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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

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What the fuck did I just read (/pos)

I know that it was chap one of your wings au, but I can't process what happened (Still pos)

Like?? Neverseen and Co probably created creatures that drove the Elves underground, Sophie and Co went to what they thought was the breeding ground for them and fucked ip the mission by going into the wrong room, my spirit animal burst out of its isolation pod, everyone passed out and the facility presumably exploded, but oh my god I LOVED it

Like?? Your writing?? Excellent

The descriptors?? Brilliant. I had a very clear view of what the entrance to the facility looked like, my only issue was that I lost my focus by remembering I was just reading it on my bed and then couldn't get back into it which was sad, but god I love the post apocalyptic vibes. And the small shroomy dude with the marks gouged in his skin at the start- I want one.

If only I could draw backgrounds!! Ahh I would love to draw a scene from this chapter

Like if this was episode one of a webtoon then I would absolutly have saved it and would keep up with the weekly update.

I can't really do this here because I don't have an ao3 account, but I'll definitly binge it after I make and eat dinner.

But of course, if you had made it a webtoon, then you probably would have had to explain the abilities but that could always be done in a more subtle way, but it's also be copyright infringement. I think.

Anyway I loved it and I can't wait to see what happens next!!

I did think it was a bit fast passed, but that could just be my preference for lingering in details in the calm and then making the audience aware of when it's highstakes by speeding it up. But I guess it works here by that same notion, as the whole mission was high stakes, but I found that even the supposed slow bits were fast, like the introduction was a bit breezed through.

But!! Nothing to be done!! Since this chapter came out 6 months ago!! I haven't read the rest so I don't know what the other chapters are like, but for this one I still loved it!!

-Heathen

heathen! hello! tbh I have the same reaction when reading through the wings au. I'm just along for the ride and have no clue what's happening but it's fun! Legitimately though like 95% of the time I open up the wip chapter like "alright let's see where I left off" I make an audible noise of shock like oh damn. We really out here doing so many things.

I think chapter one will always hold a special place in my heart above the others purely for the descriptions of the world. I had so much fun with the narrator voice and the way I approached it--the first two chapters were written just as i felt like it, not on the schedule that I now have, so looking at them is always fun. That first chapter was the product of several months of writing sprints and then weeks of not thinking about it. But I adore it.

all the things that happened!! they went underground and were sneaking through a facility and trying to destroy it and so many little things that I threw at you all. Definitely not the vibe some people were expecting!! I think when originally writing that chapter I had an explanation for why they were in the wrong room, but I've mostly forgotten it and so now it's like idk why they were in the wrong room! I think I do have an explanation for it that isn't just "oopsie all ten of them just didn't realize it was the wrong room!!" kind of thing, but on the chance that it will come up again later i shant reveal!!

(note: it's my understanding that the term "spirit animal" is offensive to indigenous people, making light of their cultures through a stereotype. I don't have the authority to determine a suggestion, but perhaps saying instead that the creature embodies you instead of is a spirit animal would be better. I don't think you did this intentionally, so I wanted to mention it!)

but yes, everyone did pass out due to inhaling all those fumes, but I thought it was a fun little dramatic cliffhanger. The first of many...I'm still writing cliffhangers 17 chapters later.

also thank you! I enjoy sharing stories, so it's nice to know my delivery is alright! Also I'm glad you had a clear view of what the entrance to the facility looked like, as I did not! I was making things up and hoping it made sense! If you continue reading I hope you can stay more focused!! It's so much fun to get sucked into a story and forget where you are, but it's so easy to get knocked out of it, too. I've been reading ahead in my English class the past few weeks (i'm three books and 2 essays ahead of everyone else and basically doing my own thing) so whenever I'm reading there's also the class reading aloud so it takes a lot more to stay in the world of the book--also difficult when you're reading Ralph Waldo Emerson because the text is very dense. But I'm getting distracted now oops

someone described the wings au as a "soft apocalypse" once and it's been one of my favorite descriptors ever since. Because it is an apocalypse!! The world has gone to shit and everything is overrun with creatures! But it's also not the gritty hardcore survival and death and all that you see in other apocalypse stories. Oh and the mushroom guy!! I was originally going to draw a picture of it back when I posted the first chapter, but I took too long to do it and forgot what it looked like. Perhaps if I reread it I can kinda piece it back together, but there were definitely details I didn't include in the story that i'll probably never remember. Maybe I should bring the mushroom guy back...also there's like a 97% chance it'd bite you and run away if you had one, but go for it!

Also same with that background thing! They definitely aren't my strength, but there's so many places in the au I want to draw that it's like agh!! I feel like maybe when the au is finished I'll go back and draw a scene from each chapter, because I've got a really specific idea of what some of these places look like and I want to be able to see them!!

I don't really use webtoon, but I think that's a compliment so thanks! And yeah it would've been a lot more work to make it into a webtoon and would move a lot slower that I'd want it too. I am!! impatient!! Unfortunately my chapters are too long for weekly updates, but I can do every other week! it's very precise. Every other sunday I post a new chapter!! This sunday is actually the next one, though I don't remember what number we're at. 15? I'm about to finish writing 17 (which is probably going to be the longest one so far if it keeps doing the things its doing) so I've lost track.

I don't know how fast-paced the story is as a whole, but I think it's on the quicker side. Especially in those first few chapters, because what I've done is dropped us into the end of a story, or what was supposed to be the end. This is set months after Unlocked, and the mission I put them straight into from the beginning of the story would've been the final battle of another. It would've been the big victory against the bad guys where everything afterwards settles down and they can live peacefully, but I interrupted that. I stole them out of that ending and created a new story parallel to the first one. So there was no build up to the climax, it was suddenly there! That might make it seem a little fast.

And then from there in the next chapter or two things are falling into place in order for me to actually tell the story I want to. Really the first like 2-3 chapters are just getting to where we needed to be for me to start the story, so I might've rushed it a little in order to get there faster, because while the first parts are important, they're not the focus of my story until later!

I do think I also have a preference for faster stories, which is fine! There are slower parts where the kotlcrew are more hanging out and the plot isn't going as fast, the first few chapters are just a lot. Maybe that's why it seems breezed through! There was so much worldbuilding and background in that one chapter that it was difficult to give everything attention all at once, though other details are given throughout the rest of the story.

I hope you enjoy the rest of the chapters should you choose to read them!! Perhaps I'll go back and start a little reread with you because it's been months since I've seen some of these chapters. you could tell me what happened better than me! Partially because it's mixed up in my brain with things I almost wrote but didn't, while you only have what actually happened.

But I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter!! The wings au is a lot of fun so it's always cool to see people reading it <33

#wings au my beloved...#it's been over six months and I am still. writing #we just keep going #don't mind me just gonna take another six months to finish /j #i'm in the middle of one big plot thing #I have at least one and a half more I definitely want to do #but there's also a vague concept for another thing I'd like to do #but the details aren't fully worked out #only halfway there #but it's fun!!#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc wings au #wings au asks #quil's queries #heathen nonsie #nonsie love #shattered upside down

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akvtsuki-ari · 5 years

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Sweetheart (Ch.1)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM and bunch of other kinks but nothing sexual in this chapter lol. Sub!Spencer and Femdom!Reader

Length: 5.3k

Authors Note: this is hands down the most self-indulgent shit ive ever wrote but do i care? the answer is no dsjk but this that series i had planned where the reader introduces spencer to proper BDSM and all that. hoping to make this fic kinda informative also lol. also im uploading this fic on ao3 as well. also no tags for this fic bc its really specific and ill probably be writing for it for a while! sorry about that

Plot Summary: Spencer Reid just wanted to be.., well, you know. He doesn’t expect to find much when he signs up for a BDSM dating website but somehow he manages you and he couldn’t be more delighted

Spencer Reid was certainly a lot of things. He was a lover of the arts, someone who had a particular affinity for 15th-century literature, a magician at best, a theater nerd at worst, and a teacher when life called for it. He loves the world even when it's really dark and he loves sleeping in even more. He loves his friends and they love him too - even when they pretend that his random facts annoy them. Spencer Reid was a friend, an FBI agent, a genius with an IQ of 187, and a son to a mother he loves wholly. He was a lot of things and for the most part - he knew a lot about what he really loved to do. He supposed that it's been like that his whole life.

It's not everyday that he discovers something new about himself. About everything else? Always. He loves to learn, but about himself? There's never all that much on the frontier.

It's hard to say, because of that, when Spencer discovered he was a sub. It's difficult to pinpoint a specific time and place, or even how the pieces got put together. He just remembers how it felt when it hit him, like a freight train going 100 miles an hour into a concrete wall. Or a plane crashing onto an island. Or like a fly hitting the glass panes of a delivery truck. He remembers the feeling when he was deftly reminded of this fact. Spencer Reid was a sub - through and through and he wasn't really sure what to make of it.

Surprisingly to most of his direct peers, Spencer wasn't a virgin. He'd had sex with 2 people who he'd been kinda friends with at some point, but it always got a little weird after that. The second time though, the girl ended up choking him a little bit when she got off and Spencer thought he had died. Not in a bad way, more in a "I'm so turned on by this I feel like I've genuinely gone to heaven," sort of way. He didn't think it was possible for a sexual encounter to make him feel like that but it did. It didn't stop after that either, which was the most agitating part.

Spencer doesn't consider himself a sexual person. Sex is about intimacy and companionship, and hopefully love when he finds that someday. Sex isn't necessarily about pleasure but that wasn't an easy lesson to learn.

Spencer just wanted to understand - so like any great genius he participated in thought experiments. It's normally a female superhero/supervillain that crosses his mind (he has an affinity for Poison Ivy), and he just kinda imagines what it would be like if they did what she did. The choking turned him on, but it wasn't enough. Through that, he figures out that he had more than a choking kink and that he was more than a little interested in a partner having complete access to him. He thought about it for weeks and the getting off was working for him but he couldn't get the fantasy out of his head. He wanted more - he wanted someone to fulfill his wishes.

It was too much for him to ignore. Those months of being able to hold off through masturbating are over and he's just sorta itching. Aching to act on those impulses with another person who can give him what he needs, and he doesn't want it to be transactional. Maybe it's too ideal to want a partner out of such an endeavor but was it so wrong? To want real affection and romance from someone who could also overpower him wasn't a crime and he'd be damned if he pretended to want any less. Spencer was just searching, even if it was rather desperately.

So, when Spencer finds himself on a BDSM dating site and he feels like his life is in shambles, he can only blame himself. It's not something he'd normally do but he's getting a little more than relentless about it but he also just wants to see what's out there. He's so out of it was it happens, it felt like he was being possessed as he made a fake email and wrote out his account information. Definitely blaming it on possession, he thinks.

It's too late to go back, as he scrolls through tons of profiles of rather intense looking people. He's not surprised, this is where people go to express themselves. They're entitled to that, it just sucks since he's just not ready for such levels of intensity. He wonders if he's in too deep yet, but he figures he'd hit that mark a long time ago and keeps scrolling through profiles. There wasn't much to go off of, many people not choosing to use photos for the sake of anonymity, which was good for Spencer. He clicks onto his own profile, reading his own bio carefully.

USERNAME: DOC187

SUB/ SWITCH / DOM

M / F / O

FETISHES: N/A

BIO: Interest in a dominant female companion. Completely inexperienced.

Spencer feels ridiculous, but he doubts anyone would even message him. He doesn't have much on his profile and he keeps things short for that purpose. He wanted to stay as low to the ground as possible - more curious to explore what was going in the world than to find anything legitimate. He scrolls through hundreds of profiles, mostly of people who were BDSM vets looking for new connections or fun. Some people catch his eye but they don't match his interests so he doesn't bother.

Except, one profile. The bio was beyond interesting to Spencer.

USERNAME: MISS—LILAC

SUB / SWITCH / DOM

M / F / O

FETISHES: Sadomasochist, Degradation, Humiliation, Pegging, Overstimulation, Edging, Crossdressing, Exhibitionism, Mutual Masturbation, Dacryphilia, Shibari/Gags/Bondage, Wax Play, Impact Play, Breath Play, General Sensation Play, Discipline, Collaring, Begging. Willing to try most things.

BIO: Interested in submissive males of any experience level. Helps if you're interesting and like to read and watch indie films. Looking for genuine connection and plenty of good banter. Curly hair is nice too. lol.

Before Spencer can think about it for too long his mouse clicks over that stupid little message button next to your profile. Spencer shakes his head at his own existence as he types you a message. Says you're online right now, but Spencer's sure he won't get a response for a while.

DOC187: Seems I fit who you're interested in. I even have the curly hair.

Spencer chews on his nails anxiously before he sighs at himself. He has no clue what's gotten into him belle before he can think he sees your 3-dotted bubble pop up. He feels his body wracked with nerves.

MISS—LILAC: I'm guessing you like to read and watch indie films too?

Spencer smiles. You seem interesting and the fact that the two of you were just talking normal was making Spencer happy.

DOC187: Indeed. I'm a sucker for 15-century literature and anything in Russian and foreign language. You?

MISS—LILAC: 15th century huh? I'll assume Chaucer. And Russian? You're interesting, doc. I'm more modern and English, hope you're not deterred.

Spencer smiles, surprised that you recognize an author as niche as Chaucer. He shakes his head at your commentary. He almost forgets that both of you are on a BDSM dating site and the irony doesn't escape him.

DOC187: Deterred? Never. I think you're rather interesting too, Miss Lilac.

MISS—LILAC: Ever the gentleman doc. I'm hoping you won't run away if I ask you more personal questions.

Spencer swallows. He types back quickly.

DOC187: What kinds of questions?

MISS—LILAC: If it's okay, you're real name and what you do. My names Y/N, and I'm a florist. I live in DC and I love romance novels.

Spencer smiles. He appreciates you laying down the path for him, knowing the stakes.

DOC187: My names Spencer and I work for the FBI. I also live in DC, and I love magic.

MISS—LILAC: Magic? I'd love for you to show me sometime.

Spencer swallows. Part of him feels like it's a stupid idea to ask you out so early but if you asked, he'd likely say yes. He decides to wait it out.

DOC187: I'd be more than happy to show you.

MISS—LILAC: I suppose you could send me a video but that's not the same as seeing the magic in real life, now is it?

Spencer is smiling like an idiot at this point. He shakes his head a little, jittery.

DOC187: Infinitely better live, I would say.

MISS—LILAC: Seems like I've found an excuse to ask you on a date then. Saturday's work for me but I'm sure it depends on you, FBI man. Before that, I'm gonna drop my number and I'll be expecting your call. (XXX-XXX-XXXX)

Spencer giggles. It's a little out of range for things he's used to doing, giggling aloud for someone else is certainly new. Spencer picks up his phone and dials away, anxious to call you but excited nonetheless. He heard you pick up the phone and his heart catches in his throat.

"Hello?," Your voice is smooth, and a little bit lower than he was expecting. It sounds pretty.

"Hello, Y/N," Spencer says back. He heard you laugh on the other side and can't help the way his heart flutters.

"Lovely to talk to you doc,"

"Still Doc? Not Spencer?" Spencer questions. You smile on the other side of the line.

"Doc seems to fit you. But, for the sake of formality, hello Spencer,"

"I like Doc too, but it feels like I should have a nickname for you as well. Only seems fair," Spencer says laughing quietly.

"If it's your prerogative you can call me Miss Lilac, or just Miss but..." you trail off for a minute. Spencer squints.

"Miss is a title, you know? Doesn't seem fair for you to call me that when I haven't earned it from you yet. I'm sure we'll get there but for now you can just call me Y/N," you say softly. Spencer blushes bright red, his voice betraying him as he speaks.

"O-Oh, well um - where does the name Lilac come from? Normally people go with their names when it comes to stuff like that," Spencer says shyly. He heard you laugh on the other side of the phone and blushes again, grateful you can't see him.

"I love the language of flowers and flowers themselves. It's a way to speak that not many people know - but I like the meaning and look of lilacs. White lilacs represent purity, so that was a bit of irony, but light purple lilacs mean first love," you say carefully.

"First love?," Spencer asks. You bite your lip for a moment.

"I joke that BDSM is my first love since it's such a big part of my life. Not as big as some but not small for certain. It gave me much needed confidence so I joke that it was my first," You say lightly. You hear Spencer giggle on the other side and you smile.

"What about your username? Any significance to DOC187 that I should know of?," you readjust your seat on your couch as you talk. Spencer grows a bit embarrassed.

"I normally introduce myself as Doctor Spencer Reid for work, not a medical doctor but I have three PhD's," Spencer admits. You raise your brows but hear the hesitation in his voice.

"Very, very impressive doc. What about the 187? It could be a plain ol' number but my guess would be otherwise,"

"That's my IQ, actually. I don't think intelligence can be boiled down and quantified like that but I couldn't think of anything else," Spencer explains.

"So you're a certified genius with 3 PhD's? To say I'm impressed is an understatement. Anything else impressive you'd like to tell me before I totally pick your brains," you say a little shocked.

"You wanna pick my brains?," Spencer asks. You wanna laugh at the irony of such a silly question from such an intelligent man but you refrain.

"Who wouldn't?," you say incredulously. Spencer smiles shyly.

"The only other thing is that I can read 20,000 words per minute," Spencer says trying to deflect. Your jaw dropped before but it manages to unhinge a little further.

"There's a lot to get to know about you Doctor Reid,"

"I'm sure it's the same for you," Spencer replies.

"Guess we'll have to find out won't we?," you say smiling.

Damn, Spencer got lucky. Hopefully he'd get to find out soon

_____

"Reid, are you listening?," Derek's voice snaps Spencer out of his entranced state. His smiling expression snaps up to look at Derek who looks a little exasperated.

"Sorry, what was that?," Spencer asks back. Derek puts down the case file they were working on. They had just finished a case and needed to complete some paperwork before submitting it for review and to be used in court. The job was given to him and Morgan and Spencer was evidently distracted.

"Alright, kid - what is up with you? All case you've been checking your phone non-stop and spacing out, all smiles and giggles. C'mon now kid, seriously. You got a little lady at home waiting for you or is there something else I don't know about?," Derek interrogates. Spencer doesn't really know what to make of it, though it's not really in his interest to hide you, it hasn't really come up with anyone on the team yet so it was proving difficult to decide what to do. The smile on his face manages to appear again as he starts to think about you, the tips of his ears red.

"Reid," Morgan says again, with a small look of irritation.

"Her names Y/N," Spencer blurts out faster than he can't think. Derek gives him a huge grin, holding his hand out to dap Spencer up. Spencer just looks at it confused for a second before getting the memo.

"'My man," Derek says chuckling. Before Spencer can continue Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia walk in. Hotch is the only one missing, and Spencer's a little grateful.

"What are we celebrating in here you guys?," Prentiss asks first. Spencer goes to say something to move away from his sudden confession but Derek is quick to cut him off.

"Our boy genius over here got him a little lady," Derek announces. The whole team erupts in questions and Spencer wants to bury himself.

"Congratulations, Spencer!! How long have you two been dating?," Prentiss asks.

"You guys are so dramatic. It's only been two months but no first date because well..." Spencer trails off. JJ just nods her head.

"Duty calls, I'm guessing" JJ finishes. Spencer nods deflated hearing Emily draw a breath between her teeth.

"That's tough, Spence,"

Just as Spencer goes to give a response back he gets a text from you that makes his day a little better. It's a selfie of you at work, a picture your employee must've taken of you in a room full of new flower deliveries. You're giving Spencer a toothy grin as you hold a bunch of gardenias in your hand.

Y/N 🌸: *image attachment*

Gardenias// You're lovely + Secret Love <33

Spencer cannot control the way his whole face bunches up in a smile, as if there's no one else in the room with him. Everyone just looks at him surprised, Garcia giving him a side-eye.

"How can you guys trust this stranger? We don't even know who she is! I haven't even run any background checks on her," Garcia complains. Prentiss nudges her side.

"I don't know if it matters - look at how hard he's smiling over there," Prentiss says. Garcia reluctantly looks and can't help but sigh.

"Okay well he seems really happy but still! We don't even know her," she pouts.

"I'm sure we'll meet her soon," JJ snickers at Spencer's lovestruck expression. Derek leans over Spencer's shoulder and raises his brows.

"Is that her, kid?," Derek asks. Spencer nods, simply staring at the picture you sent. Derek whistles when he sees you - you're genuinely stunning and he's surprised to say the least.

"Hot mama, pretty boy - how'd you manage that?," Derek asks, dumbfounded. Emily rolls her eyes.

"C'mon Derek, I'm sure - oh wow," Emily leans over Spencer's shoulder to see you and is met with the same reaction. JJ and Garcia are quick to follow thereafter, both looking equally as surprised.

"She's..." JJ trails off. The rest of the team just nods as Spencer grins ear to ear.

Spencer 🐻: Beautiful, as always.

Spencer ignores the rest of the team as they look at each other in disbelief.

Y/N🌸: Me or the flowers, Doc?

Spencer🐻: Both, but mostly you.

"Wow, Spencer you're really -" Prentiss starts

"You're whipped, kid. I mean seriously whipped," Derek finishes, nodding in agreement. JJ can't help but smile, giving Spencer a small pat on the back.

"She seems lovely, Spencer. How'd you two meet?," JJ says. Garcia stands around looking rather suspicious. A blush creeps onto Spencer's neck as he's reminded of how you two met.

"Online," Spencer says shortly. No one decides to question it, and Spencer thanks every god he can think of.

"Have you two FaceTimed yet? How can we know she's not, I don't know - catfishing you? Or scamming you in some other cyber criminal way?," Garcia sounds distressed. Spencer gives a small smile.

"We fall asleep over FaceTime every night," Spencer admits. Penelope's expression falls, and Prentiss gives a smile.

"That is disgustingly cute," JJ says laughing.

"Okay, well - I'm still running a background check on her," Garcia says stubbornly "But, I'm happy for you,"

"Thanks Garcia," Spencer mumbles out as he texts you again.

Y/N🌸: I wanna see you, love

Spencer blushes red as he reads your message. The word love makes his whole face hot.

Spencer🐻: I can't take a selfie for my life

Y/N🌸: You're with your team aren't you? Get them to take a picture of you.

Spencer wants to fold away, not ever really being the picture type, but how could he ever deny you.

Spencer🐻: How could I ever say no to you?

"Hey guys, can one of you take a picture of me for Y/N?" Spencer asks embarrassingly red. The whole team sends him a look of surprise.

"I'll take it Spence, try not to look as uncomfortable as you do right now," JJ says. The whole team refrains from laughing as Spencer gives an awkward smile. He thanks JJ who hands him back his phone before texting you again.

Spencer🐻: *image attachment* You owe me one

Y/N🌸: you're stunning as always. hadn't seen you in so long I almost forgot what you looked like.

Spencer🐻: stunnings an interesting choice of words.

Y/N🌸: I said what I said, doc.

Spencer can't help but do a little giggle, that causes the whole team to give him a look. Morgan just shakes his head, shrugging. Emily, JJ, and Garcia just look at each other before the room draws into a subtle but comfortable silence as Spencer just smiles, totally unaware of how whipped he happened to look. He didn’t seem to mind either way.

___

"How was work?," Spencer asks over the phone, kicking his shoes off as he looks into his fridge for something to eat. He hears you sigh on the other side of the line.

"Busy today - wedding season is coming up so tons of calls for centerpiece designs and costs. It's going well though, business couldn't be better," you say, clearly tired yet content. Spencer gives a small smile and feels relieved that things are going okay for you.

