.

“Maybe you could kidnap a hero?” Wen Ning suggests.

Wei Wuxian brightens. “That’s a great idea! But who?”

“Oh my God,” Wen Qing mutters from her comfy seat on the couch.

“Not Jiang Cheng, he’d kill me,” Wei Wuxian muses. He props his chin up with one hand. “And I don’t want to kidnap someone who’d get actually scared…Lan Zhan! Perfect. I’ll kidnap their precious Hanguang-jun. Then they’ll have to take me seriously!”

"Kill me now," Wen Qing groans.

-

When Lan Wangji wakes up to see the Yiling Patriarch looming over him, he thinks he’s still dreaming for one embarrassing moment. He’s glad he recognizes his mistake, or he would’ve said or done something mortifying that he prefers not to think about.

“Good morning, Lan Zhan!” The Yiling Patriarch says, grinning evilly. “You are in the lair of the Yiling Patriarch.”

Lan Wangji sits up. He’s on a soft red couch, wrapped in at least three blankets. Other than that, the large room is rather sparse; the walls are plain stone, as is the floor, save for a threadbare rug on top of which a rickety old table sits, with four chairs of varying styles situated around it.

“How does it feel to know you’ve been kidnapped by your worst enemy?” The Yiling Patriarch says gleefully.

He leans closer, and Lan Wangji swallows, his throat dry. It seems that the Yiling Patriarch forgeos his high-collar black coat when he’s at home. He’s currently wearing a baggy black shirt and black ripped jeans, which means that when Lan Wangji looks up, he’s looking directly at his collarbone, then up at his jawline, and then at the bottom half of his face. As he leans in, his lips curve in a wicked smile, and no, Lan Wangji not thinking about his forearms, or those beautiful, slender hands–

“How does it feel knowing you’ve been rendered powerless?” The Yiling Patriarch continues. His silver eyes track the movement of Lan Wangji’s throat. “Are you uncomfortable?” He asks worriedly. “This place has no heating–you know, free rent, that’s how it is–and I didn’t have anywhere else to put you, but I thought I brought enough blankets. Do you want tea? I can make tea!”

And the Yiling Patriarch bustles off, throwing a “Be right back! Don’t go anywhere!” over his shoulder.

Lan Wangji pushes the blankets off. “I am quite comfortable,” he says to himself. Perhaps he could’ve said it earlier, but he wasn’t going to dissuade the Yiling Patriarch from making him tea.

The Yiling Patriarch returns with two cups of jasmine tea, and invites Lan Wangji to take a seat at his table.

“Sorry about the chairs, they’re kinda falling apart,” the Yiling Patriarch says. “I got them at a yard sale. Well, four different yard sales, so none of them match.”

“It is fine,” Lan Wangji says.

“Right, right.” The Yiling Patriarch clears his throat, and pushes one teacup towards Lan Wangji. “Anyway. I thought it was time I proved my worth as a villain, don’t you think?” He leans back in his chair. One of the chair legs squeaks.

“You could always retire,” Lan Wangji suggests.

The Yiling Patriarch’s casual smile drops. “Not until I’ve done what I set out to do,” he says seriously. He pulls up his villain smile again. “Though I’m sure you heroes must be eager for me to retire, hm?”

“I am worried one day you might be seriously injured,” Lan Wangji replies.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” the Yiling Patriarch says, shaking his head. “The tragedy is not to die, but to be wasted. I have so much–”

“Hannibal Lecter,” says Lan Wangji.

The Yiling Patriarch scowls at him. “Stop doing that. As I was saying, I have so much to do, and so little time on this earth. If I must turn to villany to accomplish my goals, then I will. You cannot debate me into giving up my pursuits.”

“Why must you turn to villainy?” Lan Wangji asks. He drinks his tea. It’s over boiled, but still the best tea he’s ever had.

“Because otherwise, nobody listens,” the Yiling Patriarch says. “You think I didn’t try the proper way first?”

“No doubt you tried,” says Lan Wangji. “Nevertheless: what are your goals? Why do you hide your face? Who are you protecting?”

The Yiling Patriarch slams his teacup down. “You want the truth?” He pauses. “You can’t handle the truth!”

Lan Wangji sips his tea. “Colonel Nathan Jessup, A Few Good Men.”

“Stop doing that!” The Yiling Patriarch cries. He stands up and shakes his finger very threateningly at Lan Wangji. “You seem to have forgotten that you have been kidnapped, Lan Zhan.”

“I have not,” Lan Wangji says. The location leaves something to be desired, but other than that he thinks it’s a very fine first date.

“Then–! Don’t forget who holds the power in this situation!”

“Mhm,” Lan Wangji agrees. He sips his tea again. “Thank you for the tea.”

“O-oh, of course,” the Yiling Patriarch says, thrown. He sits down again. “You seemed like a no sugar type of person.” He pauses. “I mean, if you want sugar, I have some in the pantry. I think. Unless we ran out.”

“No need,” Lan Wangji says. He is, in fact, a no-sugar type of person.

“That’s good,” the Yiling Patriarch says. He smiles at Lan Wangji, who almost smiles back, heart set aflutter by the gentle smile on the Yiling Patriarch’s face.

“What is your plan?” Lan Wangji asks.

“My plan?” The Yiling Patriarch echoes, thrown once more. “I mean, my villainous plan! Uh. The one that I have.”

“Is this all for your image?” Lan Wangji presses.

“Of course,” the Yiling Patriarch says immediately. “You know me. Vanity, definitely my favorite sin.”

“John Milton, The Devil’s Advocate.”

“Shut up! I can’t believe you memorized all these quotes,” the Yiling Patriarch bemoans. “Lan Zhan, you’re ruining all my fun.”

Lan Wangji sips his tea again. “I am quite capable of research.”

“I’ll say,” he mutters.

“It is not too late to turn back,” Lan Wangji says, trying for once to put the turmoil of emotion he feels into his tone. “We can still put old wounds behind us. I can help you.”

The Yiling Patriarch slumps against his table. “Can we?” He asks, subdued. “After all, our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.”

“Hannibal Lecter again,” says Lan Wangji.

“Fuck you! Hannibal Lecter is a good villain!” The Yiling Patriarch swells belligerently.

“And you,” Lan Wangji says calmly, “are not a very convincing villain.”

“What do you mean?” The Yiling Patriarch demands. “I kidnapped a hero! Only villains do that!” He sweeps one arm across the situation, gesturing at the hot jasmine tea and the pile of blankets on the couch behind them, and at Lan Wangji, seated primly on the old wooden chair provided for him. “This is a kidnapping!”

“Hm,” Lan Wangji says.

“I am a supervillain!” The Yiling Patriarch insists. “There’s no coming back from that. I destroyed a skyscraper last week. I’ve cost the government too much money for them to ever forgive me. There’s no way for you to redeem me!”

“There is nothing to redeem,” Lan Wangji says sharply.

The Yiling Patriarch flinches. When he stops, his expression is scraped raw. “R-right,” he says shakily. “O-of course–”

“I meant there is nothing to redeem, because you are already good,” Lan Wangji says hurriedly, realizing the misinterpretation of his statement.

The Yiling Patriarch pauses, mouth half open. “Lan Zhan, there’s no way for you to know that,” he croaks. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I do,” Lan Wangji says quietly. “And I don’t need to.” He hesitates, then reaches for the Yiling Patriarch's hand. He grips it tight, and the Yiling Patriarch lets him. “You are good.”

The Yiling Patriarch draws in a shaky breath. “Wei Ying,” he blurts. “Courtesy Wuxian. That’s. My name.”

Lan Wangji can feel the corners of his lips curve into a smile. “Wei Ying,” he repeats. “Wei Ying, you are good.”

[starlightrows]

Something of Your Own

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Words: 1.8k

Tags: Hurt Comfort, angst, happy ending 

Summary:  Din takes you in after your village is destroyed

AN: Originally posted on AO3 in November 2020 

Sitting against the wall in the hull of the ship, you rolled the small silver ball over towards the kid. He catches it and gets distracted looking at his tiny reflection again. He chirped happily, probably overjoyed to have a playmate on this lonely ship, and tries to roll it back.

You had only been traveling with the Mandalorian and his foundling son for a few months. So far it wasn’t so bad. You had been taking care of children almost your whole life, and this child was surprisingly easy to care for. Entertain him for most of the day, feed him often, hold him while he falls asleep, and he’s a perfect angel. Your new traveling companion had made him sound like a little terror. You supposed that was because he couldn’t afford to give all of his attention to him. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it. Well, that and having nowhere else to go.

The Mandalorian had come to your village asking if anyone had heard of a people called The Jedi. No one in the village had. You had never seen a Mandalorian before either. He had asked if there were other villages nearby he could ask. You offered him a place to stay for the night, and set out for the neighboring villages in the morning. He was reluctant, but the child seemed so attached to you. Continually trying to climb your skits and touch your face. So he agreed.

He regretted that decision. The nights on your planet were long, and dark. And his that darkness a massive ship flew overhead, landing on the outskirts of the village. Armored soldiers poured out of ship, and began breaking into homes. Demanding to know where to find the Mandalorian and his charge.

The Mandalorian awoke to screams and sound of blaster fire coming from somewhere else in the village. His helmet went on and he leaped from the bed, plucking the sleeping child from the pram, and yanking open the door to the bedroom. Only to find you at the door about to knock.

“Help us!” You shouted. He thrust the child into your arms, and went back to put on the few pieces of armor he had removed to sleep.

Coming back out of the room, he grabbed your shoulders roughly “Take the child back to my ship, lock yourself in there and do not let anyone in” You were frozen in terror, clutching the baby to your chest. “Go!” He shouted

So you did. Out the back door, and behind the row of homes and businesses you had lived in your whole life. Blindly you ran for the ship. The sound of your friends and neighbors screams pounded in your head, how the baby was sleeping through this you could not fathom.

Finally reaching the ship you climbed in, and sealed the door. You sunk to the floor, exactly where you sat now, and you waited. Tears streaming down your face. You had no idea how long you sat there, if you fell asleep at any point. The ship’s hull was pitch black and soundless, save for the soft breathing of the baby and your muffled crying.

The sound of the being opened from the outside scared you. Jumping to your feet, and retreating further into the darkness hoping you wouldn’t run into anything. Dull orange light streamed into the hull, and you heard your name being called out. It was the Mandalorian.

You emerged from the darkness, tired puffy eyes looking at him expectantly. Suddenly you were more terrified than you had been the entire night. Your village. Your home. Your whole life. What had happened? What was left?

You advanced towards him. But he stopped you with a gentle hand. “I’m sorry” that was the only thing he could say. An apology. Fresh tears sprang to your eyes. You pressed the child into his arms, and ran passed him.

You didn’t know what you would find when you got there. All you knew was you had to see it. You didn’t stop running until you saw the smoke rising from the ashes... your entire life had been reduced to rubble. You sobbed, like never before.

Eventually the Mandalorian had followed you back into the ruins of your village. He asked if there was somewhere you wanted to go, if you had friends or family. This was it. This was your whole life. You had nowhere to go. He offered to take you with him.

“Come with us. You can leave whenever you’d like. And I can pay you for your help with the kid,”

It was the only option you had, so here you were. Rocketing through the stars, on your way to an uncertain future, with a baby and a man who’s name you didn’t know and face you will never see.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of Mando’s footsteps descending the ladder from the cockpit. The baby toddled over to the landing, having lost all interest in the silver ball rolling back towards you. Mando bent down and picked up the child, he approached you as you stood up.

“We’ll be landing soon,” he told you “There’s someone I need to talk to on this planet. And they have a market where we can resupply”

You nod quietly. After these last few months, you were still mourning the loss of your village. Going into towns and markets on other planets was exciting but it made you long for home. You had never left your home world, visiting other planets exposed you to things you never would have imagined in your wildest dreams.

Planets covered in dense forests, others with endless expanses of water, not to long ago you had been to a planet that had man made structures covering every surface area... You had come from a farming planet, that sold crops and livestock to intergalactic traders. You knew there were other worlds in the universe, other species, but it was so much more vast than you could have imagined.

The planet you were visiting today was beautiful. Enormous mountains jutted from the ground, fields of tall grass and wildflowers, and clear springs. The village was busy, full of travelers stopping for more fuel, supplies, a place to stay for the night, or just somewhere to stretch their legs and breathe fresh air.

Mando watched as you step off of the ship, holding his son.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” You asked the child softly. He replied in his garbled little chirps.

Mando felt his chest tighten. The guilt of being the reason you had nowhere to go weighed heavily on him. But bringing you to beautiful places like this, that you may have otherwise never experienced made him feel a little bit better. He didn’t want to admit he was taking you to some of the more interesting places he had visited in his travels, and tried to find nice places for you to stay and take care of the baby when he had to catch a bounty.

“Ready?” He asked. You smiled and nodded, following him towards the town.

Every time they stopped a new planet, Mando knew there was a chance you would not continue with him. But if truth be told, he didn’t want that to happen. He had grown fond of you these last few months. Having a second set of hands around to do things on the ship and someone to make sure the kid was always looked after, were more than welcome. But it was more than that, it was you. You were kind, and gentle. Respectful of his culture, and eager to learn and see everything. He didn’t want you to find a new place to settle. But that wasn’t his choice to make.

He thought about this as you walked together through the market. You held the child against your chest, letting him look out at all of the people and shops. You pointed out various things to him, and spoke with such care.

He left you with some credits, and instructions on where to meet back up with him when you were done shopping and he was finished with his meeting. He had been trying to give you more credits than you needed recently. A couple weeks back, he had snapped at you in a hurry to leave the planet he had left you and kid on for a few days...

“Get your things, we’re leaving”

You stood up, with the child in your arms and walked out of the small inn. He didn’t miss your words under your breath as you passed him.

“I don’t have any things,”

You were right, all you had was the clothes on your back. And the credits he gave you after returning from cashing in on bounties. It was his fault, and he knew it.

You walked around the market, trying to make sure you had enough of a variety of foods to take with you onto the ship. You picked up some strips of bandage cloth, and bacta pads as well. Your companion made more use of those than you would like to admit.

You passed by a clothing stall, and stopped short. Looking down at the kid in his tan robes. It wouldn’t hurt to get him a second set, he did get dirty a lot when you stayed on a planet for a few days. You stepped into the stall, and began looking to find children’s clothing.

The fabric the clothing is made of on this planet is so vastly different from the clothes your own people wore. You ran your fingers over a pair of dark brown trousers.

