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mcrdvcks · 23 days

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Sweet Dreams - Chapter 1

Series Summary: Alexandria Sokolova spent 15 years with HYDRA, ever since her parents and brother were killed in front of her when she was 3. She was raised to be a soldier; an assassin. But now, faced with coming to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, she has to come to terms that there are people around her who don't want to hurt her, people who actually care about her.

But recognizing that is harder than it seems, especially with a teacher like Logan Howlett, who seems to care more about her than he lets on.

Just because she's currently safe from HYDRA's grasp now, doesn't mean she's safe forever.

Chapter Summary: The Avengers bring Alexandria to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

Word Count: 8.9k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x Original Female Character (platonic relationship)

Notes: and hello! welcome to this series! this is going to be a long one, since there are going to be three parts, this story, another series based around 'logan (2017)' and another based on 'deadpool and wolverine'.

but let's get a few things out of the way. this is NOT a romance with alexandria and logan. this is about them slowly recognizing they are more alike than different, and how they both eventually let their guard down around each other. if you will, it's a 'slow burn' father-daughter relationship.

another thing, alexandria's powers are as followed: dream-weaver; enter and manipulate dreams and telekinesis. you'll understand a bit more as you read on.

another, another thing, this is an au, the characters of jean, scott, kitty, jubilee, and others mentioned are TEENAGERS. they are students in high-school level classes as the X-Mansion, not adults. some of these characters may seem ooc, and if we're being honest it's because i've only watched first class-dark pheonix, the deadpool movies, wolverine origins, and logan. i tried watching the original x-men movies but i ended up falling asleep (oops). so if these characters are written wrong, it's my fault, but we are sticking with the ooc tag.

Series Masterlist → Chapter 2

AO3 Link For Chapter

Alexandria didn’t much care for whatever they were taking her. The Avengers, that is. Being saved from HYDRA did warrant them a ‘thank you’, but after a few days of staying at the Avengers Compound, they decided that it wasn’t a “good fit”.

Meaning a few things: one, they were scared of her, which was unlikely considering her powers weren’t all that terrifying, or two, they simply didn’t want to deal with a 17-year-old girl with trauma dating back 14 years ago.

The only three people who talked to her like a normal person was Wanda, Bucky, and Natasha, which she appreciated greatly.

“Coming up on the school.” Tony’s voice sounded out through the cockpit of the Quinjet.

Alexandria rolled her eyes, this all seemed like too much. She was a kid, just rescued from a terrorist organization and now she was supposed to go to school?

Was this a fucking joke?

Alexandria glared out the window as the Quinjet descended towards the sprawling grounds of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. The idea of school felt absurd after everything she’d been through. She crossed her arms, sinking deeper into her seat, eyes narrowed.

“Hey, I know it’s not ideal, but this place might be good for you,” Natasha said, catching Alexandria’s expression. She leaned over from her seat across the aisle, her voice gentle but firm.

“Yeah, a place full of more people who can do freaky stuff. Great,” Alexandria muttered.

Bucky, seated next to Natasha, turned to her. “It’s not just about powers. You’ll meet people who understand you, maybe even help you find some peace.”

Alexandria snorted, her skepticism apparent. “Peace? That’s rich coming from you.”

Bucky’s face tightened for a moment, but he nodded. “Touché. But it’s worth a shot.”

Tony’s voice came through again. “We’re landing. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.”

The Quinjet touched down smoothly, and the ramp lowered. Charles Xavier was waiting, a welcoming smile on his face, his wheelchair positioned at the edge of the landing zone. Beside him stood a younger man, wearing glasses, a flannel shirt, a tie, and a white lab coat.

Alexandria hesitated at the top of the ramp, glancing back at the Avengers. Wanda gave her an encouraging nod, while Natasha and Bucky looked on with reassuring expressions.

“Come on, kid,” Tony said, gesturing for her to follow. “Let’s get this over with.”

With a resigned sigh, Alexandria descended the ramp. Charles rolled forward to meet her, his eyes kind and understanding.

“Welcome, Alexandria,” he said warmly. “I’m Charles Xavier, and this is Hank McCoy. We’re here to help you.”

Hank offered a friendly smile. “Hi there. We’re really glad to have you here.”

Alexandria nodded stiffly, feeling the weight of their expectations. “Thanks, I guess.”

Charles seemed unfazed by her reluctance. “Why don’t we show you around? Hank, could you give Alexandria a tour while I have a word with our friends?”

“Sure thing,” Hank replied. “Come on, Alexandria, I’ll show you the school.”

As they walked away, Alexandria glanced back to see Charles engaging in a serious conversation with the Avengers. She couldn’t hear the words, but the tone suggested they were discussing her future.

“So, this place is like a school for mutants?” Alexandria asked, trying to make sense of it all.

“Exactly,” Hank said. “We offer a safe environment for young mutants to learn and grow. You’ll find a lot of people here who understand what you’ve been through.”

“Doubt it.” she muttered. Part of her didn’t even believe she was a so-called ‘mutant’. What she was however, was an experiment.

Hank chuckled softly as he led Alexandria through the halls of the Xavier Institute. “Well, I can’t promise you that everyone will understand perfectly, but you’re not alone in feeling out of place.”

“Yeah, right,” Alexandria replied, glancing around at the impressive but unfamiliar surroundings. “I’m supposed to just fit in here after everything that’s happened?”

“Everyone here has their own struggles and history,” Hank said. “Some are more recent than others, but we all find a way to make it work.”

They passed by a few classrooms, and Alexandria noticed students engaged in various activities. Some were reading, others were practicing what looked like combat techniques. It was clear this was not a typical school.

“Here’s the gym,” Hank said, opening a door to a large, well-equipped space. “It’s not just for physical training. It’s a place where students can test their abilities and find out what they’re capable of.”

Alexandria’s eyes flicked over the gym, taking in the equipment and the few students who were sparring. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Training can be intense, but it’s also important,” Hank said. “And there’s more to this place than just classes. You’ll find people who become like family.”

“Family, huh?” Alexandria muttered. “That’s something I’ve never had.”

Hank looked at her, his expression thoughtful. “You’re not alone here. Many of us have found a sense of family and belonging. It takes time, but it happens.”

They continued the tour, moving to the dormitory area where Alexandria would be staying. Hank showed her the common areas and her room, which was modest but comfortable.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” Hank said, opening the door to a small, neatly arranged room. “It’s not much, but it’s yours.”

Alexandria walked in, setting her bag down on the bed. “Great. Just what I always wanted. A room of my own.”

Hank smiled faintly. “It’s a start. And if you need anything or have questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Sure,” Alexandria said, her tone flat. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Hank left her to settle in, Alexandria stared out the window, her thoughts racing. The enormity of her situation was starting to sink in. This was supposed to be a new beginning, but it felt more like another form of confinement.

She stared down at the baggy jeans she was currently wearing, something that probably came from deep inside Wanda’s closet.

Alexandria wasn’t much for talking, nor did she know what to do. Usually, she was only let out of her cell for lab-time, which lasted the entire day, before being thrown back into her cell.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the small, framed picture of the school grounds that hung on the wall. The room, though modest, was far from the sterile, cold environment she’d been accustomed to. But that didn’t make it feel any less isolating. The quiet was oppressive, and she found herself fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, a nervous habit she’d developed over the years.

A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. She stood up quickly, her pulse quickening. It was probably someone from the staff, here to check on her or give her some new set of instructions.

“Hey,” a voice called through the door. “It’s me, Kitty. Mind if I come in?”

Alexandria hesitated for a moment before opening the door. A girl about her age stood there, wearing a casual hoodie and jeans. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her eyes were a warm brown, filled with curiosity.

“Hi,” Kitty said with a friendly smile. “Charles sent me to see if you needed anything. I’m one of the students here.”

“Uh, sure,” Alexandria said, stepping aside to let her in. “I didn’t know anyone was coming by.”

Kitty stepped into the room, looking around with a mixture of interest and sympathy. “I know it’s probably a lot to take in right now. I remember my first few days here weren’t exactly easy.”

Alexandria sat back down on her bed, feeling a bit self-conscious. “It’s... different. I’ve never been to a place like this before.”

Kitty nodded, taking a seat on the small desk chair. “Yeah, it’s a lot to get used to. But it’s a good place. People here care about each other. I know it might not feel that way right now, but it does get better.”

“Do you really think so?” Alexandria asked, her skepticism evident.

“Absolutely,” Kitty replied earnestly. “I know it sounds cliché, but this place is like a family for a lot of us. You might not feel it yet, but you’re not alone.”

Alexandria shrugged, not entirely convinced. “I guess we’ll see.”

Kitty tilted her head, studying Alexandria for a moment. “You’ve probably been through a lot, right? With HYDRA and all that?”

“More than you could imagine,” Alexandria muttered. She hadn’t talked much about her past, even to the Avengers. It was easier to keep it all inside, where it couldn’t hurt anyone else.

Kitty’s expression softened. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. Sometimes it helps to get things off your chest.”

“Thanks,” Alexandria said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t ready to take her up on the offer just yet.

Kitty stood up, giving her a reassuring smile. “Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and see if you needed anything. If you do, just let me or any of the staff know.”

“Alright,” Alexandria said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kitty nodded and made her way to the door. “See you around, Alexandria.”

As Kitty left, Alexandria sat back down on her bed, feeling the quiet settle around her again. The small bit of interaction had been a welcome distraction, but it also left her feeling more alone than before. She wasn’t used to people reaching out, and it made her wary.

And because she was wary, she spent the rest of the day in her room trying to figure out what the object on her desk was. It looked almost like a small, compact box, with many wires connecting to it.

After hours of trying to understand, night fell, and she needed a break. Alexandria grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before walking through the empty halls.

Finally, Alexandria stepped through a side door and found herself in a large, open field surrounded by trees. The night air was cool, and the quiet was a welcome contrast to the clamor of her thoughts. She lit her cigarette, the tip glowing softly in the darkness, and took a long drag. The smoke curled around her, blending with the shadows.

She leaned against the door frame, looking out at the expanse of grass and trees. The quiet of the night felt different here, less oppressive than the silence of her room. Maybe it was the openness, or maybe it was the fact that she was alone, and for the moment, she didn't have to pretend to be okay.

"Smoking's bad for you, you know," a gruff voice said from behind her.

Alexandria tensed, turning to see Logan standing there, someone Hank had mentioned to her, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was hard to read, but his eyes held a hint of curiosity.

She took another drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly. "So I've heard."

Logan stepped closer, his gaze fixed on her. "You planning to make this a habit, or just tonight?"

"Does it matter?" she replied, her tone defensive.

"Maybe not to you," Logan said, "but to the people around here, it does. They care about what happens to you."

Alexandria let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, right. I'm just another problem for them to solve."

"You're not a problem," Logan said, his voice firm. "You're a kid who's been through hell and needs a chance to find herself again."

“Find myself?” she scoffed. “There’s nothing to find.” Alexandria turned to face Logan, who lit a cigar, much bigger than her cigarette. She scoffed again. “You’re one to talk.”

Logan took a long drag from his cigar, the end flaring bright in the dark. “I’m not here to lecture you, bub. Just saying it like it is.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes, taking another drag from her cigarette. “Yeah, well, I don’t need your advice.”

Logan’s gaze was steady, unyielding. “You might not want it, but you sure as hell need it.”

“Why do you even care?” she snapped. “You don’t know me.”

Logan exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes never leaving hers. “No, I don’t. But I’ve seen enough kids like you to know when someone’s hurting. And I’m here to tell you, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

She rolled her eyes, dropping her cigarette and stomping out the light. “I’d much rather be alone.”

Logan watched as Alexandria stomped out her cigarette, the ember disappearing into the grass. The silence that followed was heavy, and he could see the tension in her posture. He took another drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl around him before letting it out in a slow stream.

"You think pushing people away is gonna make things better?" Logan asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

Alexandria didn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the dark field ahead. “It’s easier this way. Less chance of someone screwing things up.”

“Yeah, 'cause being alone always solves everything,” Logan replied sarcastically. “Look, I get it. You’re used to keeping people at arm’s length. But if you keep shutting everyone out, you’re never gonna get what you need.”

“What I need is to be left alone,” Alexandria snapped. “I’ve survived this long on my own. I don’t need a bunch of strangers telling me what to do.”

Logan took a few steps closer, the crunch of his boots on the gravel breaking the silence. “And how’s that working out for you? You ever stop to think that maybe you’re just scared to let anyone in?”

Alexandria shot him a sharp look. “I’m not scared. I’m practical. I know what happens when you let people get close.”

“And what’s that?” Logan asked, his voice low and steady.

“They get hurt,” Alexandria said flatly. “Or worse, they end up hurting you.”

Logan shook his head. “You’re making it sound like everyone’s out to get you. That’s not true. Some people actually want to help, but they can’t do it if you keep pushing them away.”

“Everyone is out to get me. I let someone in before and it didn’t end so well for them.” She shook her head gently, removing the graphic, bloody images from her head.

The anger and pain inside her were like a storm, churning and relentless. She didn’t know how to let anyone in, how to trust after everything she’d been through. HYDRA had stripped her of that ability, leaving her with nothing but suspicion and fear.

Logan sighed, taking another drag from his cigar. “Look, kid, I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy. Hell, it’s probably gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But you’ve got a chance here, a real shot at something better. Don’t throw it away because you’re scared.”

Alexandria glanced at him, her expression softening ever so slightly. There was something in Logan’s eyes, a flicker of understanding that made her want to believe him. But the walls she’d built were high and thick, and she wasn’t sure she could tear them down.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan nodded, his gaze steady. “That’s all I’m asking. Just give it a shot.”

With that, he turned and walked back toward the mansion, leaving Alexandria alone with her thoughts. She watched him go, feeling a strange mix of frustration and hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of the darkness that had consumed her life for so long. But it would take more than a few words from a gruff stranger to convince her.

She stayed outside for a while longer, the cool night air helping to clear her mind. When she finally went back inside, the mansion was quiet, most of the residents already asleep. She made her way to her room, the events of the day playing over and over in her mind.

As she lay in bed, she thought about what Logan had said. She wasn’t ready to trust, not yet. But maybe, in time, she could find a way to let someone in. For now, she would take it one day at a time, trying to navigate this new world she’d been thrust into.

---

The following morning, Alexandria awoke to a soft knock on her door. She groggily sat up, rubbing her eyes as the door opened slightly, and Kitty peeked her head in.

“Hey, sorry to wake you,” Kitty said with an apologetic smile. “But I thought you might want some breakfast. We have a pretty good spread in the dining hall.”

Alexandria stretched and nodded, still not fully awake. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, Kitty.”

“No problem,” Kitty replied. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

After quickly changing into some clothes that fit her better, Alexandria joined Kitty in the hallway. The two girls walked to the dining hall together, the atmosphere between them more relaxed than it had been the previous day.

“So, how was your first night?” Kitty asked as they walked.

Alexandria shrugged. “It was okay, I guess. A lot to take in.”

Kitty nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I get that. But trust me, it gets better. The people here are really great once you get to know them.”

When they reached the dining hall, Alexandria was surprised to see how lively it was. Students were chatting, laughing, and eating together, the room filled with a sense of camaraderie and belonging. It was a stark contrast to the isolation she’d known for so long.

As they grabbed their food and sat down, Alexandria couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. But Kitty was friendly and patient, introducing her to some of the other students and helping her feel more at ease.

Alexandria looked at the food on her tray. Some of it was colorful, in fact, it all was. There were red triangular objects on her tray with a green leafy top, a fluffy golden-brown circle, and a small cup of amber liquid.

Alexandria stared at the food on her tray, her brow furrowed in confusion. She poked at the red triangular object with a fork, then glanced over at Kitty, who was already digging into her own breakfast.

“What’s this?” Alexandria asked, holding up the fork with the red object speared on the end.

Kitty looked over and grinned. “That’s a strawberry. Haven’t you had one before?”

Alexandria shook her head, eyeing the strawberry warily. “Not that I remember.”

Kitty’s expression softened. “You should try it. They’re pretty good.”

With some hesitation, Alexandria took a small bite of the strawberry. The sweet and slightly tangy taste was foreign to her, but not unpleasant. She nodded slowly, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s... different.”

Kitty laughed. “Yeah, in a good way, though. That round thing is a pancake, and the syrup is for pouring on top. Trust me, breakfast here is usually a highlight.”

Alexandria mimicked Kitty’s actions, pouring a small amount of syrup onto the pancake and taking a cautious bite. The flavors were rich and comforting, and she found herself enjoying it more than she expected.

As they ate, the din of the dining hall continued around them. Alexandria noticed how the other students seemed at ease, joking around and chatting as if they didn’t have a care in the world. It was strange to see so many people with powers like hers acting so... normal.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Alexandria asked, trying to sound casual but feeling a bit lost.

“Well,” Kitty began, “after breakfast, there’s usually some training sessions. You’ll probably have an orientation with Professor Xavier and maybe some one-on-one time with one of the teachers to figure out where you’re at with your abilities.”

Alexandria nodded, pushing her half-finished pancake around on her plate. “Sounds like fun,” she muttered sarcastically.

Kitty smiled sympathetically. “It might not be as bad as you think. Plus, it’s good to know what you can do. There are some pretty cool things you could learn here.”

Alexandria took a sip of her juice, trying to ignore the bustling energy of the room. “Yeah, well, we'll see.”

Kitty looked around at the other students who were beginning to head off for their various activities. “Hey, you want me to show you around a bit more before the orientation starts? I can give you the rundown on some of the places you might want to know about.”

Alexandria shrugged, finishing off her pancake. “Sure, why not. Couldn’t hurt to know what I’m dealing with.”

Kitty led her out of the dining hall, guiding her through the maze of corridors. “So, that’s the library over there. It’s got a lot of books on pretty much everything—powers, history, science. It’s a good place to catch up on some reading.”

Alexandria glanced over. “Got it. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And over here is the common room,” Kitty continued. “It’s where everyone hangs out, watches TV, plays games. It’s pretty chill.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a place I’ll avoid.”

Kitty laughed softly. “Fair enough. Oh, and there’s a small gym off to the side. It’s not as big as the main one, but it’s good for some light workouts.”

As they walked, Alexandria’s gaze drifted to the various students passing by, their casual conversations and easy smiles making her feel like an outsider. She didn’t belong here, and she wasn’t sure if she ever would.

“So, how do you get on with the teachers?” Alexandria asked, trying to shift the focus of the conversation away from her discomfort.

Kitty’s expression turned thoughtful. “They’re pretty great, actually. Professor Xavier is really understanding, and Hank is super smart. There are a few others who are great too, but it depends on what you need.”

“Yeah? And what about Logan?” Alexandria asked, her tone a little sharper than she intended.

Kitty hesitated before answering. “Logan’s... Logan. He’s got his own way of doing things, but he means well. You’ll get used to him.”

“I met him the other night,” Alexandria said, her voice dropping to a murmur. “He didn’t seem all that interested in being nice.”

Kitty nodded. “That’s kind of his style. He’s not exactly a touchy-feely kind of guy, but he’s got a good heart. If you ever need anything, though, he might surprise you.”

“Yeah, I’m not holding my breath,” Alexandria muttered, more to herself than to Kitty.

Kitty gave her a sympathetic look. “Just keep an open mind. Things might not seem great now, but you might find some unexpected allies.”

As they reached the main area of the mansion where students gathered before heading to their various activities, Kitty turned to Alexandria. “I think we’ve covered the basics. How about we head to the training room? That’s where you’ll be meeting with Professor Xavier.”

Alexandria nodded, her mood lifting slightly at the prospect of getting some structure to her day. “Alright, lead the way.”

Kitty guided her through a series of hallways until they arrived at the training room. The door was slightly ajar, and the sounds of conversation and movement filtered through.

“Here we are,” Kitty said. “I’ll leave you to it. Good luck, Alexandria.”

“Thanks, Kitty,” Alexandria replied, watching as Kitty walked away. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door, stepping into the room.

Inside, Professor Xavier was waiting, his wheelchair positioned near a set of training equipment. He looked up as Alexandria entered, his expression warm and welcoming.

“Good morning, Alexandria,” he said. “I trust you’re settling in?”

Alexandria nodded, though she didn’t quite meet his gaze. “Yeah, I guess. Kitty gave me a quick tour.”

“That’s good to hear,” Professor Xavier said. “Today, I’d like to start with an assessment of your abilities. It’ll help us understand what you can do and how we can best support you.”

Alexandria braced herself, feeling a mix of nerves and irritation. “Alright. What do you need me to do?”

Professor Xavier gestured to an open area of the room. “Why don’t we start with a demonstration of your powers? If you’re comfortable, show me what you can do with dream-weaving and telekinesis.”

Alexandria took a deep breath and moved to the center of the room. She closed her eyes, focusing on her ability to manipulate dreams. She’d rarely demonstrated her powers to anyone outside of HYDRA, and the idea of doing it now made her uneasy.

She visualized a simple scenario- a peaceful meadow with gentle breezes and blooming flowers. The air around her seemed to shimmer slightly as the dreamscape began to take shape. When she opened her eyes, she saw that a small, serene meadow had appeared in the room, though it was more a projection than a physical space.

“Impressive,” Professor Xavier said, observing the scene with interest. “And what about telekinesis?”

Alexandria moved her hand slightly, and a nearby object- a small training ball- levitated off the ground, spinning slowly in the air, covered in her blue telekinetic hue. She held it there for a few moments before setting it back down.

“That’s very good,” Professor Xavier said. “You’ve got a strong control over your abilities. We’ll work on refining them and exploring how they can be used in various situations.”

Alexandria crossed her arms, still feeling the unease bubbling beneath the surface. “And what happens if I don’t want to use them?”

Professor Xavier’s expression remained calm, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. “That’s entirely up to you. Our goal here isn’t to force you into anything, Alexandria. We’re here to help you understand your powers and give you the tools to decide how you want to use them, or not use them.”

She hesitated, her gaze drifting to the floor. “Yeah, well, understanding them didn’t really work out for me before.”

“Your experiences were under very different circumstances,” Professor Xavier said gently. “But you’re safe here, and you have the freedom to choose your path. No one here will push you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Alexandria looked up, meeting his gaze for a moment. There was sincerity in his words, and for the first time since she’d arrived, she felt a tiny spark of hope that maybe—just maybe—things could be different here.

“Alright,” she finally said, her voice a little softer. “What’s next?”