"That's really good. I'm glad you're feeling alright," Spencer replies. You ease into the couch as you talk to Spencer, relaxing by the second.

"What about you, FBI man? You have an okay day?," Your voice is full of a gentle concern that Spencer appreciates.

"Yeah, just paperwork and JJ said that we shouldn't have any upcoming cases this week to be worried about so I have the weekend off," Spencer says without thought.

"Have any special plans for the weekend?," you say cheekily. Spencer, still not having caught on, shakes his head for a second.

"No, why?,"

"Hm... well - would you like to go on a date with me then Doctor Reid?," You ask, giggling. Spencer's eyes widen in realization as he facepalms for a moment.

"Wow, I didn't even think... yes - yes I would love to go on a date with you Y/N," Spencer says laughing at his own misfortune. You shake your head instinctively, but the growing smile and even further growing adoration makes it hard to sit still.

"Hey, Spencer," you say, butterflies filling your stomach.

"Yeah?"

"I really like you,"

____

Saturday comes quicker than Spencer can really understand. You told him not to worry about what the days plans would be but he can't help it. Anxiously awaiting you in front of the cafe that the two of you were supposed to meet at, in a part of town Spencer hasn't really seen before. You said that you'd lead the way and the irony isn't lost on him.

"Spencer?," Your voice is small, as you call out to what you think is Spencer Reid. Of course, you'd seen him before but to see him in person like this was still so unfamiliar. His head shoots up, eyes searching for you. He's delighted to have found you, certainly that was true as he walks towards you. Your arms envelop him in a friendly hug and he can't help but find himself sinking into. You smelled sweet, like fruit and flowers (which makes sense, the more he thinks about it)

"Lovely to finally meet you, Y/N,"

"Same goes for you, doc. Would you like to be informed of our plans for the day, or do you prefer the element of surprise?," You ask smiling. Spencer laughs at your question.

"Details would be appreciated, but I get the feeling you're not gonna give me those."

"You're right! It's a trick question, since it's a surprise. But, promise it'll be good,"

"I'll take your word for it then," Spencer says with a small smile. You hold your hand out for Spencer which he accepts, locking his hands with yours. The affection makes him feel full of warmth, as you lead him away for the day you had planned for the both of you.

___

Spencer underestimated how well you knew him. He really, really did. It's hard to explain since Spencers been on a date before but this was so profoundly different. He's a little touched, but beyond that he's just.. surprised? Every date he'd been on before this, he'd have to play the gentleman but it never seemed like the other person was interested in just him. It was always casual small-talk over dinner, or a mid-day coffee date or something else that just felt mundane but this was beyond Spencer's imagination.

The first place you took him was a bookstore - which was in Spencers mind already a winner for best date he'd ever been on. You walked inside with him and told him he had to pick up a book for you and you had to pick up a book for him and to say his heart absolutely fluttered would be an understatement. He picked up up a copy of "The Screwtape Tales," by C.S. Lewis for you, and you gave him a copy of Shel Silverstein's "Where The Sidewalk Ends." For you, you got a glimpse to see what Spencer's sense of humor was and you gave Spencer a piece of your childhood. Both equal but opposite forms of intimacy. The only thing was Spencer had to wait to read his book because it's relatively shorter than yours and he reads 20,000 words per minute.

The next place you took Spencer was an indoor butterfly garden. Does he have to explain why that's a good date? He heard you talk about all the scientific names for the different flowers and why they attract butterflies and he wasn't sure he could crush any harder on you if he tried. A particular moment sticks out to him on which a butterfly landed on your shoulders and just stayed there like it didn't want to leave. Spencer's eyes were fixated on it the whole time - and he had never wanted to be a butterfly in his life before but he figures there's a first time for everything.

The last place, where the both of you were at now was just a small coffee shop, locally owned and supported by the community here. You told Spencer that when you started up your shop, you'd come in here to work on big orders before you'd expanded enough to have employees. Spencer admires your work ethic, much more than he could ever anticipate as he sits down at a small booth, totally covering the both of you as you return to the table with a little plate of banana bread and two iced coffees. Spencer pouts as he looks up at you, watching you flash him a grin.

"I could've helped you carry this over," Spencer complains gently. You roll your eyes.

"Maybe next time doc," you say softly. You hold back your commentary often on the date, and Spencer pretends not to notice for your sake but he'd be lying if he said he didn't wanna know. You always had something sly to say but you'd kept it from him so many times now he figures it's better if he didn't ask.

Spencer looks at you as you push a plate of banana bread towards him. He looks at you with curious eyes before reading your clearly excited face and laughs. He picks up a piece and examines it, before taking a bite. If it tasted as good as it smelled then he would be more than obliged.

The involuntary moan that escapes Spencer's throat makes you choke with laughter. Shit, you weren't kidding when you said this was the best banana bread in the city. Spencer just looks up at you like he's about to cry with joy as you double over in giggles.

"I know," You say softly, taking a bite yourself eyes filling with joy "I ordered some more for us to take home - you're welcome," you say with confidence. Spencer smiles because that is genuinely thoughtful, but it was more endearing to see you pretend it wasn't. He just shakes his head, a blush arising to his face as he looks at you. You're staring at him with intent. He quirks his brow at you in question.

"I had a good time today, Spencer" You say warmly. You only called him Spencer when you were saying something affectionate and a bit serious. He gives you a toothy smile.

"I haven't been on very many dates, but this was easily the best one I'd ever been on," Spencer says honestly. You grin ear to ear, hands carefully holding Spencer across the table, running your thumb over his knuckles for a few seconds. You couldn't say for sure whether it was too soon to ask him to be your boyfriend, but you'd be damned if you said it didn't cross your mind.

Spencer was mind-numbingly unaware of what good boyfriend material he was, but beyond that - what good submissive boyfriend material he was. It was driving you nuts, but you knew this was all new for him and you didn't wanna freak him out. Even when guys say they're interested in being submissive, they're still often times uncomfortable with you being fully dominant. Dominant in public and in bed, if you will. You wanted to pay for dates, and buy him flowers, and make him feel special too - at least on the occasion. That role came naturally to you, that let me make you feel owned type affection that only a dominant person can give. It scared men off - out of relationships, and you totally got why - but you liked Spencer too much as a person to risk iit.

Spencer holds your hands together, gathering your attention. You looked at him spaced out and he gives you a look of concern.

"You okay?," Spencer asks. You nod, chewing your lip in debate of whether or not you should express your concerns. Spencer just tugs on your hand and looks at you intently.

You sigh, looking at Spencer softly.

"I'm okay I just really like you," you say a little exasperated. Spencer laughs but is filled with relief.

"I'm glad to hear that. What else is on your mind?,"

"I really like you - like in an, I want you to officially by my boyfriend way and I hope it's not too soon but I'm just, worried I guess," you say nervously. Spencer can't help the way his heart beats in his chest when he hears you say boyfriend. God did he want to be your boyfriend.

"What're you worried about?,"

"I'm worried about freaking you out. I can be a lot since I'm... you know?," You say nervously. Spencer looks at you to continue.

"I'm more than just dominant in bed, and for a lot of guys it's not their thing and that's their right but I like you so much. I really don't want that to happen if I ask you out now and you realize that it's not for you," you say in clear upset.

Spencer looks at you in disbelief. You were worried that he was gonna freak out over that? That you were too dominant for him? It feels like such a silly concern but the expression on your face tells him you're speaking from experience.

"I mean, it's all kinda new to me but, well - I do like how you treat me? It's a nice change, I can't imagine myself getting tired of it, or of you. I really like you too," Spencer tried his best to reassure you without totally embarrassing you. You smiles at Spencer but your face is still full of doubt.

"If that ever changes, I'll tell you but I'd really like to call you my girlfriend," Spencer finishes. You can't help the warmth that spreads in your stomach at the offer. You just nod, looking up at him. You stand and walk to Spencer's side of the booth, sliding in next to him, leaning your head into his shoulder for a few while seconds. You sit back up, and Spencer turns to you.

"Hey, doc," you say softly. Spencer hums in acknowledgement.

"Can I kiss you?," you ask softly. Spencer chews his lip and nods, looking down at your lip. You're wearing lipgloss and it makes them look pretty - you are so pretty to Spencer.

Kisses are their own language, Spencer figures. The way someone kisses you can tell you a lot about who they are - so, when you put your hands on the side of Spencer's face, pulling him closer to you with such care and adoration - Spencer can feel what you were referencing earlier. The word Miss rings out in his mind, the way you pay attention to him with your hands. He feels your lips press against his, slowly gliding your fingers in his hair, thumb brushing agains the side of his cheek. Your other hand rested on his inner thigh and he has to think about anything other than that not to get hard. Spencer didn't get how much he'd been thinking about touching you until you'd do with no hesitation and he lets out a small whine. You pull back and Spencer has to catch his breath.

His lashes blink up at you and you're absolutely beaming.

"You're cute baby,"

Baby? Spencer wants to cover his face when you say it. You kiss him again and he can't help but feel flush.

You were Spencer's girlfriend and then some and he couldn't be more happy.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid oneshot #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid #so nervous abt uploading this lol

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zeldahime · 4 years

Text

paradigm shift

in which qin su doesn’t get surprise incest married! ao3 link will be in the first reblog.

----

Qin Su thought she was going to be sick.

Her a-Niang had told her not to tell anyone, not her a-Die, not her betroathed. They would work together to find a reason to break off the match. They would lie. After all, it was Laoling Qin that stood to lose face if the truth came out, not Lanling Jin.

Besides, the monster of a man who sat on the Jin throne was not her father. He might be her father of blood, but he would never be the father of her heart. And now, he would never be the father of her husband, either.

(Or perhaps, if she was very unlucky, he would be. If it could happen to her mother, it could happen to any noble lady, and the truth would never be known.)

The problem with trying to work with her mother on this was that her a-Niang thought they had until the wedding day to break things off. That they had months, at least. That wasn't so; they had until a-Die delivered the dowry price in three days. Just three days to reverse course on a courtship she, herself, had initiated, without telling a-Die the truth or causing political tension with Lanling Jin. Without telling Jin Guangyao, who -- more than anyone -- deserved to know what caused her change of heart. He had been pushed aside so many times in his life, it was a small miracle that he had allowed her to press her suit at all. She didn't know if his poor battered heart could take yet another beating, and even if it could, she didn't want to be the one to deliver it.

Even as her mind spun, politics and family and the beginnings of plans flying through her thoughts, she paused as the worst of them came to her.

Knowing what she now knew, even hours later, she was still in love with Jin Guangyao.

How could she not be, after how he had saved her during the war, how he had treated her since -- but he was her brother. How could she still find his words romantic, even now? How could she find his face pleasing, even now as she looked in the mirror and saw the similarities in their rounded cheeks, in the shapes of their noses, in the straightness of their eyebrows? How could she still have a voice in her mind telling her to not drop the suit, to pretend to a-Die that everything was fine, to still see herself married to the man who had saved her life?

She would not. But she still wanted to.

And didn't that make her just as disgusting as the man who sat in that throne in Lanling.

***

It wasn't the best plan, but it was the one she had.

It was nearly impossible to speak to Guangyao alone in Koi Tower. Even when there were no gentry around, there were servants; even when there were no servants visible, they were passing through the hidden passages in the walls, running errands or listening for secrets. Qin Su had been taught from a very young age not to speak secrets in Koi Tower. The only place where she knew they would not be heard was in the private courtyard in the family wing, and even that, only if Madam Jin was distracted. Fortunately, Madam Jin and a-Niang were good friends; they were having tea, and Qin Su expected their evening tea to drag well into the night. She settled in to wait for Guangyao to finish his duties -- so many of them better relegated to servants, so many of them unbecoming of a legitimated child, much less the sect heir, as he now was -- and return to his rooms. She would be able to wave him down from her position, so long as he was looking up. If nothing else, he'd think she was an intruder.

As it happened, he did think she was an intruder -- she had a knife at her throat before she even noticed he was there, lost in thought as she was.

"A-Su?" he asked, his eyes round, as he drew back from her and sheathed his blade. "What are you doing here? I told you, we shouldn't have... we shouldn't do what you proposed in your letter yet. It's only a good idea after the bridal gifts are recieved; there's too many variables otherwise."

"Guangyao, I need to tell you something, but you have to promise you won't tell your father." She wouldn't have her a-Niang humiliated by him again, if she could help it.

"What is it, a-Su?"

"Promise."

"You know I can't do that." Concern flooded his voice, his face, as he looked at her. "A-Su, please, I can't promise you unless I know what it is. You know the sect has to come first."

She hesitated. She thought of a-Die, how it would crush him to learn of this from Sect Leader Jin and not from his own wife. She thought of a-Niang, and the humiliation she would face if it were repeated in front of her. Then she drew herself up.

"It is a matter that would greatly embarrass the Jin and Qin sects both if it were to come out, and I don't trust him, Guangyao. Your father would use it as a boast, even though it would hurt everyone including himself. Please."

He took her hand lightly in his own, and she hated how she still felt that rush, that spark, that joy in touching him.

"I won't tell him if I can help it, a-Su. What is it?"

It was as close a promise as she could get.

"My mother recently told me that-- that Qin Cangye is not my birth father." Guangyao looked at her uncomprehendingly; she closed her eyes. "My mother was attacked by Jin Guangshan, 20 years ago. Nine months before I was born." The hand that held hers tightened, so much it hurt. "Guangyao, I'm your sister."

She heard him swallow, and his breathing quicken. He squeezed almost tighter, then dropped her hand like it was made of burning metal, taking a step backward.

"A-Su," he whispered, "are you sure, are you sure that we're...." She nodded, eyes still closed. "A-Su, who else knows?"

"Just a-Niang and me," Qin Su replied as calmly as she could. "There were no other witnesses, and a-Niang only told me because of... because of us." She opened her eyes.

She had expected... revulsion, or horror, or pity, in her intended's face. In her brother's face. She hadn't expected to see pain and blinked-back tears. Of course she should have -- she knew how people left him, and now she was too --

She watched him school his features back into neutral, heard him force his breathing to even back out.

Dangerously neutral, he asked her, "A-Su, what do you want?"

She looked him dead in the eye. "I want help, Guangyao. I can't marry you, but I also can't embarrass Lanling Jin or Laoling Qin, and I don't want to embarrass you or myself."

"You know your father would call off the engagement in a heartbeat, a-Su. Tell him you had a change of heart. He'll say it's on account of my parentage, and you never have to see me again." His face was completely calm, his eyes held open just shy of a neutral position. His words were the truth, but his careful neutrality gave him away.

"Guangyao, you know why I don't want to do that--"

"A-Su. It's nothing I haven't heard before." He reached out as though to touch her cheek, before he retrieved his hand. She wished he hadn't. "I know what your father thinks of me. It doesn't matter."

She couldn't allow her anger to raise her voice. She had to hold her tongue, she had to-- fuck it. "Guangyao! It isn't you who should be shamed, it isn't a-Die, it isn't me, and it isn't a-Niang. It's Sect Leader Jin who caused this! If anyone should be shamed, should be embarrassed, it's him! And I know he'll face no consequences, but why should that mean you do? Guangyao, you can't take on his every sin! Why don't you mmbhbbmmm---"

Jin Guangyao wore a pained smile as he held his hand over her mouth. "I am, for once, the one with the least to lose, a-Su," he said, as she tried to continue talking. "I already am the son of a whore. You don't need to be. Have your father renounce me. Please." She licked his hand, and he immediately let her go.

"A-Su!"

"Guangyao."

He looked at his hand, then back at her, and pressed his lips together so thin that they disappeared. "Her reputation is all a woman has, a-Su. As your older brother, I demand you preserve yours."

He turned and went to his rooms, and Qin Su tried very hard not to cry.

***

The first time she saw Lan Xichen and Guangyao in the same room, she was immediately jealous. Guangyao had said he loved her, and she believed him, but he didn't love her the way he loved Sect Leader Lan. He looked at him with naked admiration, like he'd hung every star in the night sky; Sect Leader Lan grabbed his arms and smiled like Guangyao had personally delivered him the moon, wrapped in a bow.

It was strange to watch, honestly. It was like intruding on what should be a private moment, but they were a Sect Leader and a Sect Heir greeting each other formally in public.

She held herself steady as her father publicly announced the end of the suit, that the Jin and Qin were unable to come to a mutually beneficial agreement, but held no animosity. It was no secret that the real reason her father was dropping the suit was Guangyao's unacceptable parentage. What would he think, to know his beloved daughter wasn't his at all? That she was a product of the same actions he so despised Guangyao for?

There was a reason a-Niang had forbidden her to tell him.

She tried to purge that jealousy, she truly did. She knew she shouldn't still feel this way. It made her skin crawl, to know that almost a week after finding out the truth, she still hadn't mastered herself. She was still in love with her brother.

At least he wasn't in love with her.

***

It had been a while since she'd last seen Luo Qingyang.

Even before she'd left the Jin sect in protest over their treatment of the Wen prisoners, they hadn't been close. She'd been a disciple, after all, training in the field, while Qin Su had been a gentlelady with low cultivation, preparing for the day she'd marry a gentleman. Luo Qingyang spent her days getting caked in mud and blood and sweat; Qin Su spent hers bathed in perfumes and incense and soft silks.

When Luo Qingyang was rushed into the main hall of Laoling's White River Hall, absolutely drenched from the summer monsoon and pleading for the Qin Sect to send backup to a nearby village immediately, Qin Su almost didn't recognize her. With her rough, undyed castoffs, her hair falling out of a tightly-knotted bun, she seemed an entirely different person than the young cultivator who had stuck to Jin Zixuan's side like a burr.

Qin Su volunteered to go along as a medic; her father objected, of course, but did not stop her. She had the most extensive and recent experience in field medicine in the Qin Sect from her own time on the warfront of the Sunshot Campaign. It would be a waste not to use her.

It gave her time to simply observe, as Luo Qingyang directed a-Die's men as though they were her own. It was exactly like running a household, she realized, as Qin cultivators scattered and wove around each other, like servants in the kitchen or the laundry, each completing their tasks in a complex and circular dance as Lady Luo directed them from the center. The rhythm of purposeful, competant motion, the not-quite-twirling of bodies in motion avoiding each other, swords raised not unlike serving platters, talismans thrown in the same way cleansing spells and dust-repelling wards were.

It occurred to Qin Su that the martial aspect of running a sect might not be so far afield from her skill set after all.

When the monster was subdued, the rains had quieted, the fighters treated, and the sun as high in the sky, Lady Luo bowed to a-Die. Before she would thank him for his hospitality and leave, Qin Su interrupted her.

"It's been so long since I've last seen you. Won't you stay and catch up, for old time's sake?"

Perhaps her cousin inheriting the sect was not a foregone conclusion, after all.

***

Assassinating Sect Leader Jin should not have been so easy.

Jin Guangshan should have been able to recognize his friend's wife, all those years ago; he should have been able to recognize his own daughter, now.

Qin Su clearly did not inherit her brain from the Jin side of the family.

***

Sect Heir Qin took a deep breath as Sect Leader Wu stood, once again, to press his case against the watchtowers.

Chief Cultivator Jin's face was perfectly neutral at the head of the room, his hands folded perfectly. Never slipping, even as he listened to Sect Leader Wu once again insult his past, his heritage, his morality; even as Sect Leader Wu asserted he would never be the man his father had been.

That was the only truth to come out of his mouth. Jin Guangyao would never be the man father had been. That Qin Su was Sect Heir Qin, not Jin-furen, was proof. Her dear friend would never force himself on an unwilling woman, and would be -- was -- appalled whenever another sibling came to them with a tale that was always just like his own or just like hers. Jin Guangyao would never string a prostitute along with promises of gold and flowers and a future, only to leave her behind. Jin Guangyao would never rape someone. Her brother was a good man because of and in spite of his past, not a sullied one.

She made eye contact with Sect Leader Lan, whose smile has turned to stone and whose hands were concealed under his sleeves -- probably clenched so hard his knuckles have turned white, if she was any judge -- and rolled her eyes at exactly the same time Sect Leader Jiang did, mimicking his expression perfectly before replacing it with her own sweet smile. Sect Leader Lan's eyes softened slightly at the edges, which was practically a hearty chuckle from him, given they were in a meeting.

Her brother wanted them both to remain quiet against the Shouchun Wu, if they could stomach it; he was confident that despite Sect Leader Wu's blustering, he wouldn't really hurt Jin Rulan. He was confident that Wu's opposition was best opposed by the cool ice of performative apathy, overcoming the fire of his temper. Qin Su wasn't so sure, but she trusted Jin Guangyao's political instincts.

When Jin Ling ran into the room crying for his uncle midway through Sect Leader Wu's rant, his snarl turned into an ugly grin as he grabbed the hilt of his sword. Qin Su was the only person in the room still looking at him, the rest distracted by the upset child. He began to draw his sword, and she had the horrible realization he was about to do exactly what he had threatened to do: he would take Jin Guangyao's precious nephew away.

Three brush strokes and a vastly-improved throwing arm, and Sect Leader Wu was immobalized, his sword drawn and raised. His eyes were focused on little Jin Ling.

The Fragrant Palace erupted into chaos.

***

"He's made the same mistake we did, a-Su," Guangyao said to her, once the silencing talismans had been tested. The youngest brother they knew of, Mo Xuanyu, was only fifteen, and Guangyao had taken him in at Koi Tower. "Except he made it in public. A-Su, I had no choice but to cast him out of the sect."

Qin Su raised her eyebrows at him. "Did you truly have no choice, Guangyao?"

His face, so usually schooled into a polite smile, was drawn and pale; the delicate skin under his eyes was lightly purple, a sure sign of missed sleep and missed application of make-up.

"A-Su, it's incest. Even the Jin sect could not overlook it, especially from me. You know this better than anyone."

"But to send him home? Guangyao."

Her brother drew in a sharp breath. Qin Su waited for him to collect himself. It was a rarity, to see him so torn up; she doubted even Lan Xichen saw him like this. She hoped he would allow him to, eventually. Lan Xichen worried about him more when he hid his emotions, not less. She had told Guangyao so, many times. Lan Xichen would love the ugly parts of him as much as he did the beautiful. She did not remind him that she had, all those years ago; the pain of bringing up their father's faults would far outweigh that Jin Guangyao was someone who had been worthy of her picky, particular heart.

"I don't want to send him home, a-Su. I don't want to, but I can't see any other way out. He tried to kiss me in public."

"I'll take him, Guangyao. He's my brother too, even if I can't acknowledge him. From what you've told me, he'll make a good disciple in the Qin sect. He'll be a brilliant talismanic cultivator when we're through with him."

Relief suffused her brother's every feature as she reached out and squeezed his hand.

***

Sect Leader Qin had known right away that the young man was not He Jintao.

He Jintao had been an angry young man, and few could blame him. He had known full well who he was. His entire sect had been doomed the moment his brother had spoken against Jin Guangshan.

An urgent butterfly, a sister who already knew dark secrets, and some candy had been enough to save a child named He Jintao's life, but not anyone else's. Children were beneath Jin Guangshan's notice.

He Jintao had spent eight years in hiding as Qin Jintao, studying talismans, studying the sword, always so, so angry. Two years before, he'd bowed deeply to Qin Su and her father and defected, declaring he would become a rogue cultivator.

He had most certainly gone rogue, if he had done what Xuanyu thought he'd done.