“What do you think little friend?” You asked the child “maybe we both need something new”

Mando approached the massive shade tree, seeing you and the baby leaning against the trunk and sharing a piece of fruit. He saw that you had several packages of supplies for the ship sitting next to you, and a leather pack. He also noticed the child wore new, grey robes. And you. You wore new well fitting trousers, tunic, boots and coat. He couldn’t help but notice how attractive you looked. The child scampered towards him, and raised his little arms. He shouldered the child, and offered you a hand to stand up.

“You look nice,” he said, somewhat dumbly.

“Thank you,” you replied, taking his hand. You gathered the packages and supplies. “I figured I would need some better clothes if I’m gonna keep up with the little womp rat” You scritched behind the child’s floppy ears. The baby cooed at your touch.

Mando felt comforted walking back to the ship. If you were willing to spend money on things to better help you take care of the kid, maybe you would stay longer.

Din Djarin Tag List: @spideysimpossiblegirl

[adamruz]

Thinking 'Bout You

Summary: a fic inspired by this song. What if Kim moved to San Diego with Roman?

It had been almost half a year since Kim moved to San Diego with Roman. At first she loved the idea because she was in a relationship with a man she loved and was starting over in a new city with no reminders of her ex-fíance. But the relationship lasted only 3 months in the new city after she realized what a jackass Roman was when he drunkenly admitted one night to purposely screwing with her and Adam's relationship because he just wanted to sleep with her.

She missed her friends, her coworkers, patrolling the streets of Chicago, the wind off of the lake, and even though she wouldn't admit it to anyone who'd ask, she missed Adam. The only contact she had with her old life was occasional texts to and from her first partner, Kevin. It took her an entire month to tell Kevin her and Roman broke up because she was afraid to admit she made the wrong decision so soon and that he'd judge her for it.

I messed up. was the text she sent to Kevin.

With Ruz or Roman?

Adam.

Call him.

Kim didn't need Kevin to tell her that. She's thought about calling Adam everyday since the break-up, hell since the first day she arrived in San Diego. But she's the one who ended things, who gave back the ring, all because of her jealous partner who couldn't watch her be happy with someone else. She knew Adam was an amazing guy and some lucky girl was probably already dating him. She had drafted many texts to him, but they never got sent including a happy birthday one, but she just wasn't ready to admit her mistake.

Meanwhile back in Chicago, Intelligence was down a member after Antonio left and everyone knew that spot would've gone to Kim, but she was no longer there. Detective Hailey Upton was brought in and Voight mixed up the partnerships, putting her and Adam together. On the outside, it looked like Adam was holding it together ever since him and Kim broke up and she moved away, but he was falling apart inside. Kevin and Jay tried to get him to join them at Molly's a couple times a week, but Adam always refused. He wasn't in the mood to laugh or have a good time while dealing with a broken heart. Adam had brought up Kim's contact information so many times he lost count, but he could never go through with hitting the call button, not even on his drunkest nights. He was too stubborn and too full of pride to go crawling back to her even though she was still the last thing he thought about at night.

An undercover gig popped up on Voight's radar and he asked the unit for any volunteers. Adam immediately jumped at the opportunity. "I'll go boss." Maybe this would take his mind off Kim, get out of the building where so many of his good and bad memories with her happened. "It's yours Ruzek," Voight said.

Two weeks had passed since Adam went undercover when Jay received a call from his brother at Med. "Jay, Ruzek just stumbled in here with a bullet wound to his left shoulder."

"What's his status, Will?"

"He's ok. Lost a lot of blood, but he's stable. The bullet just missed hitting the bone."

"Ok, we're on our way." Jay rounded up the rest of Intelligence and they all headed to the hospital.

Adam barely remembered what happened, but it was a drug deal gone bad and somehow he had worked up enough energy to walk his way to the hospital. Now, he was lying in an uncomfortable hospital bed, on pain meds, and the only thing he could think about was Kim. What if he had died without her knowing that he was sorry for how things ended and how much he still loved her. He reached for his UC phone and started dialing the 10 digit number he still knew by heart, but then his nurse appeared with some familiar faces.

"Geez Ruzek, did you miss us so much you had to get shot before your assignment ended," Al joked.

"Haha very funny, Al." The team took turns giving Adam a hug and saying how glad they were he was going to be ok.

Dr. Halstead interrupted the reunions, "Adam, you're going to need to stay overnight for a few days, but then you can go home and recover. I recommend 2 weeks off of work and then you can return to desk duty. After that we'll do another check-up and see where you're at." Adam knew it was coming, but he still rolled his eyes.

"Thanks for coming guys, but I think it's best I get some sleep." Kevin handed Adam over his regular cellphone and mouthed "call her" before walking out the door. Kevin hated being the middle man between his two friends, but he just wanted them back together and knew how they each felt about the other.

That night before bed, Kev texted Kim - Adam was shot today on an UC assignment. He lost a lot of blood, but he's gonna be ok.

OMG Kev. How is he doing really?

Just call him Burgess. You know you want to.

Kim couldn't believe it. Adam was shot and she couldn't help but think it was her fault. Maybe if she wouldn't have broken up with him, dated Roman, or moved away, he wouldn't have put himself in this situation. What would she even say if she called him. Sorry didn't feel like enough she thought. She mulled over it for the next 3 days until she decided to just go for it.

It was Adam's first night back home and Kevin and Hailey had come over to help him get situated along with some pizza and beer. Adam's phone buzzed on the table and a familiar, but unexpected name popped up on the screen. Kim. He couldn't believe it. He picked up after only the first ring. "Hey stranger." Crap, Adam thought. He should've let it ring a couple times and not make it seem like he was desperate and longing for her call. And stranger? Really? He thought long and hard about what he wanted to say to Kim when they talked again and that was not it.

"Hi Adam. I know it's been a long time, but I heard you got shot and I just wanted to make sure you were ok."

"I'm doing ok. It hurts, but I'm home now and resting up until I can go back to work. How are you? How's San Diego?" He refused to ask how things were with the piece of shit Roman.

"G..g...good," Kim stumbled as she didn't want to say she ended things with Roman just yet. "Adam, I'm s..," she trailed off as she heard a female laughing in the background. "Oh am I interrupting you on a date?"

"Haha no," Adam chuckled. "That's my new partner, Hailey Upton. She replaced Antonio."

"Adam, you don't have to hide things from me. You can date whoever you want." Kim was trying to keep it together, but she wasn't shocked he had already moved on.

"Kim, I'm serious. She's just my partner. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Uh sorry, I gotta go. Sean just got home and we have dinner plans. I'm glad you're doing ok though. Bye." Kim hoped he hadn't heard her breaking down because tears were streaming down her face before she hung up. Why didn't Kevin tell her Adam had started dating? That would've been helpful information.

Why didn't you tell me he was dating? Kim texted Kev.

He's not Burgess. She really is just his partner. If you want the truth, he's still hung up on you.

Shit. Not only did she mess things up with their engagement and when she moved away and cut off all contact with him, but now again. Tonight of all nights, after he had just been shot a few days ago. How would he ever forgive her.

The two week recovery period for Adam had passed and he was so eager to get back to work, even if it was just desk duty at first. He needed something to keep him busy and his mind off of Kim and that awkward last conversation over the phone. To Adam's surprise, the day absolutely flew by and he was exhausted. Who knew you could get so tired just answering phones and doing computer work all day, but he had to get back in the swing of things.

"Ruz, you coming to Molly's tonight?"

"Yeah Kev, I'll meet you there!"

Adam packed up his stuff and headed down the steps and out into the parking lot. He noticed a shadow hovering over by his driver's side door. It was dark and he couldn't make out who it was at first. Was it someone coming to finish the job from his UC gig? As he got closer, he recognized that smile and the long brown hair.

"Hey Adam."

"What are you doing here? Where's Roman?"

"We broke up, almost 2 months ago."

Adam bit his tongue to prevent the biggest smile he wanted to appear on his face. "Oh, but you said just two weeks ago..."

"I know, I lied because I thought you were dating someone and I couldn't bear the thought of you being with someone else and didn't want you to think I was alone."

"I haven't even thought of dating someone since that day in the locker room. But Kim, you broke things off. You're the one who moved on first."

"It was a mistake," she muttered as she moved closer to him. "It was all Roman. The push test, everything. He just wanted to be with me. I should've talked to you, my fíance, instead of talking to him. I'm sorry." Kim's eyes quickly filled with water.

Adam was so full of rage at Roman and what he did to screw up the best relationship he ever had, but he could tell Kim was hurting and he didn't want to lash out at her. "Come here," he pleaded as he wrapped her up in a hug. All he wanted to do was feel her lips on his, but it wasn't the right time for that. The smell of her shampoo would have to be enough for now.

"I don't know if you're up for it, but would you want to go to Molly's tonight and catch up with everyone?"

"I'd love that actually," Kim said as she backed away from his grace with a slight grin on her face.

[drewstarkeys]

STAY A LITTLE LONGER: JOHN B ROUTLEDGE.

Summary: After a long night of not sleeping, you turned to your best friend for cuddles to hopefully help you get some sleep. As it turns out, he’s more than happy to let you share the bed with him. 

Request: hiiii ! I loved your john b fic, was wondering if I could request a john b with the prompt, “You come to my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?”

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1.3k

You and Kie were currently sharing the pull-out couch in John B’s living room, or at least trying to share it. As much as you loved Kiara, she was taking up the entire bed and it was driving you crazy, you felt like you hadn’t slept at all. Every time you would shove her to the side, you’d have two minutes of comfort before she rolled back and forced you into the corner.

You weren’t even sure what time it was, but you were losing your mind. You knew that JJ was hogging the couch out on the porch and John B was in the bedroom while Pope had gone home for the night. You probably should’ve gone home too, considering your parents were worried about you, but you were just so tired that you felt like you needed to crash at John B’s instead of your own home.

That decision was quickly coming to bite you in the ass because of Kiara. You were certain that hours had passed of you trying to get sleep and failing, but you didn’t know what else to do. You were starting to get grumpy from your lack of sleep, it wasn’t her fault but at the moment you blamed her in your mind.

You grabbed your pillow with a huff and moved down onto the floor, laying on the cold wood for a few minutes before realizing you would never fall asleep there. You weren’t exactly picky about where you slept but for some reason, nothing was working. You smacked the wood next to you in frustration, crawling up onto your knees before standing up and heading for the kitchen.

You grabbed a glass of water and tried to drink it to help you calm down, but you were half asleep and your eyelids were barely open. The whole ordeal was messy and you spilled water down the front of your shirt more than once but in your tired state, you barely even noticed it.

When you finally finished your glass of water, you glanced over at Kiara who was sprawled out completely and you frowned, there was no way you would be able to get back onto the bed with her.

You sat in the kitchen, trying to think of a plan but it wasn’t working, that was, until you heard the soft snores coming from John B’s room. You hadn’t noticed them until that exact moment and the thought of climbing next to him wasn’t exactly a bad one.

Shaking your head, you looked back away from his room, you were best friends with him, but you two had never slept in the same bed. It would be awkward to ask and you were worried that you might accidentally cuddle him.

The more you let the idea play out in your head, the better it seemed. You had always found John B attractive and if the Pogue rules didn’t exist, you would’ve told him how you felt. Not to mention, his bed was definitely comfier than the floor or the corner of your shared mattress.

Finally, you forced yourself to walk towards the slightly opened door and pushed it open, taking note of where John B was laying. He looked so peaceful in his sleep and you felt guilt wash over you at the idea of waking him up.

You moved forwards and crouched down near his chest, so you wouldn’t be right next to his face when he inevitably jolted awake. He was blissfully aware of what was to come and that was something that made you question your choice, but you were about to cry if you didn’t get any sleep.

Raising an arm, you grabbed onto his shoulder lightly and shook it until you felt him jump slightly at the sudden feeling. The boy in front of you opened his eyes quickly, confusion filling them as his eyes landed on you, “what are you doing here?” He asked you, moving his hand to rub his eyes.

A pout formed across your face as you tried to figure out a way to ask him to let you sleep in his bed without sounding childish. A feeling of regret was starting to build up but you pushed it down as you forced some words to come out of your mouth, “I uh, I couldn't sleep. Can I come in here with you?” You asked sheepishly, sending him a small smile with your words.

A shocked expression formed across his face but he quickly nodded, pushing himself towards the other end of the bed and patting the space in front of him for you to lay down. The whole action had your heart racing, especially as you climbed into the bed next to him.

You lay face up at first, not wanting to seem like you were attempting to cuddle him, but he pulled you onto your side so that you could face him and talk for a minute.

“I’m guessing that Kie wasn’t the best person to sleep with, huh?” He teased you, his hand tracing lightly over your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its path. When you nodded ‘no’ as a response, he laughed quietly but when he saw how tired you looked, his smile fell. “You’re really tired,” he paused to pull you into his chest, holding you loosely to him, almost as if he was giving you a way to push away if you wanted it, “get some sleep, y/n, you need it.”

You yawned into his chest, pulling him closer to you as he spoke, thankful that it wasn’t too hot out right now, or else you would hate being so close to someone, the heat would make it horrible. “Thank you,” you whispered, not trusting yourself to speak any louder as you were on the verge of tears from being so tired.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked you softly, looking down at you with a small smile on his face. When you made no attempt to answer, he took it as a yes. “So, you came to my room and woke me up at 4 am, to cuddle?” He asked, a laugh falling past his lips at the question.

“Yes,” you mumbled into his chest, feeling your cheeks heat up at his question. The truth was that while you couldn’t sleep, you could’ve pulled an all-nighter or dealt with it, but you were always looking for an excuse to spend time with John B and this was currently your excuse.

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, “yeah well, I’m definitely not complaining about that,” he paused, biting his bottom lip as he tried to stop the wide smile that was forming on his rosy-tinted cheeks. “Like I’m serious, feel free to do this anytime or all the time, just yeah, this is nice.” He rambled on, causing you to laugh into his chest at his eagerness to hold you.

You flipped onto your other side so that your back was pressed to his chest and John B took that as an opportunity to pull you closer and wrap his arm around your waist, leaning his chin on your shoulder. You were so ready to pass out, but at the moment your tiredness didn’t matter as you tried to memorize the feeling of having John B cuddling you, not knowing how often it would happen if it happened again at all.

Your eyes had finally started to close as you relaxed into his arms, feeling your heart rate slow and your body rejoicing at the feeling of finally getting some much-needed sleep.

