#as i meant for this response to be significantly shorter than it was before i started ranting

[navree]

Have you watched Rome (HBO)? If yes what's your opinion on it?

I've watched some of it, but to be honest I didn't really like it. They got things like how society operated in that time, and I think Ciaran Hinds is an incredible actor and did his best with the material he had, and if you just want a good drama and don't know anything about the period and the actual history that went on, you'll probably like it. Plus, James Purefoy was genuinely perfect casting. It's why I wish that the show was better than it was.

Problem is, I do know the history. I know the history quite well, because the general fall of the Republic and rise of the Empire is an incredibly interesting time and Augustus is one of my favorite people to read about, from a historical perspective he's fascinating. And the show bungles a lot in that regard. I've never been a particular fan of "we're going to invent these fictitious characters and make them important to the historical narrative" type things, and the combining of characters caused some major problems for me personally (combining Atia Balba with Fulvia to create the show's version of Atia was very annoying to me personally, considering how at odds it is to the historical Atia Balba), and just in general a lot of the characters felt very shallow and like they were crafted more out of a pop culture understanding of who these people were rather than actually examining them historically. Like, ooh Cleopatra is a sexually voracious and seductive minx and Octavian is a monstrous little viper, how incredibly novel, never been done before. Not like the reality of Cleopatra as someone who wasn't very attractive but was so intelligent and charismatic that she seemed leagues better than any other woman, but still prideful and stubborn enough to let it be her downfall is more interesting than cokewhore but make it Hellenistic. Not like Octavian as an incredibly smart person and brilliant politician whose complicated family life created a situation that had him latch onto Caesar as a father figure (and Caesar himself having lost a child shortly before they started getting close allowing that latching to be entirely mutual) and who started his journey to power as a personal revenge quest and whose litany of personal tragedies at a young age created the circumstances that allowed him to make colder and colder decisions for the betterment of himself and his family and his country is more interesting than wimpy deviant who can't fight. IDK, they made Livia marginally more two-dimensional than most other pop culture portrayals of her (I, Claudius your sins are numerous and shan't be forgiven), but that's about it. From someone who's read a lot about all of these people and has consistently found that who they actually were is leagues more interesting and creatively inspiring than anything anyone could actually make up, the show being composed entirely of preconceived notions with some sprinkling of "this is what I remember from Shakespeare's Roman plays" just did not do it for me at all.

Also, Agrippa/Octavia is a fucking cop out and anyone who writes it is a genuine coward. Like, you cannot tell me that out of the two siblings, the relationship you find the most interesting is the one he had with Octavia, when Agrippa and Octavian were friends since they were twelve and were completely and reciprocally so incredibly devoted to each other that it almost defies description and beggars belief. Agrippa never once tried to grab power even though he absolutely could have and was perfectly happy being nothing more than Octavian's right hand man until the day he died. Octavian's first ever political act, the thing that kickstarted his entire career, was asking Caesar of his own volition to not kill Agrippa's brother (it's complicated) and Caesar saying yes entirely because it was Octavian who asked, not only showing how loyal Octavian was to his friends but also essentially binding the two of them together for life. It was a forty year relationship of the most insanely codependent friendship of all time, either get with the program and make it homoerotic or just admit you have no talent and wanna hetify it.

[aindyghosh]

Take Me Home (IronDad fic)

A tight-lipped groan made it out of Peter when the black sack was harshly pulled off his head. He rapidly blinked to adjust to the abrupt absence of darkness. He was pretty sure a look in the mirror would reveal a scrunched-up nose and a grimace contorting his features.

As it was, though, he'd have to make do with his ample imagination. The large goon currently glaring at him did not seem all that inclined to allow him out of the chair, much less produce a mirror to correct his appearance. He could feel his hair sticking out in every direction.

Sadly, that little tidbit of situational awareness had escaped his fellow kidnappee.

"Who the hell are you and where have you brought us?" Flash demanded. "Do you know who my father is? Trust me, this is not the first time someone has kidnapped me and my father hates it when I'm not home for dinner! He's gonna make you regret putting your hands on me! You're gonna be out of a job before you can say sorry!"

Was he trying to scare a bunch of criminals with unemployment?

Goon-number-two — shorter than the first but still huge enough to keep up the intimidating factor, hirsute hands and a sculpted moustache curlier than MJ's hair — took a menacing step forward, his burly arms crossed across his chest. He didn't threaten, or otherwise speak, but it still shut Flash up.

Small mercies.

"Eugene Thompson, right?" A third man entered. Significantly shorter than the other two, with an overall harmless appearance except for the smirk playing at the corner of his nicotine-stained lips. It made Peter's skin crawl. "Son of Harrington Thompson and Rose Thompson. Both respected lawyers, and currently vacationing in a rural village on the outskirts of Darjeeling, India with limited, close to no, available network service." The man bent to the boy's eye level. "Did I miss anything, Flash?"

No answer.

The man knew, much as Peter did, what the silence meant.

Main Goon — because it was evident who was in charge here — petted Flash's hair like one would a stranger's puppy in the park before straightening up to his full height. "But don't worry," he said with the same nasty smirk twisting his near-blackened lips, "You are of no interest to me. Keep your head down, don't cause too much trouble, and you'll be home by the end of the day, yeah?"

He didn't wait for Flash's response and turned his gaze on Peter. It was green and cold. "Hello, there, Peter!" He grinned, resembling a shark baring its teeth at its prey far too much for his comfort. "It's lovely to finally meet you!"

"Who are you?" He slipped a sliver of nervousness into his voice, just the right amount for the man to rule him out as a potential danger.

"I'm glad you asked. My name is Daniel Brooke, and I'm going to be your host for the next few hours." The man spoke in a gentle tone as false as Mr. Leons' black wig.

(The man was a natural blonde and the black wig clashed with his light eyebrows almost as much as Mr. Stark and "Secretary Nudnik", Mr. Stark's latest nickname for Thunderbolt Ross, did.)

"What do you want with us?"

"Another good question. You must be very popular with your teachers," Brooke said (never mind that Flash had demanded those exact same answers a mere few moments ago). The praising inflection set his teeth on edge. "I know your secret, Peter. That's right," he cooed when momentary fear passed through his face — this time, very, very real — before he schooled his features back into neutrality. "Your school may be stupid, your friends can be naïve, but not me. You can't fool me."

Peter swallowed thickly. "I don't have any secrets."

The man laughed. It was a shrill noise, and it clawed at Peter's senses like rusted metal scraping against bone. "That was an admirable attempt, Peter, but I'm afraid it missed your intended mark by a mile." Brooke grabbed the arms of the chair he was tied to, and bent down until he was at his eye level, similar to what he had done with Flash but a little more aggressive. Up this close, Peter noticed the yellow spots on his crooked teeth and the stench of bear that overpowered his otherwise pleasant cinnamon and sandalwood scent. "Your internship with Stark Industries, I know about that."

It took Peter a moment to register Brooke's words, but when he did, a weight that he hadn't even been aware of lifted off his shoulders. He exhaled a breath, shaky not because of his present predicament but because of the uncomfortable lack of distance between them.

Looking at him now, everything that had added to the sinister impression Brooke was so obviously going for, only made him seem a run-of-the-mill part-time villain involving himself in situations that demanded someone of a higher pay grade.

"It's not exactly a secret." Peter couldn't help it here. He'd spent the last few minutes shit-scared imagining all the different ways these people could hurt him if they knew about Spiderman: they could go after May, his friends. Hell, Flash, too. The boy was literally there.

What did they even want from him if it wasn't revenge from Spiderman?

"Yes, but people don't believe you, do they? But I do. I know you're telling the truth."

"Okay?" Peter wouldn't lie, he was a tad creeped out. "Why did that make you want to kidnap us?"

"Flash is collateral. I don't need him. Like I said, he keeps quiet and does what we ask, and he'll be dropped off at his home unharmed." Flash appeared nearly insulted at being waved away dismissively. What was up with people? Everybody was crazy, he decided. "I only want you."

"Why?"

Brooke frowned. "What do you think?" He made a series of pointless vague gestures. "Money, of course. I want Stark Industries to pay the ransom."

"You want a ransom," Peter repeated if only to ensure that he hadn't, all of a sudden, become hard of hearing. Brooke nodded. Okay, then. "You want Stark Industries, the leading tech company in the United States, to pay ransom and for that, you kidnap a lowly intern?"

"You're not a random intern!" Brooke screamed. He looked more offended on Peter's behalf than Peter, himself, was. "You're Stark's personal intern! I know!"

Peter was, honestly, getting tired of Brooke insisting he knew things. News flash, he didn't.

He inhaled a deep breath through his nose, ignored the smell of stale beer and the nearest drainage system that left a bitter taste in his mouth (sometimes, super senses were a bitch severe inconvenience) and let it out equally as slowly. "Even then, Stark Industries has a no-negotiation policy for kidnappings." Mr. Stark had it documented after Afghanistan. It was a whole thing. Considering that he was the only person in SI prone to being kidnapped, nobody else had more than half a trembling tree branch to stand on.

"I'm sure Stark will make an exception for you, seeing as the two of you are so close."

He could feel Flash's eyes burning into the side of his skull. Well, it wasn't like he had ever hidden it. If anything, it was the boy's fault for not believing him in the first place. "I wouldn't be so certain."

Mr. Stark wouldn't make an exception for him, he'd simply track his shoes down — there was a tracker in it; he knew, Mr. Stark knew that he knew, both of them pretended the other didn't — and blast his kidnappers to another continent.

Peter didn't say this from experience. Believe it or not, this was the first time he had been taken hostage for any reason. But Spiderman had been injured in multiple fights, and Mr Stark's mood tended to take a nosedive whenever he received a scratch on his body, and stab wounds unleashed a whole different monster. Entirely dramatic reactions on Mr. Stark's part but the man never listened to him.

So yes, this was a novel adventure for him.

"We'll see. Peter. We'll see." Brooke patted him on his shoulder and promptly walked away, gesturing his minions to follow after him before swinging his hands in a fashion that reminded Peter of his school's band march.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Peter sighed. As amusing as watching the men was now, he was only prolonging the inevitable. He turned his head to the right, and sure enough, Flash was already staring at him, eyes wide, lips parted, breathing short and fast, his forehead practically inked with a bunch of question marks.

But first things first. "Flash, you need to calm down." The last thing he needed was a fellow kidnappee on the verge of a meltdown.

"You were telling the truth about being Tony Stark's intern?"

Wasn't it wonderful how it took a short, half-balding man with a severe case of bad breath to say it once for Flash to believe while Peter, his classmate, had been saying it since the end of sophomore year?

"I can't believe this!" And he was off with his rambling.

It was just as well. Peter needed to think, and he couldn't do that while having an ill-timed rapid-fire round with his school bully.

Okay, what did Mr. Stark always say? Chalk out the facts, identify the problem and brainstorm a solution.

Alright. Facts.

They were on their post-decathlon (which they won, in case anyone was interested to know) field trip — this time to Coney Island — when the team had opted to ride the longest roller coaster in the amusement park. Peter had refused for...reasons. It wasn't that he was terrified of heights (please, he was Spiderman), he was merely wary about the safety aspect.

Regardless, Peter had expected to be alone for the duration of the ride. Mr. Harrington had offered but he could see his teacher was pumped about the Cyclone, which was the name of the death trap, by the way. He would never have pegged Roger Harrington as a roller coaster kind of guy but to each their own, he supposed. In the end, Flash had generously given up a seat on the ride to "keep Peter company". Mr Harrington hadn't needed to be told twice.

Was it irresponsible of him to leave two kids alone while going off on a ride? At the time, it hadn't seemed all that dangerous.

He'd been wrong. That was precisely when a sack had been put over their head. His Peter-tingle had tingled, of course — God, May was rubbing off on him — but there was nothing he could have done without arousing suspicion.

And that brought them to his current situation.

Spiderman, snatched in broad daylight by a couple of small-time villains. His secret identity was a boon in times such as these, though it was hella stressful to maintain it.

Step two, identify the problem: He'd been kidnapped, he had a civilian to protect, and they needed to escape. How would he do that in a way that wouldn't instantly tip Flash off to his secret identity? As it was, some days, he felt as if Flash was a Spiderman stalker with how fluent and knowledgeable he was in Spiderman's activities.

Step three: solution. He had no clue how to approach this.

"Is that a StarkWatch-438?"

The non-sequitur grabbed his attention before he could carefully evade it. "What?"

"Your wristwatch! Is it a 438? How do you even have it? It launched less than a week ago and has a two-month wait period!"

How the heck did Flash even see his watch? His hands were tied behind him. "Does it matter right now?"

"Yeah, you're right," the boy muttered. Huh. Peter was going to mark this day in his calendar. "Use it."

"What?"

"Use it!"

Peter stared at him. Flash stared back. After a minute or two, the other boy made a noise of realisation. "You don't know how to use it, do you?"

"To read a watch? Yes, Flash, I do know how to read a watch."

"Not how to read it, dummy!" Flash snapped, but his voice contained much less venom than usual. "The panic button. Press the panic button."

Ah! Right, the panic button. Peter cleared his throat, but any and every reply suffered a premature death on his tongue. What would he say, in any case? He was aware of the panic button. He'd inspired it after one too many instances of fainting in a dark alleyway due to untreated stab wounds.

But he wouldn't use it. He couldn't. It would be embarrassing to have Iron Man come to Spiderman's rescue, even if nobody knew about the Spiderman bit.

"The signal would go to May, Flash! How do you think my Aunt would help this situation?" There, that ought to be a good excuse.

"She could alert the police?"

"Mr. Harrington would've already done that, I'm sure. Look, I have this under control, okay?" Or he would as soon as he figured out a way to get rid of the ropes confining his hands and escape with Flash without resorting to his Spidey strength.

Unfortunately — or fortunately, as Flash would later argue — the decision was made for him in the form of a red-and-gold blur crashing through the glass panes of the semi-constructed building they had been kept hostage in.

Flash squeaked, and Iron Man's head cocked as if regarding a particularly interesting creature. No, he wasn't looking at Flash.

"Peter Parker." The mechanical voice of the suit typically rendered all voice modulation flat, but this time, the unimpressed note eluded its filtering. See, this was how one made themselves a domineering and fearsome figure. Not with crooked teeth and too wide a smirk.

"I was about to call you—"

"It has been two hours and you still haven't pressed the panic button on the watch that you are wearing."

He was so grounded.

He hoped to hell and back that Mr. Stark wasn't actually in the suit. He'd do anything, God, please, just not a lecture in front of Flash. He'd never let him live it down.

The suit — because he was going to assume, for his sanity, that this was the suit and Mr Stark was commandeering it from within his lab miles away for a quick Underoos rescue before he had to get back to some or the other meeting and wouldn't have the opportunity to chew him out with an audience in attendance — made to approach Peter when he shook his head and nodded towards Flash. "Help him first."

A sigh. FRIDAY was messing with him, wasn't she? Both father and daughter had an equally snarky sense of humour.

Flash's ropes were off within twenty seconds. Peter's in less than that. Was Mr Stark aware of Flash bullying him?

This was a disaster in the making, wasn't it?

It only escalated from there when Daniel Brooke and his two loyal henchmen burst into the room, Brooke emphasising his insanity with a crazed "Hah!"

"I knew it!" The man crowed. "I knew you wouldn't leave your precious intern alone! I'd thought you'd concede to the ransom demand but this is even better!"

Iron Man tilted his head to the side again. "Who are you?" And this time, his voice was very, very flat.

"Daniel Brooke. You took everything from me! Now, I'm gonna take everything from you!"

"Hey, man, this wasn't the deal!" Goon-number-one objected.

"Silence, you imbeciles!" Brooke hissed. "And did I give the guns to you for show? Point them at the two boys, fools!"

The men exchanged a silent look and crossed their arms in a creepy synchrony. "We want our money. We don't care about your revenge." Oh, would you look at that? Not so loyal as Peter had initially thought.

"Ugh! I have to do everything around here!" This was a comedy show. "Stark, you listen to me, you ruined my business—"

"I don't even know who you are!" Iron Man's protest was more of a tired whine. The only thing missing was him stomping his foot like a child who'd just been denied living on ice cream.

"I am Daniel Brooke. Weren't you listening?" No, he wasn't, Peter was nearly eighty-four per cent sure. Mr. Stark was great at tuning unnecessary chatter out. And to him, almost everything anyone said qualified to be unnecessary chatter. Unless it was about science. Then you'd have his full attention. For a few minutes, at least. He got easily bored. "I used to supply sandwiches to HYDRA—"

"To HYDRA," Iron Man deadpanned.

"Yes, and you destroyed the base, and I lost all my income. My wife left me."

"That might be the beer stench," Goon-number-one muttered under his breath.

Peter snorted.

He was ignored.

Brooke was still prattling on. Peter settled in for a lengthy villainous monologue when Iron Man's repulsors went up and blasted the man in the face.

He went down like the Chitauri after Mr. Stark had destroyed their motherboard.

Probably not his best analogy.

The two goons immediately put their hands up in surrender, horror painted across their faces.

Iron Man, in response, simply tucked Peter and Flash under either arm and lobbed himself in the air, away from the building and towards home.

🩷

They dropped Flash on the street in front of his home first.

It was Mr. Stark inside the suit.

He got an extremely lengthy lecture.

And he was grounded.

At least, he didn't have to control himself from hurling his guts up due to the fling-a-fling of the roller coaster. His Spiderman identity also managed to remain safe.

Another day, another identity save.

All in a good day's work.

God, this was getting exhausting.

[olliedollie1204]

a winter's tale (chapter 2)

Remus goes to a winter break party… so does his love-stricken brother, his meddling roommate, his nosy-ass friends, and, oh yeah, his totally-not-a-crush. What could go wrong?

(Read here on AO3) (Read chapter 1 here)

Remus had no idea what he was drinking, but it was hot and sweet and spicy and it burned on the way down— exactly what he was looking for. Gleefully he chugged the rest of it and threw the red solo cup on the ground, making it bounce unceremoniously.

“Fuck you, Professor Callahan!” he screamed, and the circle of equally drunk college students around him cheered in response. One of the benefits of going to an end-of-semester house party was that virtually everyone was on the same page, that making it through yet another term without dropping out was nothing short of a triumph.

“Pick up that cup, you look like an animal,” Janus said directly in his ear, speaking loudly while still not shouting over the music.

“A party animal!” Remus replied.

“And a pitiful college cliche.”

“Jan-ny, can you get off my dick for two seconds?”

“Are you looking for someone else to take that spot?”

Remus snorted. “Fuck yeah! As long as they’re significantly more sober than me right now.”

“Oh, please, you’ve had two drinks,” Janus said. “You should see Virgil. Last I saw Roman was holding his hair back while he puked his guts out.”

“Shit! Was it nasty?”

Janus gave him a withering stare. “Yes, because I obviously stood beside him and watched. I have no idea, Remus. I just gave Roman a peppermint to give him when he was done. So much for Roman’s plan.”

UGH. No more talk about plans!

“Aright, I’m done talking about boring shit.” Remus grabbed Janus’ drink and quickly downed it, ignoring his friend’s affronted gasp before pushing the cup back into his hands. “Where are the others?”

Janus snatched the cup back, scowling into it. “Well, Patton set up shop in the kitchen handing out those candy apples he made. I haven’t seen Logan.”

Remus blinked. “No Logan?” he asked, realizing at the last second that he sounded far too much like a child who’d just been told Santa left the mall to go have a smoke.

“No Logan,” Janus confirmed. He raised one eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

No. Fuck. Okay. That was fine. It was fine— if Janus hadn’t seen him that meant he wasn’t here, because Janus always made it a priority to scope out the entire party like a bloodhound, figuring out who his fuckbuddy target would be for the night. And he’d obviously seen Virgil and Patton, and together with Logan the three of them always rode together (and really, Remus thought that was unfair, for the three people most likely to volunteer to be designated drivers to all ride together— he and his roommates always ended up Ubering just so they could all get equally drunk). So Logan wasn’t here, and that was fine, and definitely not super stupidly disappointing for any reason.