"Did you see his arm when he lifted it, Lady Qin? That's not an ordinary curse mark, it's a tally. It's what the Yiling Patriarch thought would happen if someone used his body-switching array, the one that is supposed to trade you places with a spirit. It's powered by revenge resentment."

That He Jintao had become a demonic cultivator disappointed but did not surprise her. She just wanted to know who he had summoned, and why. Rumor abounded that Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch, was back; if he was, this would be how. She also suspected that she already knew the answer to the second half, the why -- to avenge the Tiangshe He. To kill Jin Guangyao.

She understood He Jintao's pain, his desire for revenge. She could not allow him to have it.

Jin Guangyao was her brother, her dear friend, who had saved her and trusted her. She would save him in return.

The young man who was not He Jintao and Hanguang-jun entered Guanyin Temple, and Qin Su followed closely behind.

The whole ordeal was rather more dramatic than it needed to be, honestly. Guangyao always had been prone to overreacting, when his emotions got ahead of his sense.

"Is he truly Wei Wuxian?" Qin Su asked Lan Xichen, who was watching Guangyao hold a garrotte to not-He Jintao's throat in pale shock.

"Yes."

"Good." She turned to Guangyao. "Put your string away and stop provoking him. The Yiling Patriarch never attacks unless he's backed into a corner, or have you forgotten? Let's go inside to have this conversation. And Jin Rulan, go find Fairy and go back to bed."

The revelations of the night were not surprising. The demonic cultivation he'd been forced to pursue while their father was alive was old news to her, having taken in Xuanyu; she knew Lan Xichen knew about the notes, but he seemed genuinely shocked that Guangyao had done more than simply decode Wei Wuxian's manuscripts. That he had planned to kill their father was so obvious to her that she was very nearly bored. She hadn't known Guangyao had killed Nie Mingjue, but the man had tried to kill him at least twice, and nearly succeeded when he'd pushed him down the stairs of Koi Tower; he'd still been injured when she'd come to visit on sect business a month later.

Why Sect Leader Su had brought Sect Leader Nie in with him instead of having servants take him back to his hotel was beyond her.

"Am I the only person here with any sense?" she demanded. "Hanguang-jun, you want to upend the cultivation world on behalf of a man who died a decade ago? Yiling Patriarch, you, of all people, are upset about demonic cultivation?"

Lan Xichen turned his betrayed look on her. They'd become good friends, over the years. It hurt to see him look at her like he'd never known her. She chose to ignore it.

"The six of us are going to walk back to the inn. We will go to our rooms. We will go to sleep or meditate until tomorrow morning. Then we will have a civil adult discussion that does not involve making poor choices in a temple at night in the rain. Is that clear?"

With Sect Leader Su, she lifted Sect Leader Nie. He was dead weight, but his breathing was not quite even, his heartrate too fast; he was conscious. She carried him anyway, just in case; her cultivation was not the strongest, but she had vastly improved since she was twenty and decided she ought to take it more seriously, if she were to run a cultivation sect.

When they arrived back at the inn, she waited just a moment after Sect Leader Su left Sect Leader Nie's room.

"If someone were to hurt someone I loved," she said slowly, "I think I would take the same path as you have, Sect Leader Nie." She listened to him breathe, waited for him to grasp the implication. "But he would not want me to, if it meant destroying the world he fought so hard to save. I didn't know Nie Mingjue well, but he always struck me as far more just than any Jin. Is it worth throwing away his legacy for a single man's death, Sect Leader Nie?"

She did not wait for him to answer as she slipped out the door.

***

When Qin Su rose and descended to the main room of the inn for breakfast, Lan Xichen was the only person there.

"Where are He Ji-- the Yiling Patriarch and your brother?"

Lan Xichen looked at her cooly. "I am uncertain, Sect Leader Qin. I find that I am certain of little, now."

They sat in uncomfortable silence.

"He saved the children," she said finally. "Guangyao always saved the children. He couldn't disobey Jin Guangshan, not directly, but he always sent the children to me. We wanted to have a house full of them, when we were young."

"And yet you broke off the engagement, and neither of you ever married," Lan Xichen said dully, like he was repeating something he had been told before.

"Yes. Did Guangyao ever tell you why?"

"He always said it was because of his parentage. That it was deemed unbecoming, for the lovely and eligible Lady Qin to marry one of his background. I assume," Lan Xichen said, finally looking at her, "that you are about to tell me that this was another lie."

Qin Su hated the pain in her friend's eyes. "I don't think he ever lied to you. He might not have told the whole truth, but he never lied to either of us. We did break off the engagement because of his parentage. Guangyao and I are siblings, Lan Xichen. Neither of us can marry, because there is no telling who else we might be related to. Our backgrounds are both unclean."

"Why are you telling me this, Sect Leader Qin?"

"Because Guangyao hides the good as much as he hides the bad. Because I know the Lan sect has secrets as well. Because I love my brother and want him to be happy, and he's always happiest when he's with you."

Lan Xichen looked up as Jin Guangyao came down the stairs, and Qin Su served herself more rice. They ate in painful silence.

***

MianMian was always an unexpected visitor, but a welcome one.

Qin Su had never had many friends, but her friendships ran deep. MianMian had helped her deepen her cultivation, corrected her sword forms, ran her to the ground and back up again. The martial aspects of sect leadership never did come easily to her, but having MianMian as a friend had helped enormously.

It also helped enormously to hear the gossip she and her husband had to share as the three of them sat down for tea, watching Little MianMian play in the flower garden.

"Auntie Su!" Little MianMian shrieked, running up to her with muddy hands clutching something writhing. "I got you a worm!"

"Thank you, darling," Qin Su said while the child's parents laughed behind her. "Let's put Mr. Worm back in the ground now." She hiked up the skirts of her outermost robe, kneeling in the soil together with Little MianMian. "Say bye-bye, Mr. Worm!"

"Bye-bye Mr. Worm!" Little MianMain repeated dutifully, and giggled when Qin Su pulled her in for a hug.

Xuanyu was inside, running sect business on her behalf, letting his reputation as an eccentric keep people from remembering his ears and eyes worked perfectly fine. Lan Xichen had begun to write to her again, rather than delegating his correspondence to the Laoling Qin to his brother; she hoped they were approaching normalcy. He had written that Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian would be visiting Koi Tower soon, and that they may need overnight accommodations in Laoling. They were, as always, welcome in White River Hall, and she had written back to assure him that this was the case. Jin Guangyao and Jin Rulan were as safe as they could be, given they lived in the ever-precarious snake pit that was the Jin court at Koi Tower. Nie Huaisang had backed off a bit, once he realized she was onto him.

She hoped it was fear or shame that stopped him. She knew it was more likely practicality.

For the moment however, her friends were all safe, her brothers accounted for. The sun was shining, the flowers blooming, and she was hugging a child in a world that was safer than the one she was born into.

Qin Su was happy.

#qin su #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #cql #background xiyao #my writing

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sweatersexual · 4 years

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In Gravity Falls, You Abduct the Aliens

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“This,” proclaimed Stan, “is not a house.” He waded through the piles of books, papers, and weird gadgets. “Seriously, who keeps a chalkboard in their living room? This is more like some kind of nerd lair.”

“I prefer to think of it as my own research lab that I have all-hours access to, but the term lair does lend a certain ambience,” said Ford.

Stan picked up a deformed skull that looked like it belonged to some kind of rodent. “This feels like the intro to a horror movie. With a plucky pair of teen heroes to terrorize and giant switches to a zappy doomsday device, you’d be all set.” He started playing with the skull’s jaw hinge.

Ford reclaimed the skull from him. “Well, it’s no doomsday device, but once I get the portal in the basement working, it’ll be plenty ‘zappy,’ as you say.”

Right, the portal. Ford had talked about it a lot on their drive up from Vegas, where the two of them had happened to run into each other and ended up reconciling. Ford seemed preoccupied by how he’d build the thing without his old flame, Fiddleford McGucket. Ford had invited him to join them in Gravity Falls as well, but when the two nerds realized they still had the hots for each other, Fiddleford had decided to do right by his wife and kid and stay in Palo Alto.

Stan, on the other hand, might be no mechanical engineer, but he was smart enough to realize there was more to this portal business than Ford was telling him.

“Man, you really have a one track mind when it comes to that portal, huh? You were even talking about it in your sleep while we were driving up here. ‘So sorry, shouldn’t’ve let my personal feelings get in the way. . . . ‘S only a temporary setback . . . won’t let all our hard work go to waste . . .’ Has somebody else been helping with the portal?”

Ford nervously spun the skull around in his hand. “Really, Stanley, it’s silly to read too much into sleep talk. I could’ve been talking about anything.”

“Come on, Sixer. If you’re gonna lie to me, you gotta try harder than that.”

“Don’t you trust me, Stanley?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I do, but . . . I don’t want you to think I’m crazy.”

Stan put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Listen, bro. I’ve been all over the world. Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

Ford sighed. “All right, I’ll try to explain. But first, let me go get something. A visual aid, if you will.”

A few minutes later, he returned, having replaced the deformed skull with a ceramic jar in his now gloved hands. “I was lucky to get my hands on this,” Ford told him. “The Northwests hoard just about all the artifacts they can find. Please avoid touching it, I don’t have any disposable five-fingered gloves to protect it from the oils on your hands.”

He presented the design on the jar to Stan, who was doing his best to show Ford he didn’t think he was crazy. The picture was of a man with an animal pelt on his head talking to a triangle with one eye. “Don’t tell me you got recruited by the Illuminati or something,” said Stan.

“No, I haven’t joined any secret societies,” Ford assured him. “This depicts a man named Modoc from three thousand years ago, seeking wisdom from an ancient being. From time to time, this being presents himself to truly singular minds, giving them divine insight and knowledge. And now this Muse has chosen me.”

“Okay,” said Stan. “So you’ve gotten into some kind of niche religion. It’s not that weird. Just don’t drink the Kool-Aid, all right?”

Ford set the jar down on what little empty space his dining room table had left. “I haven’t joined a cult, Stan. I mean, it is a kind of spiritual experience, talking to my Muse, but there’s no organized religion involved. Ever since I summoned him, he manifests himself in my dreams. I never could’ve gotten this far in my investigations of Gravity Falls without him. And he’s helped me come up with the plans for this portal. I know it sounds strange, but there really is something otherworldly about him. And even if he is somehow all in my imagination, the inspiration has never steered me wrong.”

Stan’s bullshit-o-meter was going off, but not because he thought Ford was lying to him. Stan knew his twin’s tells, and Ford was definitely sincere about this muse thing. He couldn’t take Ford’s words at face value, but he could tell that Ford was really going out on a limb here, being honest about something that could get him called a quack at best or institutionalized at worst. So what if the guy was in his thirties and had an imaginary friend? Let him have his weird triangle dreams if it made him happy.

So Stan simply said, “Hey, whatever floats your boat, poindexter. But now that I’m here, you’re not just some weird hermit living in the woods. We’re a family. And families live in homes, not nerd lairs.”

Ford blinked, seeming surprised that Stan had changed the subject. But he went along with it anyway. “Right. Well, I have been meaning to organize everything for awhile now. My research keeps getting ahead of me. But I’ll probably be able to think better without so much clutter around.”

It didn’t take long for the twins to settle into a routine. Mornings were for cleaning and organization. After lunch, Stan would run errands while Ford struggled building his machine in the basement. Stan never imagined he’d get so excited about yard sale curtains and other furnishings, but after so many years never having a permanent place of his own, he relished the chance to decorate his own living space. Afternoons and evenings were dedicated to finding and studying anomalies, then Stan tried to persuade Ford to go to bed rather than get back to work on the portal again. He was rarely successful.

“I owe it to myself to at least stumble along with the limited mechanical knowledge I have,” said Ford. “And maybe I’ll find someone or something else that can help.”

Stan did try to help, but it took so long for Ford to even explain what he was trying to do, and it was so boring listening to him speak nothing but jargon, and Ford just didn’t think the way Stanley did. Stan would probably have better luck just taking Ford’s plans and trying to decode them himself, either way it would take ages. Instead he simply figured out how to use a welding torch and applied it where Ford told him to.

But Stan’s favorite hours were spent running through the woods with his brother. He had never expected to see a gnome for himself, or play with magic size-altering crystals. About one week into his stay, Ford was over the moon to find a sleeping gremloblin. “I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to study one up close like this!”

Stan helped take samples and measurements (it really was remarkable how heavy a sleeper this gremloblin was), then helped himself to his favorite toffee peanuts while Ford finished scribbling in his journal. Rustling in the bushes behind him turned his head, and before he knew it a red and black creature was running away from him, and the toffee peanuts that had fallen on the ground were gone.

Ford snapped to attention, too. “Did you see what that was?” he asked Stan.

“Something with a duck bill.” Stan held up his snack. “It was trying to get these.”

Ford grimaced. “I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.”

Stan rolled his eyes. Ford was so dramatic about his distaste for Stan’s favorite snack.

“Can I try to lure it back out?” asked Ford, reaching for the toffee peanuts.

“Fine.”

Once they had gotten the creature to reemerge, Ford was back to scribbling in his journal. “So the plaidypus legends are real! Fascinating, fascinating. Is it just me, or do you think it smells like maple syrup and bacon?”

They were able to track the plaidypus back to its burrow on the marshy banks by the creek, where they found a clutch of flannel-patterned eggs. To improve upon their fantastic luck, they had arrived in time to watch the eggs hatch.

“Look at that! They only have the horizontal stripes now, the vertical stripes must come in as they grow - did you get the measurements on that last one, Stanley?”

“Yeah, but what do you think the deal is with that one?” Stan pointed to a blue egg that hadn’t yet hatched.

“I have no idea. I’m not even sure that’s a plaidypus egg.”

Ford turned out to be extremely correct when the blue egg did hatch and a slimy white monster popped out.

“What the hell is that thing?” asked Stan.

Ford replied, “I’ve never seen anything like it,” then gasped when the monster mutated into another baby plaidypus. “It’s a mimic!”

“Wait - which one is it?” asked Stan.

Ford cursed. “I should’ve been paying closer attention.”

The shapeshifter soon revealed itself when instead of latching on to the mother plaidypus’s lactating glands, it sank its teeth into another baby plaidypus. “No!” cried Stan as he picked up the imposter and pried its jaw open. “Bad shapeshifter thing!”

Ford tended the baby plaidypus’s wounds while Stan wrestled the shapeshifter into a containment jar, where it resumed its original pale, slimy form.

The study of this creature quickly set Ford into what Stan liked to call Full Nerd Mode. They hardly seemed to get through a conversation without Ford bringing up how “Shifty”, as he’d nicknamed the thing, changed his DNA when he changed forms, and how the implications from that would revolutionize the field of genetics, or asking for suggestions for safe forms to add to Shifty’s repertoire. Stan had to admit it was nice to see his brother obsess over something other than that portal for once, though if he had his way he could think of several ways for Shifty to aid with some under-the-table schemes.

“Stanley!” Ford had chided him when Stan had joked about the idea. “You have a job with me now. You don’t need to get into more trouble with the law.”

Yeah, that had been weird, getting an actual, legitimate paycheck for once, and with his brother’s signature no less. And it really was quite a lot considering that Stan didn’t need to pay rent or anything. But Stan couldn’t help that niggling doubt in the back of his mind questioning whether he had enough, whether Stan’s luck might still run dry and he’d better get as much as he could while the getting was good -

Stan had simply shrugged at his brother. “A side hustle never hurt anything,” he said. “And with Shifty’s help, we wouldn’t get caught.”

“I’m afraid it’s out of the question,” Ford had insisted. “We wear masks around Shifty for a reason, you know. It’s too dangerous to have him impersonate humans.”

And Stan could see the wisdom in that, but even so, he thought he did a good enough impression of his brother to recognize the second-rate performance Shifty would put on. The little monster couldn’t even talk!

That last assumption was proven wrong one afternoon while they were working on the portal and a high-pitched voice called out, “Beans!”

Ford’s head perked up from his schematics. “Did you say something?” he asked Stan, who shook his head.

Stan pointed to the dog kennel where they kept Shifty. “I think it was -”

“Beans!” the voice repeated, and it was definitely coming from the kennel.

“Remarkable,” said Ford, replacing his mask as he walked over to kneel in front of the kennel, where Shifty could see him. “Are you hungry, Shifty?”

“Beans,” he repeated, “for me.”

“I’ll go get him some,” said Stan. As he climbed the stairs up to the house, he heard Ford ask, “What else can you say, Shifty?”

When Stan returned with the beans Shifty liked so much, the little monster was repeating the brothers’ names. “Stan,” said the little voice. “Ford. Sixer poindexter knucklehead.”

Ford laughed. “Very good, Shifty. Those are some other names we call each other.”

“Who am I?” asked the shapeshifter. Stan felt his mouth drop open. That wasn’t the sort of question a parrot asked . . .

“Why, you’re Shifty,” said Ford without a trace of the trepidation Stan was feeling just then. “Stan has brought you those beans you wanted, Shifty.”

“Beans!”

When he was done eating, Shifty went back to asking questions. “Who am I? Who is Shifty?”

“Speaking in full sentences already,” said Ford. “This is really quite incredible.”

“He’s asking if he’s a person, Ford.”

“Stan, don’t anthropomorphize him. Even parrots can repeat phrases -”

“Parrots don’t ask existential questions like that! And besides, when have we ever said anything like that around him?”

Ford frowned. “I’ll need to collect more data -”

“This isn’t about data, Ford!” Stan gestured to the kennel. “That’s a kid! A weird monster kid, but still a kid. And we’re keeping him in a cage. Take it from someone who’s been to prison.” At that, Ford glanced up at him in surprise, and Stan looked away. “It does things to you.”

Ford stammered, “Stan, I - I didn’t know - you never said -”

“I don’t like to talk about it,” said Stan. “And anyway, this isn’t about me. This is about him.”

Ford nodded. It was a moment before he answered, “Well, I will need to do more tests, and we do need to keep his abilities under control, but -” Stan opened his mouth to argue, but Ford placed his hand on Stan’s shoulder in a calming motion - “but . . . your concerns have merit. Even a parrot would need a more stimulating environment than this. Will you help me whip something up for Shifty?”

Stan grinned. “Of course.”

With Stan’s help, Ford was able to construct a walled-off enclosure in the basement, which Shifty took to happily. When Ford was able to determine that the burrow Shifty made in the corner was a bed and not an escape route, he found he could breathe much easier.

Ford spent an increasing amount of time in the enclosure, testing Shifty’s language and cognitive skills. Soon he had an impressive amount of data confirming the shapeshifter’s intelligence. Shifty was always eager to participate in the “games,” as he referred to them, and responded very well to Ford’s praise. Ford had to admit he also enjoyed designing activities to keep Shifty occupied while Ford was working on other projects. These activities usually took the form of a puzzle or scavenger hunt, with chicken nuggets as prizes.

Shifty was also making great strides in learning to read. Ford had picked up a number of secondhand children’s books, but only ones that contained no illustrations of humans or dangerous animals for Shifty to take the forms of. This still left him with a wide variety of benign anthropomorphic animal characters like Frog and Toad, Frances, and Little Critter, many of whom became common forms for Shifty to take.

Eventually Ford felt comfortable enough for Shifty to have supervised playtime in the house and walks around the yard, but he and Stan always stayed masked and kept Shifty from seeing any people or dangerous animals.

On one such occasion, Stan was keeping an eye on Shifty upstairs while Ford was getting in some work on the portal. A loud thump from the floor above broke Ford’s focus, and a second had him scrambling up the steps, adjusting his mask as he went. The last thing he expected to find in the living room was two elephant seals.

“You didn’t tell me humans can shapeshift too!” said one of the elephant seals.

“What? Shifty? Are you saying Stan turned into this elephant seal right here?”

The other elephant seal groaned, a grumbling, braying sound.

“Elephant seal,” Shifty repeated. His high voice sounded comical coming from such a blubbery monster. “I like being an elephant seal. I’ve never been this big before.”

This was a disaster. Ford had never intended to have Shifty turn into such a volatile creature. “I’m afraid elephant seals are too big to be in the house, Shifty. Would you please turn into something smaller?”

“But how come Stan gets to be an elephant seal?” Shifty complained as he morphed into Arthur Read, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I don’t want him to be an elephant seal either,” said Ford. “Stan? Can you try to turn back? What were you messing with, you know a lot of the artifacts I keep are cursed.”

Stan made a series of grunting seal noises, none of which were in the least helpful.

Ford sighed aggravatedly. “What happened before he turned into an elephant seal, Shifty?”

“Well, we were gonna build a blanket fort, so we got some blankets out of a trunk, then I put one of the blankets on my head and pretended I was a ghost, and Stan did too, only he used the -”

“The sealskin?” asked Ford. “The heavy one with the decorative beading?”

“I think so. He turned into an elephant seal after he put it on.”

“But that one’s cursed!” said Ford. “This is not good. We need to turn him back soon, or he’ll stay an elephant seal forever.”

Stan let out a series of angry honks and grumbles which, if translated to English, would probably be the kind of language Ford would not want Shifty repeating.

As it was, Shifty shrank into a field mouse, his ears meekly tucked behind his head. “What can we do?” he asked. “How do we change him back?”

“I’ll need to consult my journal,” said Ford. “I think I found a curse breaking spell somewhere . . .”

Ford tried to flip through journal 2 quickly, but had to pause every time Shifty climbed up to his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the pages.

“Cut it out, Shifty,” he said, setting Shifty back on the ground for the third time. “You’re slowing me down, and time is of the essence.”

“Why don’t you trust me?” asked Shifty.

“Come now, you know my journals are off limits,” said Ford. “Why don’t you make sure Stan doesn’t wreck the coffee table, hmm?”

A few minutes later, Ford found the page he was looking for. “Vis maleficiis expello. Fundere atque fugare in pacem. Purgare. Purgare. Purgare,” he chanted over Stan’s blubbery form.

Nothing happened.

Ford rechecked the journal entry. “Did I miss something? Let me try that again.”

The second attempt was no better than the first.

“This curse is clearly more malignant than I thought,” said Ford. “A simple spell is simply not up to the task. We’ll need to try something with a little more oomph to it.”

“Can I help?” asked Shifty.

“You can,” said Ford, “by waiting very patiently in your room while I take Stan to meet an acquaintance of mine.”

“But I can do more!” Shifty protested. “I’m sure I can.”

“I’m sorry, Shifty, but I’m afraid the risk is too great.”

“But what if he gets stuck as an elephant seal forever and it’s all my fault?”

“Shifty . . .” Ford was surprised Shifty had developed such an attachment to Stan, and a sense of responsibility. Though as far as Ford was concerned, it was entirely unwarranted. “I don’t blame you for any of this. If Stan had been more careful -” Stan snorted at that - “or if I had clearly labeled which items were cursed,” Ford conceded, “that is to say, this was just an accident. You don’t need to feel guilty.”

Shifty seemed to accept that, “But I still want to help. If you let me go with you, I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do what you tell me, I promise.”

Ford shook his head. “Shifty, it really will be more of a help if I’m not having to watch out for you while we’re undoing the curse. Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with phenomena far more malignant than this. Why don’t I refill your octahedron puzzle, hmm?” It was one of Shifty’s favorites. “By the time you’re done with it, we’ll be back, and Stan will be in his right shape again.”

Once Ford had started a reluctant Shifty on his puzzle, and gathered a few materials he thought might be helpful for curse breaking, Ford and Stan started hiking over to the lake. Well, Ford was hiking. Stan was doing more of a hobble. Ideally they would drive over, but the El Diablo wasn’t built to cart around elephant seals, and Stan wasn’t too keen to try.