“I really, really like you,” he whispered into your ear, despite not knowing if you were asleep or not.

You heard his words and smiled to yourself, knowing that you would bring it up again to him tomorrow, when your body wasn’t begging for you to go to bed and sleep for the next twenty years.

“I really like you too,” you thought, letting yourself slip out of consciousness and hoping that you would be able to sleep for a while.

[yandere-daydreams]

Could you do something with yandere Anubis?

For such a prominent God in Ancient Egypt, there are so few myths about Anubis...  I’ll try to give him the recognition he deserves, here.

TW: Graphic Violence, Emotional Abuse, Mentions of Death and Dehuminzation.

~

He was a terribly fair man.

As much as you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t, not honestly. You could complain about his temperament, his passivity, how he could never be bothered to show you anything save for stoic, unenthusiastic acknowledgment, but you couldn’t say a word about his resolve. He was professional, sterile, too ancient to be moved by a weeping soul or a woeful tale from a dead man. You supposed you were lucky, in that regard. His resolution may’ve faltered, when it came to your and your particular style of incoherent panic. Maybe it’d been the way you clung to him, the way you’d plead when his scales deemed you undeserving of an afterlife. Maybe he’d taken a liking to you, one that hadn’t been sparked by anyone else, yet.

Or, he’d just been looking for a pet, and you’d come along just in time to fill the role.

Even now, you couldn’t help but shudder, despite the leopard-skin he’d been generous enough to wrap you in. You weren’t able to feel the cold anymore, but you were sure you would’ve be freezing, if you could. The only light this far underground came from lanterns and sources you could never seem to see clearly, and heat came in radiating, humid waves, as unpleasant as its absence. Anubis himself was no better. You’d been posed in his lap like a doll, your legs left to hang over the arms of his throne and your head allowed to rest against his chest, but there was no heat underneath his skin…or, his fur, rather. It was as dead as he was, as dead as you. As if he’d given up what was left of his warmth when he took up such an apathetic role.

He seemed to notice your distress, pointed nails drumming lazily against your waist as he bowed, lowering himself just enough for those gold eyes to bore into your back. You hadn’t decided whether it was a mask or not, that lupin appearance of his, but you weren’t eager to find out. If he took to that question as well as he’d taken to any other you’d asked, his answer wouldn’t be one you wanted to hear. “Is this upsetting to you, love?” He asked, gently, always gently. His tone never seemed to stray from that indifferent tenderness, as much as you wished it would. “This isn’t the first trail you’ve seen.”

Ah, the trial. They weren’t uncommon in Osiris’ court, the ‘Watercourse of the Only God’, they called it. The man before you now was nearing the end of his allotted time, but he was as passionate as he’d been when he started, going on indignantly about his many successes and acts of charity. He might’ve been a doctor, you thought you heard him mention an operation. It didn’t really matter, after Anubis deemed him worthless. “It’s awful,” You replied, your voice barely audible. “He’s a virtuous man, a good man. He shouldn’t be condemned, not when he spent so long trying to help people.”

At that, Anubis laughed. You two were tucked into a corner of the vast stage, other deities with more sway taking the positions of importance, allowing Anubis to carry on without having to worry about the consequences of his decision. “A good man, but not a balanced one. That’s the crux you never seem to realize.” His free hand cupped your chin, directing your attention towards the trial. You tried weakly to resist, focusing instead on the stone floor, but a click of his tongue was the only command you needed to recenter your concentration. “He studied and he worked and he helped many, I’ll give you that, but what of it? He lived a life without struggle, and any conflict that might’ve caused him pain was avoided. If all you ever know is good, that the world is good. You aren’t.”

“That’s not his fault,” You countered, straightening your back slightly. It was rare for him to speak so freely, and you planned to take advantage of it. “You’re going to punish him for being cautious? For living a safe life?”

“A life without suffering is hardly a life at all.” You were squeezed, playfully, pulled against him and made to sit on his thigh, if only so he could better stare down at you. With a content sigh, his hand moved up to your jaw, brushing over your cheekbone momentarily before shifting towards your lips, idly tracing the shape of your mouth. You frowned, ready to contest his sudden display of affection, but he didn’t give you the chance, pressing the pad of his thumb against your lips, silencing you before you could speak. “His heart was heavy. He lived to please others, to help others, but only because he felt it was in his path to. Helping was all he knew, not what he chose. There’s no guilt to a life like that, no hardship to overcome.” If he could smile, he would’ve. You were glad he didn’t try to. “You should know that better than most.”

The man was crying, now, sobbing at the feet of Osiris. You tried not to listen.

You didn’t try to speak, but he didn’t seem to notice. “It’s an affliction, really. Some people just aren’t mean to make choices for themselves. They’re too weak, too breakable, they don’t have the constitution for it. And the moment you back them into a corner, where someone else can’t step in…” He trailed off, a single, sharpened talon trailing down your skin, leaving a thin, red line in its wake. He stopped somewhere just below your collarbone. Just above your heart. “They crack. They throw themselves to the wolves and pray not to be ripped apart too violently. It’s a shame, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You tried to be firm, confident, but you were already trembling. Shaking in his arms, like a gazelle in the clutches of a jackal. “I lived well. If I’d had more time--”

“Then you would’ve spent more time away from me.” That was all the warning you got. The slightest inflection and a hint of anger before his nail drove itself into your chest, digging and burrowing, pushing through any muscle or sinew that might’ve gotten in its way. The blood was minimal, but the pain wasn’t, sparking and igniting and burning, a series of pathetic whimpers forced their way past your lips going nothing to lessen that awful prodding. He withdrew quickly, but absence was no better than occupation, and your muffled whines turned to cries as the sting became an ache, overwhelming and all-encompassing. He only watched as you furiously tried to wipe away the tears, pressing his muzzle gingerly against your forehead.

“That would’ve been a fate worse than death. No one to look after you, no one to take care of you, just more… living. More separation.” He shook his head, letting out another sigh, this one so much heavier than the last. “You mustn’t bring up such terrible things, you see that, don’t you? Such a delicate little creature… you wouldn’t be able to take it, I’m sure.”

You didn’t disagree. You only fell forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and falling into the crook of his shoulder, hiding your face and letting him do whatever he thought he had to. Whatever he deemed necessary. Arguing wouldn’t matter. Proving you weren’t reliant on him wouldn’t matter. Nothing you did would make a difference.

Anubis decided you were weak.

All you could do was be glad he’d pitied you enough to keep you around.

[madam-whim]

7 for helca :vibecheck:

“I promise”, the little boy said as he pulled his friend closer.

Ayrenn had run off once again, leaving her brother behind. “You are not even two years younger than she is. That is not much, and out of the two of you, you are the responsible one”,  was what one of their teachers had said. It’s your fault, you should have stopped her, was what Naemon had heard, and what the teacher had meant, disapproval clear on his face. As if it was Naemon’s responsibility to keep his sister in check. As if he hadn’t begged her not to go, or at least to take him along with her, just this once. But Ayrenn would vanish for days at a time, making their parents sick with worry, and not once had she told him where she’d been. She was still taller than him, could outrun him easily, and whenever she tried to follow her, he’d lose her eventually, her laughter still ringing in his ears. And yet, he could never bring himself to alert their parents when he caught her sneaking away. It always ended the same, anyway. With Naemon taking the blame for Ayrenn’s disappearance, and once she came back, everyone was too relieved over the safe return of the crown princess to be cross with her.

It wasn’t fair, Naemon thought. But he knew that Ayrenn was more important than he was – she was the heir, and people would always see it that way. He understood why. It was fine. Just like it was fine for his sister to leave him behind whenever she pleased, even though he never understood why she did it. Maybe he’d slow her down too much, or maybe she thought he was just a coward, too scared to really follow her on one of her adventures. It hurt to think about it too much. Sometimes, it was bad enough that he couldn’t stop the tears.

The first time Helcarion had caught him crying over being left behind once more, he’d been horrified. He’d been told to keep his emotions to himself, especially the bad ones. But Helcarion had never been angry with him for it. He had simply told him that crying was alright, and that they were only children, and that not talking about what made them sad was utterly stupid. And then he’d hugged him. Just like he was doing now, with Naemon clinging to him. “I promise”, Helcarion whispered, even though they were alone and nobody could hear them. “I won’t ever leave you behind. You’re my best friend. I’ll always be there for you when it matters.”

“I promise”, Helcarion, now sixteen, repeated.

The princess hadn’t come back this time, and suddenly, everything had become too much. Naemon was heir to the throne now, without the luxury of several years to settle into the role. He’d always been the spare, the backup plan, and now, he was left with no clue how to handle all of it. But then again, he still had Helcarion. They were still as inseparable as they had been as small children, even if Naemon had forced himself to grow somewhat more distant. Not that it ever did anything to scare his friend away – Helcarion probably knew him better than he knew himself. He was not alone in this, he knew. His friend didn’t hug him anymore, didn’t touch him at all, really, but his presence was as comforting as ever, as were his words. “I promise I’ll still be there, no matter what”, he’d said, and Naemon allowed himself to believe him. He had no reason not to.

Helcarion was just… always there. There to help him through his grief when he’d realized Ayrenn was gone for good this time. To help him adjust to the new situation life had thrown him in, even if he didn’t like all of the things it entailed. Like his upcoming engagement to a young lady named Estre. He’d never met her before and would have much preferred someone he already knew, but his parents thought it to be an ideal match, and so he had not protested. There had been a strange look in Helcarion’s eyes for just a moment when he’d shared the news, one that Naemon couldn’t decipher. It had been gone before he could even think to ask what was wrong, replaced by his friend’s usual kind smile, and somehow, Naemon convinced himself he’d just imagined it. He needed things to be fine right now.

“He promised”, Naemon muttered, not knowing what he’d done wrong.

Helcarion had left on some expedition with the Mages Guild. He’d told him he might be gone for a year, perhaps more. Naemon had known, of course, that the other man wasn’t made for politics, and that he took his magical studies very seriously to make up for it. Why he had chosen the guild instead of the Sapiarchs was beyond him, though. He would have been closer at least, had he chosen that path. But now, Helcarion had left him behind, and he hadn’t told him why. Was it something Naemon had done? Had he finally tired of him? “Ah, not to worry”, Estre said when he eventually confided in her. “You don’t need him anyway. One of my mother’s associates visited the guild hall recently, and it seems Helcarion has made friends with a khajiit, of all people. His parents must be so disappointed. As you should be, by the way. He really isn’t the kind of company you should keep as the future king.”

Naemon wanted to argue, wanted to tell her that Helcarion was the best friend he’d ever had, but then again… Helcarion had gone away, without even telling him how he could reach him. Perhaps he simply didn’t care anymore. It hurt, of course, but there was a chance they’d simply grown distant, and that was that. It happened. Maybe it was better that way as well, since Helcarion seemed to avoid Estre whenever he could, and it made things rather difficult. His wife had long suspected the other mer to hate her, and she had told Naemon so, though she claimed she had no idea why. But she smiled reassuringly at him now, and told him things were going to be just fine, and that he could do fine without Helcarion by his side. “You need someone more trustworthy anyway. Someone who is up to the task of being the king’s right hand. Actually, I have someone in mind already! Pelidil has been so eager to meet you, and I’m sure the two of you would get along splendidly. Would you like me to formally introduce him to you?”, she offered. And Naemon nodded.

“I promised...”, Helcarion sobbed, kneeling on the floor in Elden Root’s throne room.

He didn’t care that half the Dominion elite was watching, didn’t care what King Camoran thought of him. He didn’t want to listen to whatever it was Ayrenn tried to say to him. It was her fault as much as it was his own, anyway. If she’d only appreciated her brother more, included him in her decisions, maybe he would not have felt the need to prove he could be something more. But still, Helcarion couldn’t blame her. She had not made any promises to Naemon. He had. He’d promised to stay with him. To be there when he needed him, even if Helcarion knew Naemon would not, could not love him back.

He should never have left, should not have allowed Estre to drive him away from Naemon’s side with the mocking glances she sent his way while clinging to the prince’s arm, touching him freely in a way Helcarion could only ever dream of, or the cruel words she said to him when Naemon wasn’t close enough to overhear. But Helcarion wasn’t blind, he’d seen how much Naemon adored his wife, and above all else, he’d wanted him to be happy, and so he’d accepted that there was no place for him here any longer. Estre  had won, and she would become queen, he had thought. And now she was gone, and the news had taken so long to reach Helcarion that even though he’d dropped everything to try and return to comfort his friend, he’d been too late. Always too late.

“You promised!”, the lich screeched, trying to reach for Helcarion with its clawed hand.

He could not even move. Indaenir had to grab him and haul him backwards, out of range, while Kidhesi threw spell after spell in the direction of what had once been the man Helcarion loved. Everything in him screamed at him to make her stop it, make him try to reason with Naemon. If he could only get through to him – but he’d been told it was impossible. He knew the lich was all the bad parts of Naemon. His rage, his hatred, his arrogance and disdain, with nothing of his beautiful, caring, loyal side left to balance them out. But still – he’d loved all of Naemon, with all of his flaws and fears. He still did, even now.

The lich attempted to claw at his face again, only missing by a mere inch. Kidhesi cursed. “This one knew we should have left him outside!” Helcarion couldn’t make out Indaenir’s answer, but he knew the khajiit was right, he should never have come, he was only in the way, a liability. He would never be able to hurt Naemon, even in this form, and he had been too late to save him. The only thing he’d been able to do was to avenge him, to look Pelidil in the eye as he stabbed him, and tell him that this was for Naemon, even if he could no longer make up for a promise broken too long ago. He’d been to weak then, just as he was now. Now, he could only watch as Kidhesi slowly encased the lich in ice and stepped closer, frozen spikes glittering all around her. “I’m sorry”, he muttered. He could do nothing to save his friend now.

But he could at least be there.

[pearl-blue-musings]

Perchance to Meet pt. 2 REWRITE

Hi y'all. I'm really sad I have to do this all over again because tumblr goofed up big time. I went to edit this for tags and cleanliness and then next thing I know boom it’s gone. I know it won’t be as good as it was when I first wrote it but I will do my best to recreate what I had. This is what I get for not saving it or not doing so when I TOLD MYSELF TOO 😤 again i’m so sorry and here’s my rewrite

Warnings: suggestive language 18+, i think that’t it!