Remus did himself the favor of not saying any of that out loud, and Janus sighed.

“Well, I’m getting another drink,” he said pointedly. Remus grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes with exasperated fondness. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That is a much shorter list than you’d like to admit, Jan-Man!” Remus replied cheerfully, turning away and dipping back through the crowd before Janus could respond.

It was pretty crowded, which Remus honestly kind of loved. Crowds were a good sign of many things— first, that the hosts hadn’t run out of drinks. Important. Second, that the party was still going. Equally as important.

After that his list sort of devolved from neat bullet points into vague feelings of contentment that arose whenever Remus found himself pressed between unknown bodies in an unknown building on an unknown night. It wasn’t about sex (despite what everyone who knew him would believe)— it was intimate, sure, but the intimacy arose from the unyielding mania that came from rubbing against a throbbing mass of nameless, faceless bodies, sweating and grinding and shaking from emotional excess.

… Fuck. Maybe Remus should take a page from Roman’s book and start writing poetry. Logan liked poetry, didn't he?

“Shut the fuck up!” he said out loud, not that anyone could hear him.

Maybe he could text him? No, that’d be stupid. He was at a party, he was supposed to be enjoying himself. And Logan didn’t even really like parties anyway! Why would he want his friend to subject himself to an environment that he clearly only tolerated on a good day, just so Remus could… what, talk to him?

“You’re thinking pretty loud there, buckaroo!” a voice interrupted him before some bright red thing was shoved under his nose. “Candy apple for your thoughts?”

Remus looked up. “I think I’ve had enough of your candy apples to last a lifetime, Pat.”

“Not my fault you kept eating my trial apples after I told you they’d give you a tummy ache,” Patton replied, just a hint too smugly to come across as perfectly innocent. It made Remus very proud.

“How’s the party?” Patton continued.

“You’re here too, Padre, you should know.”

“Oh, you know this isn’t really my scene.” Patton waved his hand through the air. “I only come to these things to hang out with my friends! But looks like most of our group had other plans for tonight, huh? Everyone’s having some pretty important conversations, huh?”

He looked at Remus meaningfully, and it took several seconds for Remus’ brain to figure out what he meant.

“What, you mean— Roman and Virge?” His eyes widened, and he slammed his cup down on the table with too much force. “Wait, do you know something?”

Patton’s eyes widened. “Oh! Well— yeah, Virge has been talking about confessing all week—”

“Virgil has?” Remus nearly shrieked. A guilty look passed over Patton’s face; he really couldn’t lie for shit.

“Oh, oh shoot, Remus please don’t tell anyone, please tell don’t Virge I told you—” he babbled. Remus’ grin felt like it’d split his face.

“Are you kidding me? Roman has been fucking moping for weeks over this party, he got it into his head tonight was the perfect night for it—”

“Virgil, too,” Patton replied, gasping a little as his smile came back. “Oh my God, that’s so romantic! This is such an exciting night!”

Remus nodded, turning toward the direction of the bathroom and craning his neck. “Wonder if that’s what’s happening in the vomitorium over there. Usually Logan takes over on Virgil puke duty— Roman’s lucky he’s not here to do it tonight, because now he can make his lovey-dovey speech to Virgil a literal barf fest—”

“Logan’s here.”

Remus stopped talking. Patton blinked at him.

“Logan’s here?” he repeated, as if Remus hadn’t heard him. “He— he’s been here the whole time, he came with Virge and me.”

Um. What the fuck? “Record scratch?”

“You haven’t seen him?”

“No!” What the fuck? Logan was here? Janus didn’t usually lie so boldly to Remus’ face anymore, and he couldn’t even think of why he’d bother lying about Logan not being here.

Patton frowned. He put down the candy apple he was holding and fished his phone out of his front pocket.

“I’ve been texting him, but he hasn’t responded. I thought he’d found you already, I thought you two were talking about—”

He stopped himself suddenly, shook his head. “Never mind!”

Remus’ brow furrowed. Yeah, Patton couldn’t lie, it was true, but each and every one of them in their friend group could smell his bullshit repression a hundred miles away.

“What did he want to talk about, Patton?” Remus asked— maybe demanded, if he were being honest. Patton busied himself with his candy apples again.

“I really think you should go find him, bud, this isn’t my business—”

Remus was about to complain, but a flash of light in his peripheral made him realize the bathroom door had opened, the yellow light spilling out across the darkened living room.

“Later!” he burst out, spinning on his heel and shoving his way back into the crowd.

[puffpasstea]

Matilda

Chapter 2

Read Chapter 1 here.

Harry was surprisingly easy to talk to. All my apprehension about going into an appointment unprepared had melted away as soon as we got into the rhythm of the conversation.

"I'm relatively new to all of this. 'researching for a character,' I mean. and acting, in general." He smiled meekly and leaned in a bit closer to me as he spoke, as if confessing a secret.

"Right. That's why you're signed with Marvel" I said unselfconsciously but immediately tried to walk it back, "I mean, that's what I've heard... I don't know."

He shook his head and chuckled. I watched his chest rise and fall and wondered how even his laugh could put me at ease.

"What I meant to say was that I could use all the help that I can get here. My last English class was at 16, so, it's not exactly all fresh in my mind."

"Well, why don't I take a look at the literary references that your character is making in the script and we can pull some materials from there?" I asked flipping through my notepad, looking for nothing in particular.

"Not sure about that." He leaned against the wall as he spoke. "I mean I'm not sure I'm allowed to share the script."

"Oh, yes, of course..." I felt my face turn red with embarrassment.

As if reading my mind, Harry spoke again, "Not that you're not a completely trustworthy stranger"

I laughed.

" Seriously, it's a great idea though! I'll just have to make sure I can show you everything first."

"In the meantime, maybe tell me about your favorite books and authors? Maybe I can give you some recommendations, or ways to incorporate them into your prep?"

His grin was wide and toothy. "okay, yes. Favorite authors? hmmm..." He gazed into the distance trying to recollect some names and titles.

"Emerson?"

I nodded. "Solid start, okay, what else?"

"Murakami-"

"hmm..."

"What's wrong with Murakami? Oh and Bukowski!"

His eyes widened at the hissing sound that I made in response.

"What? He's VERY expressive."

"And sexist."

"I like to think he's self-consciously making fun of typical masculine thinking by portraying it that way...."

"That's very sweet of you, Harry. Don't worry I won't hold it against you."

"Okay, fine, who are your favorites?"

"Oh, man. name a genre, or time period. Just overall? Mary Shelley, Oscar Wilde, Charlotte Bronte. I specialized in Shakespeare for a while. But-"

Turning to look at him, his smile and piercing green eyes caught me off-guard.

"wow, you're, like, a proper Matilda."

"Like from Roald Dahl you mean? well, no. I mean, I get paid to do this."

"And soon I'll be getting paid to pretend to do this." he smiled sheepishly.

As we walked past the bookshelves on our way back out, Harry slowed down and turned towards the "W" stacks, stopping there to browse.

"Can I help you find something?" I offered.

"Think I've got it," he reached to one of the top shelves to grab Oscar Wilde's The Picture Of Dorian Gray. In an effort to be helpful, and "do my job" I stood on my tiptoes attempting to reach upward and get it for him, but, since I'm significantly shorter than he is, I only stumbled and got in his way.

"I'm so sorry!" I gasped as my back bumped into his chest. The scent of his cologne as intoxicating as the feeling of his breath on the back of my neck. I could feel my heartbeat through my entire body.

"It's okay. You're alright?" He placed a hand on my shoulder to help steady me.

" I'm okay. Just short." I quickly scrambled out of his way, letting him get the book.

At the front desk, Harry and Fran made small talk while I attempted to scan the book out for him, talking twice as long with our entire interaction --complete with me almost knocking us both down-- replayed in my mind, causing me to misspell the book details repeatedly.

"It's all yours for the next 60 days." I slid the book across the table towards him.

"I'll let you know how I like it. And about sharing the script if possible!"

Harry was barely out the door before Fran had turned to me and said "so? he's handsome. tell me everything."

***

As the next three days went by, I found myself wondering, in spite of my attempts not to, if Harry would come in soon. Glancing at the door every time anybody walked into the library, wondering if Harry was enjoying Oscar Wilde, wondering if he'd share the details of his film-in-progress one day...it all felt childish. However, it also felt like a refreshing change from the usually thought spirals that ordinarily occupied my mind.

I'd moved out here for this job shortly before the nearly two-year global health hazard hit the world. Libraries, thanks to ebook access, and inter-library loan programs, were among the first to go online. Now that everything's back to normal, I find my social life non-existent. I have yet to get a chance to meet anybody or go anywhere which often makes me wonder if moving out here on my own was the right decision, if there's something wrong with me that makes me unapproachable or unfit for socialization. But every time my phone buzzes with a notification from my parents, I'm reminded that my isolated existence is still better than being around a family that makes me feel alone when I'm around them. What if I'm wrong though? What if I need to be more forgiving?

on the morning of the fourth day, unable to sleep and haunted by doubts about how I've chosen to live my life, I walked into work earlier than I needed to be there only to find Harry and Fran sharing breakfast and laughing loudly.

Harry had grabbed a chair and was sitting on the opposite end of the front desk with his back to the door. Luckily, he couldn't see the startled look on my face, nor could he see me smile and fix my hair using my reflection in the glass doors before I'd approached him.

"Matilda! You're here!" He smiled and reached over to the improvised breakfast buffet that he and Fran had set up to grab me a cup of coffee.

"Matilda?" Fran asked.

"It's a thing." Harry responded nonchalantly before turning back to me and asking "cream? sugar?"

"uhh, no, just black thanks...what's all this?" I gestured towards the food.

"Harry brought breakfast." Fran said, handing me a bagel. "You should eat. She never eats, you know."

I frowned and watched as Harry grabbed me a chair. " Here, sit. And do eat please. You're gonna need your strength. We have a lot of work to do." He leaned over and produced a stack of papers from his backpack.

I smiled at his use of "we."

"So, you're cleared to read the script" he patted the stack of pages before handing them to me. "But," he placed a folder on top of the script, "not before you sign some paperwork."

"Paperwork?"

"It just says that you promise not to disclose the details of the script or filming process to any media outlets, and that if you do, the production company has the right to sue you for all you're worth. That sort of thing."

"Ah. Standard stuff. It's not like I'll know much about filming anyway..." I said reaching for a pen from behind the counter to put my signature to these forms.

"well, that brings me to the next thing. How'd you like to work with us?"

"who's us?"

"Well, me. And the set designers. Tell us what sorts of books we should have in the background of certain scenes, at each character's home, that sort of thing. Would you be interested?"

[sunflowerdaisybee]

Can I ask for a p!bench trio x tall male reader (6 foot 7). So, this takes place during the meet up. So, no-one really believed reader when he said that he was 6 foot 7, because what 17 year old is that tall, no-one really believed Rambo either. So when tommy, tubbo, Ranboo and reader met up, they were surprised about reader and ran boos height. So I imagine them doing a stream where they just sit and talk. And I imagine them doing a height check and when their done and sitting down, dunno and tommy rants about how they wish they had height like reader and just insulting him(playfully of course). And reader is just sitting there innocently like, "I'm sorry", genuinely, because he thought they were mad at him

This was really cute and fun to write, the bench trio requests are always just the most wholesome stuff <3

Summary: You really are that tall

Pairing: P!Bench Trio X Reader

Pronouns: Male intended but no specific used

[A/n]: Requests are open :]

“I swear I’m 6’7, why would I lie about something like that?”

“If you’re that tall then I must be American.” Tommy fought you on how your height often, not believing that someone your age could be that tall.

Though he soon found himself believing as you stood in front of him. You were only a few inches taller but it was enough for him to have to look up at you.

“What the hell are you so tall for?” You shrugged in response.

“I don’t know. I just am.” Tommy fake glared at you before turning his attention to Ranboo.

“And why are you tall too, this can’t be real.” Ranboo also shrugged, laughing at Tommy’s pout.

Tommy couldn’t really complain about the height difference too much as Tuboo was still significantly shorter than all of you, not that any of you cared.

The height difference between the four of you wasn’t brought up much, after seeing it the first time the awe sorta faded, it was just normal now. It wasn’t brought up again until the four of you were doing a stream together, nothing really important just messing around in horror games.

A fan had donated and asked for the four of you to do a height check as they also didn’t believe you and Ranboo were really that tall.

“Should we do a height check?” You turned from the computer to the three boys sitting around you, waiting for an answer.

“Sure, why not.” You adjusted the camera to fit all of you on screen before you all stood, lining up against the furthest wall.

You guys thought it best to stand in height order, which meant you, then Ranboo, then Tommy, and then Tubbo.

Chat found the height difference quite hilarious, a handful even teasing Tommy for not believing you when you talked about your height.

“What was it that you said ‘if you’re really that tall then I must be American’, was that it?” You lovingly bullied Tommy watching as his expression grew sour.

“I don’t recall ever saying such a thing. I can't believe you're actually that tall. Like I wish I had height like yours, this is so unfair. How come you get to be built like slender man and I'm stuck like this?"

"I'm sorry." You shrugged, not sure how to respond.

"I, I'm not actually upset. I'm a tad jealous but you don't have to apologize." Tommy laughed and reached up to ruffle your hair.

Taglist: @joyfullymulti

[katsukisblackteddy]

Okay, I know I already sent you another request, but this one...I just had to drop this one on ya. Can I request Bakugo, Hawks, Shinsou, and Dabi’s reaction to seeing their black s/o getting hit on in the most cringiest, fetishizing way while they’re standing next to them? Since the s/o is dating them, they know the things that should and shouldn’t be said to a black person, but the weirdo goes to them and says things along the lines of:

“Do you taste as chocolatey as you look?”

“Lemme conquer you in the bedroom”

“Twerk on me like Megan Thee Stallion”

And “Our kids are going to be great athletes”

Like the she is just stunned into mortified silence since she couldn’t process the audacity for someone to say something so disgusting. She’ll let her man’s handle it cuz the last thing she needs is to be charged with homicide.

(Trust me, writing those lines hurt me but not as much as it hurt when I was told these things 🤢)

“Why Don’t You Just Do Us All a Favor and Shut Up?”

You don’t understand how many times a trashy guy has said something like this to me thinking I would find it cute or attractive. So gross! As a society we need to do better and stop sexualizing and fetishizing black women and girls.

also the gif has nothing to do with this, I just thought it was cute.

Anyways...starts below the cut!

Warnings: swearing, fetishization of black women and girls, sleazy trashy guys, protective boyfriends, sexual implications

“Katsu, can we get ramen at that new place that just opened up the street?” (y/n) questioned, her (eye color) eyes wide with anticipation.

“Ok.” The usually explosive blonde agreed, snaking his larger hand into her slightly smaller one. (y/n) had finished training earlier and since it was a light day, Bakugou had suggested they walk around the downtown area. “It’s over this way, right?” (y/n) nodded simply, looking around at the different shops they passed on their way to the new ramen restaurant.

Ever since Katsuki had begun dating the black girl, he had calmed down significantly, though only around her...with everyone else he was just as explosive as he always was. The black girl was fiercely protective over her friends and especially Katsuki, though he didn’t really need it; probably a part of her tiger quirk, though it came off as more endearing than annoying.

“What are you gonna order?” She wondered, making small conversation as they waited to cross the street.

“What I always order.” He answered simply.

“The spiciest thing on the menu.” (y/n) and Katsuki said at the same time, (y/n) rolling her eyes with a smile.

“You won’t have any taste buds left if you burn them all off.” She teased as Katsuki rolled his crimson eyes at her, holding her close to him as they continued to wait.

A whistle caught the couple’s attention, Bakugou’s eyes narrowing as they fell on two boys standing at a shop located behind where they were standing. The two boys looked the same age if not a little older than (y/n) and Katsuki, the taller one had lime green hair and matching lime colored eyes. His pale face had a smirk plastered on it. The slightly shorter of the two had pink hair the color of bubble gum, lavender eyes focusing on the black girl, a smirk on his face also.

Despite (y/n) usually being confident, there was something highly uncomfortable about the way they were eyeing her that made her uneasy.

“Hey Riku, you think she’d go for someone like me? You know I have a thing for exotics.” (y/n) turned around, deciding to ignore them, they weren’t worth the time. She gripped Bakugou’s hand, turning him around, trying to think of something to say to distract them both from the annoying boys.

The ash blonde sent her a bewildered look, confused as to why she wasn’t going to say something to them. “They aren’t worth it. They’re extras, right?” She joked, flashing a half smile at her boyfriend.

Bakugou tched, but decided not to say anything since (y/n) didn’t seem to want him to.

“You know why exotics are the best?” The lime green haired boy questioned, loud enough to make sure Bakugou and (y/n) had heard it.

“Why Riku?” The bubble gum haired boy said, a creepy glint in his eyes.

“Because of that fat ass.” He snickered. “You think she’d let me get a taste of that chocolate?”

(Jesus Christ, I cringed writing that. 🤢)

Bakugou’s head whipped around to glare at the two boys, (y/n) turning around to look at them, holding herself back, but too shocked by what she had heard to catch Bakugou before he did something that would attract the attention of police.

“You two fucking clowns better shut the fuck up before you get a taste of my foot shoved so far up your asses it’ll be coming out of your fat fucking mouths.” Bakugou growled, punching them each in the face, making sure to heat up his hand so that it would definitely leave a mark.

(y/n) looked around to see a few people watching, as she let Bakugou beat up the boys before she finally decided it was enough. She placed a hand on his shoulder, as he looked up, the feral look in his crimson orbs dissipating to a gentle one.

“I just wanna go. Can we please, before the police get here?” She questioned as he punched them and kicked them a few more times before standing up and nodding.

“You won’t be fucking needing these either.” Bakugou said, going through their wallets, taking the money out before snapping the cards in half and tossing them on the street next to the boys who remained on the ground. “Let’s go.” He held out his hand, as she grabbed it and they walked across the street. “I hate these fucking extras.” He grumbled as they got to the ramen restaurant. Bakugou Katsuki had every intention of using the money he had just taken to pay for everything, it was the least they could do.

The woman was on her way to her apartment, getting off early from her patrol because not only was it a Friday, but the day after was her 23rd birthday and her pro-hero boyfriend seemed to have planned something, despite her telling him he didn’t have to.

Her phone rang, taking (y/n) out of her thoughts as she slid the answer button seeing her boyfriend’s picture pop up. “Hey Kei.” She answered happily, stopping at the corner, waiting to cross the street.

“Hey, Kid.” Came his response, causing the black woman to smile. “You got off early right? You wanna get (your favorite food/ drink)?”

“Really?!” (y/n) grew excited, her voice raising an octave as a laugh bubbled from her full lips. The couple was usually very busy and that meant they didn’t have a lot of time to just go to restaurants and walk around the downtown area, but since they had managed to get the afternoon and weekend off, Hawks was going to take full advantage of it.

“Yeah.” He laughed back. “I’ll meet you there?”

“Ok! Love you.” She told him.

“Love you too, Kid.” He said back before hanging up. (y/n) crossed the street, walking towards their favorite restaurant, her hero costume folded in the black backpack she wore on her back. She too was a pro-hero, though she wasn’t as popular as her boyfriend, she had recently gone pro in Japan, already a famous pro in her native country. She slid her phone into one of the pockets of her black jeans, her simple white t-shirt half tucked into her pants.

She increased her stride, her smile widening as she saw the crimson wings of her boyfriend up ahead. He turned around his own smile growing as she got closer. “How was patrol?” She asked him as he hugged her, the pair pulling away and intertwining hands.

“It was fine...kinda boring.” Hawks answered as they walked inside the establishment.

“Woah.” The cashier said softly, after ringing up your orders. Hawks paid, even though she protested though he responded by saying it was her birthday weekend and she wasn’t allowed to pay. The cashier, who seemed a little older than the two of the pros, named Ukyo, handed her her drink practically ignoring Hawks.