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” Professor Xavier said, his tone reassuring. “For now, I’d like you to get familiar with the training room and the equipment. You’ll be working with some of the other students, but if you ever need time alone, just let me or any of the teachers know.”

He led the way in his wheelchair to a different section of the training room, eerily familiar to the setup the Avengers had.

But she doesn’t like training rooms. Too many needles, wires, and electrodes attached to her and called ‘training’. It wasn’t training, it was torture. Studying her brainwaves, her movements, how her powers worked, it made her hate training.

While she’s partially sure there was none of that here, she still had to ask. Alexandria wrangled her hands before keeping them at her side, trying to seem normal and not at all disturbed. “There’s not… any- you know, electrodes or anything, is there?” she asked quietly.

Charles looked up at her, a hint of sadness in his eyes. It was the softest he had heard Alexandria’s voice since she arrived and the closest he had seen her act like her age. For a moment, he hesitated, weighing his words carefully.

“No, Alexandria,” he said gently, his tone reassuring. “There are no electrodes or anything of that sort here. This is a safe place for you to explore your abilities at your own pace. The only equipment you’ll use is designed to help you understand and control your powers better—nothing invasive, I promise.”

Alexandria nodded slowly, though the tension in her shoulders remained. “Okay,” she murmured, glancing around the room again. It was a lot to take in, but at least she wasn’t going to be hooked up to any machines. That was a relief.

Professor Xavier offered her a small, encouraging smile. “Would you like to try out some of the equipment now, or would you prefer to take a break and come back later?”

She hesitated, unsure of what she wanted. Part of her wanted to get it over with, to face whatever challenges were ahead, but another part of her just wanted to be alone, away from everything and everyone.

“I guess… I could try something small,” Alexandria finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just to see what it’s like.”

“Of course,” Professor Xavier replied, nodding approvingly. “Why don’t we start with something simple? We have a training dummy over there,” he gestured to a humanoid figure across the room, “that’s designed to react to telekinetic force. You can try moving it, just to get a feel for your abilities in a controlled environment.”

Alexandria followed his gaze to the dummy, her expression unreadable. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this whole thing, but she figured it was better than sitting around doing nothing. At least it was a distraction.

She approached the dummy slowly, her steps hesitant. When she was close enough, she raised her hand and focused on the dummy, trying to summon the telekinetic energy within her. For a moment, nothing happened, and she felt a flicker of frustration.

Then, with a deep breath, she tried again. This time, a faint blue aura surrounded the dummy, and it lifted off the ground slightly, wobbling in the air.

“Good,” Professor Xavier encouraged from behind her. “Take your time, there’s no rush.”

Alexandria’s brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to maintain control over the dummy. It wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be, and she could feel her frustration growing. The dummy began to wobble more, and she clenched her fists, willing it to stay steady.

But her frustration got the better of her, and the dummy suddenly shot across the room, slamming into the wall with a loud crash. Alexandria flinched, her hands dropping to her sides as she took a step back, her heart pounding.

“Sorry,” she muttered, feeling a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Professor Xavier said calmly. “You’re doing well, Alexandria. It’s natural to have moments of frustration, especially when you’re trying something new. The important thing is that you’re trying.”

Alexandria didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the floor. She hated feeling out of control, hated how her emotions seemed to dictate everything. It was a reminder of all the times she’d lost control in the past, with disastrous results.

Professor Xavier wheeled closer to her, his expression thoughtful. “Would you like to take a break? We can continue this later if you’re feeling overwhelmed.”

She shook her head, a stubborn look crossing her face. “No, I’m fine. I just… need a minute.”

“Take all the time you need,” Professor Xavier said softly. “There’s no pressure here, Alexandria. We’re here to help you, not to push you.”

Alexandria took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside her. She knew she couldn’t keep avoiding her powers forever, and maybe this was the best place to start figuring things out. But it was hard, harder than she’d expected.

“Okay,” she said after a moment, her voice steadier. “I’ll try again.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Professor Xavier encouraged.

She took another deep breath and focused on the dummy again. This time, she tried to keep her emotions in check, to approach it with a calmer mindset. The blue aura returned, and the dummy lifted off the ground once more. It wobbled slightly, but this time she was able to keep it steady, holding it in the air for a few moments before gently lowering it back to the ground.

“Good job, Alexandria,” Professor Xavier said, a note of pride in his voice. “You’re making progress.”

She nodded, a small sense of accomplishment filling her. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Maybe, just maybe, she could get a handle on her powers after all.

“That should be good for today. I can have Kitty introduce you to some of the other students if you would like?” Charles asked.

Alexandria considered Professor Xavier’s suggestion, her mind still buzzing from the training session. Interacting with other students wasn’t high on her list of priorities, but she knew that isolating herself wasn’t going to help her in the long run. Still, the thought of making small talk or having to deal with people who would undoubtedly be curious about her past made her uneasy.

“I guess,” she said after a moment, shrugging. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“Very well,” Professor Xavier replied with a nod. “I’ll have Kitty meet you outside the training room. She can introduce you to some of the others.”

Alexandria didn’t say anything, just nodded back, trying to suppress the anxiety that was bubbling up inside her. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she figured she might as well get it over with.

“Before you go,” Professor Xavier added, his tone gentle but firm, “remember that you’re not alone here. It might feel overwhelming now, but you’ll find your place in time. Be patient with yourself.”

“Yeah,” Alexandria muttered, not entirely convinced but not wanting to argue either. “I’ll try.”

She turned and headed for the door, her footsteps echoing in the quiet training room. When she stepped outside, she found Kitty waiting for her, leaning against the wall with a friendly smile.

“Hey,” Kitty greeted, straightening up. “How’d it go?”

Alexandria shrugged. “It was fine, I guess. Just trying to figure things out.”

“That’s normal,” Kitty said, her voice light. “It takes time, but you’ll get there. Anyway, ready to meet some of the others?”

“I suppose,” Alexandria replied, her tone noncommittal. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but she knew it was inevitable.

Kitty led her down the hallway, the sound of their footsteps the only noise between them for a moment. Alexandria could sense Kitty glancing at her occasionally, probably trying to gauge how she was feeling. She appreciated the effort, even if she wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.

“So,” Kitty began, breaking the silence, “I was thinking we could start with the common room. A lot of the students hang out there between classes and training sessions. It’s pretty laid-back.”

“Alright,” Alexandria said, keeping her responses short. She wasn’t trying to be rude, but she wasn’t sure how to engage in light conversation, especially with someone she barely knew.

When they reached the common room, Alexandria was struck by how relaxed everyone seemed. Students were scattered around the space, some playing video games, others watching TV, and a few just talking or reading.

“Over there’s Bobby,” Kitty said, nodding toward a guy who was absorbed in a video game. “He’s pretty chill, likes to freeze things.”

“Freeze things?” Alexandria asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he’s got ice powers. Cool, right?” Kitty said with a grin.

“Sure,” Alexandria replied, trying to muster some enthusiasm but mostly feeling out of place.

“And that’s Jubilee,” Kitty continued, pointing out a girl with bright yellow sunglasses who was chatting animatedly with a couple of other students. “She’s a blast—literally. She can generate fireworks.”

“Fireworks,” Alexandria repeated, her tone flat. It sounded more like a party trick than a power, but she kept that thought to herself.

Kitty seemed to sense her unease and gave her a reassuring smile. “They’re all good people. It might take some time, but you’ll get to know them. And they’ll get to know you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Alexandria muttered, not entirely convinced.

As they walked further into the room, a familiar figure caught Alexandria’s eye. Logan was sitting in a corner, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face as he watched the room with a look of vague irritation. He hadn’t noticed her yet, and Alexandria wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Logan’s over there,” Kitty said, following her gaze. “You two met, right?”

“Yeah,” Alexandria replied, her voice tight. “Briefly.”

Kitty hesitated, picking up on the tension in Alexandria’s tone. “He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he’s one of the best. He’s been through a lot, like you.”

Alexandria’s jaw tightened. She didn’t need anyone comparing her to Logan or anyone else. “I’m sure he’s great,” she said, her tone clipped.

Kitty glanced at her but didn’t push the subject. Instead, she gestured to a group of students who were chatting near the windows. “Those are some of the newer students. Might be easier to talk to them since they’re still figuring things out too.”

Alexandria looked over at the group, noticing how at ease they seemed with each other. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. She hadn’t felt that kind of comfort around others in a long time, maybe ever.

“Maybe later,” she said, not ready to dive into socializing just yet.

Kitty nodded, understanding. “No rush. You can take your time.”

Alexandria looked over at the TV, a movie playing as a bunch of the students sat around the couch and the floors entranced by it.

“Oh, Scott likes to watch Star Wars, most of the time a lot of us end up joining in.” Kitty explained.

“What’s… Star Wars?” Alexandria asked slowly.

“It’s a movie- or well, a bunch of different movies and shows. It’s a franchise.”

Alexandria tilted her head at the large TV screen, currently a girl in an all-white dress kissed a dirty-blonde boy’s cheek before he swung them across some sort of room.

It was intriguing, or maybe that’s just because she’s never seen a movie.

Kitty noticed Alexandria’s gaze fixed on the TV screen, her curiosity evident. She gave her a gentle nudge, breaking the silence. “We can stay and watch it if you’d like. I’m sure Scott won’t mind. He’s a big geek about this stuff.”

Alexandria hesitated, glancing back at Kitty with a mixture of uncertainty and intrigue. “I’ve never really watched movies before.”

Kitty’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Never? Well, this is a good place to start. Star Wars is pretty iconic, and it’s one of those things that a lot of people here are into.”

Alexandria looked back at the screen, where a space battle was unfolding amidst flashing lights and dramatic music. The idea of sitting down and watching a movie felt foreign, but also oddly appealing. “Alright,” she said finally. “I guess I can give it a try.”

Kitty smiled, leading her over to the group around the TV. Scott, a tall guy with a pair of glasses perched on his nose, glanced up from the screen as they approached. “Hey, Kitty! And, um, Alexandria, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Alexandria replied, trying to sound more relaxed than she felt.

“Great to meet you properly,” Scott said with a friendly smile. “We’re just getting into one of the best parts. You’re welcome to join us.”

Alexandria nodded, taking a seat on the couch. The other students, already absorbed in the movie, barely glanced up, which was fine by her. She sank into the cushion, trying to focus on the action-packed scenes.

Kitty settled beside her, giving a small wave to Scott and the others. “I told her you’d be okay with us joining in.”

Scott nodded, adjusting his glasses as he turned back to the screen. “No problem at all. It’s always good to have more people to discuss the movie with. We’re in the middle of the epic lightsaber duel. It’s one of my favorite parts.”

As the movie progressed, Alexandria found herself drawn into the story. The special effects were unlike anything she had ever seen, and the characters seemed to be larger than life. She didn’t fully understand all the details yet, but there was something captivating about the narrative and the way the students reacted to it.

Kitty leaned over and whispered, “So, what do you think so far?”

“It’s… different,” Alexandria admitted, her eyes still fixed on the screen. “I can see why people like it.”

Kitty grinned. “Yeah, it’s pretty immersive. And there’s a whole series of these movies, plus spin-offs and shows. It’s a bit of a rabbit hole.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “How many movies are there?”

“Quite a few,” Kitty said with a chuckle. “But you don’t have to watch them all at once. We can always catch up on more later if you’re interested.”

“Hold on, Kitty.” Scott said, “there’s a certain way it should be watched. Some will say release date order, some will say chronologically, but I say no to both. It should be Episode 4, 5, then 1, 2, 3, then 6.”

Alexandria’s eyes widened, “there’s… that many?”

“Well, technically more than that, but those are the ones that really count,” Scott said, his enthusiasm evident.

Alexandria leaned back on the couch, her eyes still glued to the screen. “I didn’t realize there was so much to it,” she said, her tone carrying a hint of amazement.

Kitty smiled. “Yeah, it can be a bit overwhelming at first, but it’s all part of the fun. You get to dive into this whole new universe.”

“You know what that means, right guys?” Scott asked.

A girl, sitting on the floor in front of Scott looked up at him, “Scott…” she gritted out, almost teasingly.

“Star Wars marathon!” Scott exclaimed.

Kitty leaned in to Alexandria as some of the kids groaned and others were amused. “That girl is Jean.” She gestured to the girl sitting in front of Scott, who was now rolling her eyes.

“Jean, huh?” Alexandria said, watching as Jean settled back into her spot on the floor, a bemused expression on her face.

“Yeah, she’s got some pretty impressive telepathic abilities,” Kitty said. “She’s one of the more powerful telepaths around here. But she’s cool.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. She thought back to the cubed shaped thing on her desk, if Scott knew all about movies, then maybe he knew about… whatever that was.

“Um, Scott? What’s that thing on the desk? The… cubed thing?” Alexandria asked.

“That’s a computer.” He answered, shoveling popcorn into his mouth. “Do you know how to use it?”

She shook her head no.

Scott’s eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t know how to use a computer?” He looked at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. “It’s pretty basic. You can do a lot of things with it—surf the web, write documents, watch videos. But it takes some getting used to.”

Alexandria shrugged. “I’ve never seen one. What’s so special about it?”

Scott tilted his head, clearly intrigued by Alexandria’s unfamiliarity with something so commonplace. “Well, it’s one of those tools that make life a lot easier. It’s like a window to the world. You can find almost anything you need on the internet.”

Kitty, sensing that Alexandria was feeling out of her element, chimed in. “If you want, we can have a quick tutorial later. It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

Alexandria looked at the computer again, her curiosity piqued. “Maybe. For now, I guess I’ll just stick to figuring out this Star Wars thing.”

Scott grinned, clearly happy to have a new project. “We can definitely work on that. Maybe after the movie, we can set up a session to show you the basics.”

“Sure,” Alexandria said, her tone more engaged than before. “I’m willing to give it a try.”

---

After the group finished the movie, which was after Scott rewound it to the beginning for Alexandria, him and Kitty taught her how to use the computer before they had to go to class.

As she browsed the web, some term Scott used, she realized it was late at night, around 11 o’clock. She took a quick shower and got into what Jean called pajamas, before getting into bed.

Sleep couldn’t claim her. The problem with her powers was that she could see people’s dreams, which was fine when she was with HYDRA, since she was either far away from other people, or they put her in her specialized cell.

Once the clock hit 2:48, Alexandria got out of bed and grabbed a cigarette and her lighter from her bag before heading up to the roof.

Last night, Logan was smoking by the side door, but tonight, and possibly all other nights in the future, the roof seemed like a better, more quiet place.

Alexandria stepped out onto the roof, the cool night air greeting her with a briskness that made her shiver. She leaned against the railing, the city lights twinkling far below. She flicked the lighter, the tiny flame illuminating her face for a moment before she took a drag.

As she exhaled, the smoke curling into the night, she heard the faintest sound of movement behind her. It wasn’t unexpected; she had a feeling she wasn’t the only one who sought the quiet solitude of the rooftop at odd hours.

After a few minutes of peace, the door at the ground floor opened up, with Logan stepping outside and smoking his own cigar. She was glad she wasn’t down there; she had enough human interaction to last a lifetime.

As she looked up at the sky, she realized quickly that she’d never seen stars before. Which was out of the ordinary, or weird, considering most people connect nighttime and dreams with the stars.

Out here, where there were almost no other signs of civilization, the stars seemed to shine brighter than she thought possible.

Alexandria decided to sit on the ledge of the building, her legs dangling and swinging, hitting the brick’s gently as she continued to look up at the night sky, her cigarette forgotten in her hand.

Down on the ground, Logan was finishing his own cigar. He had come out to the side door for some fresh air, his usual gruff demeanor on full display as he paced, taking long, deliberate drags from his cigar. The rooftop wasn’t the only place in the mansion that offered solitude, but Logan found the chill of the night air soothing.

As he neared the side of the building, Logan noticed a faint sound of movement from above. He squinted up, barely making out Alexandria’s figure silhouetted against the night sky. He grunted and took another drag, deciding to keep to his own space rather than investigate further.

Alexandria’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the stars above providing a stark contrast to the chaos she had known. For a moment, she felt disconnected from her past, as if the night sky was a canvas offering a new beginning. She let the cigarette fall from her fingers, the small ember disappearing into the night air.

Suddenly, a light shone up from below, catching her attention. It was Logan’s cigar, glowing brightly as he took another drag. She couldn’t make out his face from this distance, but his presence was unmistakable. Alexandria’s instincts told her to retreat, to avoid any unnecessary interaction.

But Logan, in his usual fashion, wasn’t one to ignore an anomaly. He looked up again, his gaze searching for the source of the disturbance. The flicker of the cigarette's ember had caught his attention. He grunted softly, debating whether to climb the stairs or simply ignore it.

Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him. With a resigned sigh, Logan made his way to the rooftop access and began his ascent. As he approached, he could see Alexandria more clearly now- perched on the edge, seemingly lost in thought.

Logan didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Couldn’t sleep?” he called up to her, his voice carrying over the distance between them.

Alexandria looked down, her face expressionless. “Not really. Just needed some air.”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment. He walked over to the edge of the roof, leaning against the railing as he surveyed the view. “You got a problem with the stars or something?”

Alexandria shrugged. “No. Just never really seen them before.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her. “You mean to tell me you’ve never been outside much?”

Alexandria gave a short, bitter laugh. “Not until recently, no.”

Logan grunted, not quite sure how to respond to that. He wasn’t good with feelings, especially other people’s. He settled for taking another drag from his cigar, letting the silence hang between them for a moment.

"Not exactly the kind of thing you'd expect to hear around here," he finally said, more to himself than to her. “You’ve been through the wringer, huh?”

Alexandria nodded, her gaze still fixed on the stars. “You could say that.”

Logan watched her for a moment, trying to gauge what kind of person she was. She was tough, that much was obvious, but there was something else there too—something that reminded him a little too much of himself. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He decided to keep it simple. “You’ll figure it out,” he said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “This place isn’t perfect, but it’s better than the alternatives.”

“Is it?” Alexandria asked, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism. “Or is it just another place with its own set of problems?”

Logan smirked, appreciating her bluntness. “Depends on how you look at it. Everyone’s got their own demons. But here, you might actually have a shot at dealing with ‘em.”

Alexandria shifted her gaze from the stars to Logan. “And what about you? What are you dealing with?”

Logan wasn’t one to open up about his past, especially not to someone he barely knew. But there was something about the way she asked the question—direct, no-nonsense—that made him consider it, if only for a second.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he said, deflecting. “Just focus on yourself for now.”

She didn’t press further, sensing that he wasn’t the type to share more than he wanted to. Instead, she nodded, accepting his answer without any more questions.

They stood in silence for a while, the night air cool against their skin. Logan was content with the quiet, but he could tell Alexandria was still restless.

“Why do you stay here?” Alexandria asked, breaking the silence but keeping her gaze on the stars.

Logan took a deep drag from his cigar, exhaling slowly as he considered her question. “It’s as good a place as any,” he replied, his tone neutral. “Better than most, actually. Got people here who understand.”

“Understand what?” she pressed, turning her eyes to him, searching for something in his expression.

Logan met her gaze, his own hard and unreadable. “What it’s like to have a past that doesn’t let go,” he said simply. “This place gives you a chance to move forward, if you let it.”

Alexandria snorted softly, a hint of bitterness in the sound. “Sounds like you’re trying to sell me something.”

Logan shrugged, unbothered by her cynicism. “Not selling anything. Just telling it like it is.”

She looked back at the sky, her fingers drumming lightly against the brick. “I’ve been around people who claimed they could help before. Never turned out well.”

“Yeah, well,” Logan said, flicking ash from his cigar, “this place isn’t perfect. But it’s different. Nobody here’s gonna bullshit you. And you’ll have to pull your own weight.”

Alexandria’s lips twitched in what could almost be mistaken for a smile, but there was no humor in it. “Pull my own weight. That I can do.”

“I’m sure,” Logan replied, his tone dry.

They lapsed back into silence, but it was less uncomfortable this time, as if they’d reached some sort of understanding. Alexandria leaned back on her hands, still sitting on the edge of the building, letting the night breeze cool her skin.

Logan finished his cigar and glanced over at her, noticing the way she seemed to relax, even if just a little. “You planning on sitting out here all night?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

“Maybe,” Alexandria answered, noncommittal. “Why? You worried about me?”

Logan’s smirk was barely visible in the dim light. “Not my style to worry about anyone.”

“Good,” she replied, her tone matching his. “I don’t need anyone worrying about me.”

“Figured as much,” Logan said, pushing himself off the railing. “Just remember, you don’t have to do everything alone here. But you do have to show up. Can’t just hide out on rooftops.”

Alexandria gave a slight nod, acknowledging his words but not committing to anything. Logan didn’t push further; he’d said what he needed to say. With a final glance at her, he turned and headed back toward the door.

“Logan,” Alexandria called out, just as he reached the stairwell.

He paused, looking back at her. “Yeah?”

She hesitated, then shrugged, as if she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. “Thanks. For… you know.”

Logan gave a short nod, his expression softening just a fraction. “Don’t mention it.”

With that, he disappeared down the stairs, leaving Alexandria alone on the rooftop once more. She watched the door close behind him, then turned her attention back to the stars. Maybe this place was different.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x oc #logan howlett x original character #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x oc #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x alexandria sokolova

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merrybloomwrites · 9 months

Text

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 1)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Y/N attends her first Harry Styles concert and catches the unwanted attention of a knothead alpha. Luckily Harry and his team are able get to you in time, leading to some confusing thoughts about the popstar.

Previous Chapters: Prologue

CW: Attempted assault (nothing too graphic but it is there)

Word Count: 4.7k

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

“What do you mean you can’t go?” You ask incredulously. Going to the concert wasn’t even your idea. It was your friend Rachel’s and now she’s ditching you.

There’s a pause on the other end of the call before Rachel says, “It’s my dog. Well, my family dog that we’ve had since I was in middle school. She’s not doing well, and they think she only has a couple days left so now I have to drive back to Delaware to see her and say goodbye.”

“Oh my god, Rach, I’m so sorry!” And now you feel like a jerk for being mad at her canceling.

“Thanks. We knew it was coming but I hoped we had a few more weeks. Uhm, anyway, I need to finish packing and get on the road.”

“Of course, yea, safe trip home,” you quickly reply.

“You better take some videos of the concert and send them to me. Especially if he does something different for night one at MSG!”

“Rachel, I’m not gonna have any idea if he’s doing stuff different from his last shows, as I have no idea what his shows are like. But I promise to send you a couple videos, okay?”