“We’re going to summon a siren I’ve had some dealings with,” Ford explained to Stan. At his questioning look, Ford added, “She’s safe, don’t worry. We may have had . . . some miscommunications, at first, but we’re on good terms. Doripea’s been an excellent source of information. I just hope she’s not too busy.”

To their good fortune, she wasn’t. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite gentleman caller,” Doripea greeted Ford. Her angular face and pointed ears add to the mischievousness of her grin, aided in its brightness by the afternoon sun reflecting off her turquoise scales. “Here for another interview date?”

“Ah, sort of?” said Ford.

Stan’s snorts sounded an awful lot like laughter.

“Oh, I figured out Ford was gay pretty quickly,” she told Stan, apparently in response to a comment Ford hadn’t been able to understand. “What I couldn’t figure out was why he kept trying to summon me with a suitor’s call.”

Ford groaned. “The summoning instructions in Eatherena Aquatica didn’t specify -” He was cut off by Stan’s repeated laughter. “Anyway, I was hoping I could get your input, Doripea. You see, we’re in a bit of a pickle.”

“Aside from the shapeshifter stalking you?”

“What?” Ford whirled around, zeroing in on a deer which had frozen in place with a wide-eyed, panicked expression. “Shifty, I told you to stay in your room!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” cried the deer. “I just wanted to make sure Stan was okay! Please don’t hate me.”

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ford realized he wasn’t wearing a mask, meaning Shifty could now take his form if he wanted. Who knew how many people or dangerous animals Shifty had come across while tailing them to the lake? How could Ford possibly do damage control on this?

“You don’t have to panic,” said Shifty. “I said I’d be good if you let me come. I’ll do what you tell me, just please, I couldn’t just wait around doing nothing.”

“Amazing,” said Doripea. “You tamed it. I didn’t even know their kind could talk.”

Ford turned to her, curiosity suddenly overcoming his concern. “You’ve seen other shapeshifters before?”

She shrugged. “Not in a long time. It’s been, what, a century and a half? I saw it come out of its burrow to feed every now and then, but for the most part it kept to itself, I think.”

“Strange,” said Ford. “Shifty has tested well when it comes to social behaviors. It’s hard to determine such things with only one extant specimen, but I would’ve guessed his kind to be pack hunters.”

“As far as I know, only one of them has existed at a time. Can’t pack hunt without a pack,” said Doripea.

“Hmm.” Ford would have to examine the implications of this later, but for now, “Shifty, you can stay, as long as you keep close to me and stay in deer form unless I tell you otherwise, got it?”

“Okay.”

“Now, Dora, the reason I came to call on you. My brother here mishandled the selkie’s revenge and I was hoping you could help me change him back to human form.”

“How long has he been in seal form?”

“No more than two hours.”

“Oh good, you caught it early. Stan, you don’t feel any strong urges to swim in this lake, do you?”

To Stan’s grunts she replied, “Well, if you get any, resist them. This curse is designed to turn you into an elephant seal in mind as well as body. Swimming in the water will kick start that process. You’ll be drawn to the other elephant seals, and before you know it you’ll be on the wrong side of a territorial beachmaster. You’re lucky we’re so far inland, and that it isn’t mating season.”

“I tried a simple curse breaking spell, and when that didn’t work I thought we would need something more specialized.”

“You got that right, Stanford. Did you bring any material we could use as a taglock?”

Ford nodded and produced some hair he’d removed from Stan’s hairbrush. Doripea listed a few other ingredients, some of which Stanford had on him, and another she could harvest from the bottom of the lake. She sent them off to gather cedar leaves while she retrieved it.

“See, Shifty, you had nothing to worry about,” Ford reassured him as the three of them set off on their short trek through the forest. “With Doripea’s help, Stan will be back to normal in no time. You didn’t need to break out of your room.”

“I guess,” said Shifty. “It’s just that you and Stan never let me go anywhere. And maybe I didn’t have to come, but now that I’m here, it’s not so bad. Why do you think I’m so dangerous?”

Ford hesitated. How wise was it, to let Shifty know how powerful his shapeshifting abilities were? How easily they could be misused? How much of Shifty’s good behavior was due to his innocence?

Before he could start parsing out his answer, something caught his eye. “Look, there! A cedar grove. Shifty, why don’t you change into bird form and help me gather the leaves?”

Shifty was sufficiently distracted by leaf collecting for the time being. But as they made their way back to the lake with their spoils, something seemed off about Stan. He would stop moving periodically, his head cocked to the east. Then he would shake his head and catch up with Ford and Shifty.

The third time Stan stopped, Ford asked, “What is it, Stanley?” but Stan didn’t seem to hear him. Instead he took off in the eastern direction.

“What are you doing?” asked Ford, running alongside him. “That’s not the way back to the lake!”

“He can’t help it!” said Shifty as he glided through the air above them, still in bird form. “Something is drawing him that way!”

“The river,” Ford realized. “It must be closer to this spot than the lake is! We can’t let him get in the water!”

“Can I turn into an elephant seal now?” asked Shifty, and he whooped gleefully when Ford gave his assent. With an extra burst of speed, Shifty flew several feet ahead of them, then dropped to the ground in elephant seal form. The two bull seals collided, and Stan looked even more frenzied as he tried to evade this new obstacle.

“Stan, don’t hurt him!” cried Ford. “You know Shifty, he doesn’t want to hurt you! Stan, look at me, you know you can’t get in the water! Snap out of it!”

Stan paid no attention to this. Clearly the call of the water was too strong. Was Stan hearing the water? Were there lower vibrations from the gallons of rushing water that elephant seals could pick up, but humans couldn’t? Ford could only think of one way to find out.

Grateful he’d thought to bring an infrasonic transducer, Ford quickly set it to the needed specifications. “Shifty, cover your ears!” cried Ford, demonstrating with his hands.

Shifty found a hole in the ground to duck his head into, just in time for Ford to press the button. Ford couldn’t tell by the sound if it worked or not, because it was far too low for human ears to detect. But Stan let out a cry and dropped to the ground, rubbing his head in the dirt.

“I’m sorry, Stan,” Ford said to the writhing elephant seal. “It was the only thing I could think of.”

“He’s mad at you,” said Shifty, pulling his head out of the ground. “But at least he’s not crazy anymore.”

“And what about you? Are you hurt?” Ford asked Shifty.

“I’m okay. It was kind of fun, wrestling like elephant seals.”

Ford sighed, relieved that Stan had snapped out of his frenzy, and that Shifty was unharmed. “You did very well, Shifty, thank you. I suppose it was good you came after all.”

Shifty turned into a dog, the way he always did when he was happy, and moved as if to lick Ford’s hand, but he paused. “Sorry, I didn’t ask if I could change -”

“It’s all right, Shifty,” Ford assured him. “You got excited. It happens.”

For the rest of their hike, Ford kept his infrasonic transducer handy, just in case the sound of the water got to Stan again. Luckily he didn’t need it. Doripea helped him grind all their gathered ingredients into a thick paste, which they applied to Stan’s body. Then, and only then, was Stan allowed to get in the lake. Ford couldn’t think of a time he’d been happier to see Stan’s face as he watched his brother resurface from the lake. He helped Stan wring his wet clothes out and put them on, then hugged him, unconcerned about getting soaked himself.

That evening, the three of them all ate dinner together, something they’d never done before, since Stan and Ford had always worn masks around Shifty. Eating at the dinner table was new for Shifty, but he took to table manners well enough. Ford could tell it would take some doing to cure him of talking with his mouth full, though.

“Why didn’t you want me to see your mouths and your noses?” Shifty asked around a mouthful of beef.

“We were trying to protect our identities,” said Ford.

“What’s an identity?”

“Your identity is, well it’s who you are? How do I explain this . . .”

“Let me show you something,” said Stan. He ducked into his room briefly and came out with a shoebox. He pulled a few driver’s licenses out of it. “These are fake IDs. Basically they tell everyone that I’m someone I’m not. They’re lies. And they’re illegal.”

“What’s ‘illegal?’” asked Shifty.

“Only the fun stuff, kid.” With a look from Ford, Stan added, “Kidding, I’m kidding! Lots of illegal things can hurt people. Like killing, that’s bad. So the government will punish you for doing those things. If I stole someone else’s ID, I could steal their money, or do bad things under their name, so they would get in trouble and not me. It’s called identity fraud, and humans take it very seriously.”

“So that’s why we didn’t want you to see any human faces,” said Ford. “Because stealing someone’s identity like that is wrong. Do you understand?”

Shifty nodded. “You don’t want me to lie and pretend like I’m a human.”

“Exactly,” said Ford. “You’ve seen our faces now, so it can’t be helped. But if you want to meet other humans, we need you to promise you won’t take their forms, all right?”

“Okay, I promise,” said Shifty. “I won’t turn into you, or Stan, or any other humans. I won’t lie.”

Ford realized he had every confidence Shifty would keep his word.

The following week went much more smoothly, now that Stan and Ford didn’t have to wear masks so much and could take Shifty with them on field expeditions and into town. It started to feel like Shifty was a third, junior member of their team.

Shifty made it clear he thought of it differently, when one night he asked Ford, “Are you my dad?”

Surprised, Ford put down the Little Critter book he’d been reading to Shifty. He shifted uncomfortably at the beseeching look from the red eyes of Shifty’s true form, which he always reverted to when tired or sleeping. “Ah, not biologically, no. I assume you’re referring to my social role as your caregiver?”

“Yeah. You tuck me in at night, like Little Critter’s dad. And we play during the day, and you take care of me. We love each other.”

Ford was surprised at Shifty’s word choice. He’d always found Shifty interesting, at least, and Ford couldn’t deny he’d become quite invested in Shifty’s welfare, but love? How did you quantify such a thing? How did Shifty even know what that meant?

“Isn’t that how human families work?” asked Shifty.

“I - yes, I suppose. I’m afraid it’s not my area of expertise. I never expected to make a human family of my own. I’m still just trying to be a better brother to Stanley.” Ford adjusted the cushion he sat on, next to the opening of the den Shifty preferred to sleep in, rather than a more traditional bed. “But you, Shifty, you’re not human. Why would you want a human family?”

“I dunno. I thought it would make me happy. We don’t have to be family if you don’t want to.”

Shifty curled around himself, rolling deeper into his den, and Ford felt his heart sink. “I do want you to be happy,” he told Shifty. And that was when he knew Shifty had become more than an experiment to him. He had more than a scientific interest in helping this creature learn and grow. He had felt that way for a long time. “You can call me Dad if you want.”

“Really?” Shifty scrambled out of his den, morphing into a dog as he went. His paws rested on Ford’s shoulders, and he nuzzled his soft, furry head into Ford’s neck. Ford reflexively hugged him back, stroking his pelt. “Thanks, Dad.”

The enormity of it hit him then. He was a father now. Another being depended on him, loved him. He was Shifty’s whole world. And Shifty was his.

Ford hugged him tighter. “I love you, Son,” he said.

“I love you, too. Dad.” said Shifty.

When Shifty called him Dad the next morning at breakfast, Stan raised his eyebrows. “Shifty’s your kid, now?” he asked Ford.

“Last night, I asked if I could call him Dad, and he said yes,” Shifty informed him.

“Really?”

Ford tugged at his collar. “Well, he is a sapient child whom I have grown to care and take responsibility for, so. It is appropriate.”

“Huh. Well, Shifty, if Ford’s your dad, that makes me your fun uncle!” He clapped Shifty on the back. “It’s Uncle Stan from now on, all right, kid?”

Shifty smiled back with Little Critter’s buck-toothed grin. “Okay, Uncle Stan.”

“Mazeltov, Sixer!” said Bill. He summoned some lavender balloons that read, ‘It’s a shapeshifter!’

“Thank you, Bill.”

“Hey, I’m just grateful you’re able to make time for me now you’re a working parent and all.”

“I’m sorry, Bill. I know between Shifty and not having the mechanical help I need -”

Bill waved off his excuses. “I told you, a solution for that is in the works. I just don’t want you getting lost in the weeds with individual specimens while your Grand Unified Theory goes unpublished!”

“Yes, of course. I’ll try harder.”

“And anyway, once you get the portal up and running, you’ll be able to find the dimension Shifty comes from. Think of how much you could learn about his species then! Things you should probably know if you’re trying to raise one of them.”

Ford hung his head. “You’re right. When it comes to figuring out Shifty, and what he needs . . . I’m stumbling around in the dark. He’d probably be happier if we made contact with some of his own kind . . .”

“Yeah, well, for now he’s stuck with you, isn’t he? With any luck, he won’t end up resenting you the way you do your dad, right?”

“Of course not! I would never treat him the way our dad treated us.” Despite his indignation, Ford was forcefully reminded of the inhumane way he’d treated Shifty all of a few weeks before, and was ashamed.

Bill clapped a reassuring hand on his back. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll do your best, Sixer.”

The deep midnight blue of the mindscape abruptly faded away, and another voice called out to Ford.

“Get out of his head!”

“Shhh, Shifty, let him sleep, he never takes a minute to rest like this . . .”

Ford opened his eyes and found Shifty in the form of a badger, scrambling to get out of Stan’s grasp. “Dad!” he said. “Did you tell the monster to go away?”

“He thinks something was attacking your brain while you were asleep,” Stan explained.

Ford shook himself awake, annoyed at himself for messing up his schedule like this. He’d only meant to sit on the couch for a minute or two . . . “Come here, Shifty,” he said, and extended his arms to Stan, who handed Shifty over.

Ford stroked his pelt and assured him, “I’m fine. Nobody was trying to hurt me. I was simply speaking with my Muse.” Really, it was quite extraordinary that Shifty seemed able to sense Bill’s presence. “Sometimes he enters my dreams and helps with my research. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Shifty looked unconvinced. “He made you feel bad. Bad shame wrong. He’s yucky.”

Ford gave an explanation that was close enough to the truth. “We were just talking about some of the obstacles setting back my project. It’s not his fault. How could you tell what I was feeling when I was asleep, anyway?”

Shifty looked confused. “You . . . smelled? No, not a smell. I just felt the, you know, the little waves, they tell you what the feelings are. I can’t feel them when I’m asleep, but I was awake. You were asleep.”

“You have a psychic sense for other people’s emotions?” asked Ford. Of course he did. Looking back, it was so obvious. Shifty had always been so confident when talking about how people felt. Ford really should have noticed sooner. “And that’s how you could sense my Muse’s presence?”

“Yes? Is that not something humans can do?”

Ford shook his head. “We can read facial expressions and body language, but otherwise, the only way we can tell how someone is feeling is if they tell us.”

“Is that why you didn’t trust me at first? Because you couldn’t tell I didn’t want to hurt you?”

“Well, yes,” Ford admitted. “I didn’t realize you were a sapient being and I didn’t know what your abilities were, or how you wanted to use them. So I kept you locked up. I’m sorry.”

“Oh. I thought I had done something wrong. I tried to be good.”

“Oh, Shifty . . .” Ford hugged him closer. “You are good. You’re a wonderful kid. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

Shifty must have sensed how guilty Ford felt, because he said, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. I know you love me now.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t deserve to be mistreated,” Stan cut in. “You don’t have to take care of Ford’s feelings. He’s a grown up. We should take care of yours.”

“You’re right, Stan,” Ford agreed. “I know we’re at a disadvantage, Shifty, when it comes to supporting you emotionally. I’m bad at dealing with feelings, even by human standards. But I’ll do my best for you. Will you tell me your feelings so I can help you?”

“Okay,” said Shifty. “I wish you had always been my dad. I wish you had never been mean.”

“Me too,” said Ford.

“I’m glad you said sorry, though. I still love you, anyway.”

“I love you, too,” Ford assured him.

“And I still don’t like your muse. He’s mean, and he’s sneaky.”

“I’m not sure I like him either,” Stan concurred. “When you first told me about him, I didn’t really take it seriously. I’m sorry, it was just really weird. But if Shifty can sense him, and he’s actually real, well, all that stuff you said, about how he only picks one brilliant mind a century and all that? If I were trying to con you, that’s exactly the angle I’d go for.”

“But he’s not a con,” Ford said reflexively. “I don’t think I did a good job of explaining him. If you met him in person, you’d see, Bill is amazing.”

“No no no no no,” said Shifty. “I don’t want him in my head! Promise me you won’t let him in my head.”

“Okay, I promise,” said Ford, alarmed by how much this agitated Shifty. “He won’t hurt you, he won’t hurt any of us. Ever.”

Shifty was still wary, but he accepted Ford’s comfort. Ford could tell Stan had more to say on the subject, though, and he did, after Ford had put Shifty to bed.

“Ford, I’m just saying, your mind is a powerful thing. Letting some supernatural creature inside it is no small potatoes. Whatever you’re getting out of this arrangement you got, make sure he’s not short changing you.”

“Of course he’s not! Look, Stan, if you want to see the truth for yourself, there’s a simple spell you can use to follow him into my mind, next time he’s there. You’ll see, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“All right,” Stan said tentatively. “I might do that. But just ask yourself this, Ford, what is this Bill guy getting out of this? Why does he want you to build the portal so badly?”

“Well that’s simple, he . . .” Ford realized he’d never asked Bill that question before, and he’d never volunteered the information himself. But clearly that just meant his motives were pure, right? “He’s a being of the mind, Stan. Scientific discovery is its own reward.”

“Are you serious?” asked Stan. “You’ve never questioned anything he’s said, have you? I thought you were smarter than that.”

Anger flared in Ford, quick and intense. “You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about! This is just like you, to barge into things you don’t understand -”

“Hey, don’t try to turn this around on me. I’m just looking out for you, like I’ve been doing since day one.”

“I can think of at least one glaring exception.”

“Seriously, Stanford? Are you going to hold that one mistake over me for the rest of my life?”

“It just shows you have a history of ruining my work right when it’s about to pay off. You never cared about the things that are important to me, you’re only interested in chasing your cheap thrills.”

“I never cared about what was important to you? I thought I was important to you! You think I went to prison in three different countries just for the fun of it? I did what I had to, just to survive. Which I’ve had to do for over ten years, while you never bothered to stick your nose out of a book long enough to check on your brother.”

Ford’s seething response melted away at the thought of Stanley shivering, Stanley hungry, Stanley alone. “Stanley, I - I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t care about you. These past weeks with you have meant the world to me. You’re right. I should’ve tried to reconnect with you sooner, and - and I shouldn’t still be blaming you for something you did in high school.”

Stan’s gaze shifted down to his feet. “It wasn’t that I didn’t care about your perpetual motion machine. I really didn’t mean to break it, and I should’ve owned up to what I did and told you instead of trying to fix it myself. I may not understand everything about this portal, but I really do want to help you. It’s just that this Bill guy seems fishy to me.”

“And I told you, you have a chance to talk to him yourself. Will you at least try to keep an open mind about him until then?”

“I will, if you try to keep your mind open to the idea that he may not be what he seems.”

“I . . . suppose that’s fair.”

“Now will you please get some sleep? Between the kid and the portal you’ve been running yourself ragged.”

“It’s not so bad as all that.” Ford tried to shrug it off. “I think if I change the alignment on the oscillator I might get a better charge on the clux fapacitor -”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“It won’t take that long to test out. Anyway, I got a nap in earlier, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, a ‘nap.’ Looked more like you passed out from sheer exhaustion. You definitely need more sleep.”

“I can sleep when I’ve published my Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness.” And with that, Ford escaped to the basement before Stan could respond.

Ford didn’t want to admit it, but this whole business unsettled him. Stan was the one person he trusted best in all the world, but Bill was his Muse, the one who not only saw what Ford could be, but gave him the tools to achieve it. Now the two seemed to be setting themselves against each other. Ford didn’t want to think of what the outcome would be, should he be forced to choose between them. He could only hope it wouldn’t come to that.

Read the next work in this series

#stanford pines #stanley pines #gravity falls #found family #fanfic #7500 words #do not tag as stancest

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dallanebbia · 4 years

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kacchako week prompt ideas

Day 1: Villain AU

As the best cat burglar in Japan, Ochako has a reputation to uphold. She’s not about to give up years of work for a pretty face, even if the man in question is the infamous vigilante, Ground Zero.

(There’s a Batman/Catwoman dynamic somewhere in here that I refuse to acknowledge.)

Day 2: Royalty AU

Centuries ago, the covens of the forests cursed Aldera with an everlasting famine, in retaliation for the slaughter of a magical child. Only a union between the reigning king and a mage is strong enough to keep the curse at bay – and just six months into their arrangement, Bakugou already knows that he’s in too deep.

(Really just an excuse to write smut, magic, resolved sexual tension, and mutual pining.)

Day 3: Desserts & Sweets

Life is good for Uraraka Ochako. She spends her days chatting with customers and experimenting with new recipes, and she’s just been featured in U.A. magazine for the best cheesecake recipe in all of Musutafu. The only downside is her next-door neighbor Bakugou, who just can’t let go of the fact that he lost out to an amateur.

(There’s a flour/yeast shortage, and if I can’t bake then I’ll write fanfic about it instead.)

Day 4: Established Relationship

Ochako grounds him in a way nobody else can, staving off the poisonous thoughts that trickle into his head when he’s alone. Even now, after six years together, Bakugou still doesn’t really understand how, or why she loves him, and he dreads the day that she finally realizes what he’s known all along.

(Inferiority complexes can make self-sabotage feel an awful lot like self-preservation.)

Day 5: Hand Holding

People tend to write off Bakugou’s dislike of physical contact as just personal preference, another layer to his prickly, misanthropic personality. Ochako comes to realize that there’s more to it than that – particularly whenever someone’s hands get too close.

(I’m just gonna say it: the way Mitsuki treats Bakugou is really, really triggering.)

Day 6: Spy/Agent AU

Bakugou has the highest mission success rate in his agency, the top scores in sharpshooting and hand-to-hand, and is slotted to take over as director after Aizawa finally decided to retire. He isn’t going to let some sassy, round-faced little bitch steal his targets without a goddamn fight.

(An excuse for me to write a super tropey enemies-to-lovers fic.)

Day 7: It was always you

Ochako has always been unlucky in love, and it’s true even ten years after of high school. When she gets the news that her ex (partner? lover? fuck buddy?) is back in Japan for good, she figures that she can play it cool – after all, two years is enough time to get over someone who had made it clear he wasn’t interested… right?

(Sometimes you have to fuck things up before getting it right the second time around.)

Writer’s Choice: Soulmate AU

The night before his eighteenth birthday, Bakugou latches a thick black cuff around his left wrist with no intention of ever taking it off. He is going to be the number one hero in Japan, and he doesn’t need useless distractions like soulmates getting in his way.

(Rejecting fate is easier said than done.)

_______________________________________________________________

a/n: i need to put these out into the world to hold myself somewhat accountable for actually finishing these darn things. also, just as a disclaimer:

i used to write in the mcu fandom but i fell out of it around 4 years ago and haven’t written a word since. i am very, very rusty.

this is a new writing sideblog made purely for bnha fanfic.

i stumbled upon kacchako on ao3 two weeks ago and somehow got myself hooked. prior to this i had no interest in bnha, yet here we are.

i have about eight pages of headcanons for each prompt already and i could legitimately make each one a novel length fic if i had the patience or time so that’ll be fun to figure out.

i’m aiming to finish 4 fics out of the 8 total but with my luck i’ll be happy if i finish one; wish me luck.