Keigo frowned, growing slightly annoyed, though he wouldn’t really peg himself as the jealous type, Ukyo just made everything very uncomfortable and Hawks was growing irritated that (y/n) was uneasy. It was the protective nature in him, which he would admit could get a little intense at times.

“Um, thanks.” (y/n) replied with a slightly awkward laugh before looking at Hawks to say she was ready to go. They had planned to walk through the park nearby. As they were stepping away, Ukyo called out.

“Hey wait, pretty girl!” He called out, catching the dark skinned woman off guard. “You forgot something.” She turned, raising an eyebrow before going back towards where Ukyo stood behind the counter. He held out a napkin to her, his messy chicken scratch handwriting on the piece of paper. “It’s my number. You should call me sometime, I’d love to get to know you more.”

“I already have a great boyfriend.” (y/n) replied, giving him a smile as he still pushed the napkin to her, managing to stuff it into her bag. At this, Hawks stepped closer, still remaining silent, wanting to let her handle it because he didn’t want to come off as overbearing or suffocating. “Really, I’m not interested. I love my boyfriend.”

“Who? Him? But our kids would be so cute! They’d be great athletes, you know?” He smiled widely at her, grabbing onto her wrist to stop her from leaving. Hawks had heard enough, at (y/n)’s silence and the way her eyes seemed to bore into his own, he dislodged some feathers, sending them at the cashier, stopping them a few centimeters away from him.

“Let her go, before you make me really mad.” Hawks said, glaring at the male, sharpening the feathers into blade-like devices, his golden eyes shining with anger.

“Chill out, Man! She’s hot! She was practically asking for it!” Ukyo put his hands up, Hawks’ eyes narrowing as a growl almost sounded from deep in his chest.

“You’re lucky my girlfriend’s here.” Hawks chuckled darkly, as (y/n) placed her hand in his own. “I would’ve cut your disrespectful racist ass.” Hawks walked away with (y/n), sending the feathers at the wall behind the cashier, just narrowly missing him.

Hawks smirked as he stepped outside, hearing the high pitched scream that came out of Ukyo at the feathers going near him, fearing he was about to be sent to the hospital. Hawks glared at him through the shop window, his wings flapping behind him as if he was about to send more feathers causing Ukyo to scream again, though this time a wet spot began to grow in his khaki colored pants.

Hawks’ eyes lit up as a loud laugh fell from his mouth causing (y/n) to laugh lightly. “Fucking bitch.” Hawks muttered as they walked towards the park. “I should’ve sent the feathers into him.”

“No, you did enough Kei.” (y/n) giggled, Hawks growing happy that he had gotten her to laugh after that rude cashier incident.

Every week after that Hawks would purposely walk past the shop, launching a feather through the window and into the wall, an adult sized diaper held to the wall by the sharp crimson feather, a note usually attached saying:

‘just thought you might need to start wearing these.

I hate you,

Hawks.

Ps: Show this to anyone, tell anyone about this, or do something like that to another person again and I’ll send the next feather so far up your ass, you’ll need surgery to remove it. xoxo’

(i decided to insert another character, like Mineta but 100x worse and not jokingly either. His name is Shintani Narisuke.)

(y/n) was sitting in the common room where everyone from the general studies class usually hung out during their down time. Although, surprisingly it was empty except for the purple haired Shinsou and his lavender haired girlfriend, (y/n). It honestly was just a coincidence that the pair both had purple hair, though the girls from their class thought it was the cutest. (y/n) placed her head on one of Shinsou’s shoulders as they watched a random movie on his laptop, pushing her goddess braids so that she could be more comfortable.

The common room was empty only because one of (y/n)’s friends and classmates had told everyone that they couldn’t go into the common room because Shinsou and (y/n) were on a date. Everyone obeyed her...she was kind of scary when she was determined about something.

“How can he just get away with that?” (y/n) questioned, placing some popcorn into her mouth, pausing to place some in Shinsou mouth as they continued to stare at the screen. The pair alternated, the next time Shinsou threw some into his mouth and then fed some to (y/n).

“I hate that guy...he reminds me of that annoying little grape kid in 1-A.” Shinsou mumbled, causing her to laugh.

“Mineta?”

“We don’t speak his name.” Shinsou joked as the pair broke out into laughs again.

“Hey (your nickname)!” The pair turned, Shinsou pausing the movie, to see Shintari Narisuke enter the room. (y/n) raised an eyebrow at the use of her nickname, that ONLY Shinsou used for her.

“It’s (your full name).” She corrected him.

“Aw, don’t be like that.” The average height boy pouted, sitting down next to her, causing Shinsou to sit up more, a frown on his face.

“What do you want, Shintari? We’re busy here.” Shinsou chimed in, slightly annoyed as he rolled his tired purple eyes.

“Not that busy.” The aqua blue haired boy responded, flashing a fake smile at Shinsou. His eyes narrowed as the frown on his face deepened.

“What do you want?” Shinsou repeated.

“Hey (y/n)...” Shintari dragged out, looking at the black girl with big eyes.

“Yes?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you kind of look like Megan Thee Stallion?”

“No…” The girl answered, confused as to where this was going. To her they looked nothing alike, though she was one of her favorite female rappers. “We don’t even look alike.”

“Your ass does though.” He answered smugly. “You think you could split on me like she does?” (y/n)’s eyes widened as she tried to process what he had just said. She was at a loss for words, completely surprised that he would go that far.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Shinsou grew angry, standing up and getting in the blue haired fool’s face. He had noticed that she was still slightly shocked, which is why he decided to handle it, because normally she was the one that would jump to put someone who needed it in their place.

“She heard me. Right, (your nickname)?” He said teasingly, his eyes not even looking at Shinsou. The usually disinterested male grew increasingly more angry, at being ignored and at the boy for using his nickname for his girlfriend.

“Do you think you could answer something for me?” Shinsou questioned catching the boy’s attention as Shinsou’s grip on his shirt tightened.

“Yeah, what do you want, Villain?” Shintari asked, falling for the trap. Shinsou’s purple eyes glowed softly as he activated his quirk.

“Shut the fuck up and…” Shinsou paused, really wanting to tell the kid to go take a long walk off of a short pier, but he knew he would probably be in trouble if he did that, so he took a deep breath. “Lock yourself in your room for the rest of the week and don’t come out.” Shinsou ultimately decided, letting the boy go with a smug smirk watching him walk down the hall.

The purple haired male turned, his focus going to his girlfriend who had a sick look on her face. “You okay, kitty?” He asked softly, sitting beside her. She simply wrapped her arms around him, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“I hate that asshole.” She mumbled.

“I do too.” Shinsou agreed. “I’m sorry he said something like that to you. That was fucking gross.”

“Thanks for handling it.” She half smiled at him. “I think I would’ve killed him...then he really would’ve called me a villain.”

“Who gives a fuck, let’s finish the movie.” Shinsou laughed lightly, causing her to laugh too. “Besides, he already calls me a villain.”

(For this one (y/n) works in a bakery)

The black girl came from the back of the shop, a tray of fresh cookies in her hands, the sweet smell filling the store. She opened the glass cabinet, carefully transferring the cookies inside before going to return the tray to the back of the bakery.

Customers sat throughout the store, reading books from the bookshelves in the corner, drinking their coffees and teas while working, or simply just enjoying the warm atmosphere with their friends. (y/n) came back to the front, taking her place behind the register after washing her hands.

She looked up from where she had been adjusting a machine to the door, the sound of the ringing bell meaning someone new had entered. “Hi Baby.” The deep gravely voice said. She could hear the smile in his voice as she looked up, her own smile growing as she immediately recognized the voice.

“Hi Staples.” She teasingly replied. “What are you doing over here? I thought you were busy today.”

“I needed more.” He replied, holding up the bag at his side with the black hair dye inside.

“You want my help when I get off?” She clarified as he nodded, his blue eyes looking over her appearance. “What? You don’t like my uniform?” A soft smile on her face as she wiped down the counter.

“No, you look good.” His signature smirk appearing on his burned face. (y/n)’s heart fluttered slightly, the fiery boy never failed to make her heart skip a beat even after two years of dating.

“I get off in 50 minutes. You wanna hang around? I just made a fresh batch of cookies.”

“The ones I like?” His eyes seemed to sparkle like a kid in a candy store. Dabi loved to act big and bad, and that side of him was definitely...hot, but you loved to see the goofy childish side of him as well.

“Yeah, your favorite.” She replied, a large smile on her face as he nodded quickly, the dark hood of the sweatshirt pulled up on his head. “Alright. Here. I’ll be done soon.” She handed him a few cookies, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he slinked off to the seat he usually took in the corner of the shop when he waited for you.

(y/n) watched as he stood, picking up a book he had already started last time he came, sitting back down and flipping to the page he had left off on. Dabi...Touya wasn’t a bad guy, no matter what anyone told her, otherwise.

She was pulled out of her thoughts at the chime of the bell, a blonde man walking into the store. He must’ve been a traveler because he looked lost, especially with the way he had pulled up directions onto his phone. (y/n) gave him a friendly smile, “Hi, what can I get you?”

“I’ll take a...hot chocolate.” He said weirdly, giving her a smirk as his light eyes trailed up and down her body, at least the part that wasn’t hidden behind a counter. She nodded uneasily.

“Anything else?” Her mood had dropped, already tired of the male customer.

“How about your number?”

“No, sorry. I’m working and I-” He cut the girl off as she handed him his drink, ringing it up after she had made it.

“Come on, if it’s because I’m white...I’m hung like a black guy, if you know what I mean.” He said to the girl, Dabi’s eyes narrowing as he practically glared a hole through the blonde man.

“E-excuse me?” (y/n) repeated, blinking as she ran her hands over her apron, stepping back from him. She wasn’t even sure that had just happened, nothing that bad had ever happened at work before, just the occasional Wow, so pretty or Your hair is so fluffy, like a cloud from a few children when she wore it in an afro, that made her smile though, the kids were cute and everyone was generally respectful.

“If that’s why you won’t give me your number, you don’t have to worry about that.” He repeated.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to shut the fuck up.” Dabi chimed in, catching his girlfriend completely off guard. She hadn’t even noticed he had come up behind him or moved from his seat.

“What’s your problem man? I don’t think this involves you at all.” The blonde guy shot him a glare before turning back to the black girl behind the counter and stepping closer. Dabi’s blue eyes seemed to hold small flames in them as his anger grew. A dark chuckle left his lips as he harshly brought his hand down onto the blonde shoulder, heating it up until the man’s jacket was practically smoking.

“That’s my girlfriend, man.” Dabi told the man mockingly, his voice low and his eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t mind you calling her pretty, because she’s gorgeous but if you disrespect her, then you’re gonna deal with me.”

“Ew you fucking creep. I’ll call the police.” He threatened after turning and seeing Dabi’s face. Dabi tilted his head to the side slightly, a slow smile growing on his face, though it seemed more eerie than anything.

“I’ll give you something to call them about.” Dabi threatened. “Now, why don’t you leave and if I see you around here again, I’ll burn your ass so bad you’ll be virtually unrecognizable.”

“Fuck all of you. This place is shit anyway and the bitch behind the counter looks like a fucking monkey.” The guy announced going to walk out of the bakery.

“Not acceptable. Apologize.” Dabi demanded, his hand going around the blonde’s neck as he heated his hand up, making sure it would leave a burn.

“Sorry.” The guy cried out, Dabi rolling his eyes before shoving him towards the door, a scoff leaving his lips as the guy tripped on the way out.

“You know you’re gorgeous right?” Dabi questioned as (y/n)’s best friend and coworker told her to go home after that incident. Dabi grabbed (y/n)’s hand, waving back at her coworker before the couple walked towards their apartment, (y/n) excited to dye Dabi’s hair.

Tags:

[iamwhoami]

You Found Me (Chicago PD)

Chicago PD

Hailey Upton knows that her job is dangerous but never did she think that it could become dangerous for her girlfriend Y/N. Or at least she never hoped it would.

Warnings: Blood...kidnapping, all that jazz

Requested = Yes

The request asked for this to be long but I'm not exactly sure what constitutes as long so I'm just going to drag this on until I can't.

Obviously, you knew what Hailey's job was. You knew it was dangerous but the risk of Hailey's wellbeing and constantly having to worry about her when she went to work was easily outweighed by the pros of dating her.

It was Hailey Upton after all.

"Be safe okay," You whispered before pecking Hailey on her cheek on her way out.

"You too," Hailey replied and you chuckled.

"Please, I'm a doctor, what's the worst that could happen," You smiled.

Hailey raised an eyebrow, "Don't jinx yourself."

You only shook your head in response, giving Hailey another kiss on the lips on her way out the door.

"I love you," You called and grinned as you leaned your head against the frame of the door, watching Hailey walk down the hall.

~~~

"Y/N, there's a patient in four waiting," Maggie told you the moment you walked into the ED.

"I'll be there in a moment," You replied as you fumbled through your bag, "I think I left my hospital ID in my car."

Maggie only shot you a look, "Be quick about it."

You had all intentions of being quick. It was a trip to the car, a grab from the glove department, a trip back to the ED.

That was it.

Or at least, that was all that it was supposed to be.

You felt something was wrong the moment you stepped foot out of the ED but you told yourself that you were just being paranoid. Hailey tried to keep her work as separate as possible from you but that didn't mean that you were completely oblivious to some of her cases.

You told yourself that the gruesome details of Hailey's cases were just playing with your mind and kept walking.

You should have trusted your instincts though. You should have listened to the tiny voice in your head (the one that sounded a lot like Hailey) and just turned around and head back to the

But you didn't, and you were going to regret it.

The last thing you remembered was reaching in through the passenger door to open the glove box when you felt a heavy blow to the back of your head.

Then nothing.

~~~

Maggie furrowed her eyebrows when the patient that you were supposed to be seeing complained about how long she had been waiting for a doctor.

"Hey...Nat," Maggie handed the tablet over, "Y/N was supposed to cover this one once she got her ID but the patient's still waiting. You haven't seen her have you?"

Natalie shook her head, "No, I haven't. Sorry..."

Maggie only nodded while Dr. Manning went into the room. Something wasn't right. You weren't one to just completely forget about a patient. If anything, you were the opposite.

Slightly worried, Maggie decided to check where you usually parked the car. Leaving Doris in charge of the ED for the few minutes that she would be gone, Maggie hurried out to the parking lot.

She was confused when she saw that your parking space was empty. You always parked there. Everyone at the hospital knew that it was your spot.

Completely bewildered, Maggie walked closer to the parking spot, her eyes going wide when she saw something on the pavement.

Blood.

~~~

You groaned as you slowly came back to consciousness. Your head hurt like hell but when you tried to reach up to touch it, you realized that your wrists were actually bound together.

As your vision cleared, you noticed just how dark your surroundings were and immediately jumped to the conclusion that you were in a warehouse.

Sure, you totally could have been somewhere else but it seemed like all of the victims who were held captive in Hailey's cases were kept in a warehouse sort of building.

You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite the dire circumstances. Someone would have noticed that you didn't return to the hospital and the police would find you soon.

And if it was Hailey and Intelligence looking for you, then you would be back in Hailey's arms in no time.

That's what you kept telling yourself.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could begin to make out details of your captivity.

Your hands were bound behind your back but your ankles weren't tied whatsoever. You knew better than to struggle against your restraints but you couldn't help but try anyways, sighing when you only ended up tightening them.

Surprisingly, you were alone and so you took the chance to stumble onto your feet as best as you could without the use of your arms and scout out the area.

Maybe your kidnappers were stupid enough to leave you an exit.

Your heart racing, you let out a shaky breath, reminding yourself that panic wasn't going to help and began walking around the perimeter of the space.

~~~

"Don't even think about taking me off the case," Hailey deadpanned the moment the door to Voight's office closed.

"You really think it's a good idea for you to be working right now?" Voight raised an eyebrow, "Y/N is your girlfriend!"

Hailey pursed her lips, "I'm aware of that."

"Hailey..." Voight's voice was strangely gentle.

"No," Hailey shook her head stubbornly, "I'm not going to just sit around and wait for someone to bring Y/N back to me and every moment you waste trying to talk me out of this is time wasted on Y/N."

Voight and Hailey both knew that if Voight did bench her, she was still going to search for you, even if it meant going against her sergeant's orders.

"Fine," Voight gruffly agreed, "Go help Halstead go through your past cases. Anyone who might use Y/N as revenge on you."

Hailey gave a short nod and without another word, left the office.

Truthfully, she hadn't processed anything whatsoever, but you were out there somewhere, definitely hurt and that's all that she needed to know.

Of course, she was worried. Worried was an understatement, and once in a while, she'd catch herself thinking about the worst outcomes but stop before it got too far.

She had to stay focused on the task at hand which was to bring you home to her.

This was not the moment to break down.

~~~

You walked loop after loop around the space until your head couldn't take it anymore and you crumbled to the ground.

While walking, you had noticed a steel door but there was no way you were getting through it. Especially not with your hands tied.

Lying on the cold concrete floor, you couldn't help but start to think of worst-case scenarios. What if they never found you? What if you died before they got here? What if you never saw Hailey again?

Your thoughts were interrupted though by the sound of footsteps echoing towards the door.

You felt your heart drop and your entire body tense. Was this your kidnapper?

The door suddenly swung open and revealed two men, one significantly taller than the other.

"Well...looks like our doctor here has a little boo-boo," The shorter one snickered at your limp body sprawled on the ground.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying something you would regret later.

"I can see why the detective fell in love with her," The taller one joined in, a smirk on his face, "She's quite the catch."

The two men had both crouched down in front of you now and you couldn't help but spit out a remark.

"Fuck off."

"Oh, would you look at that," The tall man smiled sickly, "She's feisty too...just like our detective friend..."

A sudden rush of panic flowed through you as you came up with the theory that they had Hailey too.

"Oh don't worry about her," The shorter man caressed your cheek, making you flinch slightly, "It's much more fun watching her spiral from afar...speaking of fun...I think it's about time we made a call."

Before you could say anything else, the two men got up and left the room and you let out a breath. Besides your head wound, you were uninjured so far and if they were calling Hailey, then it would just give them more clues to who the men were and where you were.

Despite the fear coursing through your veins, you still tried to stay positive and so you just kept telling yourself that you would be out of here in no time.

~~~

Hailey's heart nearly leaped out of her chest when she answered her phone.

"Hello detective," A cold voice reached her ear.

Immediately, Hailey flagged the attention of the rest of Intelligence and put the call on speaker.

"You might have already found out that your girlfriend is gone..." The voice droned, "Such a shame, hopefully, she didn't leave you for another woman..."

"You better not hurt her," Hailey clenched her jaw, her stomach churning as she listened to the man's voice come through the phone.

The man laughed, "Who said I took her?"

"We're going to find her," Hailey said, "And we're going to find you."

"Don't be so confident about that," The man was clearly enjoying playing Hailey like this, "Let me loop you in detective, it isn't so fun to have someone take your loved one away from you is it?"

Hailey opened her mouth to respond but the call had already disconnected.

"I think I got something," Jay called out and held up a case folder, "We put a Jameson Greene away a few weeks ago. He's doing hard time and he has two brothers who he lived with...that could be what the caller was referring to when he talked about losing someone you love."

"Hey, look at this," Kim pointed to her screen, "I pulled up street cams and managed to catch Y/N's car...we lose it after a few streets but it is going into the area that Greene lived in with his brothers. Plus, there's plenty of old warehouses around that place."

Everyone turned to look at Voight who gave a nod.

"Suit up," He said and turned around, "I want Patrol on this as well. I want everyone looking for Y/N."

~~~

"Your detective sounded pretty sure that she was going to find you," The man stroked your hair and you wanted to puke with each touch.

"That's because she will," You managed to croak out. While you only had a head injury, it was still a head injury that also hadn't stopped bleeding and on top of that, you desperately needed water.

You needed Hailey.

"You sure about that sweetheart?" The sarcasm dripped in his voice and you fought the urge to spit in his face.

"Well, I know she isn't going to stop until she does so yes," You said through gritted teeth, "She will find me."

A smirk formed on the man's face, "We'll just have to wait and see won't we, princess?"