“Still can’t believe you haven’t watched any videos from tour. What rock do you live under again?” You laugh at her teasing, mostly cause it’s true. The fact that you’ve made it this far without knowing much about Harry Styles surprises even you. “Have fun for both of us tonight,” Rachel says.

“I will, give your dog a belly rub from me. Love you!”

“Love you too, bye!”

The call ends and you sit for a moment. You don’t really want to go to a concert alone, but that’s what your night now has in store. Rachel had tried calling some other people in your friend group, but they were all busy. You’d also texted your two best friends, Amelia and Violet, but it was too last minute for them to change plans and go with you.

So, alone it is.

You look at the outfit you had planned but decide against it. The leather pants and crop top ensemble isn’t exactly in your comfort zone, but Rachel chose it and wanted the two of you to match. Now that you’re on your own you switch to a pair of jean shorts with tights underneath and a flowy top, something you’re much more comfortable with. Harry’s music plays in the background while you get ready. You’d been studying the setlist to make sure you would know at least some of the songs he’ll perform. You’re happy when you find yourself singing along, showing that listening on repeat had worked.

After getting dressed you do your hair and makeup, then drive to your local train station. Living in north Jersey has its perks, and the quick train ride directly to Madison Square Garden might just be the biggest.

You get off the train and follow the trail of feathers from the boas which leads you directly to the venue. You show your ticket and are led to the entrance for the pit.

Being in the pit had also been Rachel’s idea. You’d never done that before, and you would have preferred somewhere with a seat, and honestly a better view from a higher vantage point. But you’d agreed to pit and in the weeks leading to the show you’d actually become excited to experience something new.

But now that you’re alone, you’re a bit overwhelmed. You’re one of the last people to arrive, since it’s only half an hour before the opener is set to start, so you end up hanging in the back. But even then, the large amount of people around you has you on edge.

Being a single female is hard. Guys are always hitting on women, feeling entitled to your company, not taking no for an answer. But being a single female omega is even harder. The way you see it betas have it easy, especially since they’re the majority. And alphas? Well, what do they have to worry about? They’re bigger, they’re stronger, they have their alpha voices that can command you and take away your free will if they want. Plus, they have an unmatched sense of superiority, thinking they’re so special just because of their secondary gender.

But you’re an omega. Often considered to be the weakest gender. Which is stupid. You’re the gender that gives birth, which takes way more strength than alphas could ever possess. And yet you’re still looked down upon by plenty of people in society.

So, you choose to hide your secondary gender. Only your family members plus Ameila and Violet know the truth. You don’t need anyone judging you based on one little trait.

Going out in public, especially at places as crowded as MSG always gives you anxiety. You never know if a knothead alpha is going to be there and literally sniff you out as an omega. But you trust your suppressants and soothers and, most importantly, your scent blockers, to do their jobs and hide your omega status from the strangers around you.

The pills have never failed in you in the eight years since you started taking them. You have no reason to doubt them now.

And yet, you can’t help but feel uneasy about the attention a certain man in the crowd is giving you. He is undoubtedly an alpha, one that for sure does not use scent blockers. In fact, you’re almost convinced he’s doing something to broadcast his scent, somehow make it even stronger. It’s an unpleasant odor, one that practically burns your nose, but you pretend you can’t smell it. Afterall, a beta wouldn’t be able to notice the scent.

But as much as you try to ignore the scent, going so far as to move to the entire other side of the pit, it still lingers. Because you are most definitely being followed. Seemingly casual glances at the crowd around you shows that the man has moved with you.

Going closer to the stage is the last thing you want to do, but getting deeper in the crowd might be what you need to shake off the man. The girls around you gladly welcome you and make space for you to join. A moment later the opening act starts to play, and you no longer smell the alpha. You’re relieved and get into the music for a few minutes.

Then the girls around you start to move, and you hear them say something about the bathroom. You decide to go with them since you could use a bathroom break and there will be safety in numbers. You keep your head down and casually follow, in hopes that the man won’t see you leaving the crowd.

Only once in the bathroom do you lift your head up. There’s a small line since most people are out listening to the first band. A moment later it’s your turn and you enter the stall. After using the restroom, you notice a large rip in your tights. You look at them, hoping they can be considered fashionably torn, but then you see another hole and decide to give up on them altogether.

It takes you a couple minutes to get rid of them, needing basically to fully undress from the waist down to get them off. Finally, you’re put together again, and you exit the stall, throw out the destroyed tights, and wash your hands. You notice that the group you came with is gone. In fact, the entire bathroom is now empty.

You sigh, disappointed that you’re on your own again, but you suck it up and start making your way back to the pit.

The second you walk out the bathroom door you smell it. Him. That acrid, somehow fishy, definitely revolting scent that alerts you that the alpha is nearby.

Before you even see him you hear him say, “Be quiet, and follow me.”

Shit. That’s an alpha command. You’re aware of that fact, but unable to fight it. You want to run, go back to the crowd, but you have no choice but to follow this man deeper into the back hallways. You want to scream, but every time you open your mouth, no sound comes out.

He leads you to a deserted corner, pushing you so your back is against a wall, and says, “Now stay quiet, and don’t move.”

Again, you do as he says, not only because of the command that you have to follow, but also due to the fear paralyzing you to the spot and rendering you silent.

“What a good little omega,” he says as he walks closer. He leans towards your neck, breath ghosting over your mating spot, and a loud whimper escapes you.

Realizing that you don’t need words to call for help, you begin to let out whines and whimpers as well as release distressed pheromones. Sure, you have scent blockers, but they’re not perfect and fear this strong will surely overpower them. You hope it’s enough to alert any other alphas nearby that there is an omega in danger.

You see the anger cross the man’s face, note the furious pheromones he’s releasing, but before he even reacts, your world goes dark.

***

Harry’s stylist is putting the finishing touches on his hair when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Harry says.

The door opens and he sees his band standing just outside the room.

“Blood Orange is about to start,” his drummer, Sarah, says. “You coming to watch with us?”

“Yea, of course. I’ll join you in a minute.”

As soon as he’s left alone, Harry takes some calming breaths. Night one of fifteen consecutive sold out shows at Madison Square Garden. He can’t believe how far he’s come in his career. He takes another deep breath, reminding himself that he’s worked hard for this, that he’s completely ready.

After spraying one more dose of scent blockers, he walks out of his room and goes through the hallways to find his band. They’re at the end of one hall, standing at the opening they’ll use later to walk to the stage. Harry joins them, making sure they’re all back far enough that they are still hidden from the fans.

Harry mingles with his band while they wait for the opener to start their set. But after a minute, Harry starts to get an uneasy feeling. He himself isn’t nervous or scared, so he really doesn’t understand where this sudden anxiety is coming from.

Harry looks around and sees a worried look on Sarah’s face. Aside from Harry himself, Sarah is the only other Alpha in the band. So the fact that they both have a sudden bad feeling while the betas around them seem unbothered has Harry on edge.

He begins to look for any type of potential threat. Right away he notices that the two Alpha security guards are scanning the area as well, hinting that they’ve picked up on the same thing. One of them walks away to start looking for anything that could be going wrong.

Blood Orange takes the stage, and that anxious feeling seems to go away. Harry checks with Sarah and she’s feeling better too, so they assume whatever was wrong has been taken care of.

Everyone enjoys the first few songs, and suddenly, the feeling comes back, way stronger than before. Harry’s alpha is immediately alert. He starts moving before he even realizes what he’s doing. He hears footsteps and sees Sarah and a security guard following close behind.

None of them know exactly where the trouble is, they just follow their instincts through the backstage hallways. Suddenly, the feeling of overwhelming terror hits them, and they can faintly hear whimpers coming from a distressed omega.

They start to run in the direction the sounds are coming from. Rounding a corner, they come across a scene that has their blood boiling.

There’s a female omega, seemingly unconscious, being physically held up against a wall by a male alpha.

“Let her go,” Harry growls out using his alpha voice. It’s less effective on the man than it would be on an omega, but his grip on the girl involuntarily loosens. Harry and the security guard move in to pull the alpha off, and Sarah runs forward to catch the girl.

More security guards move in and drag the alpha away to be questioned.

Harry’s focus shifts to the omega now being held in Sarah’s lap on the floor. Adrenaline is still coursing through Harry’s body, but he feels himself relaxing faster than he thought possible. That’s when he realizes Sarah is releasing calming pheromones. He immediately works to do the same, rather than continue to broadcast the anger he’s feeling.

He knows his emotions can affect the vulnerable omega, and the last thing he wants to do is cause her most stress.

His most pressing worry is that she’s dropped. It wouldn’t be all that surprising. Omegas tend to drop during stressful situations. This can be dangerous for a number of reasons, especially if they don’t have a trusted alpha to keep them safe while they’re under.

Not only can they not protect their bodies, but a drop can also be a scary experience mentally. Omegas have described it as feeling untethered, like they’re stuck in darkness, unable to find a way out. There are good drops as well, ones you go into on purpose to give your mind rest. This is always done when there is an alpha there to hold and scent them and keep them safe and grounded throughout.

But if this is a drop, Harry knows it would be a bad one, and they’d need to gently bring her up immediately.

“Sarah?” Harry says to get the other alpha’s attention.

“Yes?” she replies, not taking her eyes off the girl.

“Do you think she’s dropped?”

“No. At least not fully. I can still catch a bit of her scent. If she went fully under it would have disappeared completely.”

There’s movement all around them, members of venue security and Harry’s team all coming and going to ensure everyone is safe. Music and loud cheers can be heard, meaning the opening act if still playing, that the show was not interrupted by what happened backstage.

Harry and Sarah are focused solely on the omega, until they hear a familiar male voice say, “There you guys are. Sarah, you scared the shit out of me running off like that.”

She looks up at her husband, Mitch, and smiles sheepishly before saying, “Sorry, I really didn’t think. We heard her distressed whines and just reacted.”

“Is she okay?” Mitch asks, crouching down to be level with the group on the floor.

“We think so,” Harry answers. “There was an alpha who had her cornered. Not sure what exactly he was planning but it was obviously nothing good. She was unconscious when we got to her. Just wish she’d wake up so we can check that she’s really unharmed.”

“Is she in a drop?” Mitch asks. Being a beta he’s not as knowledgeable about these things but he knows enough to be concerned about the girl.

“No, definitely not a full drop. But I’ve been flooding the area with calming pheromones and she’s still not waking up,” Sarah says worriedly.

“Maybe she just senses unknown alphas around her. Why don’t I try holding her and you guys move away a bit?” He senses how reluctant they are to move away from the omega, but eventually they listen to Mitch.

He settles on the ground and Sarah passes the omega to him before moving to give them space. After another minute the girl begins to stir, groggily at first before her eyes shoot open and she jumps up to move away from all the people around her. They watch cautiously, unsure what to do with the sudden change in the situation.

***

For awhile you’re stuck in the dark. This isn’t a drop, not really. You’ve only ever dropped twice but you can tell there’s a difference this time. You’re still aware of what’s going on around you, even if the details are fuzzy.

The alpha is gone. That you know for sure. The awful smell is gone, replaced by a much more pleasant one. It’s a mix of black tea and maybe the ocean? Whatever it is reminds you of early morning walks on the beach during family vacations. You relax more into this scent, and then notice that fresh laundry smell which always means someone is releasing calming pheromones.

You start to relax, the adrenaline slowly leaving your body. You can still sense multiple alphas, which keeps you a bit on edge. You try to open your eyes, but you’re still in a deep fog, probably due to the mix of intense emotions and the multiple alpha commands you’d been subjected to.

You don’t realize that someone is holding you until they shift and place you in another person’s arms. The alpha scent fades and you know the person now holding you is for sure a beta.

Finally, you manage to open your eyes. It takes a moment for you to get your bearings, but when you do, you’re overwhelmed, and honestly a bit embarrassed. Harry Styles, the Harry Styles, the world-famous popstar you’re here to see, is sitting across the hall from you, studying you closely. Next to him is a woman you recognize as his drummer.

After these discoveries, you fully realize your current position; that you’re being held in someone’s lap. One glance at the man shows it’s Harry’s guitarist. You’re no longer embarrassed. No, now you’re completely mortified. You quickly extract yourself from his hold and stand up, looking at the group, totally speechless.

They slowly stand as well, all looking at you. And not just them, but the other dozen or so people that are still in the hallway. There are so many eyes on you, watching you, and you just want to disappear.

Picking up on your unease, Harry says, “Why don’t we go somewhere less exposed, hm? You can hang in my dressing room and maybe have a medic look you over if that’s alright?”

Without thinking you begin to nod your head, just wanting to get somewhere quiet with less people. He reaches out as though to place his hand on your back and lead you but seems to think again and pulls his arm back. Instead, he walks ahead, and you follow, Mitch and Sarah coming as well.

You arrive at the room, groaning when you see more people waiting there. One’s the medic Harry mentioned, another is obviously a police officer, and the third is a man you don’t recognize.

“Harry, need to you choose your outfit and get dressed. We’ll take care of, uhm, sorry I didn’t catch your name,” says the man.

“Oh, I’m Y/N,” you say immediately, surprised at just how scratchy your voice comes out.

Sarah must pick up on it because she asks you, “Would you like a cup of tea love?”

You can’t help but smile and let out a laugh at that.

“What’s go funny?” she asks, smiling as well.

“It’s just, your scent, it definitely smells like tea. And the first thing you say to me is about tea. Sorry, I know it’s not polite to comment on someone else’s smell,” you finish, head lowering in a new wave of embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not offended,”

“Plus, you’re right,” Harry adds. “Swear I can’t make a cup of tea without thinking of her.”

“Aw, H, you think of me? How sweet,” she says with a joking tone.

“Real sweet,” Mitch says, then adds, “But stay away from my girl.”

You smile watching the easy interaction, happy to be distracted by their banter, sipping on the tea Sarah brings you.

That is until the man, whom you’ve learned is Harry’s manager, Jeff, reminds Harry that he’s supposed to be getting dressed, and the cop and medic walk over to you. There’s a table in one corner of the room and they lead you to it.

“Y/N, I’m Kate, I’m just going to get your vitals and check you over to make sure you’re okay, is that alright with you?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” you reply.

“And I’m Officer Michaels, is it okay if I ask you some questions about the incident tonight?"

“Of course.”

And so, as Kate does a quick exam you tell the whole story to the officer, starting with the uneasy feeling when you first noticed the man, all the way to him using his alpha voice to corner you in a back hallway.

Harry had reentered the room by this point, dressed in his show outfit and looking completely ready to get on stage. But he’s making no moves to leave the room, even though Jeff is reminding him the show is supposed to start in five minutes. Mitch and Sarah leave to finish getting ready themselves.

“Are we all set here?” You ask Kate and Officer Michaels.

“I have everything I need,” he replies. Kate adds, “Everything checks out just fine,” and they both exit the room as well.

This leaves you with just Harry and Jeff.

“Great, so I guess I should go back to the pit then?” You knew you were holding everything up and didn’t want to be more in the way than you already have been.

“Actually, Y/N, it would probably be best if you stay here for the show. Jeff, can you go grab Jada for me?”

The man nods, leaving you alone in the room with Harry. He motions to the couch, inviting you to sit and you do so. He sits on the coffee table facing you.

“I know you want to see the concert, and I know the man is gone, but I have to admit, my alpha is a bit on edge right now. To be completely honest, I don’t know if I could go out there and perform if you’re not completely safe. I would really like it if you stayed in this room and watched the concert on the TV over there. I promise to get you and your friends tickets to another show, alright?”

You’re taken aback by this, surprised by how much he seems to care about you, a random fan he’s never met before. And knowing that his alpha was triggered by what happened to the point where it’s still uneasy is a pretty big deal. That normally doesn’t happen with strangers. Sarah was no longer worried, and the alpha security guards were completely fine the second they caught the man.

So why was Harry’s alpha still calling the shots? It would make sense if you were partners, or at the very least, friends. Maybe Harry does truly care that deeply about all of his fans. That must be it. Because it certainly can’t be you in particular. There’s nothing special about you, other than being a damsel in distress and nearly derailing his show.

He must see the confusion on your face and continues, “Jada will be here in a moment, and she’ll hang out with you. Anything you need, just ask her. I won’t see you after the show, I leave right from the stage, but talk to Jada and Jeff and they’ll make sure you get home safely.”

“Okay, thank you so much for everything,” you reply.

“Of course. It’s the least I can do. Y/N, I am so very sorry something like this happened to you here. I always want this to be a fun, safe place for everyone.”

“It’s not your fault. Please, don’t feel bad. It is completely that knothead’s fault. You guys are the ones that saved me.”

He reaches forward and places his hand on top of yours, just for a second. Your hand tingles as he pulls away, like a bolt of electricity had just gone through it. You meet his eyes, and see he felt it too. You stare at each other, frozen for a moment, until there’s another knock at the door.

Harry stands quickly and introduces you to Jada as she joins you on the couch.

“Okay, I have to go before Jeff kills me. Y/N please give Jada your contact info so we can get those new tickets to you. Get some safe,” he says.

“Thank you, break a leg,” you reply and a second later he’s gone.

You talk to Jada throughout the start of the show, smiling as she lets you in on some behind the scenes info about the tour. After a few songs she asks if there’s anything she can get you.

“I actually have kind of a weird favor. I was supposed to come with a friend, but she couldn’t come at the last minute. I promised to send her videos and she’s going to be suspicious if I don’t have any. Would you be able to take a couple videos from the pit? I just don’t want to have to explain what happened. At least, not yet.”

“Of course, girl, I’ve got you. I’ll go get a couple of the next songs. Are you okay in here? There’s security outside the door so no one will be able to get in.”

“Yea, I’ll be fine,” you reply with a smile.

She walks out and you sink into the couch, grateful for a few minutes alone. Everyone has been so lovely, but it’s been a lot, and you need a minute just to breathe. You close your eyes, relaxing your body, and when you’re fully calm, you smell it.

There’s another alpha scent, but not one of a person nearby. No, it’s in the fabric of the couch. And the blanket next to you. And the shirt draped over the back of the couch.

It’s Harry’s scent. And it’s amazing. So clean, and fresh, with hints of chocolate, and the forest, and something sweet. Maybe roses, you think. Definitely a hint of floral. And once you catch the scent, it’s all you can think about, like it’s wrapped you in a warm hug. You feel better than you have in hours, the stress of the day fully washing away.

Even when Jada comes back, Harry’s smell is what you focus on the most. She notices you’re quieter than before and must assume you’re just tired from everything that has happened. She goes back out towards the end of the show to grab another video and you can’t help yourself. You turn to the side, right where the shirt is, and purposely take a deep breath. It’s almost overwhelming, your omega telling you to steal the shirt so you’ll always have the delicious scent with you.

That snaps you back to reality. You need to get your omega under control. You’re just like every other fan, thirsting for the amazing Harry Styles. Get a grip, you tell your omega. He’ll never be ours, don’t get attached.

Jada comes back, the show ends, and she leads you to a car that will bring you home. She asks for your car keys and ensures someone else will grab it from the station and drop it off at your place. She rides with you back to your home, along with a security guard.

You exchange numbers during the drive and breathe a sigh of relief when your apartment building comes into view. It’s been an exhausting day, and you can’t wait for a hot shower and your comfy bed.

You thank Jada for everything and notice them waiting for you to get safely inside before driving away.

You scorch your skin in the shower, put on your comfiest pajamas, and burrow under your covers.

You fall asleep that night not thinking of the horrible alpha, and the horrors of the day, but rather of green eyes, soft hands on yours, and the delicious scent that can only belong to Harry.

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

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! If you have any questions, comments, concerns, (requests), please let me know!

I hope I got everyone who asked to be added to the taglist. If I didn't get you or you want to me added just leave a comment or a message!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305 @creativelyeva @daphnesutton @selluequestrian @lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely @eversincehs1

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #wolfrry

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drewharrisonwriter · 3 days

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Friends Without Benefits

Status: One Shot, Complete

Summary: Even if you don't believe it, Dieter Bravo is actually capable of having platonic friendships.

Word Count: 10.5k words

Warnings: strong language, heavy flirtation, sexual tension (no smut--can you believe it??), mentions of past affairs and scandals, alcohol consumption, references to Dieter’s reckless behavior, mentions of drug use, emotional vulnerability, humor, inappropriate jokes (because, Dieter!), legal contract about not fucking

A/N: Okay, I know what you're thinking… another Dieter fic? Yeah, I know—it’s like my fourth one, so clearly, the brain rot is real, and I’m trying to get it out of my system (seriously, I’m trying… sort of). I know I haven’t updated Lifeline in a hot minute, but we’ll get to that later, lol. This fic is a little different from the usual—there’s a lot more fluff and friendship stuff, but I really enjoyed playing with the dynamic of two people who could totally cross the line but decide not to (because, honestly, it’s working for them as is). Also, apologies for any typos—I tried proofreading, but doing it on my phone isn’t exactly ideal. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

P.S. My laptop, which served me well for 5 years, just gave out. With grad school, the recent loss of my stepdad, and ongoing medical bills, finances are tight. I’m currently managing writing commissions and my dissertation from my phone, which is okay but really challenging. If you can help with a donation or by commissioning some of my writing, or just by simply commenting or reblogging, it would mean the world to me. 💜 Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any support you can offer. 💜🙏🏻

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

It started with a rejection email.

Not the kind that offered hope for future opportunities, but the type that crushed your spirit in one curt sentence:

"We regret to inform you that your application for the Screenwriting Development Program has not been accepted."

She read it over twice, then a third time, hoping something had been missed. A reason, some constructive feedback, anything. But it was just a copy-paste response sent to dozens—maybe hundreds—of other hopefuls like her. She blinked away the sting in her eyes and put the laptop to sleep.

The screen faded to black, reflecting back an image she barely recognized anymore: tangled hair, circles under her eyes, and the lingering trace of a smile she hadn’t used in days.

“Whatever,” she muttered to herself. “I didn’t need it anyway.”

That was a lie.

The Screenwriting Development Program was her shot, her dream, the chance to step out of her day-to-day grind and into the world she’d always wanted. A world where she wrote stories that people would actually care to hear.

But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. In fifteen minutes, she had to be at the diner. She grabbed her apron off the back of a chair and stuffed it into her bag before heading out.

As usual, the shift was long. And slow. She spent most of her time refilling coffee for the regulars and plastering on a smile that barely reached her eyes. The rejection lingered like a dark cloud, reminding her how close she was to giving up completely. By the time her shift ended, she was so exhausted that she didn’t even change out of her uniform. She just grabbed her bag and headed out into the night.