Part 3 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Aizawa Shouta is a simple man. Wore clothes that were best for him, always did his duty as a teacher and an underground hero. He was always able to do the right or best thing when it was necessary. Never afraid to back down from what needed to be done.

So why is he standing across the street on his day off from a place he’s been meaning to check out for weeks? He studies the business card in his hand that has the name and address of the building he’s currently staring at. Just for good measure he triple checks the address and store name-

“Personally Yours, Book boutique!”

Black almond eyes widen as Aizawa’s thoughts are perturbed by the loud blond next to him. He’s not sure why he allowed his best friend (don’t tell Hizashi that) to accompany him today to meet the intriguing bartender and bookstore owner. (Y/n) (L/n). That name and face has been plaguing him over the last three weeks from when they first met. The way her hair matched and reflected her personality, her amazing quirk, her willingness to make people’s lives better... 

The way her lips looked incredibly kissable and fuckable at the same time had left him with his hands down his pants many nights.

Aizawa looks to his friend as he sees Hizashi grinning widely from ear to ear, eager about what’s about to happen. It’s been far too long since the blond has seen his friend this worked up over anything, let alone a person! But he knew, deep in his friendly heart, that Aizawa would have done nothing if he didn’t intervene and tell him to go visit her.

“It’s about time you decided to go see her ‘Zawa. It’s been what, like three weeks?” 

“You don’t have to remind me.” Yes, he knew. Aizawa knew we waited two weeks and six days too long to finally reach out or do something. But could the world blame him? He’s a teacher and underground hero already looking for the next class of heroes for U.A.; the man hasn’t had a day off in far too long and now he has one. He can only hope that the lady he kept waiting would understand. But she had to, right?

With what seemed like forever, he finally managed to place one foot in front of the other and cross the street to enter the building. The outside looks quaint, almost too perfect for a bookstore in his opinion. It appears to be one story but there might be living quarters on top of it? Aizawa rolls his shoulders to relieve himself of any tension, turns back to his friend before he promptly goes inside…

And immediately regrets his decision. 

The loud sound that bombarded his ears was something he did not expect. Children. Toddlers maybe, but obnoxious nonetheless. He begins to question whether or not he should stay based on the loudness in the store. However despite the noise, he feels a sense of calmness and home-ness that he felt when he had talked with (Y/n) at the bar. The bookstore smells of cinnamon and vanilla, a combination he thinks he can get used to. The layout seems to be welcoming as well. In the middle, which he assumes is the check out and help desk, is a circular module that has different pathways leading to other parts of the store. Each pathway leads to shelves lined up with all kinds of books, lit above by medium sized lanterns that give the store its unique glow. 

Aizawa surmises that the store is an accurate representation of the bewildering woman he met a few weeks ago. Everything about the size, the layout, the aura reminds him of their plethora of conversations from just one night, and maybe more to come.

He approaches the middle desk in hopes that she would be near. Taking in his surroundings, he realizes that the bulk of the noise is coming from the back, which looks to be a cozy reading nook with bean bag and other comfy chairs surrounded by end tables and ottomans. He can feel the chaotic energy from where he stands.

Hesitantly, he pushes the bell near the cash register. 

“I’ll be right there!”

Stunned at the sound of her voice, he waits patiently but also impatiently for the woman that has been haunting his thoughts for almost a month now to appear. His eyes wander to the counter, however at that moment the sound of sneakers hitting linoleum comes closer to him.

“Hi,” she pants out, holding up a finger. “How, whew, how can I help you…”

She drawls out the last part as she finally sees who had called her attention. Seriously, couldn’t this person know that today was extremely busy? But her thoughts come to a halt when she’s met with deep almond eyes and scruff, even though she’s seen it once, could recognize anywhere.

“Aizawa-san?”

“Just Aizawa is fine. Looks like I came at a bad time?”

“Hah, that’s an understatement,” (Y/n) puffs out. Her eyes must be deceiving her. There’s no way he’s actually here. They had met almost a month ago and it was a meeting she’ll never forget. The hard-working woman is never one to make small talk with her patrons but something about him caught her focus and for the rest of the night and the most of these three weeks, was all she could think about. “Once a month we have a local daycare come in and bring their students to look and explore in the store! Helps them get better at reading and finding out what other things they may like.”

The man before her nods in understanding, unsure of what else to say. He had practiced this moment over and over but now that it’s here he’s unsure of what to do.

“I thought you were never gonna show up. But I’m really glad to see you not in a club, it feels more real I guess?” She paused briefly before beginning again. “I honestly thought I made up the whole thing, or that something was wrong with me…”

“No,” Aizawa interrupts, afraid to hear more. “It’s my fault. I’ve been busy with teaching and being a hero.”

“No I get it. I work two jobs too so I understand how busy you are. I’m glad you’re even here.”

The two of them smile at each other, taking in each others features in that present moment. The feel of familiarity reaches them once again, as if everything around them doesn’t exist and it’s just them. Most of the reason he’s never considered meeting anyone is mostly because of his schedule. Many would find it ridiculous how busy the man is but he cares deeply for what he does and bringing someone new into it would be a whole new level of stress he doesn’t think he needs. He’s married to his job essentially, and so it seems is (Y/n).

Their moment is broken when small hand tugs on the pant leg of (Y/n), stealing her eyes away from his. She looks down to see one of her daycare toddlers staring up at her. The little girl, Yuki, unfaltering in her gaze is clearly demanding attention.

“Oh! Hi Yuki, did you already pick a book to bring home?”

The little girl nods and proceeds to lift her arms above her head, making a grabbing motion with her hands. (Y/n) slyly rolls her eyes and picks up Yuki. Holding her in her arms, (Y/n) turns back to Aizawa.

“This is Yuki. She’s a little shy, soft spoken, but absolutely adorable. She’s also one of my favorites because she’s so quiet.”

Aizawa looks down to the toddler in her arms and doesn’t make any moves to approach. The toddler’s eyes widen at the strange man in front of her, eyes boring into his figure to take him in.

“Hobo.”

“Yuki!”

It takes all of the woman’s strength to not drop the child as her shoulders shake in laughter. Aizawa struggles to hide the embarrassment on his face by looking away from the scene before him. It’s not his fault he prefers to wear all black; it’s slimming and makes him feel comfortable. He’s starting to think that maybe he should have shaved and put his hair in a bun for his day off.

Once his heart has calmed down, he faces the toddler again only to see her being swayed back and forth by (Y/n) as she hums a soothing melody. He knows it’s not a possible thing but his heart skipped a beat at the sight. It was the most domestic thing he’s seen that actually makes him happy.

But at the same time he thinks about having one of his own with her and wanting to fuck her senseless against-

“So I’m guessing this is your day off?”

He stammers, “Uh, yeah. I was hoping we could do something today.”

“Hmm, do something as a date or do something as friends?”

He smirks at her sass, “I’m hoping for the former.”

“That can be arranged. I close early today so, meet me in front of the store at 7?”

“That sounds great, let me give you my number and-“

“Hobo.”

“Yuki!”

She promptly takes the child to the back and excuses herself from the desk. Aizawa searches around him for a spare piece of paper and luckily finds an unneeded receipt and a very purple pen. Once he’s done writing he sees her come back without the child.

“Sorry about that. But, ah, is this your number?”

“Yeah clearly.”

“Well geez, maybe I will put you as hobo in my phone just for that.”

“Please don’t.”

“Oh it’s happening.”

He rolls his eyes at her antics and smiles at her. He doesn’t know what it is, but something about being around her just makes him calm. “Listen, I don’t want to hold you up any longer than I have. But text me when you’re ready. 

“And maybe I’ll give you a night to remember.”

***************************************** He winks at her as he walked out and (Y/n) is left with her heart pumping in her ears. Did she really respond to what Aizawa said with “Oh yeah? Well I hope you do ‘cause maybe I’ll make those fantasies of yours come true. It has been three weeks after all.”? What was that?! She can’t just say she knows what he was thinking by the way his pupils had dilated a couple time, that’s too crazy.

Too weird, nope, she’s not weird at all.

Slapping her cheeks to re-center herself, she approaches the back of her store to meet with the children and her co-workers.

“Finally you’re back,” her co-worker, Kona, sighs. “Who was that? You were gone for a while so I know it wasn’t just another customer.”

“It was, um the guy.”

“Shut up!” he practically shouts, “he came here? After three weeks? Are you gonna see him? Please tell me you’re gonna see him?”

“Kona hush, not in front of the kids.”

He shrugs, “Oh sure, when it’s your sex life it’s all secret secret, but if it’s my sex life everyone has to know!”

(Y/n) slices her hand across her neck. “Shut. It!”

“Fine fine,” he whispers. “But you gotta at least tell me if he gave off daddy vibes at least. Big dick energy? Most guys like that do exude it.”

“You are so lucky I love you or you’d be fired.”

“You didn’t say no,” Kona whisper sang back to her. She did her best to hide the way her eyes widened at that but failed miserably.

Closing time couldn’t come quick enough.

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

here’s the rewrite! @kiribaku-queen @therealwalmartjesus @prk-pyo

[fandom-thingies]

My Complicated Feelings Toward JK Rowling

I think everyone who’s read Harry Potter and likes to talk has written something like this by now. It makes sense, right? She wrote possibly the most influential book series to come out in the last century. For me and many others, those books are an unforgettable part of our childhoods, and it hurts for the person who took us on such a journey of magic and wonder to be so unmagical herself.

So, here’s my take.

I think the thing I hate most about JK Rowling is how close she came to greatness.

There’s a reason her books became so popular, after all. For all her faults, (and there are many) she’s an amazing writer.

Every one of her characters feel like they could walk off of the page at any time and into your life. 

Dudley Dursley with his absorption of how his parents treat Harry and how his friends treat him, with his slow growth throughout the books into a person beyond who he was raised to be.

Molly Weasley with her overbearing mother henning, sometimes harmful but oh so clearly coming from a place of love, and her complete willingness to adopt any child that stands still long enough for her to do so. (Except Fleur)

Narcissa Malfoy with her belief in the horrible things she’s doing, without that stopping her from being entirely willing to do anything for her child.

Sirius Black with his tendency to unintentionally echo the sentiments he was raised with, and the tragedy of him losing his chance to ever truly grow as a person after being thrown in Azkaban for twelve years and then dying so soon after, and his complete, unconditional love for Harry.

I could write essays on any of them, and my point is that while JK’s treatment of certain issues and characters makes me want to hate Harry Potter, her characterization itself is both consistent and magnificently human.

Her world, too, is beautiful.

I first read Harry Potter before I turned eleven, and I was one of many across the nation who awaited my letter with eager anticipation. 

Can you blame me? The world she created filled so many children with wonder, made so many of us want so badly for magic to be real, to be ours- 

It was beautiful, and I hate her for what she could have been.

She had this fully realized system of prejudice that canonically created genocidal maniacs and put them in power every two generations or so, and she had this very realistic way of writing horribly flawed people that pronounces them as people without exonerating them for the awful things she’d have them do, and I can’t help feeling like “the horrors of war”, as well as she wrote it, wasn’t the story her world deserved.

But that’s a big idea to tackle, and I think it will be tackled best if I start small. I’ve spoken now of the beauty of her world, of her characters. Now I’ll speak of what marrs it.

Like I said, I want to start small.

So, let’s talk about the house elves.

TL;DR? Hermione was right. They’re indoctrinated from birth into believing the only thing they’re good for is housework, as well as being raised to abhor any elf who chooses to do otherwise. It’s a neat little self perpetuating system that bears absolutely no similarity in ideology to the mythology JK built it off of, and as such loses the aspect of choice that’s so significant to brownies.

Add to that the socially acceptable abuse, and you’ve got something that looks far more similar to slavery than it does little fairies who come to clean your home and get mad if pay them because they’re doing it as a favor.

And that’s why it’s so concerning, when JK brushes Hermione’s campaigning off in canon so casually.

It’s honestly hard to say when I started to be leery of JK Rowling, except that it was several years before the TERF scandal occurred. I think this was probably one of the earlier areas, though.

The first time I remember wondering if Harry Potter’s greatnesses were in spite of her intentions, rather than because of them, though, wasn’t the house elves.

It was, rather, a different contentious issue in the fandom, and one I’ve always fallen quite firmly to one side of, as someone who’s been bullied myself.

The first time I remember being suspicious of JK’s beliefs was when I realized she didn’t write Snape with the intent for him to be a villain.

Snape is not a person anyone in the fandom seems to be able to agree on. Some see him as a flat, cartoony villain, while some see him as a tortured soul who only did all those terrible things because he was hurting inside, don’t you see? 

Personally, I drew the line at him being a child’s boggart, as well as the time he attempted to kill Neville’s toad, Trevor, because seriously; what the fuck.

It had always been my belief that while him being obsessed with loving Lily motivated him to work on the side of good, it was more like Narcissa’s willingness to betray her cause for her son than anything else, being a sympathetic trait without absolving his cruelty.

Then I realized that a bunch of people (likely including JK) view Narcissa similarly to how they view Snape, seeing both as people who do bad but are good, rather than people who do good but are bad, and I honestly don’t know what to say to y’all.

You know having good traits doesn’t make a person good, right? Being capable of affection doesn’t absolve people of cruelty or make it your responsibility to forgive them and try to get them to change, it just tells them that they can do bad things without being punished for it. 

Do you guys need an abuse hotline? 

Anyway, that’s when I stopped liking JK, since I’ve been bullied myself and seeing her treat such a horrible bully as a good person kinda soured me on her. I’m not mad at her for letting her bullies grow and change- I love Draco’s and Dudley’s character arcs. I’m just mad at her because unlike those two, Snape is an adult and she kinda wrote it like forgiving him was an expectation of Harry, rather than a personal choice (and not an easy one either! Forgiving bullies is hard and it’s not always healthy!)

I’m getting off topic, but I genuinely believe that discussing this kind of thing is important, so I’m leaving that in.

Getting back to what this is actually about, I’m the kind of person who sees potential in things, often before I see the work itself, (it’s why I write fanfiction) and Harry Potter has so much potential it hurts, because so much of it is just wasted.

I said, earlier, that “the horrors of war” wasn’t the story best suited to this world, and I stand by that.

The first reason I believe that is because I don’t think that the black and white morality this kind of narrative often creates was well suited to JK’s writing style. JK has a tendency to put her characters in boxes of “good” or “bad” and as someone who doesn’t really believe in inherent goodness or evil, this will always feel unrealistic to me.

Because in the end, it’s JK’s minor villains, the ones not directly involved with Voldemort’s war, that really shine.