~~~

Everyone on the team could see that Hailey was beginning to spiral. After countless door-to-door and dead-end leads, they still hadn't found you and that was taking a toll on Hailey.

"Hey," Jay stopped her before they hit the next house, "You okay?"

"I'll feel better once we find Y/N," Hailey said through gritted teeth and pushed past Jay, continuing to walk.

Jay stepped in front of Hailey, "Look, maybe you should go home...take a breather."

"Absolutely not!" Hailey narrowed her eyes, "I'm not going home until I can bring her home with me."

Jay opened his mouth to press back but was interrupted by Atwater's voice calling out.

"We got something!"

~~~

It was beginning to become harder and harder to keep your eyes open and while you were a doctor, it didn't take a doctor to understand that this wasn't a good sign.

"If your detective girlfriend doesn't come soon I'm going to have to call her again," The man snickered, "Maybe I'll have to be more specific...I'll tell her to bring wine too."

You didn't have enough strength to find a comeback as you laid on the ground, your wrists still bound together.

"Princess..." The man's voice broke through your pain, "You better keep your eyes open princess."

"Don't call me that," You breathed out, wincing at how your head throbbed with each word.

The man hummed, "What should I call you then? Would you prefer darling?"

"Chicago PD!"

In an instant, the door flung open and you were suddenly yanked up onto your feet. Despite your semi-conscious state and fuzzy vision, you could still make out the members of Intelligence rushing towards you.

It all happened so fast. One moment you were struggling to say upright long enough for someone to get you away from your captor and the next you could see the wall speeding towards you.

You felt the side of your head smash into a hard surface but before you could register any pain, everything fell black.

~~~

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing that you felt was the pounding coming from your head. As your vision cleared though, you realized that you were in a hospital room.

You had been in hospital rooms plenty of times but it didn't take very long for you to notice that you were in this room as a doctor.

"Hey...you're awake."

You didn't need to see who the voice came from to know that it was Hailey. Slowly, you turned your head and were immediately met with those blue eyes.

"You look like hell," You hoarsely croaked out.

"Right back at you," Hailey tried to keep her tone teasing but you could tell that she was holding back a lot.

You spread your arms, "Come here."

Hailey took your offer immediately, melting into your embrace.

"I'm okay," You whispered, "See, I'm okay."

"I know..." Hailey mumbled into your neck, "I know you are. I know the doctors said you were going to be fine I just-"

A sob interrupted Hailey and she buried her face deeper into your neck while you rubbed her back soothingly.

"I told those men that you would find me," You smiled, "See...I'm right as always."

Hailey let out a watery laugh and sat back up so that she could see your face.

"I'm okay Hailey," You lowered your voice, "You found me...everything is going to be okay."

"You were the one kidnapped," Hailey shook her head, "I should be comforting you."

You reached out to take Hailey's hand, "Well, there's plenty time for that too..."

"I was so worried," Hailey rubbed her eyes, "I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if we didn't find you."

"Hey...hey, look at me," You squeezed Hailey's hand, "That didn't happen. You did find me and I'm okay and we're going to be okay. It's going to be okay."

Hailey nodded, "I know...it's just..."

"It's just what?" You asked softly.

"I...I couldn't remember if I had told you that I loved you back this morning when I left," Hailey bit her lip, "What if we didn't find you? What was the last thing I told you?"

You breathed out, "Hailey...you don't have to worry about that. You found me. I know you love me. We're okay..."

"I-"

"Hailey," You cupped your hands on either side of her face, "Everything's okay."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[2manyfandoms2count]

Golden hour

I felt very indulgent today and decided to write some pure fluff. Caution: contains Shanghai special spoilers! Mostly Ladynoir, but also a bit of Marichat because yes.

Hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

---

Chat Noir had to ask. He knew that there was a risk he would get caught out on his little lie, but hey. Even if they said curiosity killed the cat, the key part was that satisfaction brought it back.

“Hey, Bugaboo?” He lazily opened an eye and turned slightly towards her.

She hummed in reply, revelling in the warm evening sun.

She’s so pretty, Chat thought as he looked at her. Seeing her lying there so peacefully in the golden sunset, it was really hard to resist the itch to update his profile picture of Ladybug (and maybe, who knows, his phone background).

They’d both finished their ice cream a while ago, but neither of them had felt like leaving just yet. Basking in the last lights of a warm Summer day after a quiet patrol at the top of the Eiffel Tower, with the Champs de Mars on one side and the Seine on the other was exactly the kind of holiday each wanted. Especially if it was with the person they’d never get tired of sitting in complete silence with, even if they wouldn’t necessarily admit it out loud.

Ladybug shifted a little and Chat Noir cleared his throat, afraid that she’d catch him staring. His quiet admiration had almost made him forget his question.

“How long did it end up taking you to fly back from Shanghai?”

Her eyes flew open and for a second she looked like a deer caught in headlights, but it could have just been an adjustment to the light. Her cheeks were red when she propped herself on her elbow to face him, although it was hard to tell if it was a blush or the beginning of a sunburn.

“I’m not entirely sure, it must have been something like…” Ladybug’s brain whirred as it tried to grasp at an elusive physics class that might have held a ballpark answer. She knew that with the magic of the suits, even making a detour via the poles (mince, had she said she’d take the Arctic or the Antartic route? Did it matter? Why hadn’t she looked it up like she’d meant to-) was probably shorter than the average flight length. “Four hours? More or less?” She cringed a little as she waited for his reaction.

The latter turned out to be a squint, as Chat Noir tried to gauge if his own calculations had been entirely wrong, or if she was bluffing. Given that it took a plane a little more than twelve hours to fly back, he could see a detour via the Arctic possibly taking just as long. The powerup was pretty fast though, probably more in the rocket-speed range, so the travel time would have been significantly less. If the physics exercises he’d solved in class, which listed said speed to be around five thousand kilometers per hour, could be trusted, it cut it to about two hours, assuming there were no pit stops along the way. The Antarctic route would obviously be longer, given that Shanghai was, all in all, quite high above the Equator; he would have said it was probably a six hour flight at least.

Her time was therefore either too long or too short, and one question remained; which route had she said she’d take again?...

He saw her fidgeting increase with the length of his silence.

“It could have been six hours, though. Or twelve? Really, I don’t recall exactly, I forgot to look at a clock because it’s not like we have watches with our suits, you know?” She chuckled nervously as she tried backtracking and suddenly it dawned on him.

“You didn’t fly back, did you?” he asked softly, and her lack of response spoke volumes. “You had to go back and check on Marinette, and then you figured you’d stay a bit.”

It would explain the lack of patrol calls he’d gotten during the remainder of his short stay in Shanghai, when there’d been so many since he’d come back. She’d probably returned around the same time he had. He wondered if they’d crossed paths as civilians while walking around the city. Had he known she was there, he would’ve kept an eye out for anyone who looked vaguely familiar. Someone he could’ve seen in Paris as well. Maybe Marinette could have helped him.

She gave him a curious look, but then nodded along sheepishly. “How did you know?”

“It’s just the kind of thing you do,” he smiled. “Also, it would’ve been a little irresponsible for you to make the round trip within a day, especially after having fought two major Akumas. Not to mention a real shame, because Shanghai is quite lovely.”

“Are you saying you didn’t fly back either?” She nudged him with her elbow. “It’s not like you weren’t a part of those fights, too, and you talk about the city like you know it quite well.” She didn’t mention the fact that he would’ve had an extra reason to stay over, given that he’d actually been hit by the Akuma. She didn’t want to dampen the mood.

It was Chat’s turn to fidget a little. “Oh no, I definitely flew back, it’s just that, erm, well… oh! I arrived before you, remember? So it wasn’t so bad to fly back so soon afterwards, I’d had a bit of a break while I was looking for Marinette. And that’s when I did a little sightseeing, too. Our suits are really perfect for tourism, having access to the roofs helps prevent getting lost!”

“That’s true.” She smiled at his enthusiasm, thankful that he wasn’t pushing the topic any further. “Actually, speaking of Marinette… I wanted to thank you. I’m not sure how you found out that she was missing, but the fact that you flew out to help her…” She couldn’t express how much it meant to her, not without saying too much. She hoped that he would read in between the lines though, even if he thought it was just that she appreciated his dedication to helping out Parisians. Ever since she’d gotten her Guardian duties, she felt like things were changing in her life; it was subtle, but the ground was starting to feel shaky under her feet, and she wasn’t sure it was completely linked to the start of the summer and the end of collège. It was nice to know that Chat Noir was still here for her with or without the mask, even if he didn’t know it.

“It’s only natural. I would’ve done it for any civilian…” he started, and her shoulders slumped a little, even though it was to be expected. She perked back up when he leaned forward and continued in a confidential tone: “... but if I’m being honest, if there’s one civilian I’d drop everything for, it would be Marinette.”

She felt her cheeks warm and couldn’t repress the smile that spread on her lips. “Oh?”

“Well, she’s just such a valuable part of our team, even if you don’t use her potential much,” he gave her a pointed look. “And, well, it’s not like I know a lot about her,” he scratched the back of his head, “but one thing I do know is that she’s a very good friend, and just a very… solar person in general. She just radiates kindness and warmth, you know? And I… heard someone called her an everyday Ladybug once, and it’s a really good description. If everyone had a Marinette in their life, I think Akumatisation rates would probably plummet.”

Ladybug gulped at the compliment, which just seemed to come so easily to him. “Well, thank you.”

Chat Noir glanced at her and noticed her fluster. He leaned a little closer to her, eyes glinting mischievously and nudged her lightly. “My Lady, are you jealous of Marinette? Because you know I’d also say all these things about you if I knew who was behind the mask. You’d absolutely become the first civilian I’d drop everything for.”

“As if.” She nudged him back with a fond smile. “Silly kitty.”

She lied back down, and as he mirrored her, she scooted closer to him so she could rest her head on his shoulder. It was the best thing she could think of to thank him at that moment, even though she knew she’d be working overtime to find a proper gift to give him from Marinette.

Yes, her little holiday in Shanghai with Adrien had been nice, of course it had; but to paraphrase Dorothy, there was just no place like home. And this was exactly what this place felt like.

[missorgana]

call me what you want

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson

fandom: marvel cinematic universe

rating: general

word count: 2741

warning: alcohol, swearing

summary: Bucky thinks he quite likes Sam calling him nicknames, but he likes his smile more. (more tfatws canon compliant fluff.. just because!)

(look at me, once again ignoring exams to write stupid fluff instead. anyways! don’t have much to say but hope u enjoy!! <333 missing them already)

read on ao3

Bucky doesn’t realise just how long he’s been looking at Sam until the man glances over and calls him Buck.

When he thinks about it, his eyes never leave him. Not after those staring contests of theirs, which he’ll admit to himself and no one else that he’s the most responsible for. Not when Sam turns his back to him, focus returning to the mission and Joaquín and Redwing.

He’d roll his eyes at the nickname, but that would mean looking away from Sam, and losing eye contact with Sam.

“Don’t call me that,” he says instead, hopefully conveying his disagreement with a tight-lipped look. He considers smiling. Seems inappropriate.

The other man does smile, “Why not? It’s what Steve called you.”

Sam’s smile looks right. Feels right. Bucky’s had people smile at him before, sure, plenty, but it hasn’t ever felt exactly like this. He’s not sure what it means, though, so he pushes it the furthest way back into his consciousness.

“He knew me longer,” Bucky explains, pretending like it matters, “And Steve had a plan.”

The shorter man seems like he’s holding in a laugh, a smug one. That suggests he knows the obvious lie when he hears it. 

Bucky can see the gap between his teeth.

If he turns his own lips into a smile when Sam turns away again, the man currently preparing to jump out the chute doesn’t need to know. If he spots it and gives him a funny look, he doesn’t need to know the reason behind the smile. Bucky knows.

*

Because Sam’s always calling him a  cyborg, Bucky fumbles for some sort of retaliation. His name’s too short to make fun of, he contemplates. Damn him.

“I can see the gears turning,” the shorter man laughs, hard and out of breath. Bucky still can’t stop looking at him, for some reason. He bends over a bit when he laughs, picking up a faster pace than himself. Bucky makes sure to catch up.

His comeback ends up being, “Sure you can, birdman.”

He can tell the other man feigns offence, raised brows and nose scrunching at the edges. Sam smiles so easily. Bucky wonders what that’s like.

“Oh, I see how it is,” the man next to him speaks up, eyes dancing easily over the open, practically deserted field they’re surrounded by. There’s a car buzzing faintly a fair amount of miles away, Sam wouldn’t notice but he does, super soldier senses and all, “For the record, that movie’s not too bad.”

Bucky kicks a rock and some dirt to the side. The rock’s weird looking, all sharp edges, almost like spikes. Yet it’s so small. He decides to look at Sam instead, “What movie?”

A honk lets them know they’re not alone. He thinks this might be what disappointment feels like, because the other man stops himself after “I-” and shakes his head instead, causing Bucky’s brows to furrow and right hand to twitch and something sinking inside his stomach, “Nevermind.”

He has to remember to google that later.

*

Bucky doesn’t really care that Karli told Sam to come alone, because Sam also knows that he’ll be coming with him, no matter the protest.

He’s got a hunch Sam also knows that he was lying, again, reattaching his vibranium arm and gaining the senses back and pretending not to be all that shocked.

“You okay?” the man asks and he answers, “I’m fine.”

Of course. It’s fine. Kind of annoying, how Sam looks at him with a worried glance, trying to hide it but failing miserably. Bucky doesn’t look away when their eyes meet. The shorter man blinks, slowly, like a question.

And he always gestures for Sam to go first.

So he does, too, on the Wilsons’ boat, when he’s tightened near every damn screw and lifted every imaginable thing like it’s nothing, and yet the other man still refuses to ask for help. He accepts it when Bucky decides to put a cool hand on his hip, though.

Sam stills. He himself doesn’t move till the man in front of him does. Seconds seem like years.

“Alright, show-off, don’t overwork yourself,” he tells Bucky, laughing without much of the familiar smugness. The dimples in his cheeks are deeper now, wide eyes. Bucky expects Sam to be looking at his left arm, but his gaze is resting somewhere under his chin. His throat, above his chest.

He thinks he’s getting the hang of this nickname thing, “Sure thing, Sammy.”

And the other man throws a towel at him in response. “Sammy? What are you, five?”

Sam’s sweatshirt has a small hole in it. Near his hip, a tiny thread poking out. The fabric slides up when he raises his arm, revealing a sliver of his stomach. He imagines his skin to be soft, like his arm. It seems the man notices his fixated stare on the spot, looking for whatever the subject of his attention, wiping his forehead in the hem.

Bucky shrugs, “Give or take a hundred years.”

He understands why Sam’s chuckle doesn’t reach his brown eyes at that. What he doesn’t understand is his pupils, significantly dilated. Stupid serum advancement, stupid awareness.

A spot of sunlight touches the other man’s face, and he squints, covering himself with a hand, moving out of Bucky’s sight.

This is how he realises he’s still holding a grip on the now tightened pipe, harder than he thought. He’ll make sure to fix the bending he caused before Sam notices.

*

Sam is a good dancer. Not that Bucky’s an expert on it or anything, far from it, but he’s not tripping over his own feet or cursing or slinging his sister around like a ragdoll.

His nephews are jumping around them, too, a couple of their neighbours in a slow dance, another reaching out and offering Bucky a beer, which he accepts. The serum doesn’t allow him to be affected much, unless he deliberately seeks being unsensibly drunk, but he likes the bitter taste, regardless.

Sarah straightens her brother’s arm and rolls her eyes in the direction of himself.

Sam turns his head about a millisecond later, winking before spinning her around. It’s smooth as hell, despite not breaking eye contact with Bucky. 

"Come on, Buckaroo!" the shorter man raises his voice, nickname just plain awful, "Get up here."

Bucky decides to shake his head as a reply, he's always preferred observing, really. Besides, he thinks he might be too quick on his feet. Too spinny, urging to not stand still.

Sam doesn't drag him up. He didn't expect him to, but it still surprised him, for some reason. The shorter man looks severely gentle with his hands on the small of Sarah's back, not surprising.

He gets a shake of the man's head and a shimmy of his shoulders. "Man, you're no fun."

Bucky huffs, “Whatever you say, darling.” Sam blinks in disbelief at the name. Sarah snaps him out to carry on with the dance. He likes having the man’s attention, he thinks.

He considers hiding his smile behind the rim of the glass. But really, there’s no need to, and he doesn’t feel like it.

The other man always grins as opposed to simply smiling. It grows just an inch when he notices Bucky smiling back, and there’s these tiny, sensitive hairs standing up on the back of his neck, he feels it immediately. Blood rushing to his face. Maybe it’s just the alcohol.

Just about every window in their house is open, his t-shirt sticks ever so slightly to his lower back with sweat, and a moth is fluttering around the lamp in the corner. It’s comical, tiny wings and body staying so close to that light, not really doing anything.

Eventually it’ll die, he guesses. Well, it has to, of course. But when the living room thins out and the light dies and everything turns quiet, it’ll simply wander around, lost, until that warm glow returns.

That stupid bug bathes in the light like it’s the only thing in life that matters. Bucky feels a sudden urge to look at Sam again, and the other man isn’t looking at him anymore, but it doesn't matter, his presence is enough.

Actually, he thinks he might fear looking away from Sam. Scared he’ll miss something, anything. A look or a smile or a joke or a movement. Some warmth radiating off of him, because the man has so much that he doesn’t even mind giving away a little to his surroundings. 

Bucky’s quite like the moth, in that sense.

*

Now, Bucky didn’t plan on kissing Sam today.

He’d been planning on it, or he wanted to  ask , but most times it was like the certain moment faded too quickly and he felt guilty for not doing anything about it.

When he woke up to AJ and Cass playing with the shield and the man cooking breakfast in a tank top, Bucky wondered if he should do it, then. It felt weird to try with both his nephews and sister in the kitchen though. He also sort of wished he had gone for it on the lower deck of the boat. Maybe Sam would think it was inappropriate when they were working.

When they circulated around each other the last few days, training, talking, Bucky gaining a deeper understanding for the other man and finding a way to convey an apology that sounds  right, it feels like they’re more of a team.

Connected. Stronger, maybe. Sam doesn’t need his super soldier strength at all, though, but it being wanted anyway, that makes him want to smile more. As much as the shorter man, maybe, if he’s capable.

Bucky decides the next time, the next moment, it’ll come, like all the other moments he’s been discovering and making him sort of breathless. In a good way.

“Thanks for the help,” Sam tells him, instead of a goodbye, “It meant a lot.”

Usually, these sentimental moments they keep having will be ended by the other man lightening the mood, so to speak. Not breaking it, just making it airy and familiar. His stupid jokes that aren’t even stupid, or annoying, anymore, they just remind Bucky of something like safety. He hasn’t asked, and Sam hasn’t said, but he feels like he’ll be there if he falls down. He’d do the same for him.

The man doesn’t joke around, now, despite himself attempting to muster the same smugness, “Of course.” He feels like it sounds more sarcastic than he intended. 

He quite likes that boat. Likes the people on it more. One particular person.

Bucky really thinks that’s the end of their conversation, their own way of saying  see you around  , but instead a voice catches him when he turns around, “I’m just telling the truth, baby.”

Naturally, he turns back, but now Sam’s got his back turned.

Funny, how they keep going back and forth like that. Watching, even when the other isn’t looking. He knows he’s been doing that a lot, there’s no denying it.

A feeling in his hand, the way it twitches, makes Bucky feel like this might be a new moment.

“Wilson!”