The long walk up to her apartment felt heavier than usual. It wasn’t until she reached her front door that the next wave of despair hit her like a punch to the gut.

An eviction notice.

She stared at the paper taped to her door, her heart sinking.

“Great,” she whispered bitterly, ripping it off and crumpling it into a ball before shoving it into her bag.

Four weeks. She had four weeks to come up with the rent, or she’d be out on the street.

Later, she sat on her couch in her underwear and a camisole, trying to ignore the cold chill of the eviction notice that still hovered at the edge of her mind. The TV buzzed in the background, Dieter Bravo’s voice filling the small apartment with a familiar rasp. A half-eaten carton of ice cream sat beside her, its contents softening to a puddle as she mindlessly scooped the melting mess.

Hunger Strike was playing again. She’d lost count of how many times she’d watched it by now. Dieter’s performance was the kind that stuck with you, the kind that won awards. It wasn’t just a movie anymore; it was the movie that had put him on the map—had made him a star and earned him that Oscar. She didn’t care if everyone else had moved on to the next blockbuster; for her, Hunger Strike was it. Every look in his eyes, every rasp of desperation in his voice felt real, almost too real. It was like he wasn’t acting at all.

"We don’t need them. They need us!" His character was yelling now, his voice hoarse, raw with intensity. She could practically feel his pain, his determination radiating through the screen.

She wiped at her eyes, even though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was everything—her life, the rejection, the eviction notice looming like a ticking time bomb. Or maybe it was just Dieter. Watching him made her feel seen, like somehow, through all the chaos, someone else understood what it was like to be on the edge.

The credits rolled on Hunger Strike, but instead of turning off the TV, she did what any fan would—she went down the rabbit hole. The screen filled with suggested videos, interviews, and, of course, the latest tabloid scandals. Dieter Bravo was all over the place lately. She had seen the headlines—everyone had. It was impossible to ignore him, even if you tried.

She grabbed her phone and scrolled through Twitter, where his name was trending yet again.

"Dieter Bravo's Latest Scandal: Sex Tape with Male Assistant Exposed!"

"Gender Identity Crisis or Another Stunt? Dieter Bravo Caught in Love Triangle with Married PA!"

"Oscar-Winning Actor, Homewrecker? Dieter Bravo Linked to Personal Assistant's Broken Marriage!"

She exhaled sharply, half-amused, half in disbelief. Every few months, it seemed, something like this would pop up—another scandal, another explosion in the media circus surrounding him. But this one? A sex tape? With his male personal assistant, who was married to a woman?

It was outrageous. It was chaotic. It was exactly what you'd expect from Dieter Bravo.

How does one even make this shit up? she thought, as she tapped one of the articles. The details were just as wild as the headlines. Apparently, the PA was a guy named James, and he’d been with Dieter for years—right up until last week, when everything blew up.

An article excerpt says: "Sources say that the sex tape in question was filmed during a drug-fueled party at Dieter’s mansion. It shows intimate moments between the actor and his assistant, James, who is reportedly married to a woman. James has since left Dieter’s employment amid the scandal, and insiders claim the actor is ‘unapologetic’ about the affair. This is just the latest in a long string of public meltdowns for the once-revered actor. Dieter Bravo’s chaotic lifestyle has led many to question his mental stability and even his gender identity, as he continues to defy traditional labels."

She snorted, shaking her head. “Unapologetic? That sounds about right.”

It wasn’t that she supported his reckless behavior, but there was something about Dieter that always seemed to push boundaries in every direction. He lived like a car crash happening in slow motion, and yet, people couldn’t look away. The scandals, the chaos—they were just part of his public persona. But there was more to him than that.

She clicked on an older interview from the Cliff Beasts 6 press tour. That was the movie where everything started to unravel for him. The film was supposed to be a big comeback, but instead, it had exposed the man behind the Oscar-winning actor—drugs, sex, alcohol, and a level of unpredictability that no one in Hollywood could quite handle.

Interviewer: “Dieter, after your incredible performance in Hunger Strike, people expected another award-winning role in Cliff Beasts 6, but... that’s not what happened. Can you talk about what went wrong?”

Dieter Bravo (slouching, visibly tired): “Cliff Beasts 6... yeah, man, that was a mess. But, like, it was supposed to be a mess, wasn’t it? I mean, we were trapped in that goddamn bubble for months longer than planned, and by the end, it wasn’t even a movie anymore. It was survival.” He laughed, a rough, bitter sound. “I overdosed on camera, for fuck’s sake. People thought it was part of the documentary. Maybe it should’ve been.”

Interviewer: “So, the extended shoot during the pandemic—did that affect the film’s outcome?”

Dieter (rubbing his temples, shaking his head): “Affect it? It was the outcome. By the time we got to month six, no one gave a shit about the movie anymore. It was just about getting out of there alive. People wanted me to deliver some award-winning performance? Dude, I was barely holding it together. I mean, look at the film—Cliff Beasts was never about art. By the sixth one, it was just... noise. Star-studded, CGI-filled noise. People expected something big, but I gave them a disaster. Maybe that’s what it needed to be.”

Interviewer: “The overdose incident—was that something planned for the documentary, or did things just... get out of control?”

Dieter Bravo (smirking, then shrugging): “Planned? Nah, man, nothing was planned by then. I mean, the cameras were always rolling, right? So when I went down... they just kept filming. Thought it’d make for good behind-the-scenes footage or something. But that’s Hollywood for you.” He paused, letting the weight of it sink in before adding, “People don’t care if you’re falling apart. They just want to know if it’ll sell.”

Interviewer: “That’s pretty heavy. Do you think Cliff Beasts 6 was the start of your... well, decline? It’s no secret you’ve had a rough few years since.”

Dieter Bravo (lighting a cigarette, ignoring the studio's no-smoking policy): “Decline? Maybe. I dunno. I think people were already looking for a reason to tear me apart. Cliff Beasts just made it easier. It wasn’t the overdose that got people talking, it was the fact that it happened while I was making a movie no one cared about anymore. The sixth installment, man. By that point, the franchise was running on fumes, and so was I. But people love a good downfall, right? They see someone on top, and they wait for you to crash. They’ll stick a camera in your face and call it a documentary when really, it’s just a freak show.”

She paused the video, the cigarette smoke still curling from Dieter’s lips frozen on the screen. The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. It was no wonder the media loved to tear him apart; they were practically fed the narrative on a silver platter. His whole life had become the entertainment industry’s favorite sideshow.

She stared at the screen for a few more moments, Dieter’s face frozen in that half-smirk, half-exhausted expression. He was unraveling, and everyone was watching. Cliff Beasts 6 might have been the breaking point, but it wasn’t the cause. No, Dieter had been falling apart long before that.

In a different world, she imagined, she and Dieter could be friends. He’d probably laugh at the mess she just made, tell her not to sweat it. In another life, maybe they’d meet over coffee or work on some crazy indie project together. They’d both be swimming in their own chaos, but maybe that’s what would make their friendship work.

She wasn’t delusional; she knew Dieter Bravo was a celebrity—someone she would probably never meet, never know beyond the screen. But sometimes, when he said things like that, it felt like he was speaking directly to her. Like maybe, in some other life, they’d get along. They’d get each other.

Her eyes drifted down to the eviction notice sitting on the coffee table. Four weeks, it said. Four weeks to come up with the rent, or she’d be out on the street. It was hard to feel hopeful when every option felt like a dead end. And yet, watching Dieter talk about his own collapse, she didn’t feel so alone.

Her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her.

She ignored it at first, assuming it was just another bill reminder. But when she glanced at the screen, her breath caught.

Studio Callback - Screenwriting Internship.

Her heart stopped. A callback? After all this time?

Without thinking, she sat up too fast, the ice cream carton tipping over the edge of the couch and spilling melted chocolate onto the floor. “Shit!” she cursed, grabbing a towel and wiping at the sticky mess with quick, frustrated swipes.

It felt surreal. She had applied for that screenwriting internship months ago and had long since written it off as a missed opportunity. But here it was—another chance.

She stood there, towel in one hand, her phone in the other, staring at the message like it might disappear if she blinked. Four weeks until eviction, a job that barely covered her bills, and now, out of nowhere, this lifeline.

Her eyes flicked back to the TV, where Dieter’s face still stared back at her.

She picked up her phone and, without hesitating, replied to the message. Yes. I’ll be there.

–

The next day…

The waiting room buzzed with the same dreary energy it had since she’d arrived nearly an hour ago. Grey walls, uncomfortable chairs, and that humming fluorescent light that seemed to buzz directly into her brain. She sat on the edge of her seat, fingers tracing the spine of her portfolio, glancing at the door every time it swung open.

But this time, it wasn’t her turn.

It was him.

Dieter Bravo stormed into the room like a hurricane, sunglasses still perched on his face even though the room was dim, his hair a chaotic mess, like he’d just rolled out of bed—or maybe stumbled out of a party. His team trailed behind him, all looking frazzled and overworked. He barely acknowledged them as he flopped into a chair across from her with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

“Well, this is bullshit,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “I’m a goddamn Oscar winner, and they’ve got me sitting in this dump of a waiting room like I’m some extra on a low-budget indie film.”

She bit her lip, trying to hide her amusement. She knew who Dieter Bravo was the second he’d walked in—who didn’t? His face had been plastered on every tabloid for weeks. But there was something surreal about seeing him up close, in the flesh, like he’d been plucked straight from her TV screen. Don’t freak out, she told herself. He’s just a person.

Still, the excitement bubbled up inside her, and for a moment, she just stared at him, feeling the shock wear off.

He caught her staring. “What? You think this is funny?”

She blinked, pulling herself together, giving him a deadpan look. “I think you’re acting like someone who’s forgotten what a waiting room is.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or intrigued. “And you are?”

She shrugged. “Someone who’s been sitting here for an hour. Pretty sure I’m about to merge with this chair if they don’t call me soon.”

Dieter snorted, sitting up a little straighter, like he wasn’t used to people talking to him like that. Not outside his circle, at least. “An hour, huh? That’s it? Try six months trapped in a COVID bubble filming Cliff Beasts 6. That’s real torture.”

She laughed softly. “Yeah, I saw that movie. Pretty sure it was a crime against humanity.”

He cracked a grin. “Hey, that movie’s still paying my rent.”

“Is it? Seems like you should be able to afford better waiting rooms, then.”

Dieter leaned back in his chair, adjusting his sunglasses even though they weren’t needed. “Touché.”

There was a pause, a silence between them that felt more comfortable than awkward. They were sizing each other up, like two kids sitting next to each other on a school bus, deciding if they wanted to be friends.

“So,” Dieter said, shifting his gaze toward her again. “What are you here for? You in trouble, too?”

She smirked. “I’m always in trouble.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Yeah, well, me too.” He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking around the room as if just noticing how drab it was. “You work here or something?”

She shrugged. “Depends if they think I’m good enough to work here.”

“Good enough for what?”

“I’m a writer,” she said, half-smiling, but there was a vulnerability in her voice. “Or at least I’m trying to be.”

Dieter’s eyes lit up with genuine curiosity, which caught her off guard. “A writer, huh? You got anything out there I’ve seen?”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Only if you read stuff on Medium and Tumblr.”

Dieter laughed, the sound deep and unexpected, like he wasn’t used to laughing like that. “Tumblr, huh? So you’re a real writer.” He gave her a playful look. “What do you write? Fanfiction about guys like me?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a teasing glint in her gaze. “Nope. But if I did, it’d be better than that train wreck you called Cliff Beasts 6.”

Dieter clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Right in the ego.”

She smirked. “Ego as big as yours can take it.”

For a second, he just stared at her, genuinely caught off guard. He wasn’t used to people talking to him like this—like he was normal, not some Oscar-winning disaster wrapped in a scandal. She didn’t seem to care who he was or how many headlines he’d been in. It was refreshing, and he found himself more interested in her than he had been in anyone outside his usual crowd in a long time.

“So what do you do?” she asked casually, keeping the banter going.

Dieter laughed, a full, deep sound that made him look younger than he usually did in the tabloids. “What do I do? I’m a professional disaster. You haven’t heard?”

She chuckled, nodding toward the door. “I think you’re better at it than you are at acting.”

Dieter looked at her for a beat, his mouth twitching into a smirk. “You know, I don’t get a lot of people talking to me like this. Most people, they want to kiss ass or they just want something from me.”

She shrugged, her eyes flicking up to meet his. “What can I say? I’m not most people.”

He leaned forward, intrigued. “You like books?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of books?”

“The kind that make people uncomfortable.”

Her lips twitched into a smile. “I see you’ve read Camus.”

He grinned. “The Stranger. Ever read it?”

“I did. Twice. Though I’m more of a Kafka fan.” She paused for a beat, her voice deadpan. “I like my existentialism served with a side of why is everything a nightmare and also I’m a bug.”

Dieter laughed again, clearly impressed. “You’re alright, you know that?”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, her tone casual, but inside, she couldn’t quite believe she was having this conversation. With Dieter Bravo. Of all people.

They stared at each other, neither blinking, as if trying to see who’d crack first. But before either could say anything more, the door opened again.

“Mr. Bravo?” A frazzled assistant appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as they motioned for him to come in. “We’re ready for you.”

Dieter groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes as he stood up. “Finally.” He paused, turning to her with a smirk. “Don’t go anywhere, book lover. We’re not done with this conversation.”

She gave him a small smile, though inwardly she rolled her eyes. Yeah, sure. Like you'd remember me in two minutes, she thought. Dieter was famous for being distracted, for forgetting people as soon as he turned a corner. Everyone knew about his ADD—it was practically part of his public persona. He’d probably forget her name before the door even shut behind him.

Inside the meeting room…

Dieter slouched into a chair, his eyes flicking toward the group of studio executives sitting across from him, all with tight-lipped expressions. They weren’t here to chit-chat. They were here to clean up his mess. Again.

“Alright, what’s the damage?” Dieter asked, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair.

One of the executives, a tall man with silver hair and an expensive-looking suit, sighed heavily. “We’ve already settled with James and his wife. They’ve agreed not to divorce, but we’re paying for damages—and couples therapy.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow. “Couples therapy? Really?”

The man didn’t blink. “Yes, Dieter. Really.”

The room was thick with tension, the kind that only came when the stakes were sky-high. Another executive chimed in. “The headlines are out of control. We need to distance you from this. Fast.”

“What do you want me to do? Apologize? I already said I was sorry.” Dieter’s voice was tired, edged with sarcasm, but underneath, there was a flicker of frustration.

The silver-haired executive leaned forward. “Dieter, this isn’t about a simple apology. You’ve gone beyond that. Your lifestyle—this hedonistic, Roman emperor routine you’ve got going on—it’s not just damaging your reputation. It’s hurting us. The studio. The people you’re supposed to be representing.”

Dieter blinked, caught off guard by the harshness in the man’s tone.

“We’ve invested millions in you,” the executive continued, “and right now, you’re a liability. There’s talk of ending your contract early. Cutting ties before you bring the whole house down.”

Dieter’s jaw tightened. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” the man said coldly. “I’m not.”

For a moment, Dieter just sat there, staring at the man, trying to process what he was hearing. They were serious. He was this close to losing everything.

Another voice chimed in—his publicist, trying to smooth things over. “We’re not saying it’s over, Dieter. But we need to fix this. Charities. Positive press. You need to lay low for a while.”

The executive nodded. “No public appearances, no parties. We’re going to find some charity work for you, get the public to see a new side of you. You’re going to disappear for a bit. When you come back, you’ll be better. Clean. Understood?”

Dieter clenched his fists, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.”

“And we’ll get you a new PA,” his publicist added. “Someone who can keep you grounded. Keep you out of trouble, hopefully, someone you could not fuck.”

Dieter waved them off, already bored with the conversation. His mind drifted back to the waiting room, to the girl sitting across from him, trading quips like they were old friends. At least she’s interesting, he thought.

Back in the waiting room…

She sat there, slumped in her chair, staring blankly at the wall. The interview hadn’t gone well. She hadn’t gotten the job. The casting director had been polite but distant, and she could tell by their expression that they already had someone else in mind. Her stomach twisted with disappointment.

No extra job. No extra paycheck. And no way to make rent by the end of the month.

She stared down at her portfolio, feeling the weight of her failure settle in. She’d have to start packing soon. Maybe call her mom, tell her she was coming home. She could already imagine the conversation.

“We told you so,” her mom would say. “You should’ve gone into nursing. Writing was never going to pay the bills.”

Her stepdad would nod in agreement, disappointed but unsurprised. “Creative writing? Really?” he’d say. “What did you think would happen?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying not to think about it. But the thoughts kept coming, relentless. She’d have to pack up, move back home, admit defeat.

God, I’m such a screw-up.

The door creaked open, and Dieter stepped out, glancing around. His entourage had already disappeared down the hall, leaving him standing alone for once. He spotted her instantly.

“Still here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She forced a small smile, shrugging. “Didn’t get the job.”

Dieter nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well... my meeting sucked too. They’ve decided I’m officially the next Caligula.”

She snorted. “That bad?”

“Worse,” he said, shaking his head. He stood there for a beat, looking around the room, then back at her. “You know what? Screw this. Let’s go grab a drink.”

She blinked, surprised. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Dieter said, eyes glinting with that familiar mix of mischief and exhaustion. “I need a drink. You’re funny. Let’s go.”

She stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. But he wasn’t. She could see it in his eyes—he was serious.

“You buying?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dieter grinned. “I’m an Oscar winner. Drinks are always on me.”

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly stood up, tucking her portfolio under her arm. “Alright, Bravo. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

He smirked, leading the way. “Baby, you don’t know who you’re talking to.”

–

The black Audi’s engine purred as Dieter navigated the dim streets, his phone vibrating endlessly in the cupholder. Text after text, call after call—all from his team. They were probably losing their minds, wondering where he’d disappeared to. He glanced at the notifications, scoffing, and shoved the phone further out of reach.

“So,” she said, glancing at him from the passenger seat, “do you do this often?”

Dieter smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. “Do what?”

“Pick up random strangers and ask them to grab drinks with you.”

He laughed, the sound low and lazy. “No, I mean, I pick up random strangers... just not usually for drinks.”

She chuckled. “Well, you should probably get better at vetting your strangers. I could be a serial killer, you know.”

Dieter shot her a quick glance, grinning. “Even better. Might actually enjoy being murdered by you.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “You really are a disaster, aren’t you?”

“Disaster, masochist, artist... depends on the day.” He glanced over at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’ve got a hell of a sense of humor, though. I like it.”

“And here I thought you were the sadist for thinking being murdered sounds fun.”

“Nope.” Dieter grinned. “Definitely a masochist. But don’t let that scare you off.”

She smirked, leaning back in her seat. “Too late. I’m terrified now.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights flickering through the tinted windows, casting shadows on Dieter’s face. It felt surreal, sitting in the passenger seat of Dieter Bravo’s car, heading to God-knows-where. But she didn’t feel uneasy. In fact, she felt strangely comfortable. It was weird how easily they’d fallen into this rhythm, like they’d known each other for years.

“So,” she asked, breaking the silence, “where exactly are we getting these drinks?”

Dieter’s smirk grew as he pulled into a parking garage, winding his way up to the fifth floor. “Here.”

“Here?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Dieter parked the car, and without another word, led her to the elevator. When the doors slid open, she was met with the sleek interior of his penthouse. Glass walls, dark furniture, and a view of the city that stretched on forever.

“Oh,” she said, stepping inside, taking it all in. “I thought we were going to a bar or something.”

Dieter chuckled, locking the door behind them. “Yeah, well, I’ve been told not to be seen in public too much for a while. You know... the whole ‘clean up the image’ thing.”

She turned, leaning against the counter, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Right. The scandal.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, that.”

She tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “So, should I be worried now? You could be the serial killer. I didn’t tell anyone where I’m going.”

Dieter grinned, moving toward the bar in the corner of the room. “Well, if I am, at least you’ll die with a good drink in your hand.”

Dieter’s penthouse bar looked like it had been pulled straight out of a high-end hotel. Polished wood, rows of bottles perfectly lined up, and a set of cocktail tools that would make any bartender proud.

He moved behind the bar with a familiar ease, pulling out a few bottles and setting them on the counter. “What’s your poison?”

“Vodka, Negroni... surprise me.”

“You got it.” He started mixing, moving around the bar like he’d done it a thousand times. She followed suit, sliding behind the bar beside him, the space between them feeling natural.

As they worked, they fell into a rhythm, like two old friends who’d done this countless times before. It was easy, the way they passed bottles back and forth, the clink of ice in glasses punctuating their conversation.

“So,” she said, shaking her drink, “you always this smooth with your guests, or am I special?”

Dieter smirked. “You’re special. I don’t let just anyone behind the bar.” He watched her expertly pour out the drink, nodding in approval. “You’ve got skills.”

She chuckled. “I bartend. Well, I used to, now I just work at a diner, but it counts.”

He laughed. “I used to bartend, too. Before all this.” He gestured vaguely to his sprawling penthouse. “I kinda miss it.”

“Miss what? Making drinks for drunk people at 2 a.m.?”

He shook his head, grinning. “No, the simplicity of it. The quiet moments before the rush. And, I guess, the people. You get to talk to all kinds of weirdos.”

She handed him the cocktail she’d just mixed, and he took a sip, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Not bad. Actually, really good.”

She smiled, taking a sip of his creation in return. “Yours isn’t half bad either, weirdo.”

He snorted as he finished drinking, “Looks like we’ve both still got it.”

They clinked their glasses, a quiet laugh shared between them.

–

They moved to the couches near the window, drinks in hand, and the night outside stretched on in glittering silence. It was one of those rare moments when the city was alive, but they were in their own little world, insulated by glass and a few too many drinks.

She stretched out on the couch, swirling the last of her drink in the glass. “So, this is what it’s like, huh? Being Dieter Bravo. A penthouse with a killer view and a bar that puts most cocktail lounges to shame.”

Dieter leaned back, grinning. “You sound impressed.”

She tilted her head. “I mean, it’s nice. But I’m not that impressed.”

He snorted. “Figures. I’ve gotta work harder to impress you, huh?”

“You said it, not me.”

There was a beat of silence before he broke it. “So, what’s the story? Why’re you still working at a diner when you’re clearly way too smart for that?”

She shrugged, taking a sip. “You make it sound like I had a choice. You think I want to be a waitress?”