My favorite villains in the series were Umbridge, the Dursleys, Draco Malfoy, and Cornelius Fudge, because they were the villains who felt real, who felt like flawed people making flawed decisions because we’re all fundamentally products of our environment-

These are the villains who stuck with me, who I still want to take and shake because they were the kind of cruelty we’ve all faced.

Voldemort, as the main villain of the story, would have been more powerful if he’d been an amplified version of these people. In fact, the story would have been better in general if Fudge or Dumbledore had been the villain, because the problem with Voldemort is that unlike the good villains in this story, who feel real because we’ve all met people like them, Voldemort is and will always be larger than life.

A genocidal maniac is a villain few of us have faced societally, and one none of us have faced directly.

Also, rather than being a worse version of Umbridge or Fudge, Voldemort is more akin to a worse version of Snape. He’s a tortured soul who does bad things because bad things were done to him, rather than being cruel through his choices, his own agency.

That’s the first reason why “the horrors of war” wasn’t the best choice of a narrative for this world.

The second is that I don’t think JK sees anything wrong with her muggle hating characters.

She clearly thinks killing muggles is wrong, of course. She’s not that bad.

But, well, the muggle characters in Harry Potter are consistently kind of awful.

First there’s the Dursleys, selfish, entitled, egotistical, and cruel to anyone different from them. Then there’s Snape’s muggle father, who was horribly abusive, as well as cruel to anything different from him.

Then there’s the muggle prime minister, who despite being an important figure, is left completely out of the loop for anything concerning wizards, pretty much only used when the ministry needs the muggle news to say or do a certain thing, like when Sirius Black was declared a criminal.

There’s also the family at the quidditch world cup, of whom who only meet the patriarch, a somewhat stupid man who remarks uncomprehendingly on the oddness of wizards trying to assimilate into muggle society, a man who is canonically obliviated ten times a day.

And that’s it, that’s all the muggle characters I can remember. Aside from the Dursleys, none of them are given more than a page or so of screentime, and none of them do anything significant.

No, wait, I did actually forget two.

Hermione’s parents, who are obliviated and sent to Australia when the war starts, because the only thing they could ever do in a war is be victims.

Muggles in Harry Potter are consistently stupid, ineffectual, and cruel to anyone different from them.

Out of the entire massive cast of Harry Potter, there are few enough muggles that I can list them all off the top of my head without googling and the only muggle in the story ever given the all important chance to be kind is Dudley Dursley, who is taken out of the story the moment he stops being an awful person.

I’m sure you see the problem.

The issue with Harry Potter is that JK acts like the problem is solved when muggles are no longer being actively persecuted, when in reality that’s only the beginning of solving the prejudice that plagues her world.

Voldemort is frequently called “wizard Hitler” and I think that’s more accurate than people realize, because as with Hitler, people easily see the problem with Voldemort committing genocide, and they’re fine with working to stop that, but the moment they’re asked to examine their own biases, their own small cruelties and exclusions, the ten thousand cuts they’ve inflicted with their own hands…

The moment people are asked to examine themselves, to look close at the mirror and point to what allowed someone like Voldemort to gain a following in the first place, they turn away and go back to turning a blind eye to the fact that if you don’t address the societal issues that made him gain a following in the first place, there’ll just be another when it’s been a few years and people have forgotten.

In the end, Grindlewald is wizard Hitler. Voldemort and the death eaters are wizard neo nazis.

I’m not Jewish, though, so I’ll let them be the ones to expand further upon this, as many have.

My point here is that JK’s story would have been more powerful if it had been about addressing the issues that underpin the death eaters, rather than killing their leader and acting as if that’ll solve anything.

JK Rowling is antisemetic, racist, and a TERF, among other things, and while I’m glad it shows in her work as little as it does, it does show, and I’m not going to cover that in this because a thousand other people have covered it better than I ever could.

Suffice to say, I’m nonbinary, and I’m glad I was disillusioned with her before I knew she was prejudiced directly against me, because loving her before she said the things she said and did the things she did would have hurt.

The fact that her world shows so clearly the consequences of her beliefs, even in the context of a prejudice that doesn’t exist in our own world…

I guess she’s always been too good a writer for her own good, in the end.

[ninjagirlstar5]

🌺 + PanPrice ?

🌺 who asks the other out? Yay, my second ask! Okay, so, with the way I interpret them and the headcanons I have, Dave is most likely to ask Rupert out first rather than the other way around. To start, I have a headcanon that Rupert is demisexual and has never really been interested in anyone up to that point. He’s never had experience in relationships either since he’s never wanted to date people he doesn’t know, especially if they’ve never really talked to one another. He can see why people would find someone handsome or beautiful or cute, that’s not lost on him. He just...never felt love or what he thought love should be, so he ends up turning down most people who had confessed to him over the years. It wasn’t until he started getting to know Dave better that he starts catching feelings for him. He had helped Dave get his life back together and was under the assumption that he would eventually leave but he ended staying with him instead. As they live together, they became closer and ended up hanging out a lot in their spare time. They even become co-workers again when Dave decides to join the military as well, despite Rupert expressing concern over the idea. While he knew that Dave has a tendency to bottle up his negative emotions and pretend to put on a brave face, he also knows that Dave can be pretty courageous with the right push. He can have a lot of strength and willpower to keep going, which Rupert found admirable. He enjoys watching Dave smile, seeing him finally happy and surrounded by good friends he made while living with him and just being really kind and... Oh. He might be in love with Dave. Which comes as a shock to Rupert because he’s never felt this way towards anyone since...well, ever! He wasn’t even sure if it was love at first, but he kept thinking about Dave and wanting to be around him and whenever Dave would show a bit of affection towards him, even if it’s as simple as leaning his head against his shoulder as they watch a movie on the couch, he could feel his heart hammering against his chest and his face heating up like a rising fire and- ah, damn, he’s at least 75% sure that he’s in love at this point. But he never could confess his feelings to Dave. He just...couldn’t! He didn’t think Dave needed (or wanted) a relationship right now. Sure, he’s making great progress and is definitely much more happier now but...Dave probably didn’t see him in that light. He probably didn’t like Rupert in that way and frankly, Rupert would be okay with that. Really! He cherishes their friendship and he doesn’t want to make things super awkward between them just because he confessed his (probably, most likely, definitely) romantic feelings for him. And...Rupert thinks Dave deserved only the best boyfriend (or girlfriend or...datemate? Joyfriend?). He wasn’t really confident in the idea that he could be a good boyfriend, that he would be able to provide for what Dave needs - or wants in a relationship. He couldn’t help Dave when he got fired or captured by the Toppat Clan, so how the hell was he going to make him happy as a boyfriend? So...no, they’re better off as friends. …As you can see, Rupert tends to pressure himself with a lot of expectations to the point that he ends up bottling his own insecurities. He doesn’t necessarily let himself be vulnerable enough to share them and wishes to be the best he could so nothing bad could happen. But the reality is that bad things do happen, regardless of if you do everything right or not. He’s not being fair to himself or his feelings by boxing himself in at the possibility that he “might not be good enough” for Dave when relationship have always been a partnership that are often long-term. And long-term partnerships are always bound to have bumps in the road every now and then that need to worked on together. He tends to undermine his good qualities because he doesn’t meet his unreasonable expectations of himself. Meanwhile, Dave...hoo boy, he’s been crushing on Rupert since their police officer days. Rupert has no right to be as handsome as he is and Dave couldn’t believe that it only took him a week to fall head over heels for his partner. He knows Rupert can be...flawed. He can get pretty mean towards the prisoners while at work and criminals in general (not necessarily unwarranted but still), has a pretty short-temper and is overall rough around the edges. And it seems since his capture, he’s become more and more closed off towards other, not willing to be vulnerable as much as he used to. But he knows Rupert can be very kind as well. He’s very serious but can be pretty chill too. And even after he got fired, Rupert didn’t even seem to blame him even though it was his fault that Henry escaped. He just took him out to eat and tried to cheer him up after getting fired, even staying contact with him to make sure he’s okay and everything. Dave appreciated his efforts in making sure he was okay, especially now after everything he’s gone through after being the Toppat Clan’s prisoner for so long. There was some rough patches as he lived with Rupert - after all, becoming your friend’s roommate can come with it’s own slew of problems - but they were able to talk it out and Rupert actually listens to his feelings and issues. It made Dave really happy after being isolated for most of his time as a prisoner. He loved Rupert and how he supported his decisions of what he wanted to do with his life and helping him grow more independent as he continued his therapy and juggling his work and his life. Just thinking about him makes him blush and become giddy at the thought of seeing him at home or at work. Which...wasn’t often, despite working at the same place now and being different ranks but that’s to be expected. And sometimes it makes him all the more ecstatic (and relieved) when he does see him. He just...wanted to show how much he appreciated Rupert, how much he admired his strength, how he carried himself to do the right thing and hold his head up high... Dave was absolutely smitten and it had only gotten worse when they reunited and started living with each other. God, he’s never dated anyone and no one has ever confessed to him before or just wanted him, but he wanted to be with Rupert so badly. Dave was (reasonably) confident in his spot in life now, feels like he’s ready to get into the dating scene once more...even if he never could bring himself to confess to any of his crushes in the past. God, what a disaster he was. But he still wanted to confess! Really! He’s just not sure if he likes him that way. After all, Rupert has never expressed any desire for a relationship period so he’s more likely to get shot down anyways so why bother? He probably prefers that they’re friends anyways which is fine! He loves being friends with Rupert. He still cares about him as friends! And...he didn’t want to ruin what they have now. But it seems he’s made his crush way too obvious (cause of course he can be read like fucking book), as every single one of his friends kept encouraging him to confess to Rupert. Obviously he kept shutting them down on the idea - Rupert has never shown interest in anyone, after all - but as time went on, it seems everyone has only become more insistent. Especially now that they’re claiming that Rupert seems to have the hots for him! They couldn’t be serious! Rupert has only seen him as a friend for as long as they’ve known each other, maybe even as a brother at most. There’s no way he’d...he’d like someone like him...right? Ellie seemed to have become impatient at that point though, grabbing a hold of Dave and starting to shake him, asking (maybe even begging) him to just confess already because it’s clear at this point that Rupert wouldn’t...for whatever reason. Everyone has been trying to get him to confess too but he was much more stubborn and unwilling to to the point that he’s started to avoid and change the subject forcefully whenever someone tried to steer the conversation towards Dave in a romantic light. Even though he’s clearly a smiley, blushing mess whenever Dave was in the area, staring at him with longing but always looking away before they could meet eyes. Even though it’s so goddamn obvious that both of them wanted each other, so clearly in love but too insecure about their feelings to confess. And Ellie was so, so sure that Rupert would accept Dave’s confession because he reciprocated his feelings. He just needed to take that first step, since they both deserved to be happy with one another. And Dave felt his confidence boost up just a little bit, even if he felt embarrassed at thought of missing the signs that Rupert just might not be out of his league as he thought he was. In this sudden burst of bravery, he immediately promised to confess to Rupert by the end of the day (which is something he partially regretted because now he HAD to commit to the confession, otherwise Ellie would NEVER live it down) and waited impatiently for work to end cause as much as he wanted to confess to Rupert right this second, he didn’t want Rupert to feel pressured to accept his romantic feelings in an area of people that’s clearly anticipating them getting together. So he walked home with Rupert in eager anticipation, hoping that Rupert would accept his feelings. And if he doesn’t, well...they could always remain as friends. Maybe. Hopefully. Oh God, this might be a bad idea. What if this ends up ruining their friendship? What if Rupert becomes uncomfortable with him? What if Ellie and everyone else was reading too much into Rupert’s behavior? What if he ended up hating him? What if- “What if we went out?” He blurted it out the moment they were inside the apartment, feeling like his head had finally broke through a surface of water and desperately breathing in fresh gulps of air. Air that felt like he was going to suffocate on cause oh God, he just said it. Out loud. With no build-up or anything. Just like that!  He had planned for something a bit more formal, something more romantic, that let Rupert know that he was about to confess to him but instead he just said it in such an awkward manner, oh my god- “Out?” Rupert asked, pausing as he was slipping off his shoe. Dave was too nervous to focus on taking off his own shoes. Or hat. Or sweater. “Like, go out somewhere?” He straightens his back, taking off his other shoe. “...Y-Yes.” Dave squirmed, trying to resist the urge to look away from Rupert. And now that he was looking, really paying attention to his best friend, he could finally see the signs. The sign of Rupert’s ears and cheeks turning a bright red, the way he hesitates to look at him, to make eye contact, as he resisted the urge to wipe his hands on his pants. That maybe Rupert really did like him back, a tiny bit of hope bubbling in his chest. “As...” Rupert, who was usually hard-headed and resilient in his goals and beliefs, was now struggling to turn his head towards Dave, who had to tilt his head to keep their eyes locked in place due to very different heights. And when he finally did, it was something of uncertainty and desire that Dave would never thought that Rupert would look at him like that. “...friends? O-Or...” This was it. This was his chance. This was where his words could make or break this moment, that hope. It was his last chance to have something change between them or back out and remain the same. He could feel his anxiety clutching his neck, making it hard to breath but he pushed it back down as far as he could. Dave wanted this, he wanted this so badly that he had to say it. Just...say it. “No. Uh...” Dave gulped, resisting the urge to look away. “As...A-As a date....”  There. It was out there now, what he really thought of Rupert for so long. Even though he wanted to say more, even though he wanted to express how much he loved him, how much he wanted to cherish him and hold him and just....more. But this was....good enough. For now. If his anxiety would kick the curb for once. “I...” Rupert gulps before exhaling a heavy breath. He leans against the wall and finally breaks eye contact, looking down at his feet. “I’ve never dated anyone before.” “You’ve, uh, m-mentioned that before...” Dave said, feeling a little bit of worry crawling over his heart. He wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “I’m not even sure what love is like...romantically anyway...” He looks at Dave again, gulping once more. He held his breath. “I’m...I’m not sure if what I feel is love, if this is what it’s like....” Dave had resist the urge to gasp (and maybe cry). He wanted his feelings to be reciprocated, he really does but he also wanted to respect whatever decision Rupert decides is best. “But...I wouldn’t mind figuring it out...with you. If, um, that’s okay with you?” Dave felt like he was able to jump to the moon at this point because oh my god, Rupert actually accepted! They’re actually gonna go on a date! Maybe he didn’t fully accept Dave’s feelings as he seems to be uncertain about his own but Dave found that didn’t actually mind at all. Rupert wanted to figure it out with him, to start dating and see where it leads them. Dave was certain that he would be turned down and yet he was accepted. His feelings were accepted! There was just so much joy in Dave’s smile as he couldn’t help but hold Rupert’s hand, squeezing it tightly as he starts to run his mouth about the possible places they could go to. And Rupert, as much as he wanted to take it slow through this uncharted territory he’s never even considered traveling through in his whole life, smiled back, hoping he’ll eventually be able to be certain in returning Dave’s feelings wholeheartedly without a shred of insecurity and doubt.