He doesn’t really wait for a reaction before following. Like the moth. Meant to follow. When Sam stops, he stops. Then, reaches over the shield in the man’s grasp and lets his fingers touch the nape of Sam’s neck.

Bucky half-expects him to push him away, but the shorter man kisses him back immediately, and  that makes him want to smile. So he does.

It’s short, close-mouthed, the softest experience he’s ever had. Soft lips, stubble meeting, even if the shield pokes his stomach, doesn’t matter.

When Bucky draws back, Sam’s grinning like an idiot.

He also lifts an expectant eyebrow, like he’s waiting for him to explain himself. Maybe say some romantic bullshit, but he’s scared the words will fail him. Too focused on the other man’s Adam's apple when he swallows, too busy counting his eyelashes, so he doesn’t forget.

Bucky doesn’t want to forget anything about Sam, ever, for the life of him.

He adjusts the bag on his shoulder, before giving the man one last smile. Sam looks weirdly proud of him. “It’s for luck.”

*

Bucky guesses a kiss is the sort of thing you talk about, but the mission at hand doesn’t allow much talking. He manages to hear Sam’s speech, grab every word and hide it within him and completely pretend he didn’t. The other man knows his bullshitting, again.

“Great job, Cap,” he tries to smile, showing his teeth, like Sam. The man next to him eyes him curiously, for the first time since Bucky met him, looking endearingly shy.

He still laughs, sounding almost like a song Bucky’s trying to remember, “It’s Cap now?”

“Obviously.”

And given Sharon’s wound, he can’t stick around, but the text he receives about a  party  at the Wilsons, a cookout, that doesn’t surprise him, actually. Doesn’t surprise him that he’d go to Louisiana in a heartbeat and pick up the cake Sarah asked for, even if it slides around in the carseat and doesn’t look all that appetizing when he arrives.

The Wilson siblings roll their eyes at him. They both smile. Sam looks like the sun.

Bucky’s so busy being overrun with kids staring at his left arm that he doesn’t notice Sam slipping out of the group. If it makes him panic just a little not knowing where he was, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

The shorter man hasn’t gone far though. He’s looking out at the water, the sunset.

It’s pretty. Looks prettier when Sam stands there.

He knows, he  knows he’s not damn good with communication. The other man told him so himself. But he can’t stop trying, even if it feels like he’ll swallow his tongue.

Sam doesn’t acknowledge him when he comes up behind him, not at first, but Bucky thinks about his easy smile and red shirt and the lines in his palm and the ghost of his lips on his when he says the first feeling that comes to mind.

“I hate everyone else in the world, but you.”

It makes the other man chuckle and turn his face towards him. When he smiles hard, really, really hard, his warm eyes crinkle at the corners.

There’s a small birthmark on Sam’s throat, he notices. And one on his earlobe.

“Really?” he asks, as if it’s up for discussion.

“Yeah.”

Then that smugness returns like a charm with the comment, “So you like me more than Steve?”

And he would be annoyed, but his own smile is kind of preventing that feeling to surface. “I hate Steve,” he answers, with a certainty that surprises them both. Sam’s tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Then, “You liked Natasha, though,” and Bucky wants to roll his eyes so goddamn badly, which is clearly what the other man was looking for. He thinks he finds him adorable. The pink hue of the sky touches his being so perfectly. Hazy eyes, teeth nearly gleaming in the light.

“No, I mean what I said,” and Bucky knows what’s coming, of course he does, “But you can’t not like Rhodey, I mean...”

Sam is so fucking ridiculous. He doesn’t ever want him to stop making him smile like this.

“Sam, please, I’m trying to-” but Bucky doesn’t quite get to finish that sentence. Not because the other man interrupts him, at least not with his lips, which he wouldn’t complain about, or his words, but because both of Sam’s hands come up to cradle his face in the most tender fashion. He thinks he might be going crazy.

So he just looks at the man for a minute. Contemplating how loud his beauty is, how much love is in his eyes and how it’s somehow directed at himself. It feels overwhelmingly peaceful.

And Bucky feels Sam’s breath on his cheeks before they connect their lips again. Long overdue. His tongue tastes like coffee and butterscotch.

When they pull apart, the shorter man bumps their noses together. Bucky quite gladly could stay like this forever.

Then Sam asks, an unspoken conclusion, but voices the question regardless, because, well. He’s pretty sure they both need it, “You plan on sticking around?”

This smiling thing is kind of straining Bucky’s jaw. He’ll get used to it.

“Don’t even need to ask, sweetheart.”

[loverboytrashmouth]

Wish You Were Sober

pairing; Reddie

word count; 4k

summary; Eddie is tired of Richie flirting like a madman whenever he gets alcohol in his system.

a/n; so i decided i’m making a kind of series of reddie fics i write based on songs, bc i’m the type of bitch that listens to any music or intakes any kind of media and thinks “iMagiNe tHiS bUt rEdDiE<333″ so ya there’s that lol. here’s a lil angsty one shot based on wish you were sober by conan gray, aka a superior song if u ask me. as always, read on ao3 here if you’d like and enjoy ! :)

Nirvana blared through the speakers and traveled throughout the too small apartment owned by some random guy in one of Richie’s classes. Richie didn’t know him too well - he thinks his name is Chris? Collin? Something with a ‘C’ - but, hey, a party’s a party, and free booze is free booze.

The trashmouth was chatting loudly over the music with Bill on a dingy leather couch, waiting for Stan and Eddie to return with more drinks. Richie was already significantly further along than his friends in terms of his drunken state, all obnoxious laughs interrupted by hiccups and long, gangly limbs flailing more wildly than usual. It almost should be concerning to the other Losers, having only been at the party for less than a couple hours and their friend already being long gone, but it was what they were used to. Since they were 15 and stealing liquor from their parents, the Losers constantly saw Richie’s “go big or go home” attitude with drinking. They assumed it was just Richie wanting to be the life of the party and center of attention, whether that meant going shot for shot with Mike, accepting any type of drinking related dare from Beverly, etc.

Richie let them believe this, because it was better than telling them the truth. It was easier than admitting to them that around the same time he started sneaking a copious amount of vodka from the Tozier’s alcohol stash, he was also realizing certain feelings he had for a certain Loser.

Richie Tozier loved Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie was sure it was just one of those basic laws of the universe, one that’s impossible to ignore and inevitable to come to pass. Despite this, living in a small town like Derry meant getting the shit kicked out of you if you even look at another guy for too long, soulmates or inescapable love or whatever be damned. Richie had gotten beatdowns left and right from neighborhood bullies for being a “faggot” before he even knew what the word meant, so he, unfortunately, knew this from personal experience.

But now, sitting in an apartment in Manhattan of all places, attending NYU with three out of six of his best friends, away from those assholes in Derry, Richie thought he’d loosen up. Let himself be brave.

He soon learned that was easier said than done; who knew what 19 years of internalized homophobia could do to a man?

It’s not like he was afraid of being more of an outcast; he was already a loser with a capital “L,” and he, along with the rest of his friends, carried the title like it was given to them by the Queen herself. Deep down Richie knew the rest of the Losers wouldn’t even bat an eye at the fact that he liked dudes the way he should have liked girls, so he wasn’t afraid of losing them either. And deep, deep down, Richie also knew there wasn’t really anything wrong with him. Why would he feel such a way if it was supposed to be such an unnatural and vile thing? He couldn’t help who he was, who or how he loved, and God, he loved Eddie so much he thought he could just burst with it sometimes.

That shred of acceptance, though, was buried so deep in his lanky form, and the only way to reach it was through a ridiculous amount of shots. Or beers. Or just about anything with a decent alcohol content, really. He’d even settle with wine if he had to.

When Richie was drunk, he was able to be more clingy and face less consequences. He was already an affectionate guy, constantly pinching Eddie’s cheeks and throwing a lazy arm around the shorter man’s shoulders whenever he could. With alcohol, though, he’d give sloppy cheek kisses and intertwine his fingers with Eddie’s and allow his face to form a subtle blush when an intoxicated Eddie would lean into it.

“Sorry for being all over ya last night, Eds. You know how gross and clingy I can get,” he’d say the following morning, and then they’d fall back into their rhythm of bickering and ‘your mom’ jokes. Business as usual, like clockwork every time they’d get wasted.

Richie thought it was going well, that his feelings were going totally unnoticed, that he was stealth. Until this particular college party, that is.

Richie’s attention left his conversation with Bill about the newest Die Hard film when he felt the couch sink next to him, turning to meet eyes with a mildly tipsy Eddie. The taller man’s face immediately lit up, a goofy smile spreading across his chapped lips.

“Hiya, Spagheds! What’s cookin, good lookin’?” Richie slurred out, his arm finding its way around Eddie’s waist and using his other hand to snatch the mixed drink his friend was holding out for him. Eddie responded with his usual scoff and eyeroll, but Richie noted an extra bite to it that he wasn’t used to getting from him.

“Don’t call me that, asshole! And haven’t you ever heard of personal space?” Eddie grumbled, wiggling himself out of Richie’s side embrace and putting some distance between the two. The arm that was once around Eddie made its way to Richie’s own body as he dramatically grasped at his chest.

“Eddie, baby, you’ve wounded me! Since when do you pass up some signature Tozier cuddles?” Richie was met with a simple huff in response as Eddie avoided his gaze. Richie’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at the lack of attention he was receiving from the man who would usually be giving him the most attention, but he was overall too drunk to overthink. With a shrug, Richie downed his freshly made drink in record timing before crunching the plastic cup in his hand and tossing it over his shoulder, causing Eddie to scoff again from next to him. Stan spoke up from beside Bill before Eddie could ream his friend about his lack of care for tidiness.

“Maybe you should start on some water, huh, Rich?” Richie gasped dramatically, turning to look at Stan as if he had just told him pigs fly.

“Staniel, did you just ask moi to drink water? What’s the point of free booze if you’re not gonna take advantage?” He asked incredulously before standing, wobbling on his long limbs for a couple seconds and giggling a bit before regaining his balance. “Speaking of, I’m gonna go see if my boy Chris has any good brewskis lyin’ around.”

“Isn’t his name C-C-Connor?” Bill asked, shaking his head in amusement. He seemed to be the only one enjoying the trashmouth’s antics this evening, as Stan’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern which he tried to pass off as annoyance, and Eddie still kept his gaze elsewhere. It was the latter that made Richie itch for another drink.

“Whatever the fuck, Billiam. I’ll be back in a jiff, my loves! Try not to miss me too much!” Richie exclaimed with a bow, breaking out his British accent for his next sentence. “But if I find m’lady Mary Jane, don’t wait up, lads! Pip pip!”

Before Richie could step five feet from the couch, an aggressive hand was yanking him back by the wrist. Losing his footing due to the intrusion, Richie stumbled once more, nearly toppling onto Eddie. The shorter man’s tight grip on his arm was the only thing that kept him from sending them both back onto the scratchy leather of the couch below. Richie beamed at the attention he was finally receiving, despite the glare Eddie was boring deep into his features.

“Sit the fuck down, Richard. You’re not drinking anymore fucking beer and you’re definitely not smoking anything. You’re drinking some water and I’m taking you the fuck back to your room, asswipe,” Eddie said sternly, getting as close as he could to Richie’s face with the height difference between them. Richie couldn’t help but love when Eddie got like this; sure, he was red in the face more with anger than with the alcohol, but the anger was backed by mountains of concern. It reminded Richie how much his love cared about him, even though he was sure their forms of love differed. There was still some kind of love there, and sometimes, that was enough for him.

Although Richie felt his chest swell and he wanted nothing more than to ease Eddie’s anger and please him, his mouth rambled before his brain could tell it what to say, as usual.

“If you wanted to get me alone, Eds, all ya had to do was ask,” Richie slurred with a wink, slowly bringing his hand up Eddie’s arm, his calloused fingertips slightly teasing the warm skin. Eddie’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red, from anger or something else, no one was sure - until Richie’s hand was being swatted away, the smack of it loud enough for Bill and Stan to hear over the music from their spot on the couch. Richie mumbled a curse under his breath as he rubbed the skin Eddie came in contact with, a sting lingering there. He opened his mouth to speak again, some kind of excuse or apology on the tip of his tongue, but never got it out due to Eddie’s voice cutting him off.

“Stop doing this, Richie! Just stop! I’m tired of it!” Eddie's voice was slowly rising, and the tremble that laced within his words acted as some kind of magical potion; suddenly Richie had never been so sober. 

“Hey, Eddie, it’s okay. I’m sorry, whatever I did I’m sor-” The apology was interrupted with another signature scoff as Eddie looked at the ground, shaking his head, breathing out a humorless chuckle.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing,” he said with a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking Richie in his eyes once again. Despite the apartment being dark with the exception of a couple of lamps scattered around the area, Richie could see the glistening threat of tears waiting to spill from the doe eyes he loved so much. His heart ached.

“Of course you don’t know what you’re doing, Rich, because you’re too fucking drunk! You’re always too drunk. I just… I just wish you were sober for fucking once!” Eddie practically screamed, before his voice softened with hurt again. “I just wish you’d act like this with me without fucking booze.” There were a couple beats of silence between them, two pairs of dark eyes swimming with gallons of emotions simply blinking at one another, the only noise coming from Eddie’s sniffling. Richie did all in his power to search for a response, but for once in his life, the trashmouth was at a loss for words. After what felt like forever, Eddie finally ended the moment by turning on his heel and making a beeline for the door, leaving Richie to stand in dumbfounded silence while his intoxicated brain processed the scene that just unfolded. His thought process was interrupted by a voice coming from the couch.

“Wha-what just happened?” Bill asked, his amusement from earlier in the night completely dissipated and replaced with a mix of confusion and concern.

“Richie’s oblivious and a dumbass is what just happened. Nothing new,” Stan deadpanned from next to him. Richie snapped his body towards the pair, making his head spin and reminding him of just how drunk he was. He blinked at the two in an attempt to adjust his sight before raising his hands in defense at Stan’s comment.

“What are you talking about? Do you know what that was about?” Richie asked, pointing towards the direction Eddie stormed off in. Stan rolled his eyes before standing up and grabbing Richie by the shoulders with both hands, giving him a serious look.

“When we went to get drinks, Eddie talked to me. About you. About how you act when you’re drunk, all over him and shit, more than usual. And how much he likes it, but he hates that he likes it, because you only do it when you’re drunk.” Richie continued to gape at his friend, clearly not connecting what Stan’s words meant. Stan sighed, scrunching his face in annoyance and gripping Richie’s shoulders tighter. “He’s in love with you, asshole! Either tell him you love him too, because trust me, everyone except him knows you do, or stop leading him on. It’s fucking ruining him, man!”

Realization finally hit Richie, his eyes welling with tears as Stan’s grip on his shoulders softened. “He- He is? Are you sure? This- This isn’t funny, Stanley. A-Are you sure?” he breathed out, and if it wasn’t for the weight of the situation, he’d made a joke about how he was sounding like Bill, nervous stutter and all. Stan gave a slight nod and responded, but Richie didn’t hear what he said. His mind was suddenly racing; find Eddie. tell Eddie. kiss Eddie. EddieEddieEddie.

Before he knew it his feet were running just as fast as his thoughts, not 100% sure where he was going, just knowing he needed to find Eddie. Richie raced out of the apartment building into the chilly air that was New York City on a late November night, frantically scanning the streets. His eyes soon locked on a figure about half a block down, leaning against a mailbox, head in his hands. Even with the distance between them, Richie could tell he was trembling, either from the cold or from crying, he wasn’t sure. As he felt the sharp breeze across his skin exposed by the rips in his jeans, he assumed probably both.

Richie thought better than to call out his name, opting instead to slowly approach Eddie. He did his best to labor his breathing in his short walk over, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation that was about to take place. The confrontation that would bear all feelings, all confessions. All of the walls Richie had been building around himself since high school would finally come down.

He wished he had another drink.

“Eds?” He spoke softly, possibly the softest he’d ever spoken, as to not scare Eddie and send him running. The shorter man lifted his head from his hands, and Richie’s heart broke even more at the sight before him. Eddie’s eyes were red and puffy, a wall of hurt extremely evident in the soft brown. His nose was runny, and his lip quivered as he looked away when he realized who was standing in front of him.

“Don’t call me that,” he practically whispered, just loud enough for the other to catch it over the bustle of traffic in the streets surrounding them. Although he was avoiding the other man’s gaze like his life depended on it, Eddie made no attempt to walk away. Richie took that as a small win.

“Eddie, talk to me. Please. What’s up? It’s just me and you, man. C’mon.” Richie wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch Eddie. Offer a comforting hand on his shoulder, run his fingers through his hair, hold him close, tell him everything would be okay. But he didn’t dare move.

A car honked down the street, offering the only noise that cut through the thick silence when Eddie didn’t take Richie’s offer to speak. The former stayed silent with his head down, finding the dirty concrete under his pristine white converse highly interesting. Richie let out a sigh.

“Okay, you don’t have to talk. I’ll do all the talking. I’m the Trashmouth after all, aren’t I?” Richie offered a lame chuckle when his attempt at a joke fell flat, Eddie not breaking his frown even slightly. Richie cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing. “Look, I talked to Stan, he told me what you guys talked about, and -” He was cut off by the same humorless chuckle he heard in the apartment minutes ago, but this time it dripped with sadness rather than anger.

“Dammit, Stanley, you fucking traitor,” Eddie mumbled mostly to himself. He shook his head with a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, making them impossibly redder, before willing himself to look at Richie, his voice finally reaching above a murmur for the first time since leaving the party. “Secret’s out, I guess. I’m a fucking cliche. The fuckin’ queer that fell for his best friend.”

All Richie could do was silently stare, mouth slightly agape and eyes comically blown, amplified more so by his glasses. Sure, Stan had told him this not even five minutes beforehand, but hearing it from Eddie himself was an entirely different experience. He figured under different circumstances, Eddie would probably be laughing at how dumb he was sure he looked. Instead, the shorter man looked at him expectantly with tears still in his eyes, clearly waiting for some kind of response, and expecting the worst. They stood this way, basically a mirroring of what played out in the party upstairs before Eddie stormed out, for a solid minute before it was - once again - Eddie who broke the silence.

“So much for doing all the talking,” he muttered, the volume of his voice lowering, Richie realizing as Eddie looked back at the ground that he was closing in on himself once again. “Good night, Rich.”

“No,” Richie finally spoke, his arm darting out to grab Eddie’s hand before he could even adjust his feet to leave. “Please don’t walk away again. Please.” His voice broke on the last plea, his own eyes finally beginning to water. Eddie was still staring in the opposite direction down the concrete path he was planning on following before he was interrupted, but was staying put, not rejecting Richie’s hand in his. “There’s so much I wanna say to you, Eddie. So much. I just… Shit, I just don’t know how.”

Richie was crying just as much as Eddie was at this point but quieter, unable to pull himself together as much as he wanted to be brave. Eddie turned his head to face Richie with his glare still hardened, only softening when he saw the state Richie was in. Eddie had known Richie since they were literal children, and he knew better than anyone that Richie Tozier didn’t cry like this. Not unless something was truly eating at him. The anger Eddie felt towards the situation seemed to have completely disappeared as he comfortably squeezed Richie’s hand, giving him encouraging eyes.

The taller man used his free hand to rub the tears from his eyes, giving him a better look at Eddie. They were standing fairly close to the lone street light of the block, the faint orange tint of the bulb complimenting Eddie’s lightly tanned skin and chestnut eyes. Without thinking, Richie brought his hand up to Eddie’s face, cupping his cheek and wiping a stray tear away with the pad of his thumb. He continued softly rubbing at the skin there after the tear was gone, his thumb dancing across the freckles, his mind flooded with thoughts of how beautiful the man before him was. Eddie closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in the feel of Richie’s touch.

Unable to find words again but refusing to let the moment slip out of his fingers for the third time of the night, Richie did the only thing he truly knew how to do; he acted impulsively.