#prompts #writing prompts #kacchako #kacchakoweek

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sluttytonystark · 6 years

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One Big Fucking Headache

Read it on Ao3!

Tony Stark wants it on record, that since he met his son all those years ago, he had tried and tried, to give Peter the closest thing to a normal life he could get. He also wants it on record, that for the first eleven years, he had succeeded in this. Even with the hecticness of switching between his father’s place and his aunt’s and uncle’s place every other week, Peter Parker had had a normal life outside of the public eye, his father’s fame, his father’s moonlighting as a superhero, and the Avengers.

In all reality, it wasn’t even Tony’s fault-- and no, he was not above blaming his child for this mess, because it was Peter’s fault. Had it not been for the kid's recklessness, the kid would have been home that weekend. Away from the compound, and away from the Avengers. But, if there was one thing Tony Stark had learned in all his years, it was that things never went to plan.

Ever .

Honestly, it was a constant struggle for him.

He'd been going on his twelfth consecutive hour in his lab (Pepper was out of town, he could get away with it), when Friday cut out the blaring music playing over the speakers to announce the arrival of May and Peter Parker at the tower.

Tony looked up from his latest project, brow creasing. “What?” He said, “Is it Monday already?”

“No boss, it is currently four thirty-two P.M. on Friday.”

“Huh.”

He glanced around his lab, beginning to put things away in preparation for their arrival.

“Well,” he said, “let them down when they’re ready.”

“Will do.”

It wasn’t a minute later that a very frazzled looking May walked in with Peter trailing behind, holding his Spider-Man suit.

“Tony, you need to take your kid for the weekend,” May announced, shooting a look at the teenager.

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Ah, so now he's just my kid.” He fixed his son with a pointed look, “What'd you do, kid?”

Peter looked around sheepishly. “Uhh, I might've stayed out a little past curfew...”

Oh, well that wasn't that bad.

“... And I kind of hacked into the suit again.”

Okay, scratch that first part.

“And I might've gotten stabbed. Just a little bit--”

Jesus Christ.

“Just a little bit?” May cried, “Peter, for god’s sake, you came home with a stab wound and you didn't think to tell anybody?”

Tony rushed to his Peter's side, fussing over him like a mother doting on her hurt toddler.

Peter rolled his eyes, huffing indignantly. “I'm fine, Dad. It was just a shoulder wound-- and it was already healing when I got home.”

Once assured that the kid wasn't somehow hiding any injuries, he stepped away, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Jesus Christ kid, what were you-- nevermind. Just, give me the suit and go sit down at your desk or something. Let me talk to your aunt.”

Peter did so, sulking greatly, and Tony had half a mind to remind him that he'd only brought this on himself. He didn't, but he made a point to remember to give the kid one hell of a lecture later on.

Once the spider kid was over at his desk, and out of earshot (or as close to out of earshot you can get with enhanced teenagers), he turned back to May.

“So…” he started, “Is this a thing, just hoisting the kid off on each other whenever we're upset with him? Because if I had known that, I would've done that.”

May rolled her eyes. “No, I told you, I was going out of town for a work function during Peter’s spring break.”

Tony racked through his memories trying to recall such a conversation, his mouth making an ‘O’ when he did eventually remember. Shit. Did he tell her he would take Peter early?

May went on. “I was just going to let him stay home Saturday and Sunday, you know he's old enough to take care of himself, and he was going to stay with you starting Monday anyways… but after this?”

Tony nodded, knowing how she felt.

May sighed, “I mean, I just don't want to be coming home and finding out he went out and got himself shot or something.”

“Yeah, he's a great kid, but he's got the self-preservation skills of, oh I don't know… Me!”

He recoiled at the thought, “Oh my God, that's where he gets this shit from! It’s me, isn't it?”

From across the lab, Peter yelled: “You're a great influence, Dad!”

Tony rolled his eyes but let the comment pass.

May frowned. “So you understand the problem?” She said, giving him an expectant look.

Tony brought his hand to his head, rubbing at the ever permanent, Peter caused headache.

“May…” he started, “You know I'd love to, Peter's welcome here anytime, but-- You've seen the news, right? The rouge avengers are back upstate, and I was gonna head up there to discuss things this weekend…”

He looked to May, hoping that she understood, but she just raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to continue with his excuses.

“Look, I do have a room there for him-- but May, you know how I feel about Peter meeting the team.”

“So?” She snapped, “You know how I feel about Peter going out in pajamas every night, and I've allowed it.”

Tony took a step back, hands up in a placating manner, and she sighed.

“I know how you feel about it, and I've even agreed with you in the past but, Tony, he's already out there risking his life every night, do you really think the Avengers are going to be any sort of threat to him?”

When Tony still looked unsure, she added “Please, Tony. I really don't feel comfortable leaving him home all weekend.”

Tony took a long breath, he really wasn't going to win this one, and he knew it.

“Fine, fine, you know what? That's just fine.” He raised his voice, directing his words to Peter. “Kid, pack your shit, we're going upstate.”

Peter cheered.

The next morning found the father and son on the road at the ungodly hour of nine, which, by normal standards isn't ungodly at all-- but Tony Stark had found that his circadian rhythm had synced up with a nearby raccoon some time ago. Of course, the apple never did fall far from the tree, which led to Peter's insistent whining about being up so early on a weekend, after staying up for who knows how long.

He had explained to the kid that the Avengers meeting he was supposed to be going to started at ten, and really, they should have left an hour earlier if he was going to get there in time.

Peter had nothing to complain about either. He was fifteen; he had the benefits of being able to sleep through car rides. That's what he did too, damn kid slept for the first hour and a half, and left Tony to stay awake talking to himself, or whatever people did on long car rides by themselves.

He didn’t sleep the whole time, though. Peter woke up with an hour and a half still left to go. That wasn't that long, he'd had longer plane rides. But knowing that he could have taken a suit and gotten their much faster kinda put a negative spin on things. There were also the questions-- questions that he knew that Peter knew the answer to already, but asked about anyways.

“So…” He said, “Am I gonna be allowed to meet the Avengers?”

Tony's grip tightened on the steering wheel. “No.” He said, “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Pete, a big reason why your mother didn’t want me in your life at first, was because she wanted you to be a normal kid.”

Peter stiffen in the seat next to him. The topic of his father’s absence for the first four years of his life was a touchy subject for both of them.

“When your aunt and uncle came to me with you, they also wanted you to be a normal kid, and so did I. Being buddies with the Avengers isn’t exactly normal.”

“But I’m Spider-Man ,” he said, turning to give his father an exasperated look, “my life isn't exactly normal anymore.”

Tony shook his head. “It doesn't matter. I'm your father and I don't need a reason.”

Peter was quiet for a moment. Thinking carefully about what was to be said next.

“Is it because of the accords? Because of Siberia?”

When Tony didn't answer he took it as an invitation to continue.

“They say don't meet your heroes,” he said, “But... they stopped being my heroes when everything happened last year.”

An uncomfortable silence followed. Peter twiddled with his thumbs, suddenly finding the outside scenery to be the most interesting thing, while Tony stared straight ahead at the road, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel never weakening.

“The other's weren't wrong, kid-- well, not completely.”

“Yeah, but--”

“Nuh-uh, the adult is talking,”

Peter huffed, slouching in his seat.

“Do we need accountability as heroes? Yes. I said it then and I stand by it now.” Tony paused, taking a minute to think.

“But the accords weren't perfect. I knew that-- I even told Steve they could be changed... But then he got upset about the Wanda thing... He acted stupidly, it happens. Doesn't mean he didn't have a point though, if the accords were left as was, that would have turned into a shitshow very quickly.”

“What about Siberia?”

“Mistakes were made.”

“That guy killed your parents, and fucking Steve stuck a shield in your chest.”

“Hey!” Tony snapped, “Watch your language.”

Peter sputtered, “Really? That’s what you’re caught up on? How are you calm about this?”

Tony shrugged. “I've had time to think.’

Peter took in a shuddering breath, “When Ben was killed,” he began slowly, “I wanted nothing more than to hunt down and kill the guy.”

Tony nodded. “Yes, I remember that. But remember, that guy acted on his own accord, James wasn’t. It's different.”

Peter shook his head. “That's not what I'm trying to say. I-I’ve lost three parents, and I know how it feels, a-and I know that you don't lie, or try to cover up that shit.”

Tony let out a long, drawn-out breath. “No, kid, you really don't. That was shitty.”

Another drawn out uncomfortable silence followed. Peter pulled out his phone and half-heartedly started scrolling through some app, and Tony kept driving, looking at the billboards that flew by when they passed a sleep number advertisement.

“How've you been sleeping lately?”

Peter groaned. “ Dad ,” he said in the typical teenage ‘please-don't-talk-to-me-about-things-I- don't-want-to-talk-about’ voice.

Tony scoffed, “Don't ' Dad,’ me. It's a legitimate concern. I'm your father, I have a right to be worried.”

“I'm fine, ” he insisted, throwing his head back against the seat, “I got a whole six hours last night.”

“You're supposed to be getting nine. ”

“Why are you so worried about this?”

Tony threw an incredulous look at the boy. “Why am I worried? Seriously, Peter? You wake up screaming in the middle of the night. Your aunt tells me you've haven't been sleeping as much as you should lately, that’s a problem.”

“I'm fine . I mean, I've had some trouble sleeping, but not as of late.”

The father gave him a doubtful look but let the subject drop. He had Friday, she could tell whether the kid was telling the truth or not. And of course, May was more than capable of taking care of Peter when she had him. Maybe he should relax a little.

At the lull in the conversation, Peter took the chance to put on some earbuds, and turned his head to look out the side window, a gesture that said, “I'm done talking to you, go away.” Tony rolled his eyes and turned the radio up to a level that would be heard over the music coming from his phone.

Peter shot him an annoyed glance, and Tony made no attempt to hide his smirk.

When they were coming up on the property, Tony turned the blaring music off and reached over to take one of the headphones out of Peter's ear.

“Look alive kid,” he said, “We'll be there in… I don't know, five minutes?”

Peter looked a little chafed from having his earphone ripped out-- because really, who does that-- but nodded anyway, sitting straighter in his seat and putting his headphones away.

“When we get there,” Tony started, “I have to go straight to that meeting I was telling you about. Friday will tell you where to go. Stay on our floor, no wandering off.”

He gave his son a look that said “Because I know you love doing exactly that,” Peter rolled his eyes but didn’t push on the subject. He knew perfectly well how both his father and his aunt felt about him meeting the Avengers, and by saying “Don’t wander off,” his dad actually meant “Don’t go getting seen by any of the others.”

They didn’t go in through the main entrance because that would be very obvious, so they instead went to one of the many alternative entrances that were reserved only for Tony, one that he was pretty sure none of the others had discovered yet. He had designed a few different places of entry for the specific reason being his current situation: having to have Peter tag along with him. Was it extra? Yes. Did he care? Not particularly.

He sent the boy off with a ruffle to the hair, promising he’d be back later, and that they’d watch a movie or something. Peter didn’t quite seem to care about their parting, as he was preoccupied with marveling at his new surroundings. Tony couldn’t help but be a little offended, because he was going to be stuck in a conference room with the Avengers for six hours, and his own son was too busy looking at a wall to give him the time of day.

Well, he soon wished that it was later rather than now because he’d much rather be watching a Star Wars movie he’s already seen eight times than stuck in some tense conference room where hostilities still ran high.

“Stark.” Romanoff had said when he walked in, “You’re late.”

The greeting was terse, and as Tony surveyed the room (Wanda, Wilson, Romanoff, Rhodey, Vision, and Cap were there,) he noted that the team was more than irritated with him, which was fair, he was an hour late-- but he didn’t really care.

“What can I say?” He said, “Traffic was hell.”

Steve frowned at him from across the room, “It's a Saturday morning, how bad was it really? And why didn't you just fly? That would've been faster and wouldn't have left everyone waiting on you for an hour.”

The others, of course, wouldn't know that the circumstances of his arrival had been changed by the sudden acquisition of his reckless son for the weekend. Because Tony had been planning to just fly a suit upstate, it would have been quicker, but he obviously couldn't fly with Peter. Even if he wanted to, he knew Peter wouldn't have it.

For all the Avengers knew, Tony was just being an asshole with no concern other people's time, and since they couldn't exactly know the real reason, he might as well just play the part.

“Hey,” he said with a shrug, “I have a flair for the dramatics. Being fashionably late and all that shit.”

“Do you ever have any consideration for others?”

“Do you?” Tony said, fixing Rogers with a look that said more than words could convey.

Steve didn't rise to the challenge, but he did return the glare at Stark that led the two men into a long and uncomfortable stare off that was awful for both them and everyone present.

“Enough,” Natasha said, slapping her hands down on the table. “We haven't even started here and you two are already fighting. I'm sure the two of you will find plenty to fight about today, so save it, yeah?”

The two backed off, muttering some half-baked apologies, that neither of them really meant.

Natasha was right anyway, they disagreed about anything and everything. It wasn't just Steve and Tony, either. Despite the Avengers being back together, the lot of them very quickly split up into their respective teams, which left Tony with only Vision and Rhodey, and Romanoff being her own party.

It was all one massive headache. When they talked about the accords, the fought. When they talked about the team being back together and where to go from there, they fought. When Tony's shitty attitude was brought up, they fought.

By the end of it all, Tony swore he'd never complain about having to sit through Stark Industries meetings again, because compared to this, those were walks in the park.

When discussions for that day was done, Tony clapped his hands together and announced, “Well, guys it's been hell. Same time tomorrow?”

Silence and unamused frowns across the board. Sam coughed awkwardly, and Steve shook his head like a disappointed mother.

Fortunately, the smothering silence didn't get to go on for more than a couple seconds at most before a series of dings sounded from Tony's suit pocket.

Peter: you've been gone way too long

Peter: i am about to die

Peter: I'm hecking hungry

Peter: if you do not make me food in twelve minutes I will be forced to take matters into my own hands

Peter: vevskxjekdbalal

Tony smiled fondly at his son's antics. “Well, that's my cue to leave,” he said.

He knew full well that that had just raised a bunch of questions, but he was more concerned about not coming back to find his nice kitchen completely destroyed at the hands of a ravenous spider child, than leaving the others in suspense or whatever.

When he was on his way out, he stopped in the doorway on his way out to say, “Someone mentioned Barton was coming later tonight?” Natasha nodded, so Tony continued, “Well then, send him my greetings. I’ll be on my own floor, do your best to steer clear-- not you Rodey-- but for the rest of you all: that wasn’t a suggestion.”

“You couldn’t wait five minutes?” Tony said as he entered the kitchen.

Peter looked up from where he was stationed on the counter, a family sized box of Froot Loops in hand, which he had filled with milk, because apparently, bowls weren’t a thing. He shrugged, looking unabashed.

“You took too long.”

He snatched to box from his son’s hands on his way to the medicine cabinet, “Milk better not be leaking all over my counters from this,” he peered inside to find that half the newly opened box of cereal had already been eaten in the short amount of time that it took for Peter to text him, and for Tony to get back, which-- big yikes.

He knew the kid ate a lot, and he ate fast, and that was expected with his enhanced metabolism, but Christ, all that sugar in that amount of time, and with very little nutritional value, he might add-- a sharp pain shot through his head from his ever-present migraine. God, he needed aspirin, like, yesterday.

Peter snatched the cereal back from his father, who was resigned to just let him have it, because you can’t exactly put away a family sized box of froot loops once it’s already half filled with milk.

“So, how was your Avengers conference thing?”

Tony groaned as he shook two tablets from the bottle. He swallowed them dry before putting the bottle back in the cabinet and slamming the door shut.

“That bad, huh?”

“You don’t know half of it, kid,” he said, eyeing Peter wearily.

Peter hummed, his attention going back to his cereal, “Well at least you're done for the day, and you promised we’d watch a movie, so I was thinking Matilda.”

Tony made a face, “Matilda?”

“What do you have against Matilda?”

“Nothing, I was just expecting you to say Star Wars or some shit, Matilda was not expected.”

Peter shrugged, “Well if you would rather watch Star Wars again…”

Tony put his hands up in a haste, not particularly eager to watch the Empire Strikes back for a fifth time. “No, no,” he assured, “Matilda’s fine, I’ll have Friday rent it.”

Peter cheered, jumping off the counter (with his froot loops,) and booked it to the living room, Tony followed behind, wondering where Peter got his seemingly endless supply of energy, because Tony was always tired, and now Peter was making him feel old, which frankly was just rude.

Two hours later, though, the kid was fast asleep, and Tony had to wonder where all his previous energy had just gone. He was dead tired too, that was sure, but Peter was a teenager, and teenagers were not supposed to knock out cold on their father’s shoulders at eight o’clock in the evening. He remembered with a frown that Peter had mentioned earlier getting six hours like it was an achievement, and Tony realized the kid must’ve been missing out on sleep again (so he was right earlier, and Peter was a liar).

He supposed that right in that moment, it didn’t really matter, because at least he was sleeping now, and Tony couldn’t help but smile, because lately, Peter had picked up the habit of shooting webs at Tony’s face if he even got near him. May had laughed when he told her this, and assured him that he was just going through that “I’m too old to hug my parents phase,” and that she got the same treatment.

That sucked for them though, their kid wanting nothing to do with them, like that didn’t hurt at all. He’d get over it, because it was just part of being a teenager. And he was lucky too, lucky that Peter hadn’t turned out like him, because at least he didn’t have to worry about his kid going out and getting shit faced drunk. It was a nice moment though, and he was at least grateful for that.

Of course with Tony, all good things must come to an end, and that they did. One moment he was sitting there enjoying some quiet with his sleeping child, and the next minute--

“Hey Stark, I was told you were sulking, and honestly, I was kind of offended when you didn’t-- whoa, what the hell?”

Tony quickly shushed Barton, gesturing to the sleeping teenager next to him, the sign all parents knew as “Hush! Baby sleeping!” But then it clicked and, wait, what the hell?

“What thefuck?” Tony said, glaring accusingly at the offending person. Peter stirred at the noise, he leaned away from his dad and blearily examined the current situation. It took the kid a second, but when he processed what had just happened, and who was standing in his father’s living room, his eyes grew comically large.

“Peter, go to your room,” Tony said.

Peter looked like he wanted to argue, but Tony fixed him with that “Do not test me” look, so he trudged back to his room.

When the bedroom door had opened and closed, and Friday confirmed that the teen was in fact in his bed, he turned wildly to Clint.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Uh.. Why am I at the Avengers compound? Well everyone is getting back together, and I was told I should be here for this, so...”

“Why are you on my floor.”

Clint shrugged, “I don’t know. To say hi? The others were pretty much egging me on up here, I’m guessing they were told to stay away?”

“Yes,” he said through grit teeth, “Yes, they were.”

Clint shrugged again, “Oh well. Oops. Nice kid by the way, is he yours?”

“No, Barton, I just let random teenagers hang out in the compound and drool all over my jackets.”

Clint put his hands up to placate him, “Alright, alright, I was just making sure-- how long have you had him?”

“Since before any of you came along,” he scoffed, not wanting to go into specifics about his family past with fucking Barton.

Clint sputtered a little, “Wait, are you serious? I assumed you would have just met him or something. How did no one else know-- and oh my god that actually explains a lot.”

Tony glared at him, jerking back in offence at the suggestion that he hadn’t been present in his son’s life all this time. The headache that had started yesterday just kept getting stronger and stronger with each new situation. He groaned into his hands, and wondered how the hell things had even gotten to this point.

“Hey,” Clint said, reassuring, “Secret dad club, Stark. I won’t tell anyone about this, but if your kid is in the compound, I wouldn’t expect to hold onto that secret for much longer.”

Tony eyed him wearily, knowing he was probably right-- which sucked. He had no idea how the possible confrontation others would react if they found out about his son.

The two stood there in silence, neither knowing where to go from there, Tony rubbed at his collar, and Clint glanced around the room, and down the hall Peter had just went down.

He looked back at Tony, “So, he said,” wearing a shit eating grin, “Just to be clear-- that isn’t a small agent?

Tony picked up a throw pillow from the couch and pegged it at the other man’s head. “Get the hell off my floor, Barton.”

The next day, Peter moped around the kitchen while Tony drank his coffee at the table.

“How do we not have cereal?” He whined, opening and closing cabinets.

“We did have cereal, you ate it all.”

Peter frowned. “Well, why was there only one box?”

Tony scoffed, “Because we’re only here till Tuesday, I don’t like cereal, and an entire family sized box of froot loops can feed one person for three days. You did this to yourself, kid.”

Peter groaned, slamming a cabinet door shut, and dramatically draped himself across the kitchen counter. “I have no will to live.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Peter, get up, and don’t say that.” He walked over to the fridge and inspected it’s contents. He’d had it stocked before they came upstate, so there was a decent amount of food. He grabbed an orange from the crisper and threw it at Peter. “Here, have some fruit, it’s good for you.”

“I want Froot Loops, not actual fruit.”

Tony hummed, “Sucks for you, Kid.”

He grabbed the orange that Peter had pushed away, and forced it into his hand. “Eat,” he said, “I have to go, and Friday will tell me if you throw that away.”

Peter scowled, Friday (and JARVIS when he was younger), had always been the bane of existence. Normal kids could discreetly toss their unwanted food to their dog or in the trash, Peter couldn’t. Friday would always snitch on him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, “I know the drill.”

Tony smirked, “Good, then we’re on the same page. I’ll be back later,” he said, ruffling Peter’s hair as a goodbye. Peter pressed a quick hug to his side in return.

“You better not take ten years, today,” Peter said, “I wanted to go in the lab but Friday said I couldn’t go in by myself.”

“She’s doing her job then. I don’t trust that you won’t set the lab on fire if I’m not there.”

Peter Pouted, “That was one time.”

“Yeah, one time too many,” he said, “I’ll be back at three, stay out of trouble till then.”

“And don’t set the kitchen on fire,” he called over his shoulder.

”It was one time!”

---

Tony was early when he got to the conference room, which would have been a surprise to everyone, had anyone else had been there. The only other team member there was Cap, nursing a cup of coffee. Figures that grandpa would be the first one up and about.

Steve was mid sip when Tony had entered the room, so he choked on his coffee when he realized who had come in so early. Tony barely suppressed an eye roll at this, sure he wasn’t always very punctual, but it wasn’t like him being early warranted such a reaction.

“Tony,” Steve spluttered, “You’re early.” He glanced at the clock sitting in the corner of the room, “like, fifty minutes early.”

Tony shrugged, pulling out a laptop and setting it down infront of him. “I got up early, and I have work to do.”

“Why?”

“Why do I have work to do? I literally own Stark Industries, and I have all this avengers shit going on too.”

“No. Why’d you get up early?”

Because of a certain spider child happened to wake up early.

“What, is having a decent sleep schedule not a thing anymore?”

Steve narrowed his eyes, “Not for you.”

Tony dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “I just got up early, and even if there was a greater reason, it really wouldn’t concern you, Rogers.”

Steve looked a little offended for a second before schooling his expression back into place. He stirred his coffee and Tony turned his attention back to the computer in front of him. The next forty or so minutes were spent in an uncomfortable silence before the others started trickling in, some earlier than others. A few of them (read: Wilson and Maximoff) took a visible double take when they noticed Stark there before anyone else, and others had the decency to not to react because really, him being on time really wasn’t that big a deal-- nor was itthat unusual.