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-22)

Word count: 5.2K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Anxiety, feels, light flirting?

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: Hey peeps, just wanted to thank you guys for all the love. Y’all are awesome! <3

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​. Thank you, babe <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“Jesus, kid! Don’t you ever pull that one on me again, okay?”

Max was trying to escape his embrace, but Sam didn’t budge. His heart was still beating out a disjointed rhythm.  

“I didn’t do anything!” Max protested.

Alex was quick to interject. “You ran out on me.”        

Max turned in the circle of his arms glaring at Alex. “Only because you fell asleep.”

Alex’s face got all red and she sneaked a nervous glance at Sam.

“She’s got school in the morning,” Sam told Max. “She was tired. That doesn’t mean you can run out on her.”

“This isn’t the first time either,” Alex put in, emboldened by Sam’s support. “He ran to her on Sunday as well.”

“What’s this, Max?” Sam didn’t want to make his voice stern, but the fear wasn’t helping. Alex had called him towards the end of his meeting to tell him she couldn’t find Max. Sam’s heart had dropped through the ground at the mere thought. By the time he could ask Chase to pull out his car- Sam’s was still parked in the campus- a second call from Alex had already informed him that Max was back and okay. But Sam couldn’t stay put. He’d made Chase drive him back anyway.

“She’s my friend.” Max muttered.

“You’ve only met her twice!” Alex accused.

Max threw Alex a betrayed look, mumbling to himself.

Sam rubbed his face with his hand. “What’s happening?”

Alex started to say something, but Max interjected. “I want to tell him!”

“Alright, go on.”

Max told him about a new friend he’d made in one of the buildings along the playground, and that he was going to see her on Monday again.

Sam shot a look at Alex to confirm and she nodded encouragingly. Falling asleep on the watch might have been a one time thing, otherwise Alex was both smart and thorough. She wouldn’t have agreed to anything that wasn’t safe for Max.

“I can go, right?”

“Only if you promise to never go out by yourself.”

Max made an excited sound. “Yes!”

“Okay, enough of this moping,” Chase announced. He had been standing uncharacteristically quiet, watching the drama unfold. “Alex gets to sleep, Max gets his date and Sam gets to chill. What does Chase get?”

Sam turned to him. “What do you want?”

“Food. I want food.”

Alex waved to Max, who didn’t acknowledge it. He was still mad about ratting him out. “Bye, Sam. Bye, Mr. Lincoln.”

Sam nodded, and Chase waved at her cheerfully.

Sam let go of Max, not really looking him in the eyes, lest he should sense just how freaked out Sam was. That’s not what kids should see in their parents- the fear of being incompetant. Sam had learned as much from Dean. His older brother had been absolutely confident in every decision he’d made for Sam. It was only in the later years that Sam realised how freaked out Dean must have been attempting to raise Sam, even with Bobby and Karen’s help. They were all always second guessing themselves. 

The next hour was spent on a call with Stacey. She debriefed Sam about the end of the meeting, promising to forward the transcripts after she was done with editing them. He was lucky to have found someone as efficient as her. She was a blessing. Sam appreciated that her first words were of concern for Max. Stacey had designed Sam’s schedule in such a foolproof manner that Max was never neglected. He couldn’t have been more grateful. To think that they had started their work relationship disliking each other.

Sam took his time in the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of his anxiety. Just the very thought of losing Max was enough to decapitate him. Later, as he diced the bell-peppers, his eyes kept going to the sofa where Max was playing connect four with Chase, who was sucking bigtime. It was something they did at least once a week. Right now, Chase was going on at length about how awesome the cookies were, that he was stealing from a jar. Sam didn’t remember buying any cookies at all.

A sting in his finger made him hiss. Looking down, he saw blood spreading into the bell-pepper pieces and the surface of the chopping board.

The next minute small hands were taking his finger, blowing on the cut and guiding him towards the sink.

“You never pay attention!” Max admonished.

“What do you care?” Sam muttered, washing his finger under the steady stream. The cut wasn’t too deep. “It’s not like you don’t love worrying me.”

Max huffed. “You’re being melodramatic.”

“No, I’m not. Seriously, Max, do you want me to stop going to work? How am I supposed to concentrate on anything if you’re going to be a flight risk?”

“I wasn't running away from home, okay? I just went to see my friend.”

Sam knew he was overreacting but what else was there to do? Alex had sounded so frantic on the phone.

“Who’s this girl anyway?” Sam eyed his son, turning off the tap. “Is it Lucy from school?”

“Ewww nooooo!” Max cringed, making a face. “I don’t like Lucy!”

“Of course you don’t,” Sam grinned. He added more seriously, “Don’t push Alex, okay? She might decide to not babysit you anymore.”

“It’s your fault really,” Max shrugged. Chase who had gone to retrieve the first aid box- it was ridiculous he even knew where that was in the house- handed Sam a bandaid. 

Sam gave Max an incredulous look. “How is any of this my fault?”

“If you got me a mom, we wouldn’t need a babysitter!”

Sam barely even had the time to pick his jaw up when Chase started howling with laughter. He raised his hand and Max high-fived him.

“Wha- what?” He spluttered. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I told you, you had this coming, Samuel,” Chase chuckled, superior. “Even your boy seems to be scoring more dates here. And look at the little daredevil sneaking out to get em. What’re you waiting for? Divine intervention?” He lowered his voice just for Sam’s ears. “Even Steve from HR gets laid more than you. And he smells like Kleenex!”

Sam glared at his friend. “That’s it. Get out of my house! I’m not responsible for feeding you.”

“Now, now,” Chase placated, putting his hands on either side of Sam’s shoulders from behind and giving them a squeeze. “Look at these muscles. Such a waste to not have beautiful arms draped around them.”

“Well, there’s always you!”

Chase huffed, drawing back. “You don’t pay me any attention.”

Max giggled.

Sam turned to his son. “Max, having a mom doesn’t mean you won’t have a babysitter. Working mothers are a thing!”

“He’ll, at least, have quality food,” Chase put in. “All you feed him is vegetables.”

“You know what? I’m done with the both of you. Go back to that game you were playing.”

“No,” Chase shook his head. “This is more fun. Why aren’t you asking Jess out?”

“You know why.” Sam wasn’t as patient this time as he had been the last ten times, since Chase had been badgering him every damn minute. “Go wash your hands, Max. And help Uncle Chase set up the table.”

Max knew he was being dismissed, so he made a whole show of slowly dragging himself from the kitchen counter and heading upstairs at the speed of a snail. Once he was surely out of earshot, Sam hissed at his friend. “Drop it, Chase! You know it’s not going to happen. Besides, the last time was embarrassing enough. I don’t know how to face her.”

Chase rolled his eyes. “She’s a grown ass woman and super hot. You’re lucky she’s into you,” He paused, the sly grin dancing in his eyes. “That was like three or four years ago. She must be long past it.”

“I sure hope so.”

“I don’t know how else to convince you,” Chase sighed, dropping all the teasing at once. “Jess is successful, beautiful and so damn smart. If a girl like that can’t move you, I don’t know what else to do for you.”

“You can always give up.”

“No chance.” Chase ran his fingers through his hair. “I just keep trying to understand what’s holding you back.”

It was Sam’s turn to sigh. “I’m married.”

“No, you’re not!” Chase argued, with more emotion than Sam had expected, enough to make him face his friend. “This isn’t marriage, Sam. This is you holding on to something dead with both your hands. Let go before your hands start decaying.”

“Don’t say that.” The pain in his own voice depressed Sam. 

Chase grimaced. “What would I not give to see this girl! Who is she? Some supermodel? Is she gilded out of diamonds or something?”

It was no point going in circles with Chase over this. Sam knew from years of experience that he wouldn’t give up. 

“What was her name again?”

“It’s-” Sam’s gaze shifted to the base of the staircase and found Max standing there, face blank. “We’ll talk later,” Sam whispered, wondering how much Max had heard.

The dinner was a quiet affair. Sam knew it wasn’t so because Chase and Max were appreciating the sensory overload of how amazing his stir fry was. Chase was sulking and Max was lost in thought. After Chase had left for the night, Sam set to cleaning the kitchen. Max came to sit by him on the island counter, picking out a cookie from the jar Chase had abandoned. 

“How was your day?” Max asked and despite himself Sam chuckled. There was something so odd about the question coming out of a six and a half year old.

“T’was alright,” Sam told him. Most of it had been very boring, except for the evening scare and the morning lecture in which he was mere feet away from Y/N, every cell in his body hyper aware of the fact that she was there. It was pathetic and Sam knew it. “I do have a hearing tomorrow. I think we’ll win this one.”

“What’s it about?”

“Property fraud. Very interesting.”

Wiping the kitchen top, and hanging the rag on the hook over the sink, Sam came to sit by his son. “How was your day?”

“Very interesting.” Max smiled, but didn’t elaborate. Not wanting to flare up his earlier irritation, Sam didn’t ask him for the details either. Instead, he dipped his hand in the jar and drew out a Choco chip cookie.

“Is it because of me that you don’t go out on dates?”

Max’s voice was small, diminished even and it made Sam draw in a quick breath.

“Max!” He exhaled. “Why would you say that?”

His boy wriggled his fingers. “I don’t know. Uncle Chase is right. You don’t have any fun. I know it’s because you have to spend all your free time with me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Sam stated outright, shaking his head. “I know you don’t because not one second of the time spent with you has been a sacrifice. You’re my son. You’ve got to know that I would do anything for you.”

“Except get me a mom.”

“Mom’s don’t grow on trees or fall out skies, Max.” Sam reasoned trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “And don’t you ever say that I don’t have fun in life. We have fun, don’t we? I love that and wouldn’t change it for any girl in the world.”

“Not even for Y/N?”

Sam faltered, aghast. Maybe it was because he was thinking about Y/N so much already, or because Max didn’t usually bring her up, but somewhere inside him there was a nagging feeling that he was missing something here. Max’s question was natural in the context of the conversation… but the very conversation felt out of context. Max knew very well what he meant to Sam, and even if a part of him thought that Sam was sacrificing for his sake- Sam fervently wished that wasn’t the case- the Max he knew would never bring it up this conversationally. 

So he answered with complete conviction. “No. Not even for Y/N.”

“And you get this through your head, Max,” he continued, voice pained despite his efforts. “You and I are already a complete family. I love you with everything that I have. So long as we are together, you’ll make do with just me, won’t you?”

“Mhmm.”

Sam ruffled Max’s hair, and kissed his brow, rankled by his words. Regardless of what Sam had just said, wouldn’t it be nice for Max to have a mom? Even in his imagination the face was perfectly clear, the vision already there. He’d be lying to himself if he said that over the years he hadn’t thought about her holding Max, laughing with him. There was only ever one face that completed Sam’s daydream- Y/N’s. But Sam also knew just how impossible it was. Y/N wouldn’t even think of the aftermath of an accident, imagining her as a motherly figure was simply cruel. So much that the whiplash of it hit Sam’s conscience. It was why he hadn’t mentioned Max to her.

Trying to reign in his thoughts he absentmindedly took a bite of the cookie in his hand, chewing as he tried to dislodge the idea of Max and Y/N. Impossible… too painful, his mind screamed.

Abruptly, he stopped.

“Hey, Max? Sam asked slowly, “Where did you get these cookies?” 

“Umm, those girl scouts came over this afternoon,” he said, not meeting Sam’s gaze. “I asked Alex to buy. Is that okay?”

“You sure these are girl scout cookies?”

“Yep.”

Eating the rest of the cookie in one bite, Sam jumped down from the counter and turned to his boy. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t think like that again,” Sam pleaded. “That you’re keeping me from anything. You saved me, kiddo. I would have been barely worth anything without you.”

“Same,” Max quipped. And despite the absolute horror of the situation, and how true both of their words were, Sam found himself snorting. 

“Enough with the black comedy,” he ordered, “Lets go brush your teeth.”

“Yessum.”

Max leapt into Sam’s arms, and he carried his boy out of the kitchen. Sam eyed the jar of cookies one last time before switching off the lights. 

Friday, first day of Induction fair. It was going to be one long day tomorrow.

*******************

“Alright, everybody clear on what they’re supposed to be doing tomorrow?” 

“It’s 11:30 in the night, Y/N,” Seth complained, “We aren’t going to be any more ready.”

“I’m sorry,” you waved apologetically. “You guys should go home, I’ll wrap up the rest. I’m just nervous.”

“It’ll be okay,” Madison came to your side, putting her arm around your shoulders. “Seth’s just kidding. Aren’t you?” She turned on the poor guy who shook his head and you snickered.

“Okay, pack up y’all!” You called out to the people in the background busy with the last checks on the sound system. “We’re going to have a blast tomorrow.”

Cheers went up around you. One by one everyone clapped you on your back, offered smiles and went their way; only Madison, Brad and Rebecca remained. 

“Who are you taking with you to the Saturday night dance?” Brad asked.

Well crap! “A friend of mine,” you answered. You’d have to ask one of the guys if they were free Saturday evening.

“Hmm… Does this friend happen to go to Law school?”

“Nope!”

“We’ll at least have time for one dance,” Brad insisted, leaning next to you as you packed your bag. “Your friend won’t mind, will he?”

“Brad,” you sighed. “I’m clearly not your type.”

He put his hands up. “Hey, I’m not implying anything here, but if that’s what you got out of it…”

You ignored him, walking back towards Maddie. He kept up with you easily. “What about the dance? One dance is well deserved.”

“Okay, fine!” Better to just agree and get it done with. Brad left with a superior smirk and you wondered what was the deal with him.

“Brad’s a great guy,” Rebecca said. “I don’t know what kind of Prince Charming you’re waiting for that you keep turning him down at every opportunity.”

“I’m not waiting for anyone.” It was true. You had found someone who could put Prince Charming to shame and then you had lost him. Now, the most you could hope for was his friendship. The thinly veiled bitterness and longing in Rebecca’s voice when she spoke of Brad led you to believe that her dislike for you wasn’t reasonless after all.