If asked, Richie wouldn’t be able to pinpoint exactly when he decided to kiss the man he’d loved since he was 15 in the middle of Greenwich Village at one in the morning. Before he knew it, the hand on Eddie’s cheek slid down to his neck, pulling their lips together before the shorter man could react to the shift in Richie’s hold on him. As much as he didn’t want to admit the fact, Richie knew he wouldn’t have taken such action if it weren’t for the alcohol flowing through his veins, but at this point he didn’t much care. When their lips met, he forgot all about the booze, and became drunk on Eddie.

Eddie kissed back without hesitation, letting go of Richie’s hand and easily snaking his arms around his neck, with a comfortability as if they had done this thousands of times. It was sloppy due to the pair’s mixed tears along with their lack of experience, but nevertheless the two men kissed with purpose, as if the fate of their livelihood depended on this moment. Perhaps it did.

By the time they pulled away and rested their foreheads together, Eddie’s fingers had found themselves tangled in Richie’s dark curls, and Richie’s hands were gripping Eddie’s hips for dear life. The kiss hadn’t lasted too long - thirty seconds or so, if that - however the energy both men poured into those short seconds left them panting heavily, their breath tangling together, hot in the other’s face in the midst of the cold air around them.

“That was better than talking,” Richie breathed out with a wet chuckle, causing Eddie to finally crack his first smile of the night. It was a small one, the corners of his mouth curving only lightly, but Richie saw that his happiness had made its way into his stare.

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie whispered with no real bite in his words before bringing their lips together again, this kiss softer than the last. While their first kiss was filled with the passion built up from years of mutual pining and secrets, their second let them convey the deepness of their love without words to speak. A tender peck of their lips told Richie everything he needed to know; this moment was very much real, and Eddie Kaspbrak very much loved Richie Tozier.

And if the kiss wasn’t enough, Eddie made sure to tell him when he pulled out of the kiss and rested his head on the taller man’s shoulder, pulling him into a proper embrace.

“I love you, Rich. I- I think I always have,” he confessed, his voice slightly muffled from where his face was buried in Richie’s neck, but the other man heard him loud and clear all the same. Richie released his grip on Eddie’s hips and wrapped his arms around him, letting himself breathe out a sigh of relief as he held him impossibly closer.

“I love you too, Eds. So fucking much, fuck.” Richie pressed a kiss to soft brown waves, breathing in the clean scent of lavender shampoo mixed with light cologne, his senses filling with just Eddie.

Standing in the middle of a bustling city they barely knew in the wee hours of a Sunday morning, arms wrapped tightly around one another, ignoring the strangers that walked past them most definitely giving them some variation of judgemental stares, Eddie and Richie had never felt more at home.

“Alright, Trashmouth,” Eddie started, reluctantly pulling away from Richie’s hold. Richie pouted at the loss of feeling Eddie’s body pressed against his own, making the latter chuckle and playfully roll his eyes. He pressed a quick peck to said trashmouth before continuing. “We can talk about this more in the morning. Right now, you need water and sleep.” Richie slapped a toothy grin onto his chapped lips after, once again, being reminded of how intoxicated he still was, falling back into his goofy demeanor with ease.

“Ya gonna take care of me, Dr. K? Ugh, what a dreamboat,” he replied, miming a cartoonish faint. Eddie simply giggled and grasped Richie’s hand once again, interlacing their fingers and leading him in the direction of their dorms. Richie fell back ever so slightly as to not get caught looking at Eddie like the lovesick dork he was, feeling a warmth grow in his body he was sure wasn’t due to the alcohol.

Richie still drinks after this night; old habits die hard, of course. However, Richie didn’t have to be drunk anymore to admit he loved Eddie. He told him sober and drunk, day and night, and vowed to remind Eddie just how much he loved him until the day they died.

[fanimesenseiwrites]

So I had an idea, and I love pain so I wrote this.

A Date With Diavolo - Epilogue

(Part 1, 2)

Diavolo walked into the palace after returning from spending the day in the human realm with Hoshiko.

Barbatos was sitting in a chair, waiting for him when he walked in.

"Good morning, my lord," there was a taste of venom in his voice.

Diavolo tensed up briefly, then sighed. "Good morning, Barbatos."

Barbatos stood up. "You did it again, didn't you?"

Diavolo avoided eye contact with the butler.

Barbatos sighed and his voice softened, considerably less harsh than it had been before. "Young Master, you can't keep doing this."

"I know," Diavolo replied as he finally made eye contact with Barbatos. "It's irresponsible."

"Well yes, but I really meant that you cannot keep doing this to yourself. Every time you do this I see your heart break a little more."

"Barbatos..." Diavolo crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't want to hear a lecture. I bear so much responsibility, I just want this little indulgence."

"This is a dangerous indulgence. I cannot guarantee that Hoshiko or someone else won't remember what actually happened," Barbatos warned.

Diavolo thought about it, then nodded. "You're right... you're absolutely right."

Barbatos sighed. "I'll reset the timeline to right before you left for the human realm."

Diavolo nodded. "Thank you, Barbatos."

"If you want to thank me, quit doing this," Barbatos told him as he walked off to his room.

Diavolo closed his eyes as he waited for Barbatos to finish his work.

He could feel the flow of time moving backwards, and was probably the only other person who could.

"... Lord Diavolo?" Barbatos called to the prince when he entered the foyer again.

Diavolo opened his eyes and looked at him. "Yes, Barbatos?"

For once, Barbatos hesitated. "... You should call Hoshiko and tell them that you can't visit them today."

Diavolo nodded and pulled his DDD out of his pocket and used it to call Hoshiko.

Diavolo smiled slightly as soon as he heard Hoshiko's voice.

"Hello Hoshiko... yes, I'm well. How are you? ... That's good... Well, I'm afraid I won't be able to make it today... Yes, I know. I'm afraid I'm behind on some very important paperwork..." Diavolo chuckled. "I wish, but I really shouldn't shirk my princely duties." Diavolo's grin faded. "... Yes, we'll have to see each other soon. Perhaps Barbatos could come with me, he'd like to get some new teas from the human world... Yes, well I'll let you be. I hope you have a good day... Good bye." Diavolo ended the call and just stared at the screen for a moment before putting his DDD back in his pocket.

Barbatos was quiet for a moment before he asked. "Can I run you a bath?"

Diavolo looked at him and nodded. "Yes please, I'd like that."

Barbatos nodded and picked up Diavolo's overnight bag before heading upstairs.

Diavolo followed him up.

When they got up to Diavolo's chambers, Barbatos set Diavolo's bag down before going into the bathroom and running a hot bath.

Diavolo started to undress until his bag caught his eye. He opened it up and pulled out a small black jewelery box. He bit his lip as he opened it, almost wishing it to be empty. He sighed as he saw his mother's ruby ring still inside.

Barbatos walked out into the bedroom and looked at Diavolo. "... My lord."

Diavolo sighed and closed the ring box again. "Please don't..."

Barbatos only hesitated before speaking anyways. "You've said that Hoshiko always returns your affections, so why do we keep doing this? Why not confess your feelings and make them your partner for good?"

Diavolo looked at Barbatos. "You know why."

"Humor me."

"It would be very... unconventional for the crown prince to be in love with a human. When I decide to take a partner I should choose someone who would make a suitable queen."

"I believe Hoshiko would make an elegant and wise queen," Barbatos argued cheekily.

Diavolo sighed. "I have no doubt in their abilities or that their personality will capture the heart of the people, my concern is their significantly shorter life span, the ability to produce an heir, what my father would say..."

"I'm surprised at you, my lord," Barbatos told him.

"What do you mean?" Diavolo asked with a raised brow.

"Never before now have you been so concerned with tradition."

Diavolo sighed. "Barbatos, I... Just leave me, please."

"Of course, my lord." Barbatos bowed before leaving the room.

Diavolo undressed and got into the bath, hoping to soak his frustrations away.

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group.

(Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, buried trauma, mentions of tortured and murdered children, furious Marcus.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: We learn a bit more history on the Heroics as a whole, and something Reader’s been supressing, that leads to some new developments concerning her powers.

(Again I apologise for the crossover GIF, but really Narcos just has the best ones. Also, let me know if it’s yours and I’ll credit you!)

Chapter 39

  Wisconsin was getting cold this time of year, and you were frustrated. Verity had really outdone himself this time. He’d positioned himself right smack in the middle of suburbia, on Barbara Lane, in De Pere, Green bay, forcing you to take twice as many safety precautions as usual, before you could see him.

  You’d asked Marcus after the first time you’d met the truth-seeker, if it wouldn’t be less dangerous and more inconspicuous for him to come to you, instead of you having to travel all over the country to find him. But Marcus had explained that he had adapted a lifestyle that meant that he was never in one place for more than two days, in order to stay ahead of any team that HQ might send out to investigate his energy-signature.

  He rarely used his ability to the extent that the new and more powerful sensors could detect it, but on the few occasions when he had, he’d found himself having company some time later. Their response time varied depending on where in the country he was, and whenever he was closer to the west coast, his temporary lodgings were always significantly shorter.

  Allen had been quiet for most of the journey, deep in his thoughts, but when you started getting close to your destination, the old man started talking.

  “I built most of HQ, you know. The Heroic organisation.”

  “Yeah, you were one of the founders, right? One of the first non-powered people to suggest that supers might need help to become actual heroes. You got them to talk to one another, start building relationships, creating the friendships that would ultimately turn them into a team.”

  “It was almost impossible to get those knuckleheads to coincide. There were only four of them back then, and they all wanted the glory and heroism to themselves, fighting for the spotlight every chance they got. We really thought our efforts weren’t gonna do anything.”

  “What changed it around?”

  “Anita Moreno.”

  “Hah… of course she did.”

  “When she came along, young and determined and confident, she elbowed out their failing attempts at leadership by actually taking charge, and making them listen to reason. By way of a beat-down if necessary.”

  “That, I can believe. And I’d have loved to see it.”

  “She was fearless of their powers and their masculinity, their macho-bullshit. And before long, she had them training to improve their skillsets, studying the politics of the world, saying that if they were gonna insist on meddling in other cultures, then it was also their responsibility to understand what the hell they were meddling with.”

  “And that’s where you took the opportunity, I’m guessing?”

  “I reached out to Anita, offering financial support in creating a training-facility for the supers, a kind of recreational area, where they could play with their abilities, test themselves against each other, without risking harm to anyone. She really liked the idea, and asked me to find out if anyone else would be interested in helping them, and over time, that’s how the Heroics were born.”

  “And now it’s been tainted.”

  “I don’t know that it hasn’t been completely destroyed already.”

  “Henry, the organisation can never be destroyed, not as long someone’s around to fight back. And you’d better believe we are.”

  “What have you brought me today, Rainbow?”

  A little while later, you finally stepped into the house, and Verity’s energy hit you. Since he knew you couldn’t use your power to greet him anymore, he called to you from the kitchen and you guided Allen there.

  The poor man was already pale.

  “Someone I really hope you’re about to tell me I can trust.”

  “A founder… this is a first. Your heart is filled with love, for your family, mostly, but that also makes you susceptible to great fear. Right now, you fear what will be left of your legacy once this mess is made public. You fear that the Heroics will be shut down, and that your life’s work will go down in history as nothing but a failed experiment. You love your creation, it gives you great pride, but you fear it too. The power it’s accumulated, and how the politics have gotten more and more in control of it. But you are innocent of any crime or conspiracy. You are, at heart, a good man.”

  Allen looked like he might vomit, so you helped him to sit down and brought him a glass of water.

  “Who are you?”

  Verity never answered that question, no matter who was asking, so you sat down next to Henry to explain.

  “He’s a very special super, that you can never mention to anyone. If you do, he’ll disappear, and we’ll have no way of knowing who’s trustworthy or not.”

  “He can tell the truth? I never even spoke…”

  “Verity sees the truth, like a web around people. I don’t know exactly how it works, but he can see everything, past and present. Every lie and every truth of your entire existence.”

  “Incredible. And really unnerving.”

  “Yes, but worth it. Thanks to him we have over 120 trusted operatives working for us all over the world, and that’s not including the Heroics.”

  “That’s… impressive. But I fear this enemy is going to need much greater numbers than that, to be defeated.”

  “Maybe. But 89 of those operatives are supers, and that evens the odds significantly.”

  “What? But… we scan for people with abilities all over the world, we would know if that many existed.”

  “Not if they’d been hiding their powers. We figured that anyone who was on the Heroics radar, would most likely be on SIC’s as well, so we focused entirely on reaching out to those that we knew were hidden. And in that process, we uncovered a whole community of powered people that want nothing to do with the fame or recognition, and once they understood the stakes, they all agreed to help us. And they, in turn, are reaching out to their friends, normal and super, to join the fight. Our numbers grow every day, Henry. We can beat these assholes; we just need a little more time.”

  Verity’s energy focusing on you, broke your concentration, and you turned to look at him.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure. Something… something in your memories.”

  “If it’s my memory then why can’t you see it clearly?”

  “It’s been hidden. It’s a memory you can’t see yourself.”

  Your skin crawled and your heartbeat picked up, in an involuntary response to any kind of mention of your time with the mad doctor. Verity noticed.

  “A painful memory. Something you don’t want to remember.”

  “I don’t want to remember any of it, V.”

  “Tubes, wires, machines, syringes. Your body remembers. Your cells do.”

  “Pain… so much pain, your nerves remember all of it. You fought him. You bit him twice, escaped your bindings once, almost got out. He punished you for that by pouring battery-acid on your feet. He was so confident that his experiment would work that he didn’t care how much damage he caused you in the process.”

  Lost in his search into your mind, Verity slowly started moving towards you, centring all his power on you, desperate to uncover everything that was hidden. You weren’t sure if he was even aware of how overbearing he was in that moment. How threatening.

  He had never come across a truth he couldn’t see before, and it made him obsessive and ruthless in his pursuit of it. A part of you knew that, but your reptile brain was overcome with a sense of danger, and you backed away from him, but he followed you.

  “V… please, stop.”

  He didn’t even hear you.

  “You’re hiding from me. I can feel the memory so clearly, wrapped in a bubble I can’t penetrate. I need to know what it is.”

  He was pushing so much of his energy into your mind to try and break that bubble, that you started feeling unnaturally heavy. Your body suddenly felt like it was moving through liquid, meeting so much resistance that it exhausted you just to take a single step.

  You collapsed to the floor, struggling to breathe, and still he didn’t let up. He towered over you, and somewhere in the background you heard Allen trying to reason with him, but then a splitting pain shot through your head, and you passed out.

  “You stay the fuck away from me, V!”

  You woke up lying on the sofa in the living room, your head still throbbing and the light burning your eyes. But from what little you could make out, Verity was sitting on a chair right next to you, and it made the bear inside you wake up with full force.

  You launched yourself at him, placing a hard fist at his solar plexus, and when he involuntarily crunched forwards, his face had a very abrupt meeting with your elbow.

  He fell backwards, toppling the chair over and breaking it as he hit the floor, bleeding from his nose and cheek-bone.

  Allen rushed into the room from the kitchen, holding a pack of ice he’d apparently been getting for you. You wobbled over to him and swiped it from his hands to put against your right temple, while Verity slowly got to his knees.

  “I saw it. The memory you were hiding, I was able to break your defence the moment before you lost consciousness.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “He did it in front of you. He strapped children into that chair, and made you watch as he drained them. He made you watch their strength gradually leave them as the pain got to be too much. You saw the faces of at least nine of them, wordlessly begging you for help.”

  “I trapped those memories away for a reason, you asshole. Just because you need the truth like a fucking addict, doesn’t mean I do!”

  The images came to you as he voiced them. You remembered those faces, fifteen of them, actually. You remembered their pain, and how much you wished that you could have borne it for them. How gladly you’d have sacrificed yourself for them, if you could have.

  That was why your powers had manifested into what they did. That was why you couldn’t heal yourself, because in that time and place, you truly didn’t care if you died.

  You slumped against the nearest wall and slowly allowed yourself to sink to the floor. Your head was still throbbing, and you were beyond angry.

  “You do need to know this.”

  “You don’t get to decide that for me! You don’t get to torture me, V, that’s what the fucking bad guys do!!”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, that is as close to a god damned lie as you’ve ever gotten! You don’t give a shit if your powers hurt me, as long as you get your fucking truth. If you’re sorry about anything, it’s that I’m not grateful for your efforts. Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong!”

  He didn’t speak. He just sat there, looking as unbothered about everything as he always did.

  “Allen, get me the hell out of here.”

  “Hermosa? What’s wrong?”

  You took a cab from the airport, and fell asleep about halfway home. The driver had a calm and rhythmic manner that soothed you, and he was listening to John Williams play the Concierto de Aranjuez, with the soft guitar notes making your frayed mind drift away to a warm and sunny Spain.

  He woke you by gently announcing that you’d arrived at your destination, and you paid him and thanked him for his kindness, before getting out and walking towards the gate in the fence. Your legs felt like lead.

  You could hear Marcus and Missy through the front door as you approached it, ingulfed in playing some boardgame, and you stopped and just listened to them for a while, leaning heavily against the door.

  Your darling Missy, the same age as several of those children. But alive and happy and such a wonderful person already.

  And Marcus. Your reason for living. The one that saved you, and kept saving you, despite the darkness that accompanied you.

  You hadn’t kept your word about checking in with him, so when you texted him while you were waiting at the airport in Green Bay, he’d been furious at first, wanting to know why he hadn’t heard from you in almost five hours. But he’d quickly calmed as you’d simply reminded him that since he was hearing from you now, you were obviously okay, and you’d tell him everything when you saw him.

  But now, standing behind that door, you didn’t want to tell him. You didn’t want to talk about it, and you didn’t want to burden him with knowing it. But you also knew that he’d see it on your face the moment you walked in. You were too tired and in too much pain still, to even try and keep up any appearances.

  You took a breath, and walked inside. Marcus was on his feet the moment the door swung open, and he swept you into a tight hug as soon as he got to you, but the mildness of your response immediately had him worried.

  “Could you just keep your voice down a bit, please. My head’s killing me.”

  “Where you in a fight?”

  He looked closer at you upon hearing that, and he realised that you were actually in terrible shape. He swept you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, while asking Missy to come and help him prepare a bath for you.

  She went straight to the bathroom and turned on the taps, and you could hear her going into the cabinets to pull out fresh towels.

  In the meantime, Marcus was helping you out of your clothes, and noticed a big black bruise on your elbow.

  “No… just felt cornered.”

  “By who?”

  “...Verity.”

  His whole posture changed, and you could feel a sudden rage emanating from him.

  “Tell me what he did.”

  “I’m too tired right now…”

  “Querida, look at me. Tell me.”

  “He… broke into the memories I’d hidden… the one’s he couldn’t see before.”

  “The one’s Prince had altered?”

  “No… the one’s I buried. The one’s that were too horrible… He forced them out, and now my head feels like it’s breaking apart.”

  “Why would he hurt you like that?”

  He picked you up again and moved you into the bathroom. Missy only stayed until the tub was full and she could close the taps, and then she hugged you gently and slipped out of the room.

  Marcus took the last of your clothes off before lowering you into the warm water, and when you asked him to join you, he did, holding you close and softly stroking your skin under the water.

  “He can’t stand lies, and apparently that applies to secrets as well. He just had to know; consequences be damned.”

  “He’ll regret that tomorrow.”

  “Don’t bother. He won’t admit to any wrong-doing. And we still need him.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. The only reason I agreed to let you go was because I thought you’d be safe with him.”

  “I don’t have anymore secrets for him to try and uncover now. So, technically I will be, from now on. Not that I ever wanna see him again.”

  “You won’t have to. I’ll deal with him.”

  “We’re still at war, honey. We’re gonna have to do a lot of things we’d rather not.”

  “Fuck the war, I’ll turn my back on the whole damned thing and take you to live with the fucking penguins if that’s what it takes. I’m so tired of seeing you in pain!”

  “Oh, please, keep your voice down…”

  “Sorry.”

  You sat in silence for a while, as the warm water started to open up your capillaries, easing your headache a bit.