When Barton entered, Tony felt a spike of anxiety when he whispered something to Natasha, but the latter just laughed, and Tony was able to relax, because they were just talking. The way that friends do. He wasn’t exposing anyone’s secrets. It was fine.

Throughout the meeting, Tony felt constantly on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop-- for Clint to announce what he had learned to the rest of the team. But he wouldn’t do that, right? He had kids that he’d kept from the Avengers too, he wouldn’t do another parent dirty, like that. Right?

It didn’t even make sense that only now he was worried about anyone finding out about Peter. He’d had him for eleven years, and no one had found out. Maybe it was the fact that he was just a couple floors above them. All the other times he’d been with the team, Peter had been with May, or on a few occasions, Pepper had volunteered to look after him. This was an entirely new situation. He supposed that his constant unease could also be over their recent falling out. Over what happened in Siberia.

Maybe he’d felt uncomfortable with his child being around the same man who’d protected the man who killed his parents.

Minus Clint and Rhodey (and Rhodey was obviously a given,) no one even suspected that he might be hiding a secret child. They would have no reason to, and he wouldn’t give them a reason either.

Ding

Peter: so hypothetically, i could drink clorox, right? Cause like with anyone else it would destroy their tissue, but I really think my enhanced healing could keep the bleach from corroding my cell tissue

Peter : I mean not that I want to drink bleach but like,,, i could

“Oh, for christ’s sake,” he groaned aloud and all eyes turned to him. He mentally slapped himself when he realized he had voiced his frustration.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he said, “Don’t mind me.”

Steve, the current speaker, gave him a skeptical look, but nonetheless turned the attention back to the discussion, brushing past the disruption.

Once the attention was turned back to the captain, he discreetly passed his phone to Rhodey who was in the seat next to him. ‘Should I be concerned?’ Tony’s face read. Rhodes turned his attention to the phone and snorted when he saw the texts.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he whispered, handing the phone back to Tony. “He’s not stupid enough to try it.”

Tony hummed, typing out a message in response. No, Peter wasn’t stupid at all, but sometimes Tony suspected he might have just a littletoo much faith in his abilities.

Me: You are not allowed around cleaning supplies ever again.

Peter: oh cool you should tell may that

Peter: I won't have to clean the bathroom :)

“Who’s Peter?”

Tony jumped at the voice right by his ear, and jerked his head to the side to see Natasha reading over his shoulder. “None of your business,” he snapped, “Geez, Romanoff, ever hear of privacy?”

She shrugged, “Ever heard of being discreet? Who’s Peter and why isn’t he allowed near cleaning supplies?”

Tony sighed, and felt a slight bit of relief at the fact that she hadn’t seen Peter’s little “I could drink bleach comment,” because that would certainly raise questions. He slipped his phone back in his suit pocket, “Mind your own business Romanoff,” he said.

Tony turned his attention back to Steve, who looked like he was becoming mildly irritated with all the chatter. Natasha turned and raised an eyebrow at Clint, who in return, shrugged like he had no idea what any of that could have been about, a gesture she didn’t believe for a second. Clint had found what Stark was hiding last night, despite his claims otherwise.

Well then. Natasha was a spy, she was trained to question everything. And if Clint wasn’t going to let her in on whatever secret Stark had sworn him to, she’d just find out herself.

It was late. So very late. Tony sat in the living room clutching a cup of coffee like someone was going to take it. He should be sleeping, or at least trying to, but something about lying in a dark room for hours on end just didn’t seem all that appealing. He sat with the TV on, playing ever so softly in the background. He’d sent Peter to bed about three hours ago, it was now three o’clock in the morning, and still, sleep evaded him like a student who’d seen their teacher out in public.

He figured it was the stress, or the headache, or maybe it was the headache, and that headache had been caused by the stress. Maybe his insomnia had just came back with a vengeance. Maybe it was all the coffee he had been consuming-- is consuming. He might never know.

He considered going down to his lab, maybe work on a suit, he still had to rewrite what Peter had changed in the Spider-Man suit, and that included making it harder for the kid to get in to too. The longer he thought about it, the better tinkering around in his lab sounded. It certainly beat just… sitting. Sitting was boring, not his style.

Well then, that sounded like a plan. Too bad he was Tony Stark, because for the second time, plans don’t ever work out for Tony Stark, so…

“You’re hiding something Stark.”

“ Jesus fucking christ!” Tony spun around so quick he could hear the air rushing past his ears. Coffee spilt everywhere, on his shirt, on his couch, on the floor-- God, what a mess.

“ Natasha, ” Steve chided, “I thought we agreed not to sneak up on him.”

Tony sputtered, “What? What the hell are you two doing up here?”

“You’ve been acting weird,” Natasha said, “We want what the hell is going on with you.”

Steve muttered something about phrasing things nicer, but agreed that yes, he was acting weird.

Tony gave the pair an incredulous look, “I’m sorry but can we go back to the part where you thought it was a good idea to dismiss what I asked of you, and snuck up on me at what, three twenty six in the fucking morning?”

Natasha shrugged, “Friday told us you were still up.”

“Get off of my floor!”

“Give us answers.”

“Tony,” Steve started, “We’re just now getting the team back together, and you’re here keeping secrets.”

Tony scoffed, “What? So you can have secrets but I can’t?”

“This is about you, Tony, not me.”

“Oh, get your head out of your ass, Rogers.”

“You first.”

“Both of you, shut up!” Natasha said, getting between the two.

“Seriously? You come to my private quarters, and you’re going to tell me to shut up?”

“Tony…” She started, ever so carefully, “ Who is it that you don’t want us to meet?”

“What? No one.”

“Don’t lie, you’re no good at it,” She said, “You’ve been so adamant that no one comes up here, Barton clearly found out about somethingup here, and there’s that Peter guy you were talking to earlier.”

“Is it an enhanced person?” Steve asked, “A potential team member?”

“What? No,” Tony said, “Nothing like that.”

Nat quirked an eyebrow, “So it is a someone.”

“No! I am not hiding anything or anyone from the rest of you, I don’t know why--”

A panicked scream came from down the hallway where Peter’s bedroom was, capturing all three of them’s attention. Steve and Natasha shared a concern glance, and Steve looked like he was ready to rush down the hallway to take on whatever danger there was head on.

Tony threw up an arm to stop him, “Stop, it’s okay-- don’t follow me,” he said, taking off.

They did follow, despite being told otherwise, but Tony didn’t have the time to tell them off as he threw his son’s door open.

Tony’s heart ached when he saw the sight before him, Peter was sitting upright in bed with his knees curled to his chest. His breathing was ragged and his entire form trembled through tears.

“Oh, buddy,” Tony tsked, rushing to his kid’s side, “It’s okay, Peter, you’re okay.”

Peter looked up at the sound of his father’s voice. His eyes were watery and his lip wobbled, more tears threatening to spill out at any minute. He eyed Tony warily, almost like he didn’t believe he was real, afraid that him being there was just some trick.

“You-you’re alive?” Peter asked.

Tony frowned, “Of course I’m alive,” he said gently, he pulled peter into a tight hug, “I’m not going anywhere buddy.”

Peter buried his face in his father’s shoulder, who in response just held him tighter. “I- I had a dream,” Peter choked out, “Y-you and May… dead. I-I-I was alone.”

“Shh. Shh. It’s okay, Pete. We’re okay, you’re not alone.” He gently rocked the two of them back and forth, a move that both Tony and May had used to ward off bad dreams since Peter was little. It was a comforting gesture, and also extremely personal-- no other people outside Tony’s makeshift little family had ever seen him show anyone that much affection or comfort. So it was very uncomfortable for the father knowing that both Natasha and Steve were standing in the doorway gawking like a couple of idiots.

He shot them a look over Peter’s head that said: “If you’d be so kind, pleasefuck off.”

Steve nodded, but sent him a look that said “this isn’t over,” before the two retreated back to the living room.

Once they were gone, Tony returned his attention back to Peter who was slowing starting to relax, showing signs of returning fatigue. “You getting tired, kiddo?” Pete nodded against his dad’s chest, but made no move to let go.

Sensing that Peter didn’t want to be left alone, he said: “Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?”

Peter sighed a breath of relief, “Y-yes,” he spit out, and Tony felt a little relieved too, because he never did like leaving Peter by himself after these particularly rough nightmares.

Peter was still very shaky, so Tony scooped him up and carried him the way to his room. On any other occasion, Peter would be mortified at having his father carry him like a baby, but in this instance, he let himself be carried, finding comfort in the protective gesture.

Tony set Peter down on the side of the bed that Pepper generally used when she was at the compound with him, and draped the blanket over his shoulders. “I’ll be right back,” he said, running a hand through Peter’s curls, “Do you want the light on?”

Peter didn’t answer, already falling back to sleep very quickly, so Tony had Friday leave the lights on for him-- just in case.

When he returned back to the living room, he found Natasha and Steve bickering.

“You were a shield agent! How did you miss him having a child?”

“I wasn’t looking for a kid, I was scoping him out for the Avengers Initiative.”

Steve scoffed, “Really, Nat? It’s a child, you don’t just miss that! If you’re scoping someone out for something, a good thing to notice would be them having a son, I think.”

“In her defense,” Tony intervened, “The kid was staying with his aunt and uncle when all that shit went down. And it’s not like you ever noticed either, Rogers.”

“Tony, you’re back.” Steve greeted, Tony brushed past him, making to sit on the couch where he could put his face in his hands.

“The kid’s aunt and I worked real hard to keep the fact that he’s my son under wraps. His name isn’t even legally Stark.”

Tony glared at them, “You know, there’s a reason I wanted to keep him from you guys. And when someone tells you to stay on your own floor? There’s a reason for that too.”

Steve frowned, “We’re sorry, Tony. We were afraid you might be doing something reckless. Natasha was pretty spot on about you hiding someone rather than something… But yeah, we’re sorry.”

Tony grunted, neither accepting nor out right rejecting the apology.

“So, we have a lot to talk about.” Nat said, Tony nodded.

“Yeah, we do-- but not tonight, I’m tired and I’m going to bed.”

“Tony, you can’t just drop a bombshell like that, and then not explain,” Steve argued.

“I will bring it up tomorrow, Rogers, so the entire team can discuss it. But right now, it is well past three in the fucking morning, my kid just woke up screaming-- I’m going to bed. You two should do the same.”

Steve sighed, “Fine. Good night Tony, let’s go, Nat.”

Natasha, who hadn’t had a lot to say about the revelation, gave Tony a long lasting look before following Steve. Once they were gone, Tony breathed out a long sigh of relief, and brought a hand to his temple, because Christ, this headache was never going to go away.

He guessed all of that meant working in the lab was now off, but he didn’t really care that much, because all of his energy had been sucked out with a fucking vacuum cleaner after all that.

Tony thought as he climbed into bed next to Peter, that the only bright side to all this was that at least he’d be able to go back to Manhattan tomorrow.

He ran a hand through Peter’s hair as the boy slept peacefully curled against his side, and he smiled. It was a moment like the one last night where Peter had fallen asleep on his shoulder, only this time, Barton wasn’t there to barge in and ruin that. He frowned thinking about Clint, and the rest of the avengers. They would know about Peter now-- that was an eleven year old secret that had just been tossed out the window (he blamed Peter.) He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, nervous for sure. And he was a little worried about breaking that news to May, (though she didn’t seem like she really cared all that much on Friday).

And well, despite any uncertainty he had right about then, he did know one thing: this headache? It was never going away.

#iron dad and spider son #spiderman #spider man homecoming #ironman #avengers #tony stark #peter parker

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carmenlire · 6 years

Text

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 23

read on ao3

Alec slows to a stop, breathing hard. He’s just finished his morning run and he’s ready to collapse with a coffee and maybe a muffin. Luckily, he’d planned his route with that in mind and he’s just a few streets over from Uptown Java.

He brings his shirt up to wipe his face and starts walking to the coffee shop like he has all the time in the world. Once or twice a week Alec likes to push himself on his runs and since he’d known he’d be swinging by, he’d ran ten miles this morning. He's definitely feeling a runner's high even as his thighs are trembling like a newborn colt.

A few minutes later, he’s swinging the door to Uptown open, smiling as he hears the little bell chime.

It’s almost eight and there’s half a dozen people in line ready to get their caffeine fix before work. Alec waits his turn and grins as he sees Luke and Maia working in tandem. Maia is moving with quick grace as she steams milk and drizzles syrup and pours coffee. Luke is expertly handling bills and complicated orders with an easy smile.

When Alec gets to the front of the line, Luke looks up distractedly only to bark out a delighted laugh.

“Hey man,” he says cheerfully. “It’s been so long since I last saw you that I was about to send out a search party.”

“I’ve been busy,” Alec laughs. Shrugging, he continues, “I didn’t realize that it’d been a month since I saw you last.”

Seeing the guilt starting to furrow Alec’s brow, Luke just shakes his head, still smiling. “It’s fine, Alec. Goodness knows that I’ve gone months cooped up in the shop and before I know it, I can’t remember the last time I surfaced.”

He points a finger at Alec’s chest. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t remember a promise of a beer, though,” he says sternly.

Relieved that Luke isn’t genuinely upset, Alec laughs, raising his arms defensively. “Yeah, yeah. Why don’t we set a date right now?”

Narrowing his eyes, Luke offers, “Tuesday after next.”

“Sounds good,” Alec agrees readily. “I’m surprised you didn’t pick a sooner date.”

Shrugging, Luke just says, “You’re not the only one who’s busy.”

Alec hands over his card and throws in a generous cash tip when Luke turns around. Luckily, it looks like there’s a few minutes break and Luke moves down the counter to start making Alec’s drink as Maia catches up on everyone else.

“So, what’s been keeping you so busy? Last time we talked you said in no uncertain terms that you didn’t have a boyfriend and I know you like to relax between album cycles. What’s up?”

Luke’s eyes don’t leave the espresso machine as he casually adds, “Could you be preoccupied with a certain professor?”

Alec blinks twice, heart stopping for a moment, before he releases a slow breath. Really, he should’ve expected this.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. I’d have to be living under a rock not to see that you’ve been getting cozy with someone. There was that shady ass picture in that tabloid a few weeks ago and then I see you on TMZ playing coy about a new friend?” Luke finally raises his eyes from where he’d been swirling whipped cream on the top of Alec’s drink. “What gives? I know you, Alec. Talk to me.”

Alec debates for a minute but ultimately capitulates. This is Luke, after all. The man was like a father to him and had seen him in every conceivable state. Alec knows he can go to Luke about anything. So, why not at least admit that there’s something going on?

He sighs. “Okay, you’re right. I made a new friend earlier this summer and I guess that I’ve been. . . preoccupied with him.”

Luke doesn’t gloat, just grins knowingly. “Details.”

Alec crosses his arms on the counter and leans forward. Luke stays at that end of the counter, jerking his head to the till to let Maia know they’re switching.

Biting his lip, Alec thinks about where to start, just how much he wants to divulge. He opens his mouth, just to close it.

Luke doesn’t say anything, let’s him have his space as he makes a drink for the next customer in line.

After a moment or two, Alec starts, “For starters, he’s a professor. Columbia.”

Luke raises a brow. “You do know how to pick ‘em.”

Alec laughs even as he feels heat climb up the back of his neck. “Shut up. Anyway, we met accidentally at this diner one night and then ran into each other again here a few days later. We’ve been talking pretty much nonstop since.”

Narrowing his eyes, Luke repeats, “You met him here?” His eyes widen. “Are you telling me that your Columbia professor is Magnus?”

“Yes?”

Luke’s still for a minute before he doubles over laughing. “Damn, Lightwood, what are the chances?”

Alec lets him yuk it up for a few moments. Eventually, he settles down, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe two of my best customers are dating and I wasn’t the one to set them up.” Humming, Luke says, “Now that I think about it, though, you two really would be good together.”

“We aren’t dating,” Alec clarifies, tone alarmed. “We’re just friends,” he insists.

Granting no quarter, Luke prompts, “But you’d like to be more?”

His tone is light but there’s an undercurrent of knowing. Talking to someone that knows him so well is a double edged sword-- he doesn’t have to tiptoe around the truth, even if he might like the option.

“Yeah,” he says morosely.

Luke expertly makes some cappuccino foam art as he says, “That’s great, Alec! I know we talked about this last month but I was getting a little worried that you were never going to settle down. It’s nice to see you show legitimate interest in someone.”

Alec takes a sip from his crazy straw that’s a jarring blue and orange. “I can be interested in someone all I want-- that doesn’t mean that they feel the same.”

At that, Luke looks up. “What are you talking about? You’re one hell of a catch and if you’re even half as close as I think you might be, than I have a hunch it’s not just one sided.”

“We’ve talked about this before. My career doesn’t exactly lend itself to something serious.”

“You’re a handsome, talented man with a good heart. So, what? You’re on the road part of the year and people are sometimes overly interested in you. That’s no reason that you can’t fall in love someday.”

“My last tour was nine months and I got two weeks off between legs if I was lucky. The press are intrusive as hell-- they’ve been all over the Magnus thing, sniffing like hounds. Isn’t it selfish to ask someone to deal with that when they haven’t signed up for it?”

Luke sends him a pitying look. “I’m not saying that there might not be problems that you’d have to work through. I’m saying that relationships are give and take. Here’s a tip: you’re an idiot. Magnus is choosing to be friends with you. I know a lot of people have either bailed when the scrutiny became too much or that’s the only reason they were with you in the first place. But, I’ll vouch for Magnus. He’s good people and he must genuinely be interested in you.

“You think he hasn’t already thought about what just being your friend means? You’re not an accountant who stays in his office all day. You’re one of the biggest names in the world and even friends choose to deal with whatever attention comes their way. Magnus is anything but stupid. If he’s still your friend even though the press are--” Luke uses air quotes, “‘Sniffing like hounds’ then he’s choosing to stay in your life even with all your baggage.”

There’s a pause as Alec thinks about what Luke’s just said and Luke makes a frappuccino in the meantime. He passes the drink and straw to the waiting customer before turning back to Alec.

“I don’t know if Magnus is into you, Alec. But I can say that you shouldn’t let your insecurities or your own feelings about the media keep you from pursuing something if you want it. Is that the only thing holding you back?”

Alec nods without hesitation. “Yeah. I probably would’ve asked him out weeks ago if I didn’t have to worry about the press.”

Luke reaches over the counter, clapping Alec on the shoulder. “Then, I say go for it. After all of this, the worst that could happen is that he’d say no.” Snorting, Luke continues, “I know you're a big shot and all, but even you’ve been turned down before.”

Alec smiles faintly. “And if I ruin our friendship?”

Luke shakes his head, though Alec can’t see his expression as he’s looking down, concentrating on drizzling caramel. “Don’t worry about that. You can’t let fear control you. From the sounds of things, you have a pretty good foundation. Even if he just wants things to stay the same, could you handle that?”

“Of course,” Alec says, even though he’s not so sure. It’s fine while he hasn’t put himself out there-- he’s dealing with a thousand hypothetical situations where the biggest issue is retaining his friendship with Magnus. But if he were to tell Magnus how he feels and Magnus didn’t feel the same? In the short term, Alec supposes he would be overwhelmed with relief that Magnus doesn’t disappear on the spot. But could he handle months and even years of wanting more when it’s one sided?

He has a sinking feeling that the answer is no.

Luke leaves him to brood and Alec finally heaves himself off the counter. He needs to think and maybe write and he really needs to get in touch with Lydia-- there’s always something that he could be doing. Even during his off time, Alec works hard and right now, he’s be grateful for a distraction.

Alec turns away from the counter. “See you later, Luke. Thanks for the pep talk,” he throws over his shoulder.

“Anytime, kiddo. Don’t be a stranger,” Luke throws out.

Alec makes his way to the front door, taking a quick sip of his drink. He’s reaching for the door when it opens and he almost runs into it. Some fancy footwork keeps his coffee from spilling everywhere and he reaches out automatically to steady the person, wrapping an arm around their back to support them both.

He’s too focused on making sure that his drink doesn’t end up everywhere that he doesn’t notice the other person. Until they speak.

“Alexander?”

Alec jerks his head up so fast that he almost gets whiplash.

He looks into warm brown eyes and can’t help the smile that that transforms his face.

“Magnus, hi,” he says breathlessly.

“Alexander, fancy meeting you here,” Magnus replies, teasing.

Alec brings his drink up, waves it a little. “You know me. I love drinks that are as much caffeine as they are sugar and Luke has my order down pat.”

Magnus hums but doesn’t offer anything further. The two descend into silence. It’s easy, companionable, and Alec doesn’t notice that his arm is still pretty much embracing Magnus even though they’ve both long since regained their equilibrium. He does notice that a runner's high has nothing on seeing Magnus, though.

The two of them are in their own little world until Magnus rakes his eyes over Alec, asking, “Did you workout this morning?”

That jars Alec into action. He hastily drops the arm wrapped around Magnus and steps back. He grimaces. “Yeah. I went for a run this morning and ended it here. Sorry I got so close-- I’m probably disgusting right now.”

He doesn’t say anything but Alec feels his eyes as Magnus runs them over his damp hair and the singlet he’d made out of an old tour shirt.

He sounds distracted as he says, “No need to apologize, darling. I didn’t mind at all.”

He snaps back to attention a minute later and Alec asks, “What are you doing here? I didn’t think that I’d see you for a few days. I figured you’d sleep all day. You got in what? Eight hours ago?”

It’s Magnus’s turn to wince as he looks at his watch. “Just over eight hours,” he confirms. “I’m still on London time though. I went to bed at one but woke up six. I tried to go back to sleep but finally realized it was a waste of time. I figured that if I’m up I should be productive so I threw something on and came here. I’m planning to spend the morning reading over my manuscript.” He pats the computer bag that Alec hadn’t noticed yet. “It’s something I’ve been putting off and it’s low risk enough that I can do it jet lagged.”

Curious, Alec asks, “How far are you?”

“I’m just over halfway. I’ve finished my threads about before WWI and now I’m working on India during the Great War. I have about three hundred pages now so this monster will end up being dreadfully long.”

“Holy shit. That’s so much work," Alec exclaims.

Magnus laughs a little. “It’s a labor of love. I’ve been working on it for a little over a year-- the writing of it. Research has taken me the better part of five years and I still regularly spend days in the archives or occasionally fly to different libraries around the world. I squeezed in a few hours at the British Library and I’m so glad I did-- I ended up with some great first hand accounts that I didn’t even know existed--”

“But enough about that. I don’t want to bore you. How have you been?”

Ignoring the question, Alec asks, “Why aren’t you teaching today? If you’re back and everything, I’m surprised you’re not rushing to campus right now.”

Magnus smiles. “I told my students to take the entire week off. I knew I wouldn’t want to teach and they don’t know that I could’ve had class. It’s a win for everyone. I get to relax a little and catch up on everything I’ve missed and they get to sleep in or put off their assignments for another few days.”

There's an imperceptible pause before Magnus ultimately adds, “Plus, I got to see you this morning, so I’d consider this little play at hooky well worth it.”

Alec returns Magnus’s smile and the two of them just stare into each other’s eyes for a minute before there’s a loud cough behind them. Alec spins around to see a disgruntled customer pointedly looking between them and the counter. Alec’s face doesn’t betray what he’s thinking as him and Magnus move over a few feet so the woman can order.

“Well,” Magnus says when it’s just the two of them again. “We were blocking the doorway.”

Alec just looks unimpressed. “Yeah and she was rude.”