“No, but...” He trailed off, clearly thinking. “I don’t know. You strike me as someone who should be... doing more.”

She arched an eyebrow. “More, like what? Writing fanfiction for Cliff Beasts 7?”

Dieter laughed, the sound filling the space. “God, no. Please, spare me.”

She grinned. “It’s not for lack of trying. I just... haven’t found my place yet. It’s not as easy as, ‘Hey, I’m talented, someone notice me.’” She shook her head, her voice growing quieter. “It’s a lot of failing. Mostly failing.”

Dieter nodded, leaning back in his seat, his expression more serious now. “I get that.”

“Do you?” she asked, her voice softer but still edged with sarcasm. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re pretty damn successful.”

Dieter looked at her, really looked at her this time. “You think success means you stop failing?”

She didn’t answer, watching him with curiosity.

He set his drink down and ran a hand through his hair. “You fail more when you’re successful. Trust me. People are just waiting for you to screw up. And when you do... they’re there to watch you burn.”

“You’re talking about the scandal.”

He nodded, taking another sip. “It’s not just the scandal. It’s everything. There’s always someone out there with a camera, waiting for you to mess up. They don’t care about what you do right. Just the crash.”

“So you’re saying you’re a slow-motion car crash?” she asked, her tone dry.

He smirked, nodding. “Exactly. A car crash people pay to watch.”

She stared at him for a moment, her mind working through his words. “That’s... kind of tragic.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his grin fading. “It is, isn’t it?”

They both went quiet, the weight of his words settling between them. But then she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You ever think about, I don’t know... getting out of the car? Stopping the crash?”

He barked a laugh, shaking his head. “And do what? Go back to bartending? Give up the Oscar for a shaker and ice?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, her voice light but serious underneath. “Or maybe just... do something real. Something that’s not about everyone else’s expectations.”

Dieter looked at her for a long moment, something in his expression shifting, like he was seeing her in a new light. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I do. Look, I might not be some hotshot writer, but I’ve always believed that what matters is the stuff that’s real. The art you make when no one’s watching. The stuff people don’t get to tear apart.”

“Yeah, but the problem is, everyone’s watching.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “So maybe that’s their problem.”

Dieter laughed, and this time it wasn’t the careless, guarded kind of laugh he usually gave. It was genuine. “You’ve got a point.”

“Of course I do. I’m always right.”

“Okay, Camus,” he teased, rolling his eyes. “You’re officially hired as my life coach.”

She leaned back, eyes glinting with mischief. “I don’t know if you could afford me.”

Dieter snorted, swirling his drink. “How expensive are you?” he asked, playful but intrigued.

She paused, pretending to consider it for a moment. “Depends… do you personally know Gérard Depardieu?”

Dieter grimaced, raising an eyebrow as he took another sip. “Gérard Depardieu?” He repeated, blinking in confusion.

She nodded, downing the rest of her drink in two big gulps, the alcohol warming her throat. “What? You don’t know him?”

“I mean, I do, but wow...” He let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a chuckle. “That’s a... pretty weird choice.”

“Well, what can I say? I like them like that.” She shrugged, her expression completely serious as she set her glass down.

Dieter threw his head back, laughing harder than he had all night. It was loud, unfiltered, and completely genuine, the kind of laugh that came when he wasn’t performing for anyone.

“You’re a trip, you know that?” he said, still grinning as he wiped at his eyes. “Gérard Depardieu. Damn. Haven’t thought about that guy in years.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What, are you saying you don’t have weird celebrity crushes?”

He tilted his head, considering the question for a second. “I mean... I am the weird celebrity crush.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “How humble of you.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “You should hear the shit people say about me online. I’ve been everything from someone’s ‘gay awakening’ to someone’s inappropriate uncle.”

She snorted into her drink, barely containing her laughter. “Jesus. People are wild.”

Dieter smirked, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, c’mon. Who else you got? Who’s on your weird celebrity crush list? Lay it on me.”

She took a slow sip of her drink, savoring the moment, then said with a completely straight face, “Willem Dafoe.”

Dieter almost choked on his drink, eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at her like she’d just told him she was into cryptids. “Dafoe? Willem Dafoe?”

“Yeah,” she said, completely deadpan. “What’s wrong with Dafoe?”

He blinked, still recovering from nearly spitting his drink out. “I mean, nothing’s wrong with him, but... wow, that’s... unexpected.”

She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “I already shocked you with Depardieu. What were you expecting? Besides, Dafoe... he’s got range.” She gave him a wicked grin and added, “Plus, you know he’s freaky in bed.”

Dieter let out a loud bark of laughter, nearly doubling over. “Holy shit... you’re a freak. A true freak.”

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Oh no, it’s definitely not a bad thing,” he said, still chuckling as he reached over to refill her glass. “I’ve met some freaks in my time, but this? This is different. I like it.”

She eyed the freshly poured drink, tilting her head. “Not sure if I should feel good about that comment.”

Dieter grinned, clinking his glass against hers. “You should. Trust me.”

They both chuckled, the easy, playful energy between them lightening the mood even more. But then Dieter leaned back, giving her an amused look. “You know, I actually know Willem.”

Her eyes widened, her curiosity piqued. “No way. You know him?”

Dieter nodded, taking a slow sip. “Yeah. Great guy. Not as intense as his characters would make you think. Really down to earth. Freaky in his own way, sure, but... I get it. I guess I see what you see in him.”

She smiled, leaning back. “Well, that’s comforting.”

Then she paused, glancing down at her drink before adding, “I actually met him once. Worked as an assistant on a theater production he starred in a couple of years ago.”

Dieter’s eyes lit up. “No way. Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” she said, nodding. “It was this small indie thing in New York. I wasn’t his assistant or anything, just part of the general crew, but I did get to work around him a bit. He’s... different, in a good way.”

Dieter leaned forward, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve really got my attention. You’ve done PA work before?”

She shook her head, swirling the ice in her glass. “Not really. That was more of a part-time gig while I was in school. I applied for a real PA job a few years back, but it didn’t exactly go well.”

Dieter’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”

She sighed, her smirk fading as she stared down at her drink. “Well, I got all the way through the interviews, and then the celebrity—someone old-school—told me I was too chubby to work for them. Said I wouldn’t look good in photographs.”

Dieter’s face immediately twisted into a mix of shock and disgust. “Wait, what? Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” she said, the bitterness in her voice barely masked by the nonchalance she was trying to project. “I didn’t even bother applying for PA jobs after that. Figured it wasn’t worth the hassle.”

Dieter shook his head, clearly appalled. “That’s... Jesus. I mean, I get that people in this industry are eccentric as hell, but that’s way too much. Who the hell cares what you look like in photos? You’re supposed to be doing a job, not starring in the damn pictures.”

She shrugged, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, well, some people care. Guess I wasn’t the image they wanted.”

Dieter looked at her, his expression softening with empathy. “That’s seriously messed up. I’m sorry you went through that.”

She waved him off, smiling more genuinely this time. “It’s fine. Honestly, it was a while ago. I just stuck to writing and waitressing after that.”

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Dieter said, leaning forward, “that guy was a complete idiot. You’d make a damn good PA.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Thanks. But I think I’m done with that world.”

Dieter studied her for a moment, then raised his glass in a small toast. “Well, here’s to not being the kind of asshole who judges people by how they look in photos.”

She clinked her glass against his, smiling again. “I’ll drink to that.”

The conversation lingered in the air after their laughter died down, a comfortable silence settling over them. She leaned back against the couch, her gaze drifting to the massive windows overlooking the city, the skyline glittering like a distant dream.

“Gotta say,” she began, her voice soft but still playful, “this penthouse is... something else. It’s almost too perfect, though. Feels more like a set than a home.”

Dieter glanced around the room, smirking faintly. “Yeah, that’s because it’s not home.”

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “It’s not?”

He shook his head, swirling the last of his drink. “Nah. It’s just a place I own. I use it for... all the shit you probably hear about in the tabloids.”

She snorted, leaning in. “You mean the orgies and sex scandals?”

“Pretty much.” Dieter chuckled, but there was something more behind the laughter. His expression softened as he set the glass down on the table. “It’s not where I live. My real home is out in Sherman Oaks.”

She tilted her head, surprised. “Sherman Oaks?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s an actual house. Big, built for a family, but too large for just me. I don’t bring anyone there. Not my... conquests, not my parties. Just me. I paint there, you know? I’ve got this studio in the back, and when the world gets too loud, that’s where I go. It’s the only place I feel... I don’t know, settled.”

Her eyes softened as she listened. She hadn’t expected this level of honesty from him, but the vulnerability in his voice was unmistakable. “That sounds... nice, actually. Quiet.”

“It is,” he agreed, his gaze distant, as if he could picture the house in his mind. “But the silence can get too loud sometimes. Especially now that I’m older. That’s when I come back here. The penthouse. To drown it out.”

She frowned slightly, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “The silence?”

Dieter nodded, exhaling softly. “Yeah. You wouldn’t think silence could be so damn loud, but it is. Especially when you’re used to everything being... chaotic.”

She didn’t respond immediately, just watched him, the weight of his words sinking in. There was a loneliness there, one that no amount of parties, conquests, or tabloid headlines could fill. It wasn’t just about being alone—it was about being seen. About finding a place where the chaos didn’t define him.

She took a breath, her tone gentle but sure. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes the noise. Not really.”

Dieter blinked, turning his gaze back to her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, people see the chaos, the headlines, the scandals. But I don’t think that’s really you.” She paused, her voice steady. “You’ve got a whole world inside you that no one bothers to look at. You’re not just the guy who parties and ends up in the tabloids. You’re more than that.”

His eyes flickered with something—surprise, maybe, or recognition. He opened his mouth to say something, but she continued before he could.

“They don’t see the parts of you that matter. The parts that create, that make something out of all this mess. The fact that you’ve got a studio and you paint—that tells me a lot. You’re more than just an actor, Dieter. You’re an artist. And not because you say so, but because you are.”

For a moment, Dieter just stared at her, as if her words had landed somewhere deeper than he’d expected. She was looking at him like no one had in years. Not like a star, not like the scandalized mess the world saw. She saw him. The real him.

His throat tightened, and suddenly, the air felt heavier. “You really think that?”

“I know it,” she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “You’re not just memorizing lines. You’re putting something into the world that most people don’t even take the time to understand. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real. It’s real, Dieter. And it matters.”

He blinked, the familiar burn of tears stinging behind his eyes. It was strange—he hadn’t felt this exposed in so long. The vulnerability, the rawness of being seen for more than just the surface.

A tear slipped down his cheek, slow and steady. He swiped at it quickly, but another followed. It wasn’t a sobbing mess, no dramatic breakdown. Just a quiet release, like the weight of everything he’d been carrying finally had somewhere to go.

“Damn,” he muttered, laughing softly through the tears. “You’re really messing me up here.”

She smiled, nudging him gently with her elbow. “You needed to hear it.”

He wiped his eyes, still grinning despite the tears. “Guess I did.”

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The silence between them wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was comfortable, filled with an understanding that went deeper than words. In the quiet of the penthouse, with the city lights twinkling in the background, Dieter felt something he hadn’t in a long time.

Peace.

But of course, Dieter couldn’t let the moment just sit there. He leaned over slightly, raising an eyebrow as a mischievous grin spread across his face. “So... is this the part where we kiss?”

She burst out laughing, her head falling back as she clutched her sides. “Oh my God, Dieter, you’re such an ass.”

For the first time in a long time, Dieter didn’t feel even a twinge of offense at being laughed at. In fact, her reaction made him laugh, too—a deep, real laugh that didn’t feel performative. It was just them, laughing like idiots in the middle of a moment that could’ve been serious, but wasn’t.

He shrugged, grinning. “Hey, had to shoot my shot.”

She shook her head, still giggling as she nudged him. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me,” he teased.

“Debatable,” she shot back, smirking. “But that was not the move, Bravo.”

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, still laughing. “Alright, alright, no kiss. Got it.”

She rolled her eyes, the amusement still lingering in her expression. “Seriously, though. You’re an ass.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Dieter said, smirking. But beneath the joking, there was a warmth in his eyes, a softness that hadn’t been there before. He liked this—being around someone who could take his nonsense and throw it right back at him, without missing a beat.

–

They had been hanging out for days—Dieter laying low like his team had asked, and her finding herself more and more wrapped up in his world. It was easy with him. The lazy mornings that bled into afternoons, the spontaneous outings, the hours spent talking about nothing and everything. It was like living in a bubble, where the real world and all its mess didn’t exist.

But it couldn’t last forever.

They were lounging in his penthouse, another aimless afternoon with the TV buzzing in the background, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

“So,” Dieter began, his tone casual, but there was an edge of hesitation in it. “I’ve been thinking...”

She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Uh-oh. That sounds dangerous.”

He chuckled, but there was a nervousness in his smile. “No, I mean... I’ve been thinking about you. Us, I guess.”

She frowned slightly, sitting up a bit straighter. “What do you mean?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze for a moment. “I think I... I really like you. And I want to stay friends, you know? If you’re cool with it.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of course he liked her—they got along too well not to. But she knew what had to happen next.

She swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “I don’t think we can keep doing this.”

Dieter’s face fell, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what? Why not?”

“I can’t afford to stay in LA anymore,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I’m going home. To my mom’s and stepdad’s. The diner job just doesn’t cover rent or utilities, and figuring things out in this city isn’t really feasible for me right now.”

Dieter stared at her, the words slowly sinking in. His expression shifted from confusion to something deeper—sadness, maybe even panic. “You’re... leaving?”

She nodded, trying to keep it together. “Yeah. I’ve got no choice.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at her like she’d just ripped the floor out from under him. Then, true to form, Dieter went into full dramatic mode.

“Are you serious?” he groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Like, ever.”

She laughed, despite herself. “Dieter, stop.”

“No, seriously,” he continued, flopping onto the couch like a petulant child. “You’re leaving me to fend for myself in this godforsaken city, and for what? Your mom’s house in the middle of nowhere? This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

She rolled her eyes, amused but touched by how much this seemed to affect him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Where’s your loyalty?” he muttered dramatically. “I thought we were in this together.”

She snorted. “I didn’t realize hanging out with you was a lifelong commitment.”

Dieter sat up suddenly, his eyes lighting up as if he’d just had the greatest idea of all time. “Wait a second...”

She eyed him warily. “What?”

“You still need a job, right?”

Her eyebrow arched. “...Yes?”

“I still need a PA,” he said, the excitement building in his voice. “My team hasn’t found anyone, and let’s face it—they’re probably going to stick me with some lifeless corporate robot.”

She blinked, not expecting this. “Wait, are you offering me a job?”

“Hell yes, I am,” he said, grinning like a kid with a new toy. “You’d be perfect. I mean, you know me. You get me. And you’re already here half the time anyway. Why not make it official?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. “I don’t know, Dieter. It feels like... I don’t know, like you’re just offering it because you feel bad.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “No, I’m offering it because I need you. And not in a weird way, okay? I mean, yeah, it’s a job, but it’s also more than that. I trust you. And I don’t trust a lot of people.”

She bit her lip, still uncertain. “Yeah, but it comes with a paycheck, right? That’s gonna make me feel... really dirty.”

Dieter laughed, leaning back into the couch. “Oh, come on. It’s a legit offer. And I’m paying you well, so you’ll get used to feeling dirty real quick.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone softening again. “Think about it. It’s not charity. It’s not a handout. I really need your company, and I think you need this too.”

She exhaled, staring at him for a moment. “I’ll... think about it.”

A few days later, she was back at the penthouse, this time with Dieter’s manager, his lawyer, and Dieter himself, all sitting around the sleek kitchen island. It felt surreal.

The manager went over the details of the contract, but it was hard to focus on the specifics when her mind was spinning with how fast everything was happening.

“And, of course,” the manager added sternly, “we have to include the no-fucking clause. If you two get involved, it’s not only grounds for termination but also blacklisting.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, looking slightly offended. “Seriously? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

She snorted, waving it off. “It’s fine, Bravo. I don’t think you’d want to fuck me anyway.”

He frowned, almost hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The manager chuckled, shaking his head. “He fucks anything that moves.”

She furrowed her brows briefly, her face showing a flash of disgust at the comment, but she kept her mouth shut. This wasn’t the time to start an argument with his team. Still, she couldn’t shake the sour taste the comment left in her mouth.

Dieter noticed her reaction and shot his manager a look, but the moment passed quickly as the lawyer handed her the contract to sign.

Once the papers were signed, it was official. She was now Dieter Bravo’s new assistant.

After the contract signing, they were back in the quiet of the penthouse. She stretched her arms out, feeling a mixture of excitement and disbelief at the day’s events. Dieter leaned against the counter, still processing it all too, and for a moment, the two of them just stood there in silence.

Then she clapped her hands together, breaking the moment. “Okay, Bravo, I’m treating you to dinner.”

Dieter blinked, confusion crossing his face. “Wait, what? You’re treating me?”

She grinned, nodding. “Yeah, to celebrate. You know, new job and all.”

He hesitated, raising an eyebrow. “You just signed a contract. You shouldn’t be spending money on me.”

She waved him off, rolling her eyes. “Take a chill pill. I just landed a sick new job with a really dirty paycheck. I’m excited, let me have this.”

Dieter chuckled, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “I’ve taken way too many pills in my life. Not sure I remember which one the chill pill is.”

She burst out laughing, grabbing her jacket. “Well, then this will be the antidote. C’mon, we’re getting Five Guys.”

Dieter’s grin grew wider, his eyes lighting up. “Damn, baby, you know I can’t say no to Five Guys.”

She shot him a smirk. “Then let’s go.”

They drove in Dieter’s car, windows heavily tinted, cruising through the LA streets as the sun dipped below the skyline. They grabbed their order from the drive-thru window and found an empty parking lot, parking under the dim glow of a streetlight.

Dieter reclined his seat all the way back, pushing the front seats to give them more space to lounge. She did the same, their legs stretched out as they unwrapped their burgers.

“So,” he mumbled around a mouthful of fries, “what now?”

She shrugged, her voice muffled as she stuffed more fries into her mouth. “Idunno.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the radio playing softly in the background, the quiet hum of the city far off in the distance.

Dieter glanced at her sideways, studying her face. “You seem a little... off.”

She paused mid-chew, looking at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, biting into his burger. “I dunno. Just felt like something’s been bugging you since we left the penthouse.”

She exhaled, setting her burger down, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Well... your manager pissed me off. Big time.”

Dieter stopped chewing, his eyes widening a little. “What? Why?”

“That comment he made,” she said, rolling her eyes, “about you humping everything that moves. It was gross. And unnecessary.”

Dieter’s face reddened, the blush creeping up his neck as he rubbed at it, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, uh... that’s just how he is.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

He chuckled awkwardly, setting his burger down. “I mean, he wasn’t wrong. You’ve heard the stories, read the articles, right?”

She stared at him for a beat, then sighed. She knew he wasn’t trying to defend his manager, and in a way, she found that endearing—his loyalty to people even after everything they’d said about him. All the rumors, the scandals, the affairs. But she tucked that thought away for another time.

“That’s not the point,” she said, shaking her head. “As someone who works with you, the first thing your manager should be doing is protecting you—even from your own team.”

Dieter blinked, her words hitting harder than he expected. He felt something crack open in his chest. She wasn’t wrong. And hearing her say it so plainly made him realize just how much he’d let slide because of loyalty. Because of fear.

He smiled softly, biting into his burger, his voice quiet. “Thanks for saying that.”

She shrugged, offering him a small smile in return. “It’s true.”

Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned over, wiggling her eyebrows. “Besides, you haven’t tried to fuck me yet, so I don’t think what your manager said was true.”

Dieter choked on his soda, laughing and coughing at the same time. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

She grinned, leaning back into her seat. “What? Am I not fuckable enough for Dieter Bravo?”

He immediately shook his head, his voice firm. “No, baby–you’re...fuck– you’re hot. Like, really hot. And I’m an idiot for not jumping you the second I met you.”

She snorted, clearly amused. “But?”

Dieter sighed, running a hand through his hair, his voice quieter but more grounded now. “Look, if we hadn’t had that first conversation, that night in the waiting room... I probably would’ve tried to sleep with you.”

She gasped dramatically, her eyes widening in mock horror. “Excuse me? What made you think I’d even want to sleep with you?”

Dieter burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Oh, c’mon, I’ve got ways. If I really wanted to, I could have charmed you into it.”

She snorted, shoving another fry into her mouth. “Yeah, right. You can’t charm your way into everyone’s bed, Bravo.”

Dieter stared at her, deadpan, raising an eyebrow. “Uh... yes, I can.”

They both broke into laughter, the moment light but laced with a shared understanding. Once their laughter died down, he leaned back, the humor fading slightly as he spoke again, this time more serious.

“But seriously,” he continued, his voice softer now, “I didn’t want to cross that line with you. Because... you’re different.”

She glanced at him, curious now, the playful energy between them simmering down as he opened up.

“I’m a messy person,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the steering wheel, fingers idly tracing the edges. “In every sense of the word. My life, my relationships—they don’t end well. And I’ve ruined... too many things that mattered. I can’t ruin this. I won’t.”

She tilted her head, watching him closely. “Why do you think it would ruin things?”

He took a deep breath, the vulnerability flickering in his eyes as he finally met her gaze. “Because when I sleep with someone, I lose track of... what’s real and what’s not. It always starts out fine, but I mess things up. I make it complicated, and then it all falls apart. And I don’t want that to happen with you.”

She studied him for a moment, seeing the weight behind his words, the sincerity he rarely showed to anyone. This wasn’t the over-the-top, scandal-filled Dieter Bravo the world knew. This was a man who was genuinely afraid of ruining something good.

“Wow,” she muttered, trying to break the heaviness. “So you’re saying I was basically a goner if we hadn’t talked that first night?”

He chuckled, giving her a teasing grin. “Oh, absolutely.”

She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “You really are full of yourself.”

“No, I’m just honest,” he said with a playful smirk. “But really, I don’t want to just fuck this up. You get me, more than anyone has in a long time. And I don’t want to lose that because I was... impulsive.”

She looked at him for a long moment, their earlier banter giving way to something deeper. It was clear that he meant every word, and it made sense in a way she hadn’t expected. Dieter Bravo might have been a disaster in relationships, but he was choosing not to be a disaster with her. And that meant something.

“Well,” she said, her smile returning as she reached for another fry, “that’s good to know. I mean, you’re still a complete disaster, but you’re my kind of disaster.”