  “Are you gonna tell me?”

  You knew what he was asking, and you really wanted to say no, but you also knew that you needed to tell him.

  “Prince made me… he made me watch.”

  The tears burned in your eyes, and you tried to chase the memories away, to lock them back into that little bubble where they couldn’t hurt you. But it was too late.

  “Watch what?”

  You didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt as though that would somehow solidify the images into reality, making them truly inescapable. He could feel your resistance, and tried to soothe you with his current, but it wasn’t enough this time.

  “The… ch-children. He made me… watch them die.”

  “Oh, my god…”

  The next morning you felt better. The headache had eased with some real sleep and you were starting to feel human again. Marcus was right next to you, his arms securely wrapped around you while he slept, but he stirred the moment you did. It was still early enough that your monday alarms hadn’t gone off yet.

  You felt him swallow repeatedly against the bile and grief that surged up in his throat as he realised what you were saying. He’d seen the lab. The extraction chair. And the freshest bodies that Prince hadn’t had time to get rid off before they found his lair. He’d seen how much pain they’d been in as they died, evident in their faces even after death.

  He didn’t say anything else, and you didn’t need him to, you just needed him to hold you, and he did.

  “Good morning, hermosa. Did you sleep okay?”

  “Morning. Yeah, actually I did.”

  “No bad dreams?”

  “I think my headache might have made that impossible. It’s gone now, though.”

  “Good. How do you feel about breakfast?”

  “I’m looking forward to it. I still haven’t eaten in our kitchen yet.”

  “Right. Eggs and toast?”

  “Please.”

  You went about your morning toilet and wash, before heading out to the kitchen together. Missy was already at the island, having cereal and flipping through a schoolbook, and since Marcus was already pulling out the frying pan to get started on the eggs, you sat down with her, before the school bus would get there.

  “Morning, angel. Test today?”

  “Yup. Maths. I got it, though.”

  “Oh, I believe that, you’re good at maths. Break a leg anyway.”

  “Thanks, alma. I’m aiming for top scores.”

  “I like your aim.”

  “Don’t worry, preciosa, her protection is in place.”

  Marcus had just sat down a plate in front of you when the bus honked, and Missy ran out the door while shouting she loved both of you.

  You kept staring at the closed door after she’d disappeared through it, and Marcus knew what you were thinking.

  “I know, but after yesterday… I just feel a bit more protective than usual.”

  “That’s entirely understandable, but please try not to stress over it. You have another one to protect as well.”

  “Right… Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologise, just breathe and eat calmly.”

  “So, Allen got the all clear, I assume. Does that mean he’s in?”

  You dug into the food and it was delicious. So much better than the airport food you’d eaten all day yesterday, even though it was just scrambled eggs and perfectly roasted toast, with those tomatoes on the side, that he’d promised you the day before.

  Marcus let you finish before he started talking again.

  “Yeah, he’s gonna coordinate for us at HQ, so we can keep our attention on the rest of the country, and world.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “Shaken, for numerous reasons, but determined to get his lives work back in order. He told me about the early days, and how he and your mom whipped the first supers into heroes.”

  “Really? Mom doesn’t talk about those days much. She’s told me a lot about my father, but not that much about herself.”

  “Well, she seems to have been a tour de force all her life, from what Allen described. And after what you’ve told me about your dad, I can see why he would’ve fallen for her. They were a good match.”

  “She always says that the best thing about him was how good he was at driving her up the walls, because it forced her to really look at him.”

  “I see what she means.”

  “I don’t drive you up the walls. Do I?”

  “Mostly just in the mornings, when you know I’m not susceptible to ‘fun’, but other than that, you’re pretty well behaved.”

  “Oh, no, the mornings don’t count.”

  “And why the hell not?”

  “Because your morning mood is way too amusing not to take advantage of.”

  “Hey! That is so not fair, I can’t help it that my brain just won’t start on all cylinders at once. And, for the record, this is the second morning in a row that I haven’t been cranky first thing.”

  His whole face lit up in a dazzling smile at that.

  “Wow. That’s more than just a record, babe, that’s almost worthy of a mention on CNN.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Sorry to interrupt.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?! How could you do that to her?! I have always been your friend, protected you, guided you, helped you any way I could… and you almost kill my wife!!”

  A voice came from the living room, and with the way the house was designed, about half of that space was visible from the kitchen, while the other half was hidden behind the dining room.

  He didn’t need to step into view from behind the wall that separated the two areas, for either of you to know who it was. The truth-seeker had a very recognisable tone and rhythm of speech. But when he did appear, you couldn’t help yourself from getting out of your chair and taking a few steps back towards the kitchen counter, needing as much space between you as possible.

  Marcus, on the other hand, turned positively feral. He rushed Verity and wrestled him to the floor, while screaming at him.

  “I would never have let her come to any harm.”

  You’d never seen him angry like this. Usually he internalised it, afraid to let it loose because of what his powers might do, but this was more than anger. He felt betrayed by one of his oldest friends, and it enraged him in a way that didn’t even involve his powers.

  He had Verity pinned on the floor and was sitting on top of him with his hands around his neck, every muscle in his body was tensed to the breaking-point and there where visible veins pulsing in his face, neck and arms.

  “Are you seriously fucking lying to me right now?! You did harm her, you ignorant piece of shit! Just because she’s the strongest fucking person you’ve ever met, doesn’t mean you can’t hurt her! She could barely even walk!”

  “But she’s not damaged. Her mind is intact.”

  “I don’t believe this…I don’t fucking believe it!”

  He got off of Verity and dragged him up to standing before shoving him down on the nearest chair, still keeping himself in between you and the trespasser. He paced in front of him while he continued to rail at him.

  “Are you seriously telling me, that you don’t know the difference between physically harming someone, and hurting them? How is that even possible, with all the crap you went through as a kid? How do you not know the difference?!”

  “It was a memory. Hiding them away only ever hurts you, I was trying to help her.”

  “Did you see the fucking memory?!”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me exactly how seeing those faces for the rest of her life is gonna help her!”

  “It already has.”

  His eyes shifted to yours, and you instinctively tried to back away further.

  “That memory has already made you understand why you have the powers you do.”

  His energy flowed through you, and it made you feel sick. You closed your eyes in a useless attempt to keep him out, but you felt him explore your mind again, bringing those images to the forefront of your thoughts.

  “Seeing their suffering solidified everything that you are. Through all his torture and experiments, all you wanted was to live. But for them… you wanted to die. You wanted to exchange your life for theirs. That’s your true strength – your armour and your weapon. Look at their faces, Rain. See them and know who you are.”

  “You think that just because you know the truth, you understand everything? Do you think you know how this feels? Do you think you have any idea how much this hurts me? Do you not even see how you’re manipulating me?”

  Your blood suddenly boiled with fury. Who was he to command your thoughts? To impose his perspective on you? This man that had hurt you so badly, only to uncover a truth he had no right to.

  The entire house shook as your powers awoke with a vengeance. You snapped your eyes back open just as Marcus turned back to look at you, realising what was happening.

  But you loved this house, you weren’t gonna put a single fucking dent on it.

  Reaching into that special place inside of you, where you’d learned you could find that sparkling dust, you drew it out and gathered it in large quantities on the floor in front of Verity. Then you allowed your mind to fill with the images of those innocent children, in their dying moments, and transferred those images into the dust.

  Fifteen lifelike sculptures appeared in the sparkles, perfect re-creations of the dead and long forgotten sacrifices, that Verity had never met, never known, and yet felt he had the right to use like string-puppets.

  He had the audacity to smile at your creations.

  His smile faded as you spoke, but he made no attempt to apologise.

  “You’re using my pain to force my hand. You know that my powers hurt me, and you force me to use them anyway. And for what? To try and prove you were right?”

  “No. If anything, my efforts should tell you exactly how much we need your powers in this war. You asked me to help you win it. That’s all I’m doing.”

  “And if our baby dies because of it, that’s just another sacrifice for the greater good?!”

  The sculptures collapsed into mere piles on the floor, and you glared at him furiously, daring him to answer you.

  “I don’t believe your baby will be harmed by your abilities.”

  “Your beliefs are of no fucking relevance to me. Tell me if you would care… at all… if another child had to die in order for us to win this war?”

  He paused, but not to consider his answer, only how you would react to it.

  “No. I wouldn’t care. Wars kill people, of all ages, it doesn’t discriminate. Many more will die before it’s over, and if we’re going to be outraged over each and every one of them, then we won’t have time to fight.”

  Marcus closed his eyes and bowed his head.

  “That’s not the point, V. The point is that we only win if we still care. If we stop caring about life and suffering, then we might as well join the assholes. Can’t you see that?”

  “I haven’t lived like you have, Marcus. Caring has never been a luxury I’ve been able to enjoy. I have nothing. No possessions, no family, one person I would call a friend, and whom, despite my best efforts, I do care about.”

  “Then it should matter to you whether or not my family is safe and well.”

  “It does, and they are. When I say that I don’t believe that your wife’s powers will harm your child, I’m not just guessing. I can see your powers, Rain, the core of them. And while they do damage you a little bit every time you use them, I don’t believe that that damage actually harms you. I believe it slowly changes you.”

  “Changes me… Why? Into what?”

  “I couldn’t say for sure, but I don’t think it’s that kind of change. I think it’s simply trying to make you stronger, physically. As in, superhumanly strong. Invincible. And if anyone’s body could – it’d be yours.”

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, please don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

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[jamespotterthefirst]

Along the Seashore

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2K Warning: Language Summary: A moment between the two of them in a Miami beach, before they kissed and everything changed forever.   Series: Open Heart from Ethan’s POV

Author’s Note: Sorry that the Miami weekend had to be split into parts. It actually gave me the freedom to write without worrying about the length. 

The glittering turquoise waters of the lagoon combined with the gentle breeze sweeping through his hair made it increasingly difficult to remain in a sullen mood after the Declan Nash debacle only minutes prior. It was even more of a challenge to sulk when Lilac strolled by his side along the white beach, looking so beautiful under the Miami sun that his heart tugged with unwelcome yearning. He stole another glance at her without her notice, watching how tendrils of her wavy hair swirled in the breeze. That and the sun kissed patches along her nose and cheekbones made it damn near impossible for Ethan to look away. By the admiration she attracted from others, Ethan was far from the only one to notice. 

They had made it several meters down the shore when she finally broke their silence. 

“You look hot, Dr. Ramsey.” 

He almost froze midstep. 

“In that sweater,” she clarified. 

Mercifully, he was spared from any type of stammered response when someone whisked him away for conversation. The relief was short-lived when that someone was yet another starstruck colleague, eager to chat his ear off. 

By the time he got away twenty minutes later, the young doctor was nowhere to be found. It wasn't until he scanned his surroundings that he found her, being pulled into an outdoor dance floor of some sort at the foot of a nearby hotel. As Ethan approached, he could see the beefy arm around her, belonging to an overly enthusiastic frat boy.  

“Baila conmigo, mami.” 

“I can't right now, I have work—” 

“Then how about later tonight, hermosa?”

“How about never.”

The gruff, murderous words had escaped Ethan before he could stop them. 

The cheerful frat boy only laughed, raising his palms in defeat. Probably best, for his sake, because Ethan itched to punch him in his squared jaw. 

Lilac, meanwhile, looked mortified as Ethan steered her away.

“Sorry,” she started breathlessly once they had made their way back to the shore. “I know you said this trip was strictly business, but he was so insistent. I wasn’t slacking off or anything—”

Ethan raised a hand to stop her, careful to keep his expression neutral. “Relax, Rookie,” he assured her. “I wasn’t worried about that. I was mostly thinking about you.”

Their eyes met, the true meaning of the words becoming more tangible by the second. Neither the roar of the crashing waves nor the thumping music of the revelry he had pulled her from were enough to mask the tense silence between them. 

“You looked uncomfortable,” he blurted out, his voice an octave higher than it should be. The tiny haze was effectively broken with the words. 

Perhaps she was uncomfortable then, with him, as he gazed at her with barely controlled longing. He clenched his jaw with the effort, certain now more than ever that she could see just how much he wanted her, and had been wanting her for weeks. 

Ethan cleared his throat. “I only meant that even though this is a work trip, you can still enjoy yourself. Particularly when the whole point of being here became moot half an hour ago.” His mind recalled Nash’s triumphant face and Ethan’s fist clenched as a response. 

Lilac offered him a sympathetic smile, placing a warm hand on his forearm and scalding him more than the blazing sun above their heads ever could. It took every ounce of strength Ethan had to avoid glancing at it.

“We will figure something out. The weekend is only starting and every slimy Big Pharma exec has his price.” 

Ethan knew she was correct about the last part and his desperation to save Naveen made him willing to pay whatever that price might be. Regardless, he couldn’t help but smile at her unwavering optimism, particularly when her hand swept his bicep in comforting strokes. The motion was so comforting that Ethan was tempted to lay down his pride and every wall he meticulously built to bring her closer to him. 

With a reinvigorated spark in her green eyes and a smile to match, she said, “What you need, Dr. Ramsey, is a good swim.” 

She nodded toward the crystalline waters glittering like a gem. The taunting smirk she failed to conceal, left him thinking she was determined to get him shirtless. Or perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part. With an embarrassing leap of his pulse, Ethan realized he would willingly do it if she commanded it. 

“Fine,” he acquiesced, earning him an astonished expression. The way her rosy lips parted in surprise then melted into a satisfied smile made her far more irresistible than she had any right to look. That reaction alone was worth agreeing to something he would normally never even consider. 

“Okay. Confession time,” she said with a sharp intake of breath. “I'm not that great of a swimmer.”

Ethan smirked, enjoying the endearing blush on her cheeks. “Then why did you suggest it, Rookie?” 

“Because I didn't think you would agree?” 

He laughed and though she tried to throw him a sharp glare, the corners of her mouth quirked. 

“I'll be fine. I just won't go in that deep.”

Before he could assure her they didn't have to go in at all, she pulled her t-shirt over her head. A furious blush crept up from his neck all the way to the roots of his hair as Ethan hastily averted his eyes. He had not been quick enough, however, because he still caught sight of the smooth expanse of her bare stomach, the delicate muscles pulling taut as she removed her clothing. His eyes also managed to take in the top half of the strappy, neon orange bikini she wore. 

Never in his life did he imagine such an obnoxious color could be so…attractive. 

When at last he forced himself to meet her eyes, she looked back at him expectantly, looking as though she was about to lose the battle against an amused smirk. 

“Are you going in with your cable-knit sweater, Dr. Ramsey?” 

Ethan cut her a humorless glare before he removed the aforementioned sweater and all layers until only his swimming trunks remained. Unlike him, she did not avert her eyes. Instead, Lilac's gaze ascended from his abs to his chest and arms, tracing a path so stirring, it felt as though she was caressing him with strokes of her fingertips. 

Her eyes met his, her expression frustratingly stoic. “We need sunscreen.”

Thankfully, it was the type that she sprayed on. Ethan would have lost all restraint if her hands had rubbed sunscreen over his muscles. When at last they were in the cool water, bodies swaying in the waves, he was able to  slightly relax. 

“You were right,” he informed her, peering down at her. The water reached her neck while barely made it past his chest. 

“I usually am, but about what precisely?” 

“I do feel better.”

He suspected that had little to do with the lull of the ocean or the calming breeze and more with her presence by his side. She gifted him with a smile so radiant, he felt his body gravitate towards hers.

Ethan looked away, searching for change of subject.

“So are you the only person from Southern California who doesn't swim?”

Lilac gave him an unimpressed look. It inspired a chuckle from Ethan. 

“Do you think everyone in SoCal spends their days at the beach, loves In-N-Out, and says 'like' every other word?” 

“Yes.”

Her nose wrinkled in defeat. “Well, you get two out of three.”

“If you start using 'like' excessively, I'll never speak to you again.”

It was her turn to laugh. “You're a terrible liar, Dr. Ramsey,” she proclaimed. “You couldn't go a day without my pain in the ass tendencies annoying the life out of you.”

“Hrm. You're absolutely right, Rookie. I would miss the five shots I have to throw back at the end of the day to repress your antics.”

Her responding laughter was so captivating, all he could do was watch her with a satisfied grin of his own. Lilac opened her mouth and Ethan had no doubt she had a witty retort at the ready. However, she was brashly interrupted by a swelling wave crashing unceremoniously over her head. 

Ethan, being so tall, had easily sidestepped the water. Lilac, significantly shorter, had not been so lucky. 

“Rookie, are you okay?” 

Lilac only sputtered in response, blinking rapidly against the water dripping down her face. Her brown hair, previously immaculate and flowing in the breeze, now lay plastered against her face. Even completely shocked and sopping wet, she still managed to look entirely too adorable. 

Before Ethan could stop it, an unbridled bout of laughter escaped past his throat. Once it was out, ringing around them and earning them quizzical looks from other people, it was impossible to stop. As he laughed—truly, genuinely laughed—a spike of lighthearted warmth shot through him and his stomach muscles began to strain. Ethan could not remember the last time he had laughed so much or so freely. Perhaps not since he was a boy. 

“Are you done?” she asked, completely unamused. 

The question only made his laughter peak even more. It was soon disrupted by an impressive slosh of water against his face and chest, not from a wave but from the vengeful young doctor before him. Completely sobered up, Ethan blinked. 

It was Lilac's turn to laugh, unabashed. 

“Doesn't feel so—”

Her words cut and gave way to a small shriek as Ethan recovered and palmed a small wave of water her way, hitting her square in the face. Lilac retaliated at lightning speed and sent a torrent towards him. 

“I hope you realize what you’ve done, Rookie.” He propelled splash after splash of water with relentless speed. “You started a war.”

“I can take you,” she laughed, shielding her face from the wall of water coming her way. 

Ethan discovered she was correct, proving to be a worthy adversary. It was admirable that someone so much shorter than him could send bursts of water straight for his face. They laughed in unison, the sound teetering on the border of pure giddiness. As the minutes ticked by, their efforts reduced significantly, mostly out of exhaustion.

“Truce?” she breathed out. 

“Not a chance, Rookie,” he returned, not ceasing his movements. 

Lilac laughed, covering her face to no avail. She attempted a cautionary step back, as if distance would deter his attack, but she seemed to stumble, losing her balance. At once, Ethan stopped his movements, diving forward to catch her in his arms before she sank under the water. 

Body pressed close against his, she wrapped her arms around his neck, the movement so natural as though it was second nature. His own arms locked securely around her waist, lifting her slightly off her feet and bringing their bodies even closer together. At this proximity, Ethan was certain she could feel the untamed beating of his heart against his chest. Then again, she could probably see his agony written on his face with how closely she studied him. 

Neither moved to break apart, all traces of previous humor gone. 

“Dr. Ramsey,” she breathed. 

His breath hitched at the low, caress of a whisper. How he wished she would call him Ethan. The mere thought of his name on her lips tugged something loose in his chest. 

The longer they stood like that, in each other’s arms, the harder it became to let her go. Could he let her go? Common sense suggested he should abandon the fantasy of her lips against his, vivid in his mind for weeks now. He should let go of Lilac Allende and keep as much distance as a mentor should have. He should let go… 

And yet… 

“I give up,” he said so quietly that his voice almost got lost in the waves. 

Lilac smiled at that, much to his confusion. “Smart man,” she teased. “I told you I could take you on.”

Ethan released her, her body slowly sliding down his. She was talking about their small water fight, which Ethan had almost forgotten about. 

“Right,” he said, keeping his voice neutral. It was nothing compared to the chaotic uproar in his chest. “We should go back to the hotel. There’s a reception we should start getting for.”

“A reception?” 

“Did I not tell you? It’s a complete waste of time, but we might as well enjoy free drinks on Big Pharma’s dime.” 

They walked back to their hotel in a silence that felt too sacred to break. His mind replayed the memory of Lilac in his arms, her body fitting so perfectly against his, her green eyes studying his face so intently, her lush lips so close to his. 