The two of them shake their heads in amusement before Magnus repeats his question from earlier. “What have you been up to in my absence?”

Alec shrugs. “I hung out with my siblings, wrote a little, had a few business meetings.” Missed you like crazy. “Really, whatever I would’ve done had you still been in the city.”

He debates about what he’s going to say before finally admitting, “I missed you, though.”

Magnus’s expression softens. “I missed you, too. I know we talked every day but it definitely felt different. I was hoping I’d see you soon, though I didn’t quite think that it would be within twelve hours of my arrival back into the country.”

Alec clears his throat before nodding towards the door. “Well, I should probably get going. I need a shower and want to work a little.” He gestures to Magnus’s laptop with his drink. “Plus, you’ve got things to do, too. I’ll see you later Magnus.”

He turns away, only to come to a stop as Magnus’s arm reaches out, wrapping a hand around his wrist. Alec’s total focus is on where they’re touching. Magnus’s hand is warm, gently calloused, and Alec realizes with a jolt that besides their brief, accidental embrace this morning, this is the first time they’ve really touched.

It’s innocuous and innocent but it fills Alec with fire.

“What are you doing for dinner?”

Alec freezes as he hears the question. Magnus pulled him back to ask him his dinner plans?

“I’ll probably just grab a pizza or something. What about you?”

Magnus sighs. “Probably the same, though goodness knows that I’d kill for something homemade right now. I’ve been eating takeout for a week but I’m too tired to actually cook.”

Alec thinks about the idea that’s sprung to mind but he can’t find any flaws. “I could-- I could cook? I’m usually the one that makes dinner for my siblings and I like it. I could make something if you wanted to come over?”

Magnus’s eyes light up. He doesn’t seem to realize it, but his thumb starts softly sweeping against Alec’s wrist.

“Are you sure,” he asks. “I don’t want to impose, especially when it’s such short notice--”

“Magnus, it’s fine,” Alec says firmly. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. I definitely don’t mind cooking, especially if it’s for you.”

Magnus grins. “Great! What time should I come over?”

Alec hums as he thinks. He really doesn’t have anything structured going on. “How about six? I know that’s a little early but you are jet lagged and we can watch something something after?”

“Sounds like a plan, darling.”

“Great,” Alec responds. “I’ll text you my address?”

Magnus nods and releases Alec. The two of them stand there, silent, neither turning away. Finally, Alec catches Luke’s expectant expression in his peripheral and though he ignores it, it jolts him into motion.

“I’ll see you tonight, Magnus.”

“I can’t wait, Alexander.”

They smile one last time at each other before Alec turns away again, this time uninterrupted.

He’s halfway down the block when he starts grinning. Holy shit. He’d just invited Magnus over to his place. He can’t remember the last time he’d given anyone his address. It was a big decision. He supposes that goes to show just how much Magnus has come to mean to him. He trusts Magnus. He doesn’t give his address out all willy nilly, especially since he also has to worry about his siblings.

This was a big deal.

Reassuring himself that friends make dinner for their other friends all the time, Alec’s subconsciously singing one of his new songs under his breath. He feels good. It’s like just seeing Magnus after a week apart had recharged him. It’s absurd, but-- it’s how he feels.

He’s lost in his own head, thinking of what he wants to make, when his phone rings. He takes it out of his pocket absently, throwing his drink away as he passes a trash can.

It’s just after eight thirty and he sees Lydia’s name across his screen. Knowing that she doesn’t usually call him so early, Alec answers right away, curious.

“Hey, Lyd, what’s going on?”

“Hey, Alec. I have a huge favor to ask. It’s super short notice.”

Lydia sounds a little frazzled, which never happens, and Alec straightens a little, alert. “Lay it on me.”

Lydia blows out a breath. “What are the chances that you could get to the NYU hospital by ten? Sebastian was supposed to go there for a charity op but he cancelled this morning, sighting illness.” Alec can feel Lydia roll her eyes from here. “I really don’t want to leave the kids hanging and you’re one of the only people on my roster who’s in New York right now.”

Alec picks up his pace a little as he listens. He’s nodding before she’s even finished speaking. “Yeah, of course. You know I’m down with this. You said the NYU hospital? Where is that again?”

“It’s off E. 34th Street. I can call Dave and have him ready by 9:30 and you should get there just on time. Is that good?”

“That works. I’m on my way home now and I’ll get ready and by waiting for him when he arrives. Don’t worry-- you know I won’t disappoint the kids.”

Lydia laughs. “And I’m thankful everyday that you’re not a giant asshole. Unlike some of my other clients,” he hears her mutter under her breath.

“Was that everything?”

“Yes, that was the only thing I had for this morning. We need to meet within the next few days and check in on progress and future plans but that can wait. If you get there on time, I’ll be much more lenient with you when we do meet.”

“No you won’t,” Alec says dryly.

Lydia laughs. “Okay, so I won’t go easy on you. But you will win major brownie points and a favor from me.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Oh, hush you. I have a call on the other line, so I’m gonna go and seriously, Alec-- thank you so much for doing this. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem. Bye.”

The two hang up and Alec strides down the street.

Sebastian was an asshole. Relatively new to the scene, he’d landed his first Top 40 hit a couple of years ago. While he stayed relevant on the charts, it was well known in the industry that he was a right bastard-- a drama queen who liked to steal credit from others and was proving increasingly unreliable.

Alec scoffs as he turns a corner. It takes a real shitbag to cancel on sick kids. Alec’s glad that he didn’t have any structured plans today, though he probably would have cancelled them to do this. Alec visits a New York hospital, usually the pediatric department, once a year minimum. NYU has a special place in his heart after the way they took care of Max and he’s donates monthly.

There’s a different doorman today and Alec just nods as he strides through and makes it up to his apartment without issue. Everyone must be out and Alec goes straight to the shower. He gets ready in record time, even for him, and grabs a bottle of water on his way out the door half an hour later.

Dave is waiting for him. There’s no time for pleasantries-- he has just under thirty minutes to get to the hospital and it’ll take every bit of that time in New York traffic-- but it’s an easy silence. Dave has been his driver for years and he’s seen Alec in every state. This is just business as usual.

He’s an excellent driver, navigating smoothly in and out of lanes. They come to a stop at the front doors of the pediatric wing at 9:57. Alec opens his own door and sees Lydia waiting for him with her ever present iPad.

She starts walking without looking up and he follows her through the automatic doors. They’re in the elevator before she acknowledges him.

“Good morning, Alec. Thanks again for doing this.”

He smiles easily. “Like I said, it’s no problem. You know I’m always free for this kind of thing.” He pauses a beat before continuing, “So Sebastian bailed?”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “I should’ve seen this coming, honestly. He’s getting even more erratic lately. It’s not just public appearances. Do you know that he’s been over forty five minutes late to his last two performances? The one before that? They found him five minutes before warm-ups drunk off his ass and belligerent.”

She leans closer, tone dropping to conspiratorial. “Between you and me? His contract is up next month and I don’t think Branwell and Co. will be renewing his term.”

Though it’s not surprising, Alec can’t keep his expression neutral. “You have to do what’s right for your company. You do know that no other management company will touch him with a ten foot pole though, right? And if he doesn’t have an agent he’s dead in the water. His career is over.”

Lydia shrugs, the shark gleam in her eyes obvious. “He dug his own grave. I might expect a lot from my people but I also give them free reign. There are only a handful of real rules I have and they’re basic. If he can’t handle showing up on time to concerts, then he’s not my problem as of August 17th.”

“Does he know he’s losing you?”

“I don’t think so. Sebastian might be a bastard but he wants this-- the money, the fame, everything. If he knew just how seriously he was damaging his reputation and prospects, I think he would’ve cleaned up his act even if it was only until negotiations concluded and he had a new contract with us signed. But, like I said. My company doesn’t have time for celebrities like him.”

She moves closer to Alec, straightening his shirt and flicking imaginary lint from the shoulder. “Now, you on the other hand are a dream client. You show up when you say you will, people love you, and you’re not bad to look at.”

Alec huffs out a laugh. “Thanks, Lyd. Good to know I’m not deadweight for you.”

Lydia snorts. “Please, Alec. You know that you’re my best client and that I’ll always be indebted to you.”

“Water under the bridge, Lydia.”

“We’ll agree to disagree,” she says as she always does every time the topic comes up. “I know, I know, it’s no big deal that you signed with your high school friend fresh out of college and gave her a shot even though all the other PR companies were circling you like sharks scenting fresh blood. No biggie. Anyone would do it.”

Alec doesn’t deign to answer. He justs shakes his head, amused. They’ve gone over this a million times and Lydia will never accept that he didn’t just do it as a favor to a childhood friend. He’d been in the business for a few years and while he’d been steadily on the rise, his old agent hadn’t wanted him for anything but the heft percentage he gave her. He wanted an agent who knew him and really did have his best interests at heart, not just the bottom line his name could provide.

Lydia had been top of her class and keen to start her own management company. Alec hadn’t waited for her to ask him, instead offering to be her first client. His show of faith hadn’t been unfounded and now Lydia had a waiting list and was constantly expanding staff and headquarters. She was busy but she was thriving.

A win-win for everyone, then.

The elevator doors open and Alec walks out first. There are a few kids lined up in the corridor and he stops at the first on he sees, crouching down until he’s eye level.

“Hey there,” he says, grinning. “What’s your name?”

The kid look to be about eight and his right leg is in a cast.

“Danny,” he says, excited to have an adult show interest.

“Hey, Danny. I’m Alec.” He extends a hand and Danny eagerly shakes it with his own, proud at being offered such an adult gesture. Alec talks to the kid for a few minutes, learns how he broke his leg-- bicycling accident-- and his favorite movie-- Captain America.

He moves onto the next patient. He spends close to forty minutes just in the corridor. Alec really enjoys these visits. They can be emotionally draining and exhausting but it’s worth it in spades to get to meet kids and lift their spirits, even if it’s just for a morning. It helps that he talks to everyone on the same level. He’s not a grown-up faking interest. He talks about everything from someone’s favorite book to answering questions about the solar system. Kids always have a million things to say; They just need someone to show that they genuinely care.

It’s the middle of the afternoon when Alec finally surfaces. He’s taken a hundred pictures, including some with the staff, and he’s ready for a nap. These public appearances are usually slated for two hours and Alec has spent double that in the hospital. The staff seem appreciative of him making an unexpected visit-- he catches a few thinly veiled insults about Sebastian and studiously ignores them. He might not like the guy but professionals don’t shit talk to strangers, even if it is warranted.

Lydia stays in the vicinity the entire time. She does her own thing, knows when to let Alec have some space, but she’s there if Alec needs her. This is a great PR opportunity but Alec never advertises his visits to hospitals. That’s not to say they haven’t occasionally leaked-- staff, parents, or teenagers spilling the beans-- but Alec tries his damnedest not to get any undue credit for it. These visits aren’t for his image; they’re just to be a decent human being.

It’s a little after two when Lydia and Alec walk through the automatic doors and into the July heat. He’s immediately sweating and Lydia looks annoyed as she takes off her suit jacket and slings it over her arm.

“Well, I’d say that was a success.”

Alec hums as he slips his sunglasses on. “Yeah, it went pretty well. The kids seemed excited.”

Lydia laughs. “You really have a way with children, you know? You’re a good guy, Alec. I know Sebastian wouldn’t have been as fun today.”

Alec just shrugs. “I just do my best but yeah, I agree. Sebastian would’ve probably been a disaster.” He gives her a look. “I’m surprised you even booked him with a hospital appearance.”

Sighing, Lydia admits, “I thought it would help his image . Visiting sick kids? It’s a foolproof PR trick. Too bad he’s too much of a dick to follow through.”

Alec throws an arm over her shoulders as he sighs too. “You can’t save them all, Lyd. Sometimes people just want to sink their own boat.”

“Don’t I know it,” she glumly replies.

The two walk for a block or two until Lydia ducks out from Alec’s arm.

“I have to head back to the office and get some work done. Not all of us have nothing to do all day.”

“Hey,” Alec says, mock offended. “I’ll have you know I’ve written half a dozen songs in the past couple of weeks.”

Surprised, Lydia asks, “Really? I thought you were suffering from chronic writer’s block?”

Alec smiles. “Something must’ve broken through. I have two almost finished with music and everything and the others are over halfway written, I’d say. I’m going to try to sneak in some recording time next week.”

“Way to go, Alec. I’m glad that you seem to have gotten some inspiration.”

Alec smiles, nodding. “It’s a nice change of pace. This stuff might not make it onto the album, but at least we have something. Even if they were just warm-ups, these songs are good just for what they represent.”

“That Alec Lightwood has his mojo back?”

“Shut up,” Alec says as he grins.

“I can’t wait to hear these songs. Maybe I’ll visit the studio,” Lydia teases.

“Yeah, yeah. You know I don’t let anyone in the studio except techs when I’m recording.”

“Whatever, Lightwood. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Alec takes a step back as Lydia half turns in the opposite direction. “Sounds good. Later, Lyds.”

Alec walks across a crosswalk, head lost in thought. It’s mid afternoon now and Magnus is due to come over in a few hours. With that thought in mind, Alec moves out of the way as he takes his phone out. He texts Magnus his address, including the code for the Penthouse unit.

He thinks about what to make for dinner. He wants something simple that he can make even if he feels like he’s a moment away from self-combusting. Alec knows that Magnus is distracting-- it would be too embarrassing if he burned his building down because he was trying a fancy recipe trying to impress him.

With that thought in mind, Alec changes his route.

He has some grocery shopping to do.

#my writing #httbt #malec fic

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

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There’s a surprise guest today ;) I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know!

[FF] or [AO3]

19. Twenty-three weeks

Haymitch stumbled more than he walked to the nursery, exhaustion blurring his sight.

“Hey.” he called to get Peeta’s attention. The boy had been working on painting cartoonish animals all morning. “I’m getting some coffee. Want some?”

“I’m not sure you should have any more, Haymitch.” Peeta chided him. “You should get some sleep.”

He waved that away. “Yeah. When Effie’s better.”

If she got better, rather. It had been four days since she had been attacked and she wasn’t improving.

“How is she doing?” Peeta asked.

“Sleeping when she can’t help it, barely eating and still not talking.” he summed up, rubbing his face. Cuddling the damn dog and refusing to look at me like I’m the fucking enemy for calling her bullshit out, he silently added. “Katniss is with her. I need a break.”

“You need sleep.” the boy insisted.

Haymitch snorted on his way downstairs.

“Sleep.” he muttered. “Best joke ever.”

The closed door of the living-room was glaring at him and he wondered what they were going to do about that but it was a distant thought. There were more pressing concerns.

He had barely set a foot in the kitchen when someone knocked on the door. He sighed and spared a glance for the unhooked phone, berating himself for thinking it would be enough to stop noisy people from badgering them. Any hope he had of the unwelcomed visitor leaving if ignored disappeared when they started hammering on the door.

He put on his fiercest scowl and tore the front door open, ready to tell whoever it was to go to hell. The words died on his lips – just in time – and he stood there, staring wide eyes at the woman with turquoise dyed hair gathered in a slightly disheveled puffy bun.

“Where is my daughter?” Elindra Trinket hissed, shoving him back by thrusting her bag in his stomach. He grabbed it by reflex, alarmed to spot two more suitcases on the porch. There were tracks in the snow, she must have struggled to get to the Village. Hell, with the snow that had been coming down hard for the last two days, she must have struggled to get to Twelve at all. “Well. Will you step aside? It is simply rude to make a lady wait. And it is even ruder not to answer perfectly legitimate questions. Where is my daughter?”

“Upstairs.” he stammered out at last, moving back to let her in. “What…”

“So she is alive, then?” Elindra insisted, jutting her chin up in the air. The way she fiddled with her purse betrayed her nervousness though. Relief washed over her face and Haymitch felt like the most absolute jerk. He hadn’t even thought about her family. They had been so removed from their lives up until a few weeks ago… He had never taken the Trinkets into account before. Ever. He had never needed to. As far as he was concerned, her parents were distant assholes who had never realized how lucky they were to have her for a daughter. However, he couldn’t deny they had been trying lately. There had been more phone calls in the last seven weeks than in the entire time he had known Effie.

“Yeah.” he immediately nodded, dropping her bag next to the coat rack to drag her suitcases inside – and he instinctively stopped himself from understanding what the suitcases meant because he was already exhausted and he didn’t need the headache inducing thought that Effie’s mother would stay with them for an undetermined period of time. It was cold and he didn’t want the draft to get inside. “She’s fine. She’s…” His voice trailed off and then he shook his head again. “No, she’s not fine but she’s… She’s not badly injured.”

“And the baby?” she asked.

“He’s alright too.” he confirmed.

Elindra breathed a sigh of relief and then she glared at him – and it was a powerful glare. “What in Panem is wrong with your phone? We have been calling for days. Do you have any idea the horrors the press is printing? Do you have any idea…”

“I forgot.” he cut her off. “Sorry.”

“You forgot?” she repeated through clenched teeth. “I thought my daughter and my grandson were dead. Do you…”

“I said sorry.” he snapped. “It hasn’t exactly been easy here. She’s gone catatonic again. She’s…” He rubbed his face with both hands, annoyed to find his fingers were badly shaking. “The house’s freezing and I should start a fire but I can’t go in the living-room ‘cause there’s blood everywhere and… She could have been killed. And I was…” He pressed the heels of his hands against his burning eyes to the point of pain. “I can’t get to her. She won’t listen. I could have lost her and… I want a fucking drink. I fucking want a fucking drink but I ain’t drinking ‘cause the kid deserves better. But fuck…”

The rant could have gone on longer even though he had no idea why he was pouring his troubles out like that. Maybe because he had been keeping them trapped in his chest for too long. There were things he didn’t want to burden the kids with. As far as the kids were concerned – and as far as Effie was concerned most of the time – he was in charge. He had been their mentor, he had been her victor… The decision making power automatically fell on him every time. And he didn’t want to burden them because they were worried enough as it was. They were all worried enough. But he had almost lost her and…

Elindra brought an end to his rant and his freaking out by grasping his wrist.

Her palms were freezing and it made him groan.

“You are hysterical.” she stated, cold but calm. He dropped his hands and looked at her, surprised to find the way she pursed her lips in disapproval was identical to Effie’s pout. “And clearly worn out. Have you been at her side the whole time?”

“’Course I was.” he mumbled, almost offended she would doubt it.

“Then you need rest.” she decided. Her eyes darted around, taking in her surroundings. The house wasn’t as clean and tidy as it used to be and she pursed her lips even more. Her gaze settled on the closed door though. “That is the living-room, I presume?”

He nodded, too tired to do anything else.

“I will take care of it.” she declared, as if it was that easy. “If you would bring my bags up to the guest room… I assume you have a guest room? Or should I look into other accommodations in town?”

“Yeah, we do… You can stay here, yeah… Not sure it’s ready.” He made a face. He didn’t know where Effie kept the good linen – and he was very sure if he gave Elindra anything but the good linen he would get murdered twice: once by each of the two Capitol women. He also wasn’t sure he wanted her in his house. Tadius Trinket, he could have composed with. Her sister, he might have managed to get along with too. Elindra Trinket, now? And then he realized… They didn’t have a guest room anymore. They had a nursery. “Wait, the guest room… It won’t work. There’s the study. There’s a pull-out couch.”

She looked simply horrified.

“A pull-out… No matter.” Elindra waved that off. “I can manage. I would like to see Effie now.”

He didn’t ask how long she was staying.

At that point, he wasn’t even sure he cared. He still couldn’t quite see straight.

He led the way upstairs, not really surprised to find Peeta on the threshold of the nursery with a curious look on his face. It only grew more flabbergasted when he caught sight of the obviously Capitol woman behind him – the blue hair and the fluffy hairy fur coat she had yet to take off were clues enough. Nobody in that house was very at ease with Capitols that weren’t Effie or Plutarch.

“Effie’s mom’s here.” he muttered in ways of an explanation.

“Oh, I heard voices.” Peeta smiled “I wondered.” He immediately outstretched a hand to Elindra who looked pleased by his manners – of course, Peeta would charm the pants out of her mother, of course. “Nice to meet you, Mrs Trinket. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Was that a lie? Haymitch couldn’t tell. He rubbed his eyes again.

“I must say I have heard quite a lot about you too, Mr Mellark.” Elindra replied in an enchanted tone Haymitch figured to be faked, barely listening when the boy told her she could call him Peeta. “My daughter swears by your baked goods. And she tells me you are a talented painter as well. A gentleman should always have several hobbies.” She poked her head in the nursery without giving him time to answer. “I see you are helping getting everything ready for the baby. How nice of you. What darling cartoons you painted. How clever. Will it stay that shade of yellow, Haymitch? When Effie described it, I didn’t picture this shade at all.” Haymitch made a face and Elindra pursed her lips again. “No matter, no matter. We will have time to fix that later on. Now… My daughter?”

She talked just as loud as Effie did and her accent was thick. Haymitch dragged his feet to their bedroom, feeling like he was leading a fox into a rabbit den. Katniss glanced up at him but she didn’t stop reading until she spotted the woman’s dyed blue hair. Then she bolted from the chair, eyes darting around, no doubt looking for a weapon.

“It’s fine.” Haymitch said quickly. “We’re all safe, sweetheart.”

Elindra immediately stared at the lump under the blankets that was Effie but her daughter gave no indication that she had realized she was in the room and that threw her off. Snowball lifted his head from where he was crushed against Effie’s chest, sniffed the air, sneezed because Elindra’s perfume was pungent, and then lied back down like the lazy puppy Effie was turning him into.

“Miss Everdeen, I suppose.” the Capitol woman commented, less delighted with Katniss than she had been with Peeta. That much was clear already. Although, to be fair, Katniss was still glaring at her with mistrust. “What were you reading to my daughter?”

The information was planted there for a purpose, Haymitch understood, because he hadn’t introduced her yet and Katniss didn’t know who she was. It told him Elindra was good at the appearance game. Maybe as good as Effie – which wouldn’t be surprising given that his escort had always claimed her mother had groomed her from infancy to be the Capitol’s poster child.

“A fashion magazine.” Katniss replied slowly, assessing her. When she decided Elindra wasn’t a source of danger – physical at least – she turned to him. “Effie’s not going back to the Capitol.”

He startled because the thought hadn’t even come to him. Was that why Elindra had traveled alone to the other side of Panem? To…

“Of course, she is not.” the woman declared, not hiding her regrets. “She is bent on staying here so here she will stay. Now… If you would be so kind as to help setting up the study for me?” Haymitch took a step toward the door, thinking that was meant for him. “Not you, dear.” Elindra said. And there was so much disdain in that dear… “You will take a shower and then get some well needed sleep. I am sure your victors will be happy to help me with everything I need in the meantime.”

“Shower.” he repeated flatly.

He was at a point where words didn’t exactly make sense.

“You kind of need one.” Katniss conceded. “Badly.”

Peeta touched Katniss’ arm and they left. Elindra stared at her daughter with a small pout.

“Dogs should not reside on one’s bed.” she declared.

“Yeah…” he shrugged. “We had a rule about that but she likes holding him.”

“It won’t do.” she insisted. “Shoo it away.”

He felt annoyance at the way she was giving out orders under his own roof but, truth be told, she had a point. Effie was treating Snowball like a stuffed animal.

He clicked his tongue twice and gestured with his hand. The puppy jumped from the bed and ran to his feet – after pausing at Elindra’s to sniff her all over, which she clearly didn’t like at all. He petted him a few times but Snowball was eager to leave the room, he heard Katniss curse downstairs when the dog shot between her legs.