Dieter’s grin widened, the tension finally easing as he leaned back in his seat. “I’ll take it.”

She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then added with a smirk, “Besides, now I’m legally being paid to not fuck you.”

He laughed, throwing his head back in genuine amusement. “And I’m legally paying you to not fuck me.”

She nodded sagely. “Sounds like a pretty sweet deal if you ask me.”

Dieter chuckled, the heaviness of the earlier conversation replaced by their usual playful energy. “Yeah, it’s working out pretty well so far.”

They both sat there, comfortable in the aftermath of the conversation, knowing that while the chemistry between them was undeniable, the friendship was what mattered most. And neither of them was willing to risk it, even if they joked about it.

They sat in the car, the remnants of their Five Guys feast scattered on the console between them. The night had slipped into a comfortable quiet, the kind that came from hours of laughter, honest conversation, and greasy burgers. Dieter stretched, glancing over at her with a lazy grin.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, wiping his hands on a napkin. “You heading home now?”

She nodded, finishing the last of her fries. “Yeah. Gotta pack up my stuff and get ready for the big move.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “Right. Moving in with me. Never thought I’d reach this point in my life where a woman’s moving in with me... and I legally can’t fuck her.”

She snorted, shaking her head as she leaned back into her seat. “Welcome to adulthood, Bravo. Full of responsibilities and boundaries.”

Dieter’s grin widened, leaning a little closer. “So, about this moving in thing—are you planning on, like, wearing layers of clothing at all times? Because I don’t need to make this harder for myself than it already is.”

She shot him a look, deadpan. “Harder for yourself?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know what I mean.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. “Listen, I promise to be fully covered in the ugliest, most unflattering pajamas you’ve ever seen. Think, like, thermal underwear, oversized sweaters, maybe a balaclava if I’m feeling extra considerate.”

Dieter threw his head back laughing, slapping the dashboard. “Jesus Christ, I don’t know if I should be grateful or terrified.”

“Both,” she said with a smirk, grabbing the last fry from the bag and popping it into her mouth.

Dieter leaned back, sighing contentedly. “I still can’t believe it though. I’m actually gonna live with a woman. And she’s not some wild fling, but an assistant I’m paying not to fuck. Talk about a plot twist.”

She laughed, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Well, you better get used to it. I’ll be back in the morning with all my crap.”

Dieter grinned, clearly amused by the whole situation. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she said, flashing him a smile. “Bright and early. So you better get your beauty sleep.”

He chuckled, looking at her fondly. “I’ll try.”

She reached for the door handle, pausing for a moment before looking back at him, her tone soft but teasing. “Try not to miss me too much tonight, alright?”

Dieter winked. “No promises.”

She stepped out of the car, waving as she walked toward her building. “See you tomorrow, Bravo.”

He watched her go, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he muttered under his breath, leaning back into the seat. “See you tomorrow.”

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thebrainrotsreal · 3 months

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Hypothetically, how do you think Mark would turn out if he never got his powers? What would he be doing? How would it change the original story? If the original Mark met this version of himself, how would they react to each other?

This took me a min to respond to because I am extra and had to draw something about this, but thay just means I was so delighted to take this ask, holy shit. I love thinking about AU's, tysm fo the ask, anon! :)

I don't know of the comics add any details about Mark's interests other than being a hero like his Dad (ex. even comic hobby seems to go right back to that). Nothing about school life stands out either, (besides struggling with geography, a detail I love sm), so he's probably an average student who fumbled hard when he started to get busy with Invincible stuff! So, while I can see the possibility of him working hard and striving for career that also helps saves lives ergo paramedic, fireman, emergency dispatcher, etc I actually adore the idea of him interning at the GDA???

(Okay, note, while I do see him training or getting experience in random roles, Cecil would not EVER let Mark actually be a GDA solider because imagine telling Omni-Man his son got killed. Yikes! So, intern/trainer uniform and not the official solider one.)

I can see him diving into it wholeheartedly, eager to not only prove himself, but help people like his Dad does, kinda trying to get as close to his dream as he can be. And honestly, Nolan would probably be thrilled the last reminder for Colonization Time is permanently delayed (ergo Mark never getting his powers), so I can see him either encouraging this, or being slightly conflicted? I don't know how much he actually trusts the GDA or Cecil, so it could just be bittersweet?

But, I love the idea of GDA!Mark for the potential strain in their dynamic. See, while we can't have the kind of unfolding drama in s1 considering Nolan's slaughter spree might not necessarily happen, the idea of Mark having to process the weight of his own idolization, unable to stand side by side with him on the field, feeling like Nolan feed into the idea he'd get powers, only to end up disappointed year after year could foster some bitterness and/or desperate need to prove himself. He would see Nolan slightly more, but maybe that's just a reminder of what he can't do. Where he can't reach. Nolan having doubts in GDA, would only worsen the strain, how exciting!

Plus, GDA seems to be the classic kind of trust nobody type of government agency that may to try detach Mark's (almost) unshakable faith in his Dad, and could push him to look into what exactly his Dad's past/planet/history is exactly like for documentation, as Mark tries to grasp how much he trusts Nolan and the GDA. If Slaughter Time does happen, then that's incredible drama!!! As Mark, who feels aligned with both the GDA and his Dad, now has to work to find the truth, probably to prove his Dad's innocence, only to find the horrible news instead.

Does Nolan tell Mark and Debbie at the same time, who both already know, haven't told the others, and you got family drama of the fucking century again? Ideally? Yes. I love dramatic irony a normal amount.

I think GDA!Mark and Canon!Mark wouldn't get along tbh. While C!Mark is relieved by the lack of maliciousness, GDA!Mark is literally seeing where his entire life could have been if he'd only gotten powers. 'Cause, while I do think Mark is a fundamentally kind person, it's also clear he's incredible hard on himself which I think crosses over to alternate selves. So, he'd be bitter as fuck. Yeah, they both suffered, but I think the envy would go crazy. GDA!Mark would start questioning everything, like if that Nolan loved his son more for having powers, and if C!Mark just fucked it up somehow, so if GDA!Mark got powers maybe he could've done something different? Said the right thing? Like there's this desperation to know could it have turned out any other way? Was it truly his fault? Was it something he should've said better? I think there's a quiet spiraling despair in seeing the distorted mirror version of oneself and still seeing them suffering. Was there really no other ending? It had to be this way?

Thanks for the ask tho :D !!! Currently trying to remember I have this blog while I fight art block fjgkfg.

Oh! And Bonus idea of interning at GDA still means he hangs out with Teen Team!!! Maybe he helps log injuries, reviews battles, handles reports, memorizing villain weaknesses as base support, but there's this underlying part of him that still feels so useless next to them? I can see Rex and Mark getting off on the wrong foot immediately, but Kate and Mark bonding? Mostly because I want Kate and Mark bonding like please.

#invincible rotating in my mind #asks #mark grayson #I LOVE STRAINED FATHER SON DYNAMICSSSSS #I LOVE EVERY MARK BEING TRAPPED UNDER THEIR FATHER'S SHADOW #i can't tell if mark's peers/coworkers KNOW if he's omni-man's son but like mentor cecil hoursssssssssss #oh and cecil does absolutely try to use mark to know more about omni-man under the guise of finding the truth or something #if im being super indulgent mark still has like slight invulnerability #cant fly cant be super strong cant do jack shit but be hard to kill #which he finds out post-nolan flying away / end of s1 #and it just adds to the mounting mental spiral of anguish #but i love the idea of it haha imagine knowing you did have a power all along but its so fucking subtle it didn't even matter #the bitterness would go CRAZYYYYYYYYY #anyways also if the eyes look slightly funky im trying to be better about keeping distinct features!!! mark looked white as hell before djf #i need to practice !!!#invincible au

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dajaregambler · 10 months

Text

indefinite hiatus

Howdy doody.

This may seem as a sudden notice, but it is not to me. It is a matter that I have thought about many times, over and over again. On the other hand, I have also tried to ignore it in the hopes of it going away. Obviously, that did not work out.

Back during my trip to Japan, I had rekindled my love for the Japanese language and it is still strong as ever. In fact I have decided to pursue it academically so that I can continue to work with it, ideally in localisation. After the struggle I had with school that felt like it lasted an eternity, I was quite proud of myself to pick up from where my attempt at university in 2018 to 2020 left me off.

But that’s not what I’m here to talk about. It is actually a similar sort of situation I found myself in earlier this year.

What I’m doing right now… is it fun?

Helios Rising Heroes was a pick me up in 2020. I had lost my drive for Japanese after giving up on academics, and seeing how Keith and Brad interacted made me curious about their story. I went further in the world of HeliosR, and before I knew it I was enamored with it. So much so that I felt compelled to share this love, to let people know the charms of these characters. I started out with translating content of my favorite character, then to the whole sector, eventually other characters and so on. It was a challenge, and that challenge helped me grow in many ways.

However somewhere down this road, I kept battling this one question: who am I doing this for? I thought for myself, but it wasn’t. It became a responsibility to fill in the gaps. I did not care about North at all, yet seeing that one Halloween event stay untranslated the entire time bothered me, so I picked it up myself and hey, it worked out. North Sector is one of my fave sectors now, but that’s what became an issue. I started picking up too much to do, for the sole sake of it being translated. I didn’t limit myself because moderation is a word that didn’t exist to me back then. Even now it sort of doesn’t, but I like to think I’ve gotten better at it.

Another issue is that I love Helios, I really, really do. It means a lot to me, but translating it is actively ruining it for me at the same time. I feel the need to step away and enjoy it without feeling responsible, but I also feel guilty for thinking so. I have stuff I started and need to finish. And that’s where I found myself stuck at a stalemate, almost to the point of ignoring Helios and I don’t want that. I had fun earlier this year translating the new West sector event, and all of chapter two of SITD, but it was short lived. I went right back to that stalemate that had been haunting me.

The combination of biting off more than what I can chew, with halfhearted feelings behind it, is what leaves me dull. There is no “fun” to be had.

I will say what I said earlier this year, about a different project I translated at the time:

“Is it that serious? That I’m dropping a series that I have translated? No, probably not. Happens all the time, I’m sure there are others waiting in line to continue what I was doing, or maybe not. Who knows.

But to me, it is, and that’s why I wanted to convey it in a long hefty post.

As closure, I will share some words of one of my favourite manga. Something I live by, and will for as long as possible.

“The world is filled to the brim with nice things… and all of them are carrying someone’s intentions and feelings.

When those feelings get across and manage to make someone happy… I gain little pieces of confidence,

that I’ll gather together and carry with me as I move on.”

And I believe something like that, is only achievable when you do something that is fun, to you.”

This isn’t the end, it never is. However for me to move on, to find joy again, I have to say it like this. Perhaps one could say I am a fan of theatrics in this regard.

For now, and the unforeseen future, I simply want to step back from translating Helios Rising Heroes. Focus on truly mastering Japanese (my conversational skills are as abhorrent as they could be) and perhaps even study abroad. Not only that, but find fun in Helios again, by simply enjoying it without feeling a responsibility nagging at me every single waking moment I think about this series. It’s a bit of a shame to leave things here when I haven’t finished chapter 3 of SITD, but I think this is the best choice for me, going forward.

Once again, thank you for reading this post and my translations. Thank you for being able to find enjoyment in Helios Rising Heroes through my translations. This blog will stay up as an archive and will not be going anywhere.

As I said, it is not the end of the road for me. I will perhaps be around on another ventures regarding translations, and we might cross paths once more. And hopefully said ventures do not include a repetition of past mistakes. I am positive it won't though.

One day, I may or may not come back to this either, but for now it is atleast a farewell.

またね！

p.s (Imagine I said "farewell" with a wink, two sparkles, and rose being thrown in the air as I made my dramatic exit into the horizon while the amber sun sets.)

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sicknessbysalem · 6 months

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More Yulya/Novak and him being an absolute idiot eating gluten? Maybe in an important date, so he decides to just Suck It Up?

novak being an absolute idiot is my favorite flavor of request/fic, so i deeply appreciate this

also i've been missing these two so i'm so excited to write this

some background info: most figure skating competitions (international level) have banquets and stuff after the event itself. so i decided what better way for novak to be an absolute moron who thinks he's invincible. also wanted to introduce some more characters.

tw emeto, food intolerance, stomach pain (the obligitory 'novak is an idiot and won't tell his fiancée girlfriend' warning as well)

Novak can't say he dislikes the fact that even though he came with her, he can't spend most nights with Yuliya.

Sure, Yuliya might have been able to spend those nights in his hotel room, but neither of them really wanted to test that theory. Not right now, not when Yuliya is only in her second season back into competition.

Novak also can't say he's happy things turned out the way they did with the Mavericks. He really isn't happy that he had to step away from playing, and he's even less happy about the fact that the Mavericks lost their conference game and were done for the season. Novak is sure he's taking to it harder because he was there, on the sideline, he should have been able to play. But he can't play, he knows he can't. And it kills him.

But what he is happy about is being able to travel with Yuliya. Being able to go with her to Sheffield for the European Championships. Marina was more than happy to take Elya for the week. Novak would have brought her, but she was nine now. She was in school, more important schooling than had this happened when he was still playing.

Novak tried to think of the bright side. He tried to think of the positive things that went in with all of this mess. And that made it so much better.

Yuliya qualified to compete at the European Championships. Truth be told, Novak was incredibly impressed. Not that he didn't have the highest level of faith he could possibly have in the woman he asked to marry him, but he also knew from her that qualification was no easy task.

He was ecstatic she invited him to come with. Sure, having separate hotel rooms wasn't ideal, but he still saw her doing what she loved, and he still spent time with her.

"Do you want to come with me?" She had asked that evening, as she got ready in his hotel room.

Novak had shut his laptop, abandoning the thesis paper he was working on. It wasn't due for weeks and he was far enough ahead.n That was another thing he was thankful for, no longer playing meant he could finish his master's degree. Not that it mattered now, but it would be useful. If he ever needed it anyway.

"Come with you where?" Novak asked.

"To the banquet?" Yuliya said, "It's honestly pretty fun. Hey, can you fix this?"

She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her hair away, Novak went to fix the collar of her dress. Or, whatever it was.

"Am I allowed to?" Novak asked, "I don't want you to-"

"Trust me, they don't care," Yuliya said, "At least, they never had before. Kirill's going to be there, Zalatoi said he might as well. He's not feeling so hot after his program which is to be expected. Wyatt too, I'm sure Wyatt will ask you all about Jayden but-"

"Yeah, I can go," Novak said, "You're lucky my mom convinced me to pack something nice."

That was how he ended up here. Sitting at a table with Yuliya. With Yuliya's friends. Other European skaters. It felt like another gala dinner, or a wedding reception. But it also didn't.

There was a lot of conversation. And Novak was pleasantly surprised how many people wanted to talk to him. He would never tell Yuliya, but he had been incredibly worried that everyone would either ignore him or not want him there. Novak wasn't much of an extrovert, but it was nice to just have people around who at least seemed tolerant of him being here.

He hadn't even realized dinner came, hadn't realized he's eaten either. But before he knew it, the staff was taking plates away. Including from him.

Yuliya was engrossed in a conversation with a girl from Bulgaria. Melina, Novak thought Yuliya had introduced her. Novak was more than happy to sit back and just listen to the conversations around him.

Kirill was talking to Yuliya and Melina. Something about World Championships, something about a place he went, they were talking vacations and sights before Novak knew it.

As time slipped away, Novak found it harder and harder to keep up with the conversation around him. He checked his watch, but forgot the time almost as soon as he looked away. It didn't matter, really.

Novak felt... weird. He didn't know how to explain it. Not immediately.

"Hey, I'll be right back," He whispered in Yuliya's ear, kissing her cheek lightly.

Novak excused himself from the table with a casual smile, excusing it as needing a quick bathroom break. He made his way through the lively crowd, the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter fading as he stepped into the quiet of the restroom.

Leaning against the cool marble sink, Novak took a moment to collect himself. His stomach churned uncomfortably, and he realized with a pang of regret that he must have eaten something that didn't agree with him. That was the only thing he could think of. After all, it was possible. He hadn't really been paying attention to what he was eating, and he definitely didn't want to make a deal out of it by saying anything. Unless this was something else, but it didn't feel like anything else. Really, it didn't feel like much of anything.

Splashing some water on his face, Novak tried to push the discomfort aside.

As Novak stood in front of the mirror in the restroom, took a few breaths, he couldn't shake off the sense of unease that had settled over him like a heavy fog.

Physically, he felt a knot of discomfort coiling in his stomach, a nagging sensation that something wasn't right. It was like a subtle but persistent ache, a dull throb that intensified with every passing minute. His mouth felt dry, he tasted the faintest trace of blood, he'd been biting his cheek of a little bit, he assumed. Maybe, then, it was anxiety. Being in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people. Sure he knew Yuliya's friends by legal definition, but they were her friends. Not his.

Despite these unsettling sensations, Novak tried to muster a sense of determination. He couldn't let this ruin Yuliya's night, not when she was so excited about the event. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his posture and splashed some water on his face, hoping to wash away both the physical discomfort and the mental fog.

As he returned to the banquet hall, the sights and sounds of the lively gathering seemed to come into sharper focus, though the knot in his stomach persisted. Novak resolved to push through, putting on a brave smile for Yuliya's sake. She wanted him here, he knew she did. He wasn't going to let her down.

Novak returned to the table with a practiced smile, hoping to blend back into the lively conversations seamlessly. Yuliya, ever perceptive, glanced at him with a gentle concern in her eyes.

"Everything okay? You were gone for a bit," she asked softly, her concern laced with a touch of worry.

Novak waved off her concern with a casual shrug. "Just needed a breather, all good," he reassured her. Yuliya nodded understandingly and turned back to her conversation with Melina, the topic shifting to upcoming competitions and training routines.

As the evening progressed, Novak's condition worsened despite his attempts to hide it. The knot in his stomach tightened, and waves of nausea washed over him with increasing frequency. At one point, he tied back his hair without thinking about it. The vibrant conversations around him blurred into an indescernable mix of voices, making it difficult for him to focus.

As he sat there, he only felt worse. As quickly as he realized something wasn't right, things took a turn for a worst. The need to be sick was urgent now, a desperate plea from his body to rid itself of whatever had caused this turmoil.

Yuliya was engrossed in a discussion with another skater, unaware of Novak's sudden departure. However, Kirill, who sat nearby, noticed Novak's hurried exit and the strained expression on his face.

Concerned, Kirill excused himself from the conversation and discreetly followed Novak to the restroom.

As Novak leaned heavily against the bathroom sink, his hands trembling slightly, he was hit with a wave of intense nausea that seemed to consume him from the inside out. The once-faint discomfort had escalated into a full-blown ordeal, his stomach twisting and churning as if in protest against whatever had triggered this sudden sickness.

Before he could register the severity of his condition, he turned quicker than he thought he could, dashing for one of the stalls, completely forgetting to shut the door, heaving uncontrollably. The taste of bile and the acrid scent filled the small restroom, adding to his misery. Each retch was accompanied by a sharp pang of pain, his body convulsing with the effort to expel whatever had upset his stomach so drastically.

Just as he struggled to catch his breath between bouts of vomiting, the bathroom door creaked open, and Kirill's concerned face appeared in the mirror's reflection. Kirill didn't hesitate, immediately taking action to check on Novak.

"Hey, easy there," Kirill said softly, placing a hand on Novak's back in a comforting gesture.

Novak spit, coughed, tried to catch his breath. Before getting so sick he fell to his knees.

"Ah shit, one of those," he hears Kirill say behind him.

Yuliya told him something about Kirill. But Novak couldn;t remember what it was. It was enough for Novak to know Kirill wasn't mad, at least.

Novak's face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead despite the coolness of the restroom. His whole body trembled with exhaustion and the exertion of being violently ill. He felt weak and drained, his muscles protesting with every movement.

"Here," Kirill reached around, loosening a few buttons on Novak's chest without thinking.

"I-I don't know what happened," Novak managed to gasp out between breaths, his voice hoarse and strained. The sudden onset of sickness had caught him completely off guard, leaving him entirely shaken.

"It's okay, sometimes these things happen," Kirill reassured him, patting his back gently. "Just focus on breathing for now. Take small sips of water when you can."

Novak moved over. He didn’t want to tell Kirill to get his hands off him, but the touch was an annoyance at best. So, he simply moved over. He leaned against the stall wall, trying to steady his ragged breathing. The taste of bile lingered in his mouth, a bitter reminder of his body's revolt.

“This just happened?” Kirill asked.

Novak nodded, “I don’t… know why. Please don’t tell Yuliya.”

Kirill nodded in understanding, "I won't say anything if you don't want me to," he assured Novak, “But maybe you should consider telling her. She'd want to know you're not feeling well."

Novak hesitated, torn between wanting to keep Yuliya in the dark to avoid ruining her night and the practicality of getting some rest. "I... I'll think about it," he replied vaguely, not wanting to commit to either course of action just yet.

Kirill gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping back slightly, giving Novak some space. "Take it easy. If you need anything, just let me know. And here, take this so you don’t exactly smell like you just puked up your dinner when you talk to Yuliya.”

Kirill grabbed a pack of gum from his pocket and handed it over. before leaving the restroom to give Novak some privacy.

Alone in the restroom, Novak took a few moments to compose himself. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts, trying to come up with a plausible excuse to leave the banquet without causing undue concern. Finally, he decided on a simple explanation that wouldn't raise too many questions.

When Novak returned to the table, Yuliya immediately noticed the tired lines etched on his face. "Everything alright?" she asked, her concern evident in her voice.

Novak managed a weak smile, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, mom’s just trying to call.”

Yuliya nodded understandingly, her expression softening with concern. "Do you need to go?" she asked, ready to accommodate his needs.

"I think I should," Novak replied, relieved that his excuse seemed to work. "Sorry to cut out early."

Yuliya shook her head, her concern evident. "Don't apologize, your mom comes first. Take care of whatever it is, okay? I’ll come up in a bit anyway.”

Novak nodded gratefully, excusing himself from the table and making his way back to his hotel room.

Novak was exhausted. He wasn't sure how he ended up so terribly spent, but here he was.

He intended to put on something more comfortable and lay down. By now, his stomach was killing him and he was unbearably nauseous. A million things ran through his head as to why he was so sick. It was so sudden. He felt fine earlier, really he did. He felt fine until after dinner.