At the quad, you stopped, letting the girls know that you’d be heading towards the library, to relieve Molly from her shift early. It was supposed to be your shift anyway, Molly was doing you a favor by subbing. 

“I’ll come with you,” Madison quipped. She waved a goodbye to Rebecca and the two of you set towards the library, your footsteps echoing in the night. 

Once Molly had left, Madison logged into one of the records PC’s and started working on the case studies for professor Whitman. Meanwhile, you logged into your mail to print out the schedules and itineraries for the speakers tomorrow.

Just as you were printing out the last set, your email pinged, alerting you to an email from Sam. It was ridiculous that your heart should leap out of your chest, especially when it was merely a reply to your assignment. It was past one, and Sam was still up checking coursework. 

Oh, how you wanted to reply back, ask him why he was up this late. But this was an official email ID. It would be wrong to get personal here. Unreasonable as it was, you were miffed that you didn’t have Sam’s phone number. Friends should be able to call each other, right? You could always find it out from the directory, however, you were stubborn about getting it from him.

“Hey, I just heard back from Professor Winchester,” Madison whispered, even though there wasn’t anyone else in the library. “I scored a 21.5!”

“That’s great!” You smiled.

“What about you? Did you hear from him yet?”

“Just. Scored a 23.”

Madison scrunched her nose, “I bet that’s the highest.” She sounded rueful, but you knew she didn’t mean any ill. “You mind if I take a look at your paper?”

“Course not.”

Madison read through your document carefully. “I can see why he rated you this high. This is great work, Y/N! I wonder…”

“What?”

She looked bemused. “In my email, he’s specifically pointed out all the good things and complemented me for my good work. In your reply he’s only pointed out the one flaw that cost you the two marks. He’s not said one good word about the rest.”

Maybe he thought you would understand, or maybe he was just too tired. If not commenting on your essay earned him ten extra minutes of rest, you were very glad that he hadn't.

You shrugged at Madison. “Maybe he forgot.”

“That’s not done,” she frowned. “You should ask him tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

A glazed look came over Madison’s face. “Remember the first time we were alone here?”

“We’d been trying to research for Mr. Winchester’s first assignment,” you smiled.

“And ended up stalking him instead,” Madison winked. “After I went home that day, I read up more about that sensationalised case of his. Really gruesome, the whole deal. Never pinned him for the type of lawyer to take up a criminal law case, let alone homicides.”

“What’s there to fight for in a criminal homicide?” You wondered. “Isn’t that DA’s job?”

You remembered a little from what you had read with Madison that day, over a month ago. Twin homicides followed by a legal battle over property inheritance. The deceased’s brother vs. the deceased son. There were also connected matters of custodial rights, abuse charges and adoption.

“It was really scandalous, Y/N,” Madison said. “You wouldn’t know because you didn’t live in California. It was all over the papers and news in LA. Ralph Simmons was this bigshot producer, and his on and off girlfriend- both of them shot by some drug pimp. A whole big racket came out with it. I think Mr. Winchester moved out of LA to avoid the fanfare that followed him everywhere afterwards.”

“When was this?” 

“Ummm… about two and half years ago,” Madison said. 

So before he started teaching at Stanford, and before his job at Acton Griswold. 

“Why would he leave a successful firm in LA and move base to SF?” You asked out loud. “That too after a successful stint? It doesn’t make sense.”

To your surprise, Madison laughed. “Oh, firms must be dying to have him. Even my dad offered. Apart from offering a junior partnership, Acton Gris must have paid him a ton of money. Besides, his working hours are more like a consultants, so he can manage classes. That’s a lot of relaxations- only someone with that sort of fanfare would have been able to negotiate a deal.”

It wasn’t the money. That much you knew. Something else had made Sam uproot his life in LA and move here. 

“Uhg! I really want to work with him, Y/N,” Madison let out. “I really want the summer internship at Acton Gris.” Seeing your expression, she quickly added, “It’s not why you think. I mean sure he’s super hot and all that, but I’ve looked up to him for his ethics, and the way he thinks. He’s just such a great lawyer.”

“Sure is.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” She said in a defeated voice. “Rich girl with a firm to her name, who could get in Acton Gris by recommendation as a favor. What’s the big deal, right?”

“Maddie, I wasn’t thinking that-”

“It’s alright if you do. Everyone does.”

You placed your hand on top of hers. “I don’t care what everyone else thinks. I care about you. The Madison I know is intelligent and hardworking, who deserves whatever she sets her heart to. Law is a lucrative practice. As long as you aren’t screwing over someone else, you should use whatever means you can.”

Madison’s eyes welled up. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N. Sometimes… sometimes I wonder if I even have any real friends who care about me. Becca… Lace, Mer… they all feel like friendships of convenience than actual substance. You’re the only one I’m sure will be happy to see me succeed in life.”

Your heart reached out for Madison. She was a good person who didn’t deserve to feel this way. Slowly you reached out and put your arms around her. “Maddie,” You breathed in her hair, not knowing what else to say. You had always known she was hurting inside without her having told you. Her relations seemed frivolous to you, but by the looks of it, her family life wasn’t much good either. Deep down she was convinced that her parents, her brothers didn’t love her. What must it be like to live that way?

You’d never been rich in your life except for those short married months, but not for a minute had you questioned the love of any person you called family. How was one supposed to live on without having the assurance of being absolutely loved?

The way you’ve lived for the past six and a half years, a small voice whispered in your brain. You quelled it immediately.

“Madison,” you said firmly this time. “I love you. And I’ll always support you. To hell with anyone who thinks otherwise.”

She hugged you closer, and you felt her broken breaths against your body. She didn’t want you to see her cry, so you held on till all her tears had dried.

********

You probably looked exactly how you felt- sleepless and exhausted. The first half of day one had gone smoothly with all introductions in place. Over two hundred and fifty alumni had RSVP’d for the event and forty two had agreed to speak or participate in panel discussions. You had been told this was one of the biggest turnouts ever. Instead of feeling like you had succeeded, you just felt more scared. Organised activity wasn’t your cup of tea. Right about then you were questioning how you even ended up heading this committee.

Everyone seemed to be asking for you, everyone had some or the other work with you and the tasks were never ending. The first time that you got a minute to sit was towards the end of lunch break. You dropped into the seat at the far end of the auditorium, head in your hands.

“Here!”

You turned your face to see Sam sitting next to you with a bottle of water in his hand. Unlike his usual self, he was dressed in a light knit grey sweater and jeans today. His glasses hung from the V-shaped neckline, revealing just enough for you to see the glint of his chain. You were so exhausted, all you wanted to do was fall against his shoulder and close your eyes for just two seconds. Sighing, you took the bottle from him and drank to your heart’s content.

“Maybe doing the late night shift at the library wasn’t the best idea, huh?”

You frowned. “How do you know?”

“The register,” He said. “I went to the library in the morning to return my book.”

“I thought you were avoiding the library like the plague.” The words slipped out before you could think them through. You hoped the bitter edge in them wasn’t very obvious. 

“I would come if I could, you know?”

“What’s stopping you?” You asked, belligerent, “Too scared to go back home in the dark?”

You knew it was unfair to put him in a spot like this. He had a home, his own bed. Why would he spend his nights at the library just because you worked there? Just because he hadn’t talked to you all that much lately, or given you his phone number, didn’t mean you had the right to be irritated at him. 

“Y/N-” he sighed, and before he could add on to that, he was interrupted. 

“There you are!” 

Chase Lincoln put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

You straightened your expression under the pretense of drinking more water, and handed the bottle back to Sam.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you said, standing up, “I must hurry back now. If you’ll excuse me.”

Sam stood up with you. The errant thought of resting against his shoulder made an appearance but you shoved it away violently. 

“Wait,” Sam put his hand out to block you. You looked around you to see if anyone else had noticed. No one but Chase.

“Let me introduce the two of you,” he said.

“Wait, I know you,” Chase interjected. “You work with Molly, right? And you’re heading the organising committee.” 

“Chase,” Sam said with gravity, making his friend focus, the green eyes sharpened on you.

Exhaling slowly, Sam turned to you. “This is Chase Lincoln. He works with me at Acton Griswold.” You heard the unsaid words- ‘He’s the one I was talking with that day in the coffee shop; my friend.”

“Chase.” Sam’s voice was heavy, the way Atlas’s might have sounded after a millennia of holding up the earth. There was defeat in it. “This- this is Y/N.”

Each time Sam uttered your name, a warmth settled in your chest. You suspected it was just your eternally besotted mind making up the idea that his voice grew softer when he said it. Apparently, that wasn’t the case, for Chase’s eyes narrowed as he took in the look on Sam’s face, then went wide in a split second. His head rapidly moved from you to Sam in a matter of moments, before his jaw dropped.

“S-... Your… “ Speech seemed to have temporarily evaded Chase. 

“No diamonds,” Sam murmured.

“Y/N!” Someone shouted for you from two rows down. “There’s a problem with the mic. You need to check it out.”

“Ex- Excuse me,” you mumbled, hurrying away from Chase’s astounded stare. Maybe he knew it all, that didn’t particularly surprise you. What did surprise you was how Sam had decidedly made the introduction- as if Chase had to know. 

As it turned out, the mic had only been disconnected. It was working absolutely fine. You were still grateful to have been removed from Chase’s presence, glad that you didn’t have to wait around to witness his judgement. 

The rest of the day flew by faster than you could have guessed. Most of the heavy panel discussions were scheduled for the first day itself. You were blown away by the immense knowledge and expertise of those people, which was a good thing because you desperately needed a distraction. 

You only saw Sam afterwards, once everything was over and the alumni were all catching up with each other, like old friends, reminiscing about the time they had spent together. Even though it was a lot of people there, your eyes kept going to Sam in his thin sweater, in a deep conversation with an aged man, who was laughing at something Sam had said.

“One down, two more days to go,” mumbled Madison. She was leaning against your back. “Can we just sleep here?”

“I told you to come home with me last night,” Rebecca stated, appearing out of nowhere. This time she had Lacey and Meredith with her. “Why did you have to stay up at the library?”

Usually Madison would’ve at least tried to answer. Today, her forehead and nose just dug deeper into your back. You pursed your lips so the smile wouldn’t spill over. She was taking a stand for how she deserved to be treated.

“Well, shit!” Lacey said. “Looks like I wasn’t wrong after all.”

Rebecca groaned. “Ugh she looks like an uptight bimbo.”

You didn’t pay attention to their conversation till Meredith said, “She’s definitely into professor Hotchester.”

Your head snapped up in Sam’s direction, but he was out of the straight line of your vision. Obscuring him was a girl, dressed in a pretty blue chiffon top and tight fitting pencil skirt. Her five inches long pumps caught the light of the setting sun and gleamed. She was tall and beautiful, statuesque in the way a swimsuit model is, her blonde hair fell to the middle of her back in perfect curls. 

As you watched, she threw her hands around Sam’s neck and hugged him tightly. He willingly embraced her, too. You chanced a glance of the smile on his face as she disentangled and laughed, touching Sam’s chest lightly with her hand. 

“Yeah, there’s something there,” Lacey whistled.

“Wonder who she is,” Madison whispered, so only you could hear.

You didn’t need to wonder who it was, you already knew. Jessica Moore. Sam’s Ex-girlfriend.

*******************

A/N 2: I kinda really like the next chapter. I think it speaks more about about the sort of writer and person that I am than most things I’ve written yet. Can’t wait to share it with y’all.

So any predictions? ;)

Thank you for all the reblogs and comments! Not gonna lie, life’s been kicking my butt a lot lately. Believe it or not, all of your love really helps <3

If you want be tagged, you can send me an ask or add yourself to the taglist here.

Or here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

ALLU taglist:

@gabavaldman​  @im-a-light-child​  @cosicas-cuquis​  @bllyjianne​  @hoboal87​  @i-is-for-inspiring​  @daughterleftbehind​  @wackiekebab​  @mylovelydame21​   @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba​  @superbadassnatural​  @babypink224221​  @badlittlehabit99​  @anathewierdo​  @sams-bubblegum-bitch​   @fandomoverdose666​  @superstarmarvel​  @atc74​  @aiofheavenandhell​  @rebel-author-chick​  @death-unbecomes-you​  @cookiechipdough​  @kbl1313​  @linki-locks11​  @miss-nerd95​  @sunflowers-n-rocknroll​  @stoneyggirl​  @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​  @niyahgray​  @traceyaudette​  @blueaura​  @awfulmoons​  @waterlily502  @mrsbatesmotel53

[katsukikitten]

A/N look if you didnt even tear up. All I'm saying is I didnt do my job right.

Part 1 ××× Part 2 ×× Part 3

Bakugou sits at the long table in the dining room in his usual spot, Mei and Haru nod his way as others begin to file in. 

The children look a tad older than usual as they sit a bit straighter this year, Uncle Sozen seems to have aged over night as he sits to Bakugou's left. He offers a wide smile to which Bakugou returns.

"DADDY!! DADDY!" A shrill voice rings out, little feet slapping harshly against the hard wood as a little girl slams down into his lap. Ash blonde hair dutifully braided but coming loose from all of the horse play skillfully climbs onto his legs. 

She looks up at him with wide eyes that mirror your eye color. His heart melts as he smooths down some of her hair. 

"Where's your brother?" He asks softly before a young boy comes rushing in. Feet falling hard enough to shake the dishes at the table. Your hair and his burning ember eyes greet him with a shit eating grin. 

Neither could be older than six or seven. 

"Told you I'd find you!" He brings up a bright palm to slap his older sister only for his wrist to be grabbed by you.  Leveling him with a glare the child shrinks away. Trying to hide behind both his sister and father. Bakugou looks up at you, your fierce gaze, your glowing features and swollen belly. His heart melts, pooling in his stomach and threatening to dip lower still. He swallows thickly adding his own sharp voice to the mix. 

"Sit and behave." The children cling to Uncle Sozen or Aunt Mai. Climbing into their laps eager to be spoiled once more. Summer crickets echo into the dining hall before they are drowned out by both the thunder of the approaching summer storm and the roar of the dining table. 

Dinner goes on without a hitch. Happy conversation as Sobo takes it all in. She sits stick straight, her once silver hair long since turned moon white and adorned in her normal plain kimono. When dinner is over, everyone begins to clear the table, excited for tomorrow's birthday and celebration that is bound to take place. Bakugou goes to what has become his normal duty, standing by Sobo to help her up and back to her study. He knows she wants to see the moon flowers bloom. 