The Capitol woman approached the bed and Haymitch had the distinct feeling she didn’t quite know how to do this. From what Effie had told him, her mother wasn’t exactly the caring type, affectionate gestures didn’t come easily to her – if at all.

“Euphemia.” she whispered in a voice that betrayed anguish and a gut-wrenching terror Haymitch recognized as the one he had felt when he had thought Effie had lost the baby. Elindra had honestly feared for Effie’s life and… He should have remembered to call her parents. The woman’s hand landed on his escort’s shoulder, her grip hesitant at first and then firmer. She shook it a little, probably hoping Effie would stop looking straight at the wall and start paying attention to what was going on around her. “Euphemia, darling… You will make me have a heart attack one of those days. Or worse, grey hair. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

He frowned and almost stepped in because he didn’t need anyone putting that sort of ideas in her head but, then, Effie blinked and turned her head, her eyes focusing for the first time in hours.

“Mommy?” she asked, sounding frail and uncertain.

Elindra recoiled. It was subtle and quickly concealed but he saw it all the same.

“You have not called me that in a long time…” Elindra commented, brushing tangled blond hair away from her daughter’s face. “Truly, it is not proper, Effie. You are not a child.”

Effie reached out and touched her arm as if she wasn’t sure she was real. “Mother?” Her voice sounded stronger, more confident, and Haymitch only felt relief. He would take anything over helpless catatonia. “What are you doing here?”

“Your idiotic victor forgot to warn us you were alright.” Elindra hissed. “Your father was in such a state… Do you know how many trains I had to ride to get here? I will fill a complain. It is simply unacceptable that there is no direct connection between the city and this District. We still know people, thankfully.” She breathed out a deep sigh. “Anyway. As I was saying, your victor failed to reach out to us and no matter how many times we called… You really ought to have your phone fixed, by the way. Do not worry a bit, Euphemia, I will take care of it. I will take care of everything. It might be for the best that your… that Haymitch was so remiss. It is glaring you all need me.” He opened his mouth to argue the point – fiercely argue the point – but it was as if Elindra had eyes glued at the back of her head. “No need for more apologies, Haymitch. I understand you were under pressure and you were worried about my daughter, naturally. Priorities are what they are. I forgive you, I suppose. Now, go take that shower.”

“Lady…” he growled, about to explain why exactly she wasn’t the boss of him.

“Haymitch, please.” Effie cut in, sitting up a little.

He snapped his jaw shut and headed to the dresser to grab some clean sweatpants and a shirt.

“I met your victors.” Elindra told Effie in an eager voice. “Why, Peeta is simply a darling. I am not quite sure about your Mockingjay but…”

He hurried into the bathroom and closed the door behind him to shut the sound of Elindra’s voice. It was giving him a headache.

The shower did him some good. He didn’t think he had washed since that night. The hot water relaxed his tensed muscles and he drifted off without meaning to. He was barely able to stay upright when he finally came back to the bedroom – to blissful silence, fortunately.

Elindra wasn’t gone though. She was apparently reorganizing the beauty products on Effie’s dressing table.

“She is asleep.” she informed him and he glanced at the bed to find that Effie really was sleeping.

“You’ve got magic powers or what?” he grumbled.

She lifted two identically dyed blue eyebrows. “I suspect I always bored her a little if that is what you mean. Now. You will get some rest while I confer with your victors about how best to find a housekeeper.”

“Kids.” he corrected in an indistinct mumble as he climbed in bed next to Effie. “They’re not our victors, they’re our kids.”

He almost expected an argument.

“Children, very well.” she accepted. “Duly noted. Do try to sleep, Haymitch, you look like death’s warmed over.”

“Thanks.” he snorted, eyes already closed, wrapping an arm around Effie’s form.

“Why, you are welcomed.” Elindra replied. “We are all family now, aren’t we?”

She sounded pained about that and he could only concur. He suspected if it hadn’t been for the baby… He didn’t ask though and she didn’t add anything else. She finished screwing up Effie’s system and then she was out the door.

The last thought he had before finally giving up to slumber was for a housekeeper he really didn’t want.

He felt hangovered when he woke up, like only too many hours of sleep after a long bout of insomnia could do. His stomach rumbled and he buried his face in his pillow with a groan. It smelt good. Whatever it was he was smelling, it smelt good.

“Welcome back to the land of the awake.”

He opened his eyes and looked up. Effie was propped against a pillow, blankets and covers pooling on her lap, an appetizing bowl of soup propped on her protuberating stomach. She had also changed clothes at some point because she wasn’t wearing his shirt anymore but one of her own nightgowns.

“How long was I out?” he mumbled, pressing a kiss against her stomach because it was the closest to his face and because it was two birds with one stone. He liked greeting the shrimp.

“All day.” she hummed. “I woke up mid-afternoon and you did not even so much as twitch.”

He made a face as he sat up. “Nightmare?”

“Yes.” she admitted, staring at her bowl of soup. “But I do feel better now that I had some proper rest. I am sorry for…”

“Don’t.” he cut her off. “It’s fine.”

“It is not but it is kind of you to say so.” she sighed, holding out her spoon. “Do you want some? I’ve had a bowl and a half already.”

She didn’t need to ask twice. The soup was so good…

“Did your mom make that?” he asked.

He wasn’t expecting her to burst out laughing but it was such a welcomed sound… He felt something uncoil in his stomach. If she could still laugh, they would get through this. They would.

“My mother does not cook.” she breathed out between two heavy chuckles. “She tried to hire help through the children and, apparently, Sae took offense.”

The spoon froze on its way to his mouth. On one hand, it explained why it tasted so familiar. On the other… “Sae’s going to kill her before the day is through.”

“Oh, there’s been plenty of arguments so far but they seem evenly matched.” she told him. “I also heard a lot of furniture being moved downstairs…”

He tossed a worried glance at the closed bedroom door, half afraid of what he would find when he would venture out. He probably should have checked it out right then because he had an inkling Elindra would want to change everything up to her standards and he also knew Sae had been dying to meddle for a while now.

He loved the old woman, he did, but she was a pain, she always treated him like a kid and… The force of those two combined? He wasn’t liking his odds.

“Where’s Snowball?” he asked, suddenly worried they would have forced the puppy to remain in the backyard. A happy bark answered him from the corner of the room where the dog’s padded bed now laid. Having mistaken his name for a call, Snowball jumped on him, tail wriggling left and right in his enthusiasm, and if Effie hadn’t rescued the soup, it would have spilled everywhere. He rubbed the puppy’s belly but still frowned. “His bed was in the living-room.”

Effie took a deep breath, any trace of amusement gone from her voice. “Peeta brought it up. Mother said she’s taking care of the living-room, which, I suppose, means Sae and the children are taking care of the living-room under her supervision.”

He must have slept like the dead not to hear any of that happening…

“Okay.” he said slowly, studying her. “How long is she staying?”

Because now that he wasn’t sleep-deprived anymore, it seemed like an important question.

“She did not say.” she winced. “She has been… She is being nice, Haymitch, and…”

“You don’t want her to go.” he finished, trying very hard not to scowl at the notion.

“Not right now.” she confirmed in a pleading voice. “I would like her to stay a few days… Perhaps a week? She was very worried. I know you…”

“Whatever, sweetheart.” he gave in with a sigh. “As long as you take care of yourself…”

He was rewarded with a kiss on his cheek that made him smirk. He wasn’t fooled though. He wasn’t any different from the dog whose belly he was scratching. She had him well trained.

He nudged Snowball off the bed and lied back down, deciding that checking on the rest of the house could wait until the next morning. Effie settled down on her side, facing him, and he placed his hand on her stomach.

“You really feel better or you’re just saying that?” he asked after a few minutes.

“I killed a man.” she answered. “I do not think I will be right as rain in a matter of days but…” She forced a smile and rubbed the baby bump. “We are having a baby. I will be fine. We will be fine. We do not have a choice.”

“Katniss thought your mom was here to take you back.” he told her. “If she had tried, I think the girl would have kicked her ass.”

“She mentioned it.” Effie confessed, averting her eyes.

“Katniss?” he frowned.

“My mother.” she clarified. “While you were in the shower. She begged me to reconsider staying in such a dangerous District.”

He tensed, his fingers clenching a little on her stomach. He could feel the baby’s kicking under his palm.

“And?” he asked, sounding as detached as he could.

“Is that even a question?” she retorted, echoing his own words. “She was disappointed but she did not insist. I really do think she wants to try to make our relationship work, Haymitch. It is not… She is different from before. The same where it counts, but different where it matters. When we were in Four, Father said… I do not think she wants us to be estranged anymore even if it means accepting my choices. Or pretending to, at least.”

“Good.” he shrugged. Her screwed up relationship with her mother had always been a sore point for her, if they could fix things… He wasn’t really a forgive and forget kind of guy but Effie could be. He didn’t particularly want to think about Elindra or the damages she was probably inflicting to his house as they spoke so he decided a change of topic was in order. “What about Niall?”

“For a name?” she hummed, wrinkling her nose. “I read about that one. It means champion… It rings a little too close to home, don’t you think?”

He had never known the meaning. It was just a common enough name in Twelve.

“Yeah, better not.” he sighed.

“Why not Ianus?” she suggested.

“No way.” he snorted.

She rolled her eyes. “It is short, which is your preference. And it is distinguished, which is mine. What is wrong with Ianus?”

“What isn’t wrong with Ianus?” he countered.

“You are impossible.” she commented. “We are never going to agree on a name.”

He smirked at her, leaning in to steal a kiss.

“You named the dog…” he mumbled against her lips. “Don’t I get to name the baby?”

“If I wasn’t so pregnant I would hit you with a pillow.” she warned, fighting a smile.

He completely relaxed at last.

They would be fine.

#hayffie #effie trinket #Haymitch Abernathy #april showers

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inexchangeforyoursoul · 6 years

Text

Not gonna lie... with as much feedback I get (i.e. 1-2 faves/kudos a week, if I’m lucky), writing this feels like a fucking chore nine times outta ten. And I hate tedious grinding. Which is a fucking shame, because there must be like 15 readers out there who get to the chapters as I’m posting, and literally all I’d need is like 2 random commenters and my motivation would be reset till almost the end. Maybe September will bring back some of those verbose peeps who disappeared into the blue... maybe. ffn ao3

30. Knights of the coffee table

As she gets further away from the door, then the submarine, Kat starts shaking. A moment of hesitation; instead of going straight for the bedroom, she walks up to the toilet, which is vacant, to her great relief. The entire ship is eerily empty as people are scattered between the dining room and the shore from what she can hear through the beeping sound in her ear.

She slips onto the floor with back to the wall, and stares into nothingness for at least a few minutes. Returning to reality, she realizes that she's gotten sweaty. Again. And there's also a knot in her stomach. Still a little light in the head, she ambles outside to the sink and leans onto it. Stares another hole into the drain.

She's never felt so misplaced in a body, any body before, dawning sicknesses notwithstanding. Nor can she remember the last time her anxiety got this overwhelming when making a wrong move. It feels as if her ghost was dragging some kind of dead weight around. She… she legitimately just tried to kiss someone. On the lips. That's just not something she would do. Even in her wildest dreams, she's only receiving those.

Her comatose confusion soon turns into frustration; this… is so not her. Where's the real Katja and what did she do to her?! How could she have ever mustered so much… such confidence, to just, like… try and do something like that? Maybe, it's just the pill… but quite frankly, all she noticed being off was getting sleepy as fuck. And thinking out loud, which she avoids when in company. Is… is it her 'mask,' then? Or the powers? Can being taller, stronger, or just in a man's body itself, really make such a difference? Is she really like this…?

Kat peeks into the mirror; that's... not Law. Just his shell, and whoever she's supposed to be.

What could he be thinking of her now… oooh...

Having spent god knows how much time standing there with face buried in her hands, she decides to wash quick, then go down to the girl's room and be awkwardly miserable there. Frankly, she should be targeting the kitchen, but her nerves killed any appetite she might have had.

She considers lying down upon arrival, but has the feeling that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep anyhow, so… she crashes on an armchair. Staring into nothingness until she gets sleepy… a long-forgotten classic.

Twilight soon turns into darkness, and eventually Nami and Carrot arrive and blind her with the sudden lights.

"Ow," she mumbles while rubbing her eyes slowly.

"Oh… you are early," Nami notes in surprise; "did you piss him off by being nice again?" That still doesn't clear up why she was sitting around in the dark, but…

Ha ha, being… 'nice,' yyyyeah… "I," she heaves a lethargic sigh with hands still plastered over her face, "did worse." Thinking about it… she didn't buy the bear because of… or, did she? No… nope, she did those things yesterday to cheer him up, this is new. Oh… oh, nooo.

It's because he was nice to her later, isn't it? FUCK. How pathetic can she get?! That's pretty much all it has ever taken… she just started being totally suspicious of people's kindness down the line. Except for… this time. Fucking breach in the defenses.

Hearing this, even Carrot slows down, taking a questioning look at Nami. What can be worse with Trafalgar Law than being too nice or excruciatingly dumb?

"Well… did you do something stupid?" The navigator asks before closing the door, zeroing her leftover options.

Kat slides the hands off her vision. "…" Well… technically speaking, "that too." Something really stupid at that. If she didn't do that… this whole situation wouldn't be an issue.

"Then we pass, since you are not the obnoxious type, and that's the last known thing he hates apart from some psychopaths, the government, and bread," the mink shrugs, settling on the coffee table.

"I feel like there's a story to tell here," Nami notes, also sitting into the other chair. "You look quite taken."

"… uhhh… I suppose so," she creaks. Whether she's going to tell anything is another matter. Spilling the beans could make her the laughing stock of the alliance for as long as she's here…

Nope, not happening.

Nami squints at her; something is definitely up. "Well?"

She goes back into hiding and grumbles. Carrot places her hand on her chin, pondering. Her and Nami take a passing glance at each other; Kat is one to answer direct questions that don't involve opinions, so this is certainly out of the ordinary. The mink takes over the interrogation:

"That bad, huh…? On a scale from 1 to 10, how uncomfortable is it to talk about?"

"…" She doesn't want to talk or even think about this, like, ever again… but Kat also feels the peer pressure building up. And she can share this much, if nothing else. "… nine." At the very least. She has no idea what a solid 10 would be, but the minimum and maximum scores might as well not exist as far as she's concerned. There's always better or worse possibilities than what one can imagine. But this one does cut it pretty high, no matter how she looks at it. Fuuuck… how is she going to show her face tomorrow…?

"… so, let me get this straight," muses the navigator; "Additionally to doing something stupid… you did something else that bothers you, personally. And you are, by all accounts… embarrassed?" If not ashamed… it's the best she can figure from what she can see.

She moans again; that's a fucking understatement. She can feel getting red in the face again…

The girls sink into their thoughts; what's something… that would embarrass Kat?

For starters, it's not an easy thing to do. Odd hobbies, odd habits, the worst of what the world of puns can offer, anecdotes that are usually more disturbing than funny, regardless how entertaining she herself finds them… she's not bothered to share these, and also gives zero fucks about her language, which includes everything from obscure words to cussing, and her working class also shines through at times. She takes well to being corrected on things, so that's not it, either.

This has nothing to do with how she presents herself as. The key to this the other involved party, that is to say, Trafalgar Law.

"You either made him so uncomfortable that you ran away…" starts Nami, cocking her head to the right; Kat would probably overreact in a situation like that…

"… or murdered Torao with a cold-blooded joke comment, and he himself kicked you out." continues Carrot, tilting hers to the left. She can say things without thinking that could be hurtful, then regrets doing so right away.

"… or both," they nod together once they've run through the other's idea quick.

Apart from being a cold-blooded ego murderer… they are not far from the overall basic solution.

"Honestly… the quote-unquote worst thing I could think of… is something like trying to get too cuddly with him," the redhead adds after a chuckle. Oh, he'd hate that. "You pass out hugs left and right, but he gets grumpy whenever people dare to even touch him. You wouldn't want lame hugs and never ending complaints." He could barely handle the one he got the other day…

"Ha ha, right! Although… well, it's an extremely unlikely option and you'd be more pissed than hiding in a corner, but I cannot even begin to imagine if he was the one stomping into your comfort zone. It's more likely that you accidentally squeezed the life out of the dude… or were flirting with him, he would probably die from that, too," Carrot nods as they giggle to each other, then catch the flaming red ears behind Kat's hands as they glance back towards her.

… Ah.

"YOU ACTUALLY HIT ON HIM?!" they scream in unison, Nami being more on the horrified side of things while Carrot is more excited than anything else. The awed sparkles in her eyes are entirely unnecessary.

"SO WHAT IF I DID?!" Kat screams back at them in embarrassment and panic, and with a burning-up face. Technically, she just straight-out skipped the flirting part and went for the finish line. She can't quite believe it herself… the more she thinks about it, the less so. Because she never would have thought to be capable of even getting that close to... to kiss someone. Gave up on having any kind of relationship eons ago, too. Ugh. She's having kind of a personality crisis right now, okay?! More importantly, however… "And why are you yelling it for all to hear?!" Seriously…! This is already bad enough as it is.

"Okay, okay, okay, calm down," Nami instructs her after snapping out of her surprise; "Zoro's probably out cold in the crow's nest, and there's noone left on the Sunny right now! Your secret is as safe as it gets!"

That… actually sounds very reassuring after the heart attack; Kat slumps down in relief. She's also on the verge of tears, to be honest.

"Either way, Kat…! What was it that you said?! Was it on accident?" asks the mink without any other care in the world.

"It's… less about having said something. It's what I did by a hair that was out of line." If she's lucky, he didn't get a word of that… what if he can read lips, though? Nooo…

"… like, slapping his ass, or so?"

An awkward smile appears on Nami's face while she starts thinking that maybe she should get a hold of Carrot's horses, here.

"NO!" Kat screams in bewilderment. It's… not without precedent, but the couple of occasions when she did something even remotely similar were all a dumb joke among female peers. Boy thighs and butts are out of question! … even if said boy is in her body.

"Joking, just joking!" Carrot protests with raised hands; "Because we said 'hitting on,' get it?"

Kat stares at her. "… I'm not even getting quality jokes anymore," she sighs eventually, grumbling, with hands on top of her head.

"You're obviously tired, so I don't blame you," the rabbit girl continues with a shrug. "Hell, you are definitely blowing things out of proportion because of it. Whatever you did cannot be all that serious… sleep on it, alright? It won't seem that bad in the morning." Unless, of course, Kat did break the bejeezus out of him.

The initial answer is an elongated, whiny moan. "No, it is bad! Very bad!" she bursts out then, reaching back to the uncharacteristically aggressive voice from a minute ago before covering behind her arms that she pulls forward. Then, she raises one hand up with a gap roughly the size of a longer nail between her thumb and pointing finger; "I was literally… this close. This close! " She takes a big breath before continuing; "To… mack on him." Her sentence ends in half a whimper. Taking another sniffle-suspicious deep breath, she collects her composure and peeks out towards the table from behind her bars. "Then he winced, I backed the fuck out... and we were locked into the most awkward space sharing nonversation of the century." She fucked up sooo bad…

"You… you actually did that?" asks Nami, the reality of the situation setting in. She can see how this is not a situation her friend can handle. Kat… doesn't get physical with people she doesn't know. She did notice her flinching last week when shoving her towards the infirmary, even though she wasn't hurt there; she figured she's overstepped her boundaries back then. Afterwards, she's made a point to let Kat initiate, and it seems to have worked out perfectly fine; now she'll readily give and receive pokes and hugs whenever. That girl really is kind of like a cat in this regard.

Similarly, unless someone straight-out asks for it, she rarely shares her opinion on anything out of her jurisdiction… the navigator had to poke around a little last Saturday just so Kat would tell which dress she thinks would suit her better. Then the spare time artist went into a five minute monologue about pros and cons, and the details of color theory and whatnot… making the decision even harder, to be honest. 'Just choose whichever you are more comfortable in, you will be the one wearing it, not me,' was her final conclusion.

All in all…. she keeps to herself, to an extreme. And today, she intruded into another's personal space, and judging by her recap, and the kind of person Law is… it must have come off as incredibly rude.

"... yeah," She squeaks almost questioningly as she emerges from her shame barrier, then takes a rugged breath and stares at the ceiling. Never in her wildest dreams… What the fuck has gotten into her back then? She refuses to believe that she'd be capable of such an act... "The funniest thing is, though," she continues as her vision slides down the wooden walls, "that the idea came outta nowhere. I just had this... garchu moment while the painkiller and drugs were still kinda tickin' and gave 'im this big ole bear hug. Which was fine, aye? But I took too long to leave 'im alone proper, wondrin'bout how small and cold he is right now, and darn me if I did not like this person 'ere as much as wee liddel me did her mum back in them days, and..."

Nami puts a hand out in front of her face, contemplating to wave if she girl doesn't react. "Kat... Kat, calm down, your lingo is getting thick and hard to follow..." The words started rolling really fast somewhere down the line, too.

She does come to a full stop, though; her mouth twitches. "Then, he looked up. At me. That close." She lifts her fingers up again a bit, with downcast eyes; they have been displaying the short distance ever since she gave that estimate. "And that's when I... just thought, 'holy shit.' I mean, I could just... blame being high, but..." She feels like blushing again and puts that hand to her temples.

Carrot, who's been listening all spellbound, looks over to Nami. "… falling in love sounds hardcore."

Kat buries her face in her hands again and moans. "I haven't had a crush on anyone since I was 13. That's a literal decade! This is so embarrassing..." And will be super awkward for however long they'll be stuck like this. Maybe… maybe it will go away in two weeks. Please, be a two to four weeks phase like with anything or anyone this has happened with.

Nami sighs and walks over to her to give her back a stroke. "There, there…"

Having all of this bullshit out of her system (and getting a long overdue, nice petting,) Kat feels really tired all of a sudden. She can finally focus on other stuff now, too; reviewing the convo with the girls, she speaks up again: "By the way… you said the ship's empty? How come?" This place is always teeming with life…

"Yeah, it's Friday, and as Luffy has declared… it's party time," the redhead sighs, straightening herself and stretching. "He dragged everyone past our already half-drunk sleeping beauty out, but I didn't sleep all that well last night, so I'm all partied out already." Having said that, the navigator yawns.

"Oh… yeah, I forgot." She herself told the captain and Usopp about it, too… she needs some goddamn sleep.

"Shit, right…! I promised to get back for another round of booze and the karaoke," Carrot says and jumps up near immediately; "see ya!"

With that, the door is already slamming shut.

"... was Carrot playing your bodyguard, or…?" Kat asks with a raised brow.

"This area gives me the creeps at night," sighs Nami before ambling towards the light switch. "Like, no offense, but this is quite a ghost port." She swears she can see things move in the shadows at night.

Kat starts yawning away again, too. "You are not wrong about that. Ain't nothing in this corner but dying businesses and hooligans." She crawls onto the floor to find her cocoon. "At least the rent's cheap in the vicinity," she moans with the covers already over her.

"That's one way to look at it," the navigator nods, getting rid of her pants. "G'nite," she moans then a little later into the pillow after crashing into the bed.

"Good night to you, too," Kat sighs. She feels more like a zombie instead of a ghost now. Kind of like after crying. Yeah… maybe she really just needs to sleep on it. Maybe.

#KMKY #Kate writes

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