At some point, Novak dozed off. It didn't last long. Before Novak knew it, he stumbled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom, his body heaving with the familiar sensation of sickness. He barely made it to the toilet in time, the sound of retching echoing in the confined space. Each wave of nausea was accompanied by a rush of adrenaline, his heart racing with the intensity of the sickness that seemed to have no end.

Meanwhile, Yuliya had returned to the hotel room, her footsteps quiet as she entered. Concern etched her features as she noticed Novak's absence from the room. His phone was on the nightstand. She walked over and plugged it in for him.

"Novak?" she called out softly, her voice tinged with worry.

The sound of vomiting from the bathroom answered her question before Novak could. With a sinking feeling in her chest, Yuliya hurried to the bathroom door, pushing it open to find Novak hunched over the toilet, his face pale and beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Novak, what's wrong?" Yuliya's concern was evident as she knelt down beside him, one hand pushing back some hair that got in the way. The sight of him in such distress tugged at her heart, her worry for his well-being overriding any inconvenience or plans for the evening.

Novak glanced up at her, his eyes filled with a mix of embarrassment and discomfort.

"I... I don't know," he admitted hoarsely, the truth of his situation laid bare in front of Yuliya. "I've been feeling off since the banquet, and it just keeps getting worse."

Yuliya's gentle touch and comforting presence offered some solace to Novak as he struggled through another bout of sickness. Yuliya hated to leave him, but knew he hated her being so close when he wasn't feeling well. She stepped out, she changed out of her nice dress. She came back with a water bottle, just as Novak coughed up one last mouthful of whatever was making his stomach so pissed off.

Once the episode passed and Novak sat back, his breathing still ragged.

"Kirill was worried about you," Yuliya said, standing to grab a cup from the sink, pouring some water in the cup.

"Yeah, he followed me, for some reason," Novak said.

"Kirill has a chronic vomiting condition," Yuliya said, "It's like a sixth sense, he knows when someone is going to throw up."

"Wait how did-"

"I texted Marina," Yuliya said, "Asked her if she and Elya were okay after what you told me."

"Fuck, why?" Novak sighed.

"Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well, you didn't have to come to the banquet if-"

"I was feeling fine earlier," Novak said, "Genuinely, I don't know what happened. I ate dinner with you guys and just started feeling shitty."

Yuliya sighed, sitting next to Novak without a word. Novak looked to her, confused by her sudden silence.

Yuliya lightly faceplanted into his shoulder. Novak would have been worried, more worried about her than how terrible he felt. But Yuliya started laughing.

"You are so stupid," she scolded gently, her tone laced with exasperation but also a deep caring for his well-being.

Novak winced slightly at her words, knowing she was right but not wanting to admit it fully.

"You had what I did, didn;t you?" Yuliya asked, "What… most of us had."

"I did but I mean," Novak said, "I didn't think about it and even if I had I didn't want the trouble of-"

"Zalatoi is complicated, he has to eat both gluten free and vegetarian or else he ends up like you," Yuliya said, "Kirill always substitutes the actual meal for a few sporadic rounds of lighter things, like a soup or salad or whatever they have. They are used to it, babe."

"I know, I know," he muttered, his gaze downcast as he felt a pang of guilt for causing such a scene.

Yuliya sighed, reaching for a towel to dampen with cool water and handing it to Novak. "Here, wipe your face. Then we can lay down and cuddle to make up for you giving me a heart attack and a half.," she said, her voice softening as she resumed her comforting gestures.

As Novak cleaned himself up, Yuliya couldn't help but feel a mixture of frustration and fondness towards him. His tendency to downplay things and brush off concerns had always been a source of mild irritation, but she knew it came from a place of not wanting to make a fuss or draw attention to himself.

"We'll make sure you're okay before anything else," Yuliya assured him, her hand resting on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. It would have been nice to stay that way.

But it was Yuliya. Yuliya lightly smacked the back of Novak's head. "For fucks sake, next time pay more attention to what you eat."

"Oh," Novak said, "Well, if I do that, then I get to miss out on your excellent bedside manner and caregiving."

Yuliya smiled, "Keep talking and I'll drag you to bed, literally. Across the floor."

"You're hot when you're annoyed," Novak told her, smirking slightly.

Yuliya went to speak, but as always such a gesture left her speechless for a moment. She smiled again.

"Yeah, I know," Yuliya teased, "You're ugly when you aren't sending me into cardiac arrest."

"I'm what now?"

"Jokes on you," Yuliya interrupted, "You practically always send me into cardiac arrest."

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #emetophilia #the chronicles of novak daskalov being a fucking idiot #food intolerance tw

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 1 year

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Could you write a Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates x f!student reader? Laurel starts working at Nevermore, while she starts planning her revenge on the outcasts Reader tries to make her feel welcome and Laurel is a bit surprised, they start spending time together and they bond, as time passes Laurel realizes that she cares about Reader and thinks that she might love her but pushes the thought aside because she can't love an outcast. More time passes and Laurel resurrects Crackstone, while he's destroying the school Reader attacks him but he defeats her, as he is about to k*ll her Laurel remembers all the times Reader has been nice to her and decides to protect her, they defeat Crackstone and it ends with Laurel and Reader kissing and running away so that Laurel doesn't go to jail

Thanks if you'll write it <3

Yesss!!! Here it is!!! I hope you like it, and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

I don't care

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates x Fem, Student! Reader

Warnings: Bad decisions, unconditional love

Word count: 4,503

Summary: You love her, and you think she loves you… You don’t know how far you can go just for her…

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

You were sitting on a bench inside the school, as usual. Your Ipod played songs while you read the boring books that the literature teacher told you. You moved your head following the rhythm of the music. It was ideal for a rainy afternoon. You wanted to lose yourself in your thoughts. Your ice generating powers were dozing while your body enjoyed the relaxation that being like this provided you. You loved those quiet afternoons.

“You'll see how comfortable you'll be here, Marilyn. They don't look like it, but they're good, I promise.”

Principal Weems was walking with another woman, one you had never seen before. You normally didn't pay attention to strangers walking into Nevermore, but that innocent-looking redhead caught your eye from the first moment. She was carrying a suitcase and several potted plants in her arms.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Larissa,” the stranger said, nodding happily.

You watched the two women over the top of your book. You tried to go unnoticed, but Principal Weems knew all the students at Nevermore very well, and that included you.

“Oh, (Y/N), it's nice that you're here,” she told you, guiding the other woman towards you.

“Principal Weems,” you greeted politely.

“(Y/N), this is Marilyn Thornhill,” she said, pointing towards the redhead, who was staring at you. “She is your new botany teacher.”

Marilyn nodded in greeting and smiled, feeling unable to reach out to you.

“Oh, glad to meet you Miss Thornhill,” you said, getting up.

“She is (Y/N), one of our best students,” Larissa said, proud to boast of your good grades.

“I'm glad to meet you. I’m sorry I didn't shake your hand, I'm a bit... Loaded right now,” she said amused, moving things from one side to the other.

“Wait, let me help you,” you said, picking up one of the pots. She looked at you as if that gesture was something strange, but she nodded gratefully.

“Wow, thank you very much, you are very kind,” she said smiling.

There was a strange little moment of silence, as if time had stopped. Larissa cleared her throat to interrupt the curious tension that had built.

“Well, I'm afraid I have to go now. (Y/N), if you would be so kind as to accompany Ms. Thornhill…”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you said, nodding profusely. You were always this nice to everyone, but somehow you felt the need to be even nicer with your new teacher.

Larissa turned and walked away from her, leaving them alone.

“Well…” Marilyn said, a little nervous.

“Well…” You repeated. Suddenly you felt that words were unable to come out of your mouth. “Do you want me to show you Nevermore?”

“I would love to, but first I would like to leave all this stuff in my room. It weighs a little,” she answered you, putting on her glasses with an almost angelic gesture.

“Of course, of course…”

The two of you walked silently through the school. Your presence did not go unnoticed by your classmates, who whispered as you passed near them. Your cheeks flushed red as you understood what the conversation would surely be.

The week before, Larissa informed you that a new teacher would be coming. It wouldn't be strange news if she hadn't commented on a small detail. That woman, Marilyn, was a normie. All the students seemed very surprised, even disgusted to hear it.

Normies and outcasts had always been in constant struggle. The ones hated the others. It wasn't surprising that the situation was somehow awkward, but it didn't affect you personally at all. You didn't believe in generalities. There was good and evil on both sides, the yin and yang.

“Sorry for asking…” You said, when you reached the door of what would be her room. She turned and dropped some things on the ground. “But what is someone like you doing in a place like this?”

She sighed, understanding the meaning of that question. You began to regret having asked it.

“I see that you already found out,” she told you, pretending that she hadn't minded the question. “Do you read minds or something?”

“What? No. Larissa told us that... Well, you aren’t... I mean, you're...”

“Normi,” she said, finishing the sentence for you. Her look didn't evoke rancor or anger, but there was something in her voice that told you that somehow it hurt her to admit it.

“Yeah, well… Larissa told us, just in case,” you said, wanting to run out of there. She nodded and smiled.

“I see…” She said in a breath, putting the key in the lock.

She tried to turn it several times, but without success.

“What's wrong with this damn door?” She protested, a little nervous. You immediately snapped out of your pensive and stunned state and approached her.

“The same thing always happens. The lock has a trick. Allow me, please,” you said kindly, taking the key with your hand. In doing so, you brushed your hand against hers and that gave you the willies. Your feelings were going much faster than your thoughts and you didn't like where they were going.

With your other hand you lifted the door a little, adjusting it so that the key turned smoothly, opening at last.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she told you, picking up some things and entering the room. Are you going to stay there?

You shook your head and reached down to get the rest of her things, going inside as well.

“I'd swear it's smaller than mine,” you commented, placing a box on top of the dusty desk. Marilyn looked at you curiously as she looked at one of her plants.

“I think I'll have to talk seriously with Larissa,” she said, joking. You laughed

“Good luck with that. Lately she's too busy with her scams with Mayor Walker,” you said, sitting on the bed.

“Did you say Walker?” The redhead asked suddenly. You stirred, a little scared of her reaction.

“Yes... The mayor of Jericho, do you know him?” You wanted to know. She relaxed her face and shook her head.

“Oh, no. I thought he was other person,” she said. You didn't know why, but it seemed to you that she was lying. “And answering your previous question, the truth is, I don't know what I'm doing here.”

The days passed and you had your first classes with her. Everyone in Nevermore seemed not to be as satisfied with her presence as you are. You noticed how the other teachers ignored her. She was always alone. She ate alone, she dined alone. Marilyn spent most of her time alone in the conservatory. You couldn't help but feel bad for her. Normi or not, she was a kind woman, and a good teacher. Gradually that opinion ceased to be completely objective.

You were one of those fools who believed in love at first sight. Of course, she was everything you wanted, and the small inconvenience that it was clearly an impossible love didn't matter to you at all. You didn't want to keep seeing how she was rejected by the majority of people in Nevermore, and you took advantage of the little trust you had after your first meeting to spend some time with her.

“That's why they say I'm too cold, do you get it? Too cold,” you said, giving another one of your ridiculous bad joke shows.

“I think so, I get it,” Marilyn answered you, amused, while she watered some of her plants. “Aren’t you tired of spending time with me?”

The question caught you by surprise. Her tone was serious and somewhat melancholic. You frowned and shook your head.

“No,” you answered. “Why?”

“Well, I'm sure your friends are having fun out there.”

“Bah, they can have fun alone. They only need me when they run out of ice,” you widened your eyes at that statement. She was kind of like your friend, but she was still your teacher. “For the soft drinks…” You tried to fix it.

“Careful, (Y/N), don't make me have to call Weems,” she told you, like a false threat. “You have not answered my question.”

“What question? Oh yeah. Well I… I'm fine here,” you said, shrugging. “I'm hopelessly in love with you and I want to spend as much time as I can by your side” didn't seem like the best answer.

“You seem to be the only one, (Y/N),” she said grimly, as she set the watering can down.

“Crap. Weems appreciates you a lot,” you said, feeling a little pang of jealousy in your chest.

“She is my boss,” she answered coldly. “In any case, forget it, I don't want to go around being sorry.”

“I think you're cool, you know. And many of my classmates agree with me,” you said, blushing at that direct confession. It wasn't a declaration of love, but it was an honest opinion.

And so the months passed.

Your relationship grew, and you barely hung out with your friends from the Nightshades. You only had time for her, and she for you. The insipid and trivial talks you had in the conservatory turned into deep and philosophical conversations. Marilyn confessed to you how difficult it had been for her to fit in somewhere, that the world of the normies didn't want her, and neither did the world of the outcasts. You felt so identified. You had a lot of friends, yes, but you never felt strong enough to be completely honest with them. Only your roommate, Divina, knew about your preference for girls. Society still retained old prejudices.

“Hey, this is nightshade, right?” You said, looking at a plant you didn't think you'd seen before there. Marilyn walked up to you and nodded.

“You're good, (Y/N),” she whispered to you. You smiled, and your cheeks no longer returned to their normal color, they stayed a constant red.

“Wow, this could kill us all,” you commented, looking at the sinister plant.

“Precisely for this reason it is important that you know it, even if you don't need to,” she told you, winking at you and moving away a bit.

“Sure, academic interests,” you said, making a gesture of quotation marks with your fingers.

“I thought you would have a secret meeting tonight,” she told you in a slightly ironic tone. You turned around, surprised that she had any idea about your little student society.

“How do you know?” You asked. She just shrugged. You snorted at her mysterious and mocking attitude.

In that time some strange things had happened in Nevermore. A new student, Wednesday Addams joined the academy. A strange, quiet and sinister girl. Soon after, a rumor began to spread that a bear was on the loose. Divina told you that this bear was not a bear, but a monster. A student had apparently disappeared.

“Do you think we're in danger?” You asked, thinking how terrible it was to have a monster stalking the school grounds.

“Why do you say that?” Marilyn asked, leaning next to you and tilting her head.

“Well, the rumors about a monster... The thing about that boy... Rowan,” you said, finally showing some humility with her, some of the fear you really felt.

“(Y/N), you don't have to worry. Nothing is wrong. Also remember that Nevermore is well protected, you know, by people like you.”

While she was talking she did something you wished would last forever. Gently, she brushed her hand over your cheek. Silence fell suddenly, while her hand caressed you. You couldn't find words, or anything you could think of. Everything was calm, peaceful. You were confident, but she had never done anything like this.

“And… And don't forget the nightshade,” you said stupidly, interrupting the best moment of your life. She smiled, but she didn't take her hand away, she even seemed to get closer to you.

“Yeah, the nightshade too,” she whispered, too close.

It seemed like one of those moments when lovers kiss. You felt her breathing, your eyelids closed slowly, just like hers. You noticed her lips on yours, fleetingly, like a light touch, not like a kiss. Her breathing quickened but she didn't move. You didn't do anything, you just stood there still, finally wishing that that contact would intensify.

Marilyn sighed and moved away from you, pretending nothing had happened.

You were blocked. You opened your eyes to see that she was now turning her back on you, moving some things on her desk. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. You were afraid to hear words of regret.

“(Y/N), it's late, you better go back inside. Weems will get angry if she sees you around at this time,” she said with a very different tone than her voice used to have. It was a cold, distant tone. You nodded, knowing that she couldn't see you.

You left the place with your head down, feeling bewildered and disappointed. She was going to kiss you, you were sure. Not even the winter cold could take away the feeling of her lips touching yours. You looked back. Marilyn was with her head buried in her arms, apparently crying over something.

You were about to return, but something, or rather someone, interrupted your path.

“(Y/N)! May I know what you are doing wandering around the school at this time of the night?”

Principal Weems appeared, obviously upset. She was more concerned than annoyed, apparently.

“I… I was helping Miss Thornhill and I was leaving just right now,” you said, running your hands over your arms, beginning to feel the cold. Larissa seemed relieved to hear your excuse, and she put her arm around your shoulders.

“You scared me. I don't like you guys going out alone at night. You leave me calmer knowing that you were with Marilyn.”

The weeks passed and your relationship with the redhead cooled. You didn't talk about that night. She was obviously avoiding the subject. You didn't say anything either. Now it was clear to you that the chemistry was mutual. That was much worse. Knowing that she might have feelings for you but not want to show it was much harder than dreaming of the impossible.

After many terrifying events and companions being attacked by that mysterious monster, things didn't get any better. You were scared. You no longer went out at night to see Marilyn. She didn't seem to bother about that too much either, she barely talked to you.

That day they had expelled Wednesday from Nevermore. It seemed that she had tried to kill someone, or something.

You were lying on your bed, face up, daydreaming about that kiss that never happened, when your roommate suddenly walked into your room.

“(Y/N)! Wake up! You have to come, something has happened,” Divina said, shaking you roughly.

“My God, Div, what's wrong with you?” You said annoyed. Her face was truly terrified.

“It's Thornhill, she was behind all of this.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

“Behind what? What are you talking about?” You asked, getting up immediately.

“The monster, the murders. Thornhill is the murderer. She wasn't even called that, she's Laurel Gates, remember the family that wanted to murder all the outcasts?”

You were hallucinating. You would never believe that was possible. You had a cold mind and you did remember the stories that spoke of the Gates family. You nodded, feeling your heart begin to pound.

“She is the little daughter. She wants to kill us all!”

“Have you gone crazy, Divina?” You asked annoyed in case it was some kind of practical joke. You thought so because the close relationship you had with Marilyn did not go unnoticed by your friends.

“There is no time! You have to come!” She said, grabbing your wrist.

Marilyn wasn't Marilyn, she was… Laurel Gates? A murderer? Impossible. It was simply impossible for you to believe. She would never hurt anyone. You replayed it in your head over and over again as you walked down the stairs. It wasn't possible, it had to be a joke, a misunderstanding.

It was obvious that something was happening in Nevermore. Students and teachers were running through the corridors, running from something.

-Come on, we have to get out of here.- Your friend told you when you arrived at the door. You looked at the sky. In what appeared to be the courtyard, a kind of sinister glow had arisen, as if something was on fire. You couldn't help it, you had to go see what was happening, you had to make sure that it was all a lie, that Marilyn was Marilyn, not a murderer, that she wasn't Laurel Gates. “(Y/N)!”

You ran against the current, without looking back. There was no one there when you got to the patio, just two figures that it took you a while to make out. Wednesday, she was recognizable. She seemed to be wrestling with some kind of pilgrim, a demon. You had spent enough time in Jericho to guess who it was, Joseph Crackstone. You didn't bother to wonder why he lived. The fight they were waging seemed to come to an end, and Wednesday seemed to lose.

The young woman fell to the ground and you ran to her aid, without thinking about the possible consequences.

“Wednesday!” You yelled, crouching down next to her. She seemed hurt. She looked at you strange and scared, a very rare feeling for her.

“On his heart… You have to stick it on his heart,” she told you, hissing in pain, bringing an old sword closer to you.

“What?”

“Great, more witches to burn in hell!” The pilgrim screeched behind you. You turned and brandished the sword at him. You don't know how, but you managed to dodge his blows. He carried some kind of staff that seemed much stronger than that cracked sword.

“Fuck, fuck...” You muttered, finding yourself unable to dodge his attacks any longer.

Finally, your sword collided with the staff, breaking as you feared, into a thousand pieces.

“You can't do anything, damn witch. I'll send you all to Satan,” He told you, pointing that object towards you, sending you away just by shaking it.

You landed with a crash, doing terrible damage to your arm. Crackstone approached you, slowly, enjoying his victory.

“Pray if you still can, you monster,” he whispered. You could barely move. The fall did you a lot of damage. You tried to drag yourself across the ground, but it only served to have his foot slam into your hand hard, making you cry out in pain.

It was your time. Everything had happened very quickly. You didn't even think of Marilyn as the culprit for all of this. You were going to die, and you preferred to do it believing that she was good, and that she... loved you. You closed your eyes, waiting for your sad end.

“Stop! Leave her alone!”

A shout stopped the pilgrim. You recognized that voice. Marilyn.

You opened your eyes to see a woman completely unknown to you. It was her, your beloved, but she didn't have that tender and innocent look. The absence of her glasses only emphasized the evil that ran across her face. Your subconscious came to the horrible conclusion that your friend was right. She wasn't Marilyn, that woman was Laurel Gates.

“You!” Crackstone yelled, turning on her. “I thought I told you to get out of my sight, or I'd tear your tongue out.”

You managed to support yourself on one of your elbows, looking horrified at a scene of two people who seemed to have some confidence.

“She's not in your plans,” Laurel said, darkening her gaze.

That horrible demon laughed evilly. The redhead looked scared and she looked at you in a panic.

“Please! Let her go,” she begged, getting to her knees. “Please.”

“I have a better idea…” Crackstone whispered. “I was wrong about you… You are a dishonor to my lineage. You will die too... But first I want you to enjoy the views...”

“Please…” The redhead insisted, crying desperately.

The pilgrim turned to you and smiled, his eyes wide.

“Die, witch!” He yelled, raising his cane towards you again.

You managed to put your arms in front of your head and closed your eyes again. There was no blow, an explosion sounded suddenly. You opened your eyes to see that it had not been an explosion, but a shot.

Laurel was no longer on her knees, she was on her feet, gun in hand. The bullet hit Crackstone, causing him to stop.

“I told you to leave her alone,” she hissed, inching closer.

“Marilyn…” You whispered, still shaking from being about to die.

Crackstone snarled in anger and made a swing at her, but she kept firing. Unfortunately her progress only slowed.

You had to do something as soon as possible. You preferred to be you, you preferred not to see the woman you loved die. Yes, you loved her, whoever she was. Despite everything, you loved her and she loved you, she had shown it by saving your life.

A click told you that there were no more bullets left.

“On his heart…” You whispered to yourself, getting up from the ground. The pain you felt was comparable to thousands of blades digging into your body, but you didn't care. You took a breath and concentrated. The familiar chill your powers caused passed through your hand.

A fine frozen icicle formed in your hand. It was your last chance. You ran towards that monster, just when it seemed that the redhead had accepted her fate, dropping the weapon to the ground.

“Go to hell!” He yelled, raising the staff at her. “Ahhhh!”

A horrible cry of pain filled the courtyard. That makeshift ice stake pierced through his chest, causing a black mist to begin to surround him.

A shock wave hit the place, causing you to fall back to the ground. Then came the calm. The flames that devoured the place vanished together with that demon. It's over.

Laurel moved toward you and knelt down, helping you to sit up.

“Marilyn… Why?” You said, already unable to hold back the tears. “Why?”