He is gentle with her now fragile stature, never able to forget how easily she wielded an old weapon on his first dinner at this estate. The thought makes him smile as they enter her study. He settles her onto her cushion, about to leave to finish clearing the table. But she doesn't let go so Bakugou sinks into the cushion beside her, the summer storm faded as quickly as it came and as the clouds clear  the closed tight buds slowly begin to unravel, mirrored moonlight nestled on delicate petals. Silence envelops the two as they stare at the beautiful metaphor that is the moon flower. Her grip tightens on his strong bicep.

"Thank you for humoring this old woman." Sobo breaks the silence causing scarlet eyes to slide to his elder. 

Except she no longer looks old, instead she looks young. As she did in the picture with All Might. Hair as dark as night and adorned in her crane kimono. Bakugou swallows thickly. 

"I'm glad you've made up your mind, mago."She smiles, squeezing tighter and somehow this feels more like a good bye than anything else. 

He doesn't like the feeling, he goes to open his mouth to ask what she means but lightning suddenly strikes outside. 

The thunder comes as the sound of the sliding door to your room. Bakugou lifts a palm glowing hot as an ember aimed at the figure who dared to enter in the early hours of the morning. 

Mei stands in the doorway disheveled as you slowly rise, you hold eye contact with Mei's watery eyes and just…know. 

You jump to your feet, throwing off the blanket as you rummage in your bag for any sort of clothing. Mismatched as you shove your body in the fabric as you head for the door. Sprinting down the hall as if called on a mission. Bakugou rises, noticing Mei's tear stained cheeks, questions are plastered all over his tired features. 

"Its...Sobo…" A hiccup leaves Mei's frame reminding Bakugou just how small and young she was, "She's...she's." 

"I'm glad you made up your mind, mago." 

It clicks as her voice echoes in his head from the dream, soles of his feet burning as he runs aimlessly through the estate until he finally finds where people are gathered. 

There was not a single dry eye as he huffs. 

"Where's…" He asks but Aunt Mai just points, clinging to Uncle Sozen who seems to be frozen in time. Bakugou slowly walks towards you as you sit with wide eyes. Clasping onto Sobo's cool hands. 

When he sinks down next to you is when he realizes that you're shaking. 

He fights his gut, to reach out for you, to pull him to you so you can cry to your heart's content but instead you look to great Oba. 

"I'll help sort her things. Please allow me a shower first." You say monotone, eyes glazed over and Bakugou isn't sure which would be worse. You unfeeling and cold or you crying until you were sick. 

Either way his heart was sure to split in two. Your eyes come back to Sobo. You lean in close, pressing a soft kiss to her fast cooling cheek. 

"I'm sorry we lied. Bakugou is barely my roommate Sobo." You whisper so lowly that even Katuski strains to hear you. 

You rise, trying to walk calmly out of the room. Telling yourself over and over that this was just a mission or worse yet just a nightmare and to allow yourself to feel an ounce of fear or grief would be your downfall. 

"Its all Uncle Shoji's fault! If he hadn't come and riled Sobo up or hadn't made that damned drug Sozen would have felt her vitals weaken." Haru yells, tears falling in fat droplets as he slides a forearm over his face.  You snap then, yelling as you reach for the first thing you can grab, a book that you hurl at your cousin as you scream. 

"SHE HAD AN ARRYTHMIA! WE CAN'T BLAME SHOJI FOR ALL OF OUR FAMILY'S FUCK UPS." 

The book hits Haku square in his face, a letter flutters from the yellowed pages before it slams onto the ground. 

All eyes watch the letter that's addressed in big bold letters. 

To my family. 

Eagerly you swoop for the letter, snatching onto the parchment and last tangible thing from your grandmother. You rise to your feet, eyes frantic as you look around the room. 

Bakugou knows that face, you're about to make a bad decision and before he can stop you you've set a harsh pace to follow. 

He rises and gives chase as does half of the younger generation. But none of them can keep up. 

No one but Bakugou, which you had expected. 

It would be more than easy enough to lose him in this house. 

Or maybe it wouldn't be so easy. With each turn he comes closer but you can't be caught yet. 

Whatever it is your grandmother has to say you know you have to read it first, but most importantly, alone. 

You want the chance to say goodbye and to grieve in private. 

You plan to lose him in the secret room in your grandmother's study rushing into it with just enough time to disappear. 

But suddenly you cannot, too overwhelmed by the sight of her favorite little room, decorated with all of her accomplishments but more importantly her family. Memories over lapping one another as you stand frozen. Bakugou bursts into the room, skin popping with heated explosions as he grabs for you. Grip gentle on your wrist. 

"We should go back." His voice is feather soft, as if he's scared you'll break and it makes you angry. 

It makes you sad. 

Because he's right, you will break. Now there was no one to look forward to seeing in your favorite season, no one to celebrate summer with. 

No one to lose horribly at Go to, no one to teach you the art of a deal and no one to explain the beauty in the world no matter how small and insignificant it seemed. 

Fat tears fall down your face as you cry like you never have before. Like you hadn't since you were a child. A small whine comes from your throat that has Bakugou's heart imploding, his brows furrowed as he reaches for your other wrist. Trying so hard to support you without making you feel weak. You push yourself into him, clutching at his shirt as his burning sugar and firework smell tingles your nose, summer incarnate.  He wraps his arms around you tightly, pushing you closer to him in an attempt to hold you together as best he can as you fall apart in his arms. 

"What are we gon..gonna do Katsuki?" You sob, shoving your face deeper into his chest, "H..How are we gon..gonna live without Sobo?" 

Bakugou's eyes sting from your defeat, staring out into the background as he thinks of anything he can say or do to help you, all he draws is a blank. He was the worst at shit like this! 

Movement catches his eye, a crane flies across the sky, his eyes fall to that damn plant noticing one final bloom persisting through the harsh morning sun.

"We aren't." He says, thinking of his dream, "She's always with us." 

His words bring you comfort, resolve forcing your back stick straight as you look him in the face. That odd magnetism between the two of you returns. Licking your lips you do the unthinkable, following your gut as you stand on your tippy toes to softly press your lips to his. 

"Thank you." A whisper, before stepping past him to face your family head on. 

The ash blonde stands in the study for a moment, reliving the feeling of your lips against his. Of the electricity that surged through his body harder than any shot Denki had ever taken at him before. 

The tips of his fingers brush over his lips, the bloom finally closing and he feels as if he sees a smile. 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

He returns just in time to see the family all gathered around, you having finally settled the bunch. Breaking the wax seal of the letter. Eyes rimmed red, the ink blurring beneath your gaze but you needed to be okay, you needed to be strong. Someone was meant to read the letter outloud and today that someone was you. 

“To my loving family, if you’ve found this letter then I know what you all are going through. But I do not want you to shed tears over this little old woman. I have lived a long and wonderful life. Blessed with each of my children, and their children’s children. I want you all to celebrate my life and more importantly celebrate our family. As this is all we have and should treasure above all else. Life is hard enough as it is on our own so we must not forget where we come from and who truly supports our love and our dreams.  Surely there is no pain worse than hunger and loneliness, so eat with each other often to ease your troubles. One day Shoji will come back into our lives and I may not be around when that happens but when he does please welcome him back with open arms as we all can lose our way from time to time.  Let him join you all at the dinner table and help him to remember what family, what our family, is all about. Make sure that he eats  as I am sure he will be hungry and I know he will be lonely. Help him ease his pains, help guide him back onto the right path in life. I end this letter to remind you all how much I care and love for each and every one of you. Good things will come as does the crane that flies over the bloomed lotus. 

With all of my love, forever and for always I give to you,

Sobo.” 

Silence settles over the large estate with nothing more than sniffles and sobs echoing down the hall. Bakugou places his hand on your back, surprisingly having a hard time keeping his own eyes from watering. 

In such a short time he had made a friend, he made family. 

His skin burns through your shirt as tears fall from your cheeks, like a movie star. Eyes clouded, nose a bit red but eyes set hard. 

"Sobo was right. Family is all we have and we can all become misguided. I…." You look to the blonde, squaring your shoulders, "I lied. Bakugou is not my fiance. He isn't even my boyfriend. I lied for Sobo, thinking that this would make her happy. But now…now we must make things right." 

You pull an outdated iPhone from your pocket. 

"I found it after Shoji left. Maybe we can contact him and when he comes back…" Your voice is hard and yet threatening to crack all at once. Eyes roaming over your large family. 

"We will eat." Great Oba says, "Ladies, if you would prepare the food for celebration.  I will retire to her study and call friends and family. We will lay Sobo to rest when the sun sleeps and the moon rises." 

Everyone nods, wiping tears and comforting their children as they move to their duty. You give Bakugou a sympathetic look before rushing off to call uncle Shoji. 

Bakugou suddenly finds himself a bit aimless once again before the sharp bite of a matriarch's voice rings out. 

"Bakugou, you will come with me." Great Oba turns while Katsuki follows without question. 

A certain item weight extra heavy in his pants pocket. 

×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&

"Fuck!" Shoji growls for the thousandth time, unable to pack his things and leave the near by hotel. Finally he rises forcing himself to gather various items that he has half a mind to leave. 

Fresh tears pricking his eyes as he wishes that old bag would just….would just fucking love him. He knows he's the black sheep, the unwanted baby but still. 

He still is trying to live up to the image Sobo had of him. His phone rings and he answers it with a snobbish attitude, crying long gone from his voice. 

"What do you know, Princess figured out my random passcode. I knew you were smart but why are you so damn persistent I'm not coming bac… " 

"Just shut the fuck up." You cut him off, sounding like Sobo with your harsh tone but you with your cussing. He runs his hands through his hair. 

"Sobi is gone Shoji. You need to come back. You need to say goodbye." 

"She...she what?! That old hag is immortal." 

"Watch your tongue." A startled chilll runs down his spine before you add your own flair to Sobo's best threat, "Or I will have to watch it for you by taking it for myself." 

"And before you start your bullshit pity party we want you here. We need you here. You're family. You need to eat with us. Laugh with us…" Your voice threatens to crack, "Cry with us Shoji. Find your way back home….please." 

Nothingness stretches on between the two of you before you sigh. Hoping he will prove you and everyone else wrong. That he is not a lost cause. 

"We lie her to rest tonight. Under the watch of the full moon near the lake." 

You hang up the phone, crushing it in your hand by accident as salt water streams down your face. 

×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&

The hot head has never found himself in so many uncomfortable and vulnerable spots during this trip than he has in his entire lifetime. 

He sits across from Great Oba-san who really only wanted him around to keep any eye on him. A war rages in himself, over the game of Go, over his dream and more so over these new blossoming feelings he has for you. 

Was this going to be worth a few bowls of spicy ramen? 

He fucking thought not. Sobo's voice echoes in his head as the small object burns a hole in his pocket. 

Better to return it now before they think him a thief. 

He withdrawals the stunning single set diamond ring that is surrounded by a ring of off tiny circular onyx. The diamond the moon suspended in the dark night of the onyx. 

A breathtaking piece truly, he sets it atop the paper work Great Oba is sorting. Her facial expression seems to change in slow motion as it adjusts to her rapidly changing emotions. 

"How did you…?" 

"I couldnt sleep and she called me in to hustle me over a game of Go. She said she knew that she...that we lied." Bakugou continues to tell her about the game and dream. All the while Oba stares with wide eyes, fixated on the ring waiting for him to finish. Her face sets hard, her eyes a mixture of emotion. 

"Bakugou, you know what you must do." As if it's a mission, a task. He thinks he must leave immediately. He goes to stand. 

"No. Sit." Controlled rage, pushing the ring back towards the young man, "You must propose now. No one has had Sobo's full blessing like this before." 

He stares at her hard, shocked even before he growls out. 

"We aren't even dating!" 

"In my time, in Sobo's time we didn't know our husbands name until we were wed." She continues to sort, filing things away avoiding taking the ring.  He sucks his teeth, dumbfounded. 

"We dont even like each other!" His forearms pop with his mouth and temper. Great Oba rolls her eyed. 

"That's debatable. I've never seen someone so quick to break down her walls before. Besides only a man would have stayed during this family crises. A boy would have left on the first night."  Bakugou mulls it over, the dream, was it just that or had he really pictured himself here. In this house. 

In this estate year after year as it ebbs and flows of faces with your family. 

Here with you? 

His heart races and slows all at once, his palms sweat as his feet tingle to move. He inhales deeply trying to collect his thoughts and calm his thoughts. 

"What if she says no?" His main worry, his only worry now being rejection. Still unsure if this is his future but it was true if given the opportunity to lay down his life to ensure yours he would do it. 

No hesitation, no doubt to keep you smiling. To ensure you become your own matriarch to protect this house and Sobo's spirit. 

"She wont say no. That ring isn't just any ring. That ring was passed down from our mother and from her mother." She swallows thickly, the thought of most her family having now passed pangs her heart but Oba must go on with big shoes to fill. 

Her elder sister a force of nature. 

Suddenly Bakugou stands, rage mixed in his scarlet eyes. 

"Then it ain't fucking right for me to have this! I can't have this!" 

"But. You. Will." Her tongue a knife. Ripping him to ribbons and all he can see is another version of you. Another strong willed woman, another force to be reckoned with. 

"Besides, I know she will not. Once she sees that ring she will know. Sobo was a great judge of character despite being quirkless. I heard my son Sozen tell the story but only partially. My sister's husband was a great man who sadly was inflicted with a disease, Alzheimer's hit him hard in his old age. And an in home nurse took advantage of that.  She looked much like s younger version it my sister, taking him to casinos and pretending to be his wife. She spent the family fortune, she thought a child would secure her wealth but she had tapped the well dry. When she realized that, she left Shoji on the front step, dirty and naked as if he were garbage." 

Bakugou slumps back onto the amethyst cushion from the weight of the story, still worry is written all along his face. Great Oba sighs. 

"At the end of the day, it is my niece's choice and if she says no at least you can say you tried. You honored Sobo's wish with an attempt and she'd be more than happy with that." Great Oba smiles and he can see a ghost of Sobo's wide, wild smile in her. 

He swallows thickly, gently grabbing the ring. He turns it over and over in his hands. 

This was crazy. 

This was stupid. 

This was crazy fucking stupid. 

But maybe his fate in love was meant to be crazy fucking stupid.