He could have kissed her. 

Would she have kissed him back?

“Thank you,” Ethan said after a few minutes of peaceful quiet. It was a desperate attempt to stop his mind from veering into dangerous territory. 

Lilac looked at him, confused. 

“For earlier with Nash,” he explained. “But also, thank you for right now.”

“Glad to be of service,” she returned with a mock salute that made him laugh despite his better judgement. The again, judgement had been thrown out the window the minute he decided to bring her to Miami. 

________

Author’s Note: THANK YOU if you read this. The reason I wanted to include this into the Miami weekend was that I’ve been imagining a little scene like this for a while. I’ve been wanting to write it out since before I wrote Lovely and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity. Thank you for putting up with my shenanigans. 

The next part is the kiss for sure. I can’t wait to write that :) I was closed to naming it after the actual chapter (Risk and Reward), but I decided to name it after an ABBA song. LMAO!

Thank You @aestheticartwriting​ for your help with this! 

PS: What do you guys think of the new style for the cover moodboard? I wanted to try something new!

_______

Tags: @openheart12 | @ethandaddyramsey | @noboundariesplease | @silverlitskies |  @flyawayboo | @paulfwesley | @hatescapsicum | @myusualnerdyself | @thatysn | @choicesyouplayandmore | @chasingrobbie | @trappedinfandoms | @togetherwearerapture | @nooruleman | @axwalker | @parkerattano | @i-bloody-love-drake-walker | @kaavyaethanramsey | @edith-eggs1 | @choices-lurker | @jens-diamondchoices | @tefigranger | @ethanrcmsey | @coffeebeandragon | @senator-adrian-raines-wifey | @aestheticartwriting | @binny1985 | @mvalentine | @sanchita012 | @drethanramslay | @ramseysno1rookie | @takeharryandgo | @aworldoffandoms | @desmaranj  | @oofchoices | @ethxnrxmsey | @octobereighth | @kopenheart12 | @lilyvalentine​ | @honeyandsunfl0wers​ | @virtualrain202 | @enmchoices​ | @tyrilstouch​ | @rookie-ramsey​ | @humanpokemon​ | @apphia12​ | @kiara-36​ | @eramsey28​ | @whippedforethanramsey​ | @custaroonie​ | @helloblueeyedcat​ | @dr-ramseys-rookie​ | 

@dulceghernandez​ |  @lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |  @angela8756

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Overprotective- Spencer Reid X Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Young!Reader

Request by @ghostofmags : can we get a spencer imagine where the reader is younger and he likes to think he has to protect her because she also is very smol :) thanks

Warnings: cursing, like lots of it, angst, relationship problems, specified female reader, fluff at the end

WC: 1.7k

Tag list

A/N: little note here, so when I read younger I thought ten or so years younger. So Spencer is let's say 38 or 39 (pretty much his actual age) and reader is about 28. Also, I might mention the fact that reader is shorter than Spencer, because that's what it says on the request, it's not a big deal, but I'm saying anyways in case someone doesn't like that. But honestly idrk if this is what you wanted? But, here it is, I'm so sorry if this isn't what you wanted

You hadn't exchanged a word since you landed. There was so much tension radiating between you and Spencer you could cut it slick with a knife. And it wasn't because you didn't have anything to say. God no. You had so much to say you felt like you were going to explode. But you were professional and you didn't want to make a scene in front of the team. So you waited until you were at the privacy of your shared apartment to make a scene. And the moment you heard Spencer shut the front door behind him, you started yelling.

"I can't fucking believe you, Spencer!" You yelled at the Doctor, your voice just echoing on the walls.

Needless to say, Spencer was not in the mood, nor had the energy to deal with you right now. The case the team had been working on was a particularly long and difficult one and he was exhausted. He let out a long and exasperated sigh, running a hand through his brown curls, mentally preparing himself to deal with you, "can we not do this right now? I'm exhausted, I really don't want to fight." He pretty much begged, sounding exhausted beyond relief. In a different situation, you would've been more reasonable, more understanding and you would've let it go. But this time, it just became too much, you were too angry and too frustrated with him to let it go.

"Oh no, we're doing this right now. You're gonna listen to everything I have to say." You said almost sternly, crossing your arms over your chest. You were just trying not to snap, you really were trying. But the response he gave you wasn't helping, at all.

He sighed again and closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead before speaking, "look, you can yell at me all you want. Tomorrow. I'm really not in the mood to deal with this right now." He half rolled his eyes and sighed, starting to walk away. Probably not the wisest choice.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he started to walk away, your lips pursing together irritatingly, "Spencer, don't walk away or I swear to God." You pretty much growled, your words coming out harsher than you intended to and a hand came to grab his forearm, making him stop dead on his tracks. You could've sworn you heard him mutter under his breath as he took a few steps back until you let his arm go.

"What." Was his only response, his tone absolutely stripped of emotion and care, and he held an equally blank face expression. It took all of your will power not to strangle him right there and then.

"Don't fucking what me, Spencer. I'm fucking tired of you treating me like a goddamn child!" You shouted at him, hands coming up in the air as you shouted angry words at the tall brunette. Who's only response was an unamused expression and a roll of eyes. "See what I mean? You're always undermining me and you never take me seriously. You always talk for me, you refuse to let me talk to unsubs alone, I always have to be on the field with you. And that's if I even get to go out on the field in the first place, because you make sure to make me stay back every chance you get!" You continued to shout, letting out every frustration you've bottled up for the past two years you've been dating Spencer.

All the while, Spencer stood there silently, taking all your screams quietly. He was usually rather calm and collected during your part of a fight, and he'd listen, quietly. And that was just worse than screaming at you from the get go, because that meant you were going to get a mouthful when you were done. He was like the calm before the storm. And you definitely didn't want to be around when that storm finally came by.

"Spencer, you can't just keep me out of the field like that whenever you fucking please. I may be younger than you, but that doesn't mean I'm less capable of doing my job than you are. And I just wish you would stop treating me like a child, who needs to be under your protection twenty-four-seven because I don't." You finally finished your rant, your voice lowering down by the end of it. But you were still just as agitated and frustrated. You were basically all up in his face by the time you were done. Well, all up in his chest, because you barely made it to his chin. Meaning, you had to tilt your head up as much as you could to look at him, and even then, you stood short.

The entire time you spoke, Spencer kept his gaze forward, way past your head, not even bothering you to look down at you. Until he decided to speak. "You done?" He finally looked down at you, his lips pursed into an irritated expression. You crossed your arms over your chest and shrugged as a response. "Great. Now that you're done unnecessarily screaming at my face, we can talk like the adult you claim to be." He started, already pushing at your buttons even more. "You see, I would treat you like an adult, I really would, I would if you acted like one. Maybe if you weren't so short fused, or if you actually showed me you can handle things on your own I wouldn't feel the need to have to protect you all the time."

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you listened to him continue to undermine you. Maybe having this conversation after a week long case and a five hour flight wasn't exactly ideal. Spencer can be more harsh and— with a lack of a better word— more of an ass during arguments when tired and annoyed. And you figured, you were getting nowhere screaming at him. He didn't respond well to that.

"I'm an adult, Spencer, I'm damn near thirty years old, I don't need your protection." You defended, puffing out a small breath through your nose, "and I get that I still may be younger than you but I'm not your daughter, I don't need you watching over my shoulder all the time, shielding me from the dangers of the world. And I just wish you stopped treating like some helpless child that needs your protection." You said, your tone changing from angry to tired and hurt. Because as much as you hated to admit it, every time Spencer treated you like you weren't capable of taking care of yourself, it made you feel just as such.

Spencer stayed silent for a good minute, his previously cold and hard expression of annoyance starting to slowly soften. He let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand into his curls but still said nothing.

You sighed, shaking your head before turning around to walk away, knowing this conversation was going nowhere. Spencer took that as his cue to do something. "Hey, no, come here." He sighed, reaching to grab a hold of your arm like you did his earlier. And you stopped when you felt his grip of your arm, half turning your body to face him and simply let him slowly drag you back, not fighting but not welcoming him either. You looked up at him with a deep frown and pursed lips, your arms folded over your chest, letting him know you weren't letting your walls down so easily.

"I know you're not my daughter. I never said you were." He starts to say, carefully grabbing your face into his significantly larger hands and looked down at you with his usually soft amber eyes, "but you're my girlfriend, and I love you. And I don't know if I could ever live with the idea of losing the love of my life again. That's why I'm so protective of you all the time."

You let out a small breath, your demeanor starting to change into a more calm and relaxed one the moment he grabbed your face. You slowly relaxed your body, eventually dropping your arms to your sides and your expression half softened.

You always knew Spencer was scared of losing the people he loved, god knows he has, but something about hearing him say that broke your heart and it made you want to understand him, "Spencer, I know. And I get it, I really do. But you can't just keep me from doing my job just because you want to protect me. I'm not any less capable at taking care of myself than you are just because I'm younger and it really hurts that you think I can't take of myself."

"I know and I'm sorry. But can you blame? You're just so—" he lightly squeezed your face in his hands, finding amusement in how small you looked from his perspective, having to tilt his head down to look at him and even tower over you sometimes. "I could easily pin you down or throw you over my shoulder. I mean, look how small and cute you are, you really blame for trying to protect you all the time?" He laughed softly, going back to his cute and more playful demeanor you loved so much, wanting apologize for his previous words and behavior in a way he knew would work better on you than an apology.

Though you still laughed at his words, they still earned him a glare and a hard smack on the chest, "I may be small and short but I can still kick your ass faster than you can name kidnapping statistics so don't even test me." You said matter of factly, narrowing your eyes at him and playfully poked his chest.

Spencer chuckled, raising his arms up in defense and nodded, taking a step back playfully, "yeah, I've seen you train, and shoot. I'd rather not your aim." He laughed softly, stepping forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body to his, "but seriously, you're the strongest, bravest and most capable woman I've ever met, and I'm sorry if I've made you feel like you aren't. I just, I could never live with the fact that I let you get hurt or couldn't protect you if something ever happened to you. But I promise I'll work on my protectiveness."

"That's all I wanted to hear."

~~~~~~~~~

So this is my first Spencer Reid work. Honestly I'm not too happy with the end result of it. But we all start somewhere right? I'm trying to get back to writing so if you have any Reid request please send them my way. And if you'd like to be added to my Spencer Reid tag list also let me know. So yeah, thanks for reading this garbage and I'm out for now. Buh bye!

[polandspringz]

Fanfic/Writing Updates!

I know I just put this in a mess of tags on my last post, but just an update for my readers:

Sorry for the delay in updating fics/writing stories! I was dying towards the second half of my semester so I didn’t have time to much other than some one-shots. Right now though, I’ve kicked it into high gear, lol. So here is what I can currently promise you to look forward to.

Obey Me

You Don’t Really Wanna Stay (Sequel to “Cause You Don’t Really Wanna Go”, now known as the Hot n’ Cold series): Chapter 2 has been finished since mid-April. I haven’t published it because I sort of screwed myself going off script and publishing chapter 1 before I wrote the entire fic (unlike how with CYDRWG, I wrote the entire thing in one week and then published it over a few days/like a week). I’ve had the entire story outlined in this case, but it was just a matter of writing it. Chapter 3 is also finished now, so I will be working over the next few days to finish Chapters 4 and 5 before I start publishing the rest of the work on a schedule. This was a story that was originally only meant to be 2 chapters, but as you can see, things have expanded. An epilogue may or may not be written later on (similar to the Mammon fic as well). I may or may not have plans for a third fic in this series.

Siberia: This story has had the entire plot and every detail outlined since I started writing it last fall. Again, it’s just a matter of writing it all together into a long chapter with scenes instead of plot points and summaries of events on a notebook page. Once the above fic is finished being written, I will immediately resume work on Chapter 8 of Siberia, and similarly, will try and get through 2-3 chapters before I start publishing again. At the earliest, I can guarantee an update by the end of May or June. I’m hoping to get ahead in my writing to help me out later on.

Designing in the Devildom (Series): There are SO many one-shots planned for this series still. I originally planned on having a loose chronological order for them, but as some of you may have seen, we’ve kind of deviated a bit. I have several documents with drafts for various stories that have been in the works for months, but am putting this series as less of a priority compared to the above works. I received an ask suggesting I continue the “M’Lady” fic with a follow-up of the actual fashion show the demons would participate in, and have drafted sketches of each outfit the characters would model, which I would like to publish alongside the work, so that is one of the projects that is taking some time.

gen:LOCK

I have so many stories still planned for gen:LOCK, and as I work on my other fandoms, I find myself itching to get back to this fandom that I love so much. I don’t want to give a lot away, but I have at least 3 ideas revolving around Yaz and 1 idea focused on the gen:LOCK team as a whole. They aren’t short one-shots or drabbles, so I ask you to be patient and promise by the end of the summer you will see something from me soon.

Cars gL AU: Believe it or not, I did plan a sequel to that joke fic. The idea came about after I wrote the ending to the story, and the response from the actual Cars fandom was so nice, it really made me want to write a follow up. It will be significantly shorter, but I hope everyone will enjoy it as well.

Miscellaneous

Omori: I have plans for a multi-chapter AU that if I nail it the way I want to, well it might not do anything but be self-indulgent for me, but I think it might obliterare the fandom (as I joke to my friend often). I won’t be working on this story until I finish Siberia, as there is a similarity between them and I wish to give each their proper attention.

SK8: I hate Adam but I love writing for Adam and Tadashi. I had another story idea floating around in my head but no concrete notes on it, so I can’t guarantee when this will be written, but know there are plans for it.

FF9: I’ve been promising my sister an FF9 fic for about 2 years now. I had an idea after beating the game but forgot half the location names in the game, and that’s what’s been holding me back. I planned for it to be more long winded and descriptive, but might go a more straight to the point approach. I’m hoping to try and finally sit down and write it before May 31st.

Genshin Impact: I have notes in my fanfic writing journal for a Xiao fic and a Dainsleif fic. Writing for Genshin Impact feels very volatile though and as much as I appreciated the response on my Albedo fic months ago, I cannot guarantee I’ll ever get around to these, lol.

Yu Yu Hakusho: ON GOD IVE GOT NO IDEAS FOR THIS YET BUT I DO HAVE THE DESIRE TO MAKE SOMETHING GOOD BECAUSE I LOVE THIS SHOW SO MUCH. SO SOMETHING WILL COME OUT OF THIS BRAIN OF MINE

Demon Slayer: SAME THING I AM DETERMINED TO DO SOMETHING, DONT KNOW WHAT YET

[arts-and-drafts]

Mumbot (Part 1)

I got wicked inspired by Mumbo's transformation in his latest episode, so I decided to write a fic! Enjoy!

-

It wasn't supposed to hurt.

Mumbo had personally tested the Spookification Machine to make triple sure that it wouldn't hurt anyone. He even tested it himself, and was relieved to know it did it's job exactly right.

Which is why he wasn't concerned when he had accidentally taken the items he meant to throw out with him into the machine. He just nervously scuffed the dispensers embedded into the floor with his shoe, hoping the redstone wouldn't break.

He shut his eyes as the lights got brighter, desensitized to the anxiety-inducing noteblocks after two tries.

Then suddenly, there was an unplanned flash of light that instantly made Mumbo sweat with the heat it gave off. He snapped his eyes open in time to see bolts of electricity arc from the lights and shoot into his body from all angles. His mouth cracked open in a silent scream as it felt like every bone in his body was suddenly white hot, burning him alive from the inside out. The iron and redstone burned in his pocket and Mumbo swore it set his suit on fire, but the pain was so intense that he couldn't even feel the flames.

His vision finally gave out on him as the pain reached the tipping point. Mumbo felt like every nerve ending in his body was on fire, but it all faded away into black within the span of a half second.

-

Mumbo groggily opened his eyes to the brain of the witch above his bed. He felt like he should be sore after what happened, but he felt nothing.

He pulled himself up into a sitting position, raising a hand to tiredly run it through his hair.

He met nothing.

He blinked, pressing his hand to his head. Did the machine make him go bald?

He tried to suck in a breath of panic, but nothing happened. He froze when he realized he hadn't been breathing since he woke up.

Mumbo grabbed at his chest unconsciously, making a metallic thud reverberate through the witch's body. He numbly looked down to see his torso had become completely made of iron along with the rest of him, with a small glass window in his chest revealing a ticking mechanical heart in the center.

-

Iskall was shocked into dropping his shulker box when he heard a scream rip through the quiet shopping district. He automatically drew his sword, abandoning his shulker box to race to the source. Xisuma had been having trouble with mobs spawning on the former mycelium island, and Iskall dreaded finding a poor hermit under attack.

The scream had died before he found the hermit responsible, but a quick look around the area showed a huddling figure inside of Mumbo's new shop.

Iskall raced into the building, hesitantly lowering his sword after his robot eye confirmed the absence of any hostile mobs. He turned his attention to the figure by the beds.

Iskall crouched and moved forward, reaching out a hand to touch the hermit's shoulder. "Hallo? Are you okay?"

The hermit made a strangled noise of shock at Iskall's voice, swiveling around to look at him. Iskall gasped when he recognized the hermit's face. "Mumbo?"

It was certainly him, but something was wrong. Mumbo looked metallic and flat, like a robotic replica of Iskall's friend. Oily black tears spilled out of his glowing redstone colored eyes, and his shoulders shook with the strain of crying.

"Mumbo, what--what happened to you, brother?" Iskall stammered, putting both of his hands on Mumbo's shoulders to steady him. He had to pry his eye away from Mumbo's chest, his now exposed heart ticking at a hypnotizingly rapid pace.

"The s-Spookification--I h-had redstone i-i-in my pocket--a-and i-iron--" Mumbo blubbered. Iskall tightened his grip on Mumbo's cold metal shoulders. "Hey--breathe for me, man."

More black tears rolled down Mumbo's face. "I CAN'T!" he wailed, screwing his eyes shut. "I can't breathe!! I-I can't touch--I can't--feel--"

Iskall cut him off with a hug, squeezing Mumbo tight despite the cutting edges of his metal torso. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay."

Iskall pulled away to look Mumbo in the eyes. "You are still Mumbo. What are you thinking?"

Mumbo hunched his shoulders. "S--scared. I'm scared." He said quietly. "And what do you think about me?" Iskall asked. "Y--you're my best friend." Mumbo answered.

"See? Your brain is still in there, bro. If you had one in the first place." Iskall grinned teasingly, pulling a small smile from Mumbo. Iskall held out his hand and Mumbo gently took it, the shorter hermit then pulling the both of them to their feet.

"We'll be okay. Let's get you to Xisuma." Iskall said, squeezing Mumbo's hand reassuringly. "He'll know what to do."

-

"I don't know how to fix this!" Xisuma exclaimed, worriedly pacing around his respawn build under Spawn Island. Iskall and Mumbo sat across from him, still keeping their hands clasped together since leaving the shopping district.

"I can't even figure out how to get mobs to stop spawning at the Cowmmercial District, how on earth am I supposed to remake Mumbo back into a flesh person?!" Xisuma ran a hand over his helmet worryingly before turning to look at Mumbo. "You're *sure* it was redstone that did this?" He asked for the third time.

Iskall sighed. "Yes. It was completely vanilla." He responded. Xisuma went back to pacing.

"There's nothing WRONG with your code in the system, I don't know how I'm supposed to fix something that isn't broken!" Xisuma continued desperately. "You're still just Mumbo Jumbo, but you're not! I don't know what's wrong--"

"What if we throw you back in with some meat or something?" Iskall interrupted Xisuma's rambling to address Mumbo. "Iron and redstone did it, right? So..."

"What if it turns me into a robot pig though!" Mumbo objected. He had calmed significantly since Iskall found him, but was still very tense about his situation. "There's no human meat in Minecraft other than rotten flesh, and I am NOT trying that."

All three hermits seemed to come to the same conclusion as soon as the words left Mumbo's mouth. Iskall locked eyes with Xisuma.

"Cleo."