“My love... I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry. I didn't want anything to happen to you,” she told you. You didn't even notice the way she called you. You were broken with physical and emotional pain, but still, you couldn't help but hug her.

“Why did you do it?... I... I...” You sobbed, embracing that horrible woman, the culprit of everything, a murderer, a murderer you felt unable to stop loving.

“Forgive me, please…” She said, sobbing too. “You are the only one who has always been with me… I started to feel things for you and… And… I didn't know what to do… My God, please forgive me… I love you…”

Those words caused your heart to stop. She had just told you, she had said that she loved you. You no longer had a choice.

“Laurel… That's your name, right?” You said. She nodded. “I love you too…”

After that strange confession, you kissed in the most romantic way you could do under those circumstances. It was a deep, passionate, sincere kiss. Your conscience was screaming for you to come to your senses, for you to remember all the horrible things that had happened, that she did. You didn't hear its call, you could only hear your heart.

“Please... Forgive me,” she whispered while she kept kissing you.

“Stop.”

Wednesday's dark voice interrupted your statement. She was behind you, and she wasn't alone, Principal Weems was next to her, putting a hand on her neck for some unknown reason.

“Laurel Gates…” Larissa whispered. “I've notified the sheriff, he won't be long in arriving,” she said, serious, more serious than you've ever seen her. The redhead kissed you once more and got up. You did the same, without thinking that the Nevermore’s Principal had seen you do what you were doing. “You will pay for everything you have done.”

Laurel nodded, resigned, taking your hand.

“It's the right thing,” she said, not letting you go for a second.

You looked at her scared. She was going to give herself up. If half the things they said she did were true, you'd never see her again.

You weren't going to allow it. Not now that you knew she had feelings for you. You squeezed her hand hard, causing her to frown at you.

“Calm down, honey… Everything will be fine,” she told you. No one seemed to want to get in the way, but both Larissa and Wednesday couldn't hide their faces of disgust at seeing both of you in that romantic attitude. It was normal, it should be prohibited.

“Turn yourself in right now,” Larissa demanded. “Taking advantage of a student like that will only worsen your sentence.”

Your eyes burned furiously. She hadn't taken advantage of you, she even hesitated to kiss you that night. You didn't know if it was because you were an outcast, or because it was immoral for her to kiss you as your teacher. Any of the reasons was worth it to you. She never asked you for anything, she never used you for anything. She loved you sincerely, despite the terrible internal struggle she had to go through in doing so.

“That's not true…” You hissed, earning the attention of everyone present.

“(Y/N), what did you say?” Larissa asked, looking at you with concern.

“I won't let you lock her up!” you yelled, grabbing the redhead tightly. “Run! Let's go!”

Laurel seemed to doubt her, but she followed you, partly also because you were dragging her.

“Hey, (Y/N)! Come back here immediately!” Larissa shouted, following you along with Wednesday.

“Are you crazy?” The redhead asked, not knowing where to go, just like you.

“I'm not going to let them take you away from me. Not now that I know you love me,” you said panting.

They were chasing you and your forces were beginning to fail you. You decided to use more radical methods. You stopped suddenly and crouched down, resting your hand on the ground.

Quickly, the ground under your hand began to freeze, causing your pursuers to slip and fall to the ground.

“Dammit, (Y/N)! Reconsider!” Weems yelled on the ground.

You didn't answer, you just smiled and kept running.

The redhead turned on her car and soon you were leaving Nevermore behind, and Jericho.

“I can't believe what I've done,” you said, scared, but not sorry.

“You're crazy, (Y/N). Running away with me is not what is best for you…. I want the best for you.”

“Don't keep talking, I want to.”

“It will be dangerous, (Y/N),” she told you, constantly looking in the rearview mirror, in case the police were after you.

“I don't care.”

“I've done horrible things...”

“I don't care,” you answered.

“I wish I had told you earlier how much I love you, (Y/N).”

#marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #wednesday #ms thornhill #oneshot #laurel gates

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rachaelswrites · 2 years

Text

Traitor

Grant Ward x Daughter!reader

Word Count: 1,422

Requested By: Anonymous

okay hi so could you do a ward x daughter!reader that takes place during 2x22 like when their torturing Bobbi and stuff, but !r doesn't agree with it and like, she helps Bobbi escape before Hunters get there and then is waiting for hunter outside with bobbi and stuff and she ends up going back with them ? idk, i hope you understand what im saying i can see how it could seem confusing... thanks, luv ya <3

A/N: I really loved this idea and had a fun time writing this! Hope you enjoy

Warnings: Mentions of torture/injury/violence, slight allusion to abuse (let me know if I miss any)

“Dad, what are you doing?”

Grant whipped his head around when he heard your voice. He tried to step in front of Bobbi, blocking her from your view but you already saw it, “Y/n, I will explain later but I need you to go,” he said.

“But-” you tried to argue but he cut you off.

“Now.”

You turned and left the room, sitting right outside of the door waiting for your dad to return. He had told you the plans of taking one of the SHIELD agents but he said nothing about torture. Him and Kara wanted closure which you were fine with but hurting someone for it was not ideal.

It was only a few minutes before Grant reappeared from the room and walked over to you. He grabbed your arm and pulled you up from the ground and into another room, letting the door slam shut.

“I told you not to interrupt me,” he said harshly.

“And you said you weren’t going to hurt anyone,” you said back, matching his tone, “Torutre is included in that.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about Y/n. There’s no other way for Kara to get the closure she needs.”

“Have you tried asking nicely?” you said sarcastically.

Ward grabbed your face, rough at first but then loosened his grip, “Sweetheart, I know what I’m doing okay? Trust me.”

You pulled away from your dad and took a step back and nodded, “I trust you.”

“Good,” he said, pulling you back towards him and into a hug, “I love you Y/n.”

“I love you too dad,” you replied.

~~~~~

Even though you told him you trusted him, you lied to your dad. You didn’t trust that he wouldn’t take it too far and kill the agent in the other room. He was in love with Kara and would do what he thought was right for her, even murder. You agree with what your dad was doing. You did love him and that would never change but you didn’t want to be involved in what he was doing. You wanted to leave. Grant had been getting more and more extreme in his actions. You hoped Kara would help keep him in check but it seemed to do the complete opposite.

You stayed outside the room whenever Kara or your dad were inside. You didn’t have much else to do nowadays since SHIELD fell and HYDRA became public. You left school and your home to be with your dad. He was all you had left but you could feel you were starting to lose him too.

“Want to have a go?” he asked, holding something out to you.

You shook your head, not even bothering trying to figure out what he was trying to get you to do, “I’m fine here.”

Grant chuckled at you and then crouched down in front of you, “You’ll learn soon enough,” he said, standing back up and going into the room.

You got up and left the hallway going off and finding something else to do. Ward soon left the room and started looking for you. He found you on one of the lower levels of the building and stood next to you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t enter the room,” he said.

“Why? Did you kill her?”

He shook his head, “No but if you enter, you’ll be shot by a gun.”

You looked up at him in confusion and he looked at you and explained, “SHIELD is on their way to get her. I’ve rigged the door. I don’t want you going in there and getting killed.”

“So you didn’t kill her so you’ll let someone else die trying to save her. That’s a great idea dad.”

“Hey,” Ward pulled your shoulder so you were facing him and grabbed both of them with his hands, “I did this for you. For us. And for Kara. It’s what I have to do okay? I thought you said you trusted me?”

“I do. I just don’t agree with how you’re doing this. It’s ridiculous.”

Grant sighed, “I don’t expect you to understand but you listen to me. I know what’s best. Got it?” he let go of you and pushed you back slightly, “Start getting packed up. We’re leaving soon.”

You nodded and he left. You decided you weren’t going to leave with him. You were going to help that agent and her team get out unharmed and then run away. Your dad would never let you go freely so you would have to do it without telling him. You went to where your stuff was and packed light before heading to the area where the agent was being held. Your dad hadn’t realized that in your free time, you explored the building so you knew what walls were weak and other exits that he didn’t know about.

~~~~~

You checked the hallway before rounding the corner and going to the back of where you knew a weak spot in the wall was. You pushed hard until it broke, giving you enough space to crawl through and into the room. You tried to be quiet but once you broke through the wall, the agent heard and looked in your direction.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m going to get you out of here,” you said, pulling your bag through the hole before standing up. You quickly disabled the rifle pointing at the door and then the sensor before moving the gag out of her mouth, “I’m sorry for what they did to you.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged Ward to be the doting father type,” the woman said as you released her hands from their bonds.

You shrugged, “I never once knew what he was like until now. And now that I do, I want out.”

“We can help you,” she said, looking at you, “SHIELD can keep you safe.”

“That’s the first place he’ll look. He’ll think you kidnapped me and then you’ll all be in danger. Or you’ll use me as a lure to get him to you and then kill him. And then I’m all alone with no one.”

She shook her head, “Your name is Y/n right?”

You nodded.

“We can help you Y/n. I promise. My name is Bobbi and if you get us out of here, SHIELD will protect you from him. You’ll be safe.”

“Okay,” you said, after thinking it over for a second, “I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“Good,” she said, standing up from the chair but falling back down. Her knee was all busted up so you helped her stand and stay up, “Because I wasn’t going to let you stay with him anyways.”

“Leave a note that only your team can figure out to tell them where we are. Once dad realizes we’re gone, he’s not going to be happy,” you said, giving her a pen and piece of paper.

Once the note was written and in place, the two of you made your way out through one of the back doors and outside. You made sure to hide in a place that had cover so in case Grant came looking for you, he wouldn’t find you.

You heard footsteps coming towards you and you peeked around the corner, seeing a man come towards you. Your dad always made sure you had a way to protect yourself so he trained you to keep a firearm with you at all times. You pulled it out and stepped out from your hiding place.

“Who are you?” you asked, training the gun on the man.

He copied you, not knowing if you were a part of Ward’s trap, “I’m here for Bobbi. I’m with SHIELD,” he said.

You looked behind you and Bobbi nodded, letting you know that he was okay. You looked back to the man and lowered your weapon, “She’s hurt and can’t walk.”

He nodded and rushed to the woman and helped her up. They started walking away before he looked back at you, “You coming kid?”

You looked at Bobbi and she smiled at you, encouraging you to say yes, so you did. You followed them onto their jet and back to their base. As you took off, you looked at the building and saw your dad leave it, looking around frantically. He saw the jet and you knew he knew where you were now. He ran back inside the building and you turned away, leaving him in the past.

Taglist

@i-writes-things @thatsamericasass24

Marvel

#x teen!reader #x daughter!reader #agents of shield #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#grant ward #marvel mcu #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu fandom #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction #mcu

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kebriones · 1 year

Note

Would you recommend your school to someone looking for an art school to apply to?

Massively depends on what type of art you want to do, your ability to put up with bullshit and what you expect your studies to give you.

The athens school of fine art is fine arts-oriented. If you want to do more illustrative work, comics, animation, conceptart, whatever etc, this is definitely not the school for you. Abstract stuff, performance, installations, video art, sculpture? Definitely recommend it. Specific workshops/profs also offer classes that really help with fundamentals of painting/drawing/sculpture, but the general direction of the school is "we make art for those who know about art, not the general public" so if you're, say, someone who wants to do book illustrations, you will suffer. And honestly the overall knowledge you get is so all over the place if you want to evolve quickly and actually learn, especially if drawing is your focus, i would not recommend it.

Second is that the relationships with the professors might be on surface level more casual than in other schools, but you will also have a bad time if you're not able to listen to the stupidest stuff and just nod and agree. Art is a subjective thing and trying to teach/instruct artists is a hard job with lots of pitfalls. Ideally you'll just click with your main professor but very likely you are going go have personal issues with them and you have to be ready to handle that. They might be unreasonable and unfair and you need to internally filter everything they say and ignore what isn't helping you. I know a lot of people who cannot handle this environment, or end up constantly arguing with professors. Basically you need to be there to do your work and not to be recognized or praised. People who come thinking they're great artists and want to always be right are going to have problems. I don't think I'm explaining this correctly but basically you need to be ready for shitty profs.

Third is that it's super difficult to get in. Mostly because it's not entirely objective and there's a factor of luck. Only 1/10 of those who take the exam pass each year. I never passed the exams, i tried twice and during prep school I was constantly reassured by my teacher that I was definitely getting in, and that I was their best student. How well you draw doesn't matter. I got in by transferring from Thessaloniki due to health and money reasons and i had to go to the ministry like five times to get the papers done. I think you can no longer transfer though. I might be mistaken.

If you're into fine arts, if you can put up with weird unreasonable professors in order to get what good they can give you (and they can give you good stuff for sure, you just have to pick them out of all the stupid stuff) and if you can force yourself to work and evolve as an artist without expecting much structure and direction from the school, it's good. It took me 4 years of constantly wanting to drop out before i finally made my peace with it, and that's because I'm now in the final year where I can basically just work on my stuff exclusively and focus on my graduation project.

Of also you have to be able to work on the projects the professors night give you which can be completely outside of your interests. If you can't force yourself to work on something on-command, you'll struggle. If you're overly particular about your work, you'll struggle. If you can't change your work to kinda match what your prof is expecting/asking from you, you'll struggle.

It is however an environment where you are very encouraged to create and actually become an artist. There's art and artists around you all the time you just have to be open to it. There are bonuses too, that you get an intergrated master's degree, there are the annexes that are absolutely gorgeous places to go stay and make art in, and the degree gives you certain privileges. The evening workshops you can choose from are also all extremely good and interesting and offer probably the biggest amount of concentrated knowledge in the school. Photography, set design, ceramics and marble sculpture are some of the best and have good professors too.

There used to be a comics/animation/illustration workshop that was a rogue workshop. We tried for years to get it approved by the uni council and we got a lot of backlash. At the end it was dissolved, it doesn't exist anymore and the professors running it gave up. That's an example of the school's feelings on these things.

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shoheiakagi · 1 year

Note

😏😏 A - Z for Shohei and Chitose, if you could please? - redlovesashes

of course <3 but i just skipped like two questions since this was getting pretty long

send me a homra boy!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Akagi: super sweet and affectionate. Cleans his partner up with a towel, or draws them a bath, before spooning them. and yes, he does this with his flings and hook ups too, he’s just very affectionate after sex

Chitose: smokes a cigarette while going through his post nut clarity. He either knocks out after smoking or tries to get away as soon as possible. But if he’s drunk, i can see him cuddling onto his date before passing out, snoring in their ear

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Akagi: works out a lot to keep in shape, but is proud of his biceps, especially since thats where his homra tattoo is. Loves to flex his bicep around his partner, especially when theyre in bed and his s/o is absentmindedly tracing his tattoo. Shouhei is obsessed with his partner’s waist, always wrapping an arm around to pull them in closer. He’s especially obsessed with how small their waist is, constantly pressing kisses and blowing raspberries on their belly

Chitose: he loves to flex his abs, always posting gym selfies on social media. On his partner, he likes a full pair of lips and a thick ass. He has a bad habit of smacking or squeezing his partner’s ass when they walk by, not caring about who’s watching.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Akagi: has a breeding/cream pie kink. He loves to cum inside his partner, filling them up to the brim. Nothing beats the sight of his cum leaking out of his s/o after sex. He will literally scoop up any leaking cum with his finger and stuff them into his partner’s hole

Chitose: loves cumming all over his partner’s face and chest. Whenever he needs to release, he has his partner getting on their knees and swallow his load

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Akagi: with his partner’s consent, he records some of their sexy times; some of them being audio recordings, others being video recordings. When hes alone and bored, he watches some of their videos and can’t help but imagine their videos being posted online in one of those amateur p*rn sites. He's a little embarrassed to admit on how hard he gets at the idea of random strangers (and even his friends) watching him manhandle and rawdog his s/o while they cry out his name.

Chitose: he sometimes fantasizes about having a threesome with another homra member. He doesnt know why, but theres just something about the idea of spit roasting someone with a fellow member that turns him on. He asked dewa once but the latter turned him down lmaoo. His ideal candidates are dewa, kusanagi, mikoto, and shouhei.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Akagi: has an ample amount of experience. i can see him losing his virginity during high school, either with his s/o at his house when his parents were out, or maybe during some house party with some random person he vaguely knew. Every now and then, he would end up picking someone up from a party or club to release any stress he’s been building up from the week.

Chitose: has a crazy amount of experience. He lost his virginity to his late girlfriend during high school, and has been pretty vanilla with her. Post-breakup, chitose is consistently getting laid every weekend with so many different types of people, where he learns a lot of new moves, positions, and kinks

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Akagi: if hes feeling romantic, then missionary and the lotus position are his favorites, since it brings him closer to his partner while maintaining eye contact. If he’s feeling horny, jealous, or angry, then he favors any position that would end with him pinning his partner down while he selfishly thrusts into them (i.e. doggy, against the wall, holding their wrists above their head, etc). Regardless, he will always favor any position that ends with his partner’s leg over his shoulder as he pounds into them

Chitose: doggy style because to him, nothing screams more primitive and wild than this position. Something about controlling the other person’s movement while gripping onto their hips gets to him. He finds it so cute when they collapse face first on the pillows bc they can’t handle his thrusts, only for him to yank them back so that theyre pressed up against his chest as he continues drilling into them

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Akagi: he can be pretty serious and intense during sex, but for the most part, he’s cracking jokes and making small talks with his partner to make sure theyre feeling comfortable. He’s a big fan of talking during sex; literally the type to ask you about your day as he thrusts into you

Chitose: i think chitose can be very flirty and humorous during foreplay, but when it comes to the actual deed, he suddenly becomes more quiet and serious, more focused on getting his release

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Akagi: peppers a lot of kisses around his s/o’s face and neck, especially when he first enters them and feels them tensing up. Would whisper a lot of encouragement and praises into his s/o’s ear, telling them how beautiful they are and how proud he is of them for taking in his dick so good, how they were made for his dick, etc. Would even kiss their hand and wrists when he gets excited and emotional.

Chitose: without even realizing it, chitose is actually soft with his partner. stroking their neck, kissing their forehead, making sure that they enjoyed the experience as well. he's very seductive, spending a lot of time to 'woo' his lover by tracing a finger down their spine, kissing their collarbones, treating them to a fancy dinner before getting into bed, etc.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Akagi: when alone, he masturbates to the sextapes he created with his s/o. i can also see him and his partner masturbating to each other during a video call, both of them missing each other's touch

Chitose: actually doesn't masturbate that often since he's mostly out there getting laid lol. but i do see him joining the other homra guys in watching watching adult videos that include some crazy positions or their favorite p*rnstar, and we know how those sessions go

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Akagi: bondage. he loves the dominance he gets from tying up or handcuffing his partner to the bed, leaving them vulnerable to him. bonus points if he gets to blindfold them as well

Chitose: he's really into roleplaying with his partner. especially scenarios where his partner acts as a cop and he acts as the big, bad criminal that they have been trying to catch. its his favorite since it always end up with his partner bent over and handcuffed to the bed post, while he taunts them about being this godawful cop who is terrible at their job and has no other purpose but to be fucked by him

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Akagi: when he was younger and even more reckless, nothing excited him more than fucking his fling in the back of his friend's car. now that he owns a motorcycle, he takes his s/o to secluded areas where he can bend them over his bike without any care. but when it comes to more common locations, he's been leaning towards fucking his partner in the shower

Chitose: he doesn't really have any favorite location. but he does find himself in the same dingy love hotel way too many times. if his partner is lucky, chitose might drag them over to his apartment and fuck them in his living room

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Akagi: i've mentioned this before, but red is his kryptonite. theres just something so seductive about his s/o wearing red that makes him lose control

Chitose: its no surprise that chitose doesn't need much to be motivated. as long as youre conventionally attractive with a nice body and a cute face, consider him turned on

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Akagi: anything that would hurt him or his partner (knife play, smacking/punching on the face, etc) and scat play

Chitose: breeding kink. even if its just during the heat of the moment, he doesn't even want to entertain the idea of accidentally impregnating his partner

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Akagi: like any other guy, he does like receiving a good blowjob. But unlike some guys, he actually likes returning the favor, genuinely wanting his partner to feel good. It also helps that he has an oral fixation, so he’s always happily burying his face between his partner’s thighs, enjoying their taste.

Chitose: prefers receiving head than returning the favor tbh, he's a bit selfish like that. but luckily his dick makes up for his selfishness! he's not shy to yank his partner's hair while theyre blowing him. he gets a little impatient and eventually takes over and fucks their mouth. lets out a loud curse and momentarily falls in love when his partner eagerly swallows his cum

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

i feel like it depends on the mood for both akagi and chitose when it comes to their pacing. chitose, despite being a firm no strings attached guy, can be pretty slow and sensual when he wants to. but most of the time, i can see him being fast and rough during sex. when shouhei is feeling romantic and wants to make love to his partner, he will be thrusting into them slowly, whispering praises into their ear. but there has been plenty of times where he would roughly fuck his partner into oblivion

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Akagi: he prefers proper sex, but is open to quickies if him and his partner are in some public setting but he suddenly pops a boner and is now craving for his partner's touch

Chitose: very familiar with quickies, since there's been a few nights where he had multiple partners at different times throughout the night (and yes, dewa did take him to get tested the next day)

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Akagi: behind chitose and kusanagi, he has the most sexual experience, so i can see him being pretty adventurous but with some limitations

Chitose: the most experimental guy out of homra. he's been around the block multiple times, slept with different types of people, so he's the most open minded when it comes to taking risks in sex

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

okay but theyre both from homra so theyre definitely capable of fucking all night 🤬

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Akagi: he does not own any toys, but he knows that his partner owns a vibrator, so a lot of sessions have him teasing his partner by placing the vibrator against their nipples or inserted into their hole while their hands are tied up

Chitose: you didn't hear it from me, but he owns a sex swing which is hidden in his apartment and is used on very few people

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Akagi: can be pretty mean when he ties his partner up, teasing them with his tongue and fingers and pulling away right when theyre about to cum

Chitose: 10x meaner than shouhei cause one time he literally left his partner alone in his room for some time, tied up with a vibrator shoved between their legs

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Akagi: very vocal, grunting out curses as he thrusts into his partner, moaning into his partner as he eats them out, etc. but he prefers to gasp and groan into his partner’s ears as he pins them on the mattress, pumping into them

Chitose: unable to speak complete sentences, but is always cursing and growling as he gets closer to his orgasm.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Akagi: had sex on halloween night with his jason voorhees mask on, which was a major turn on for him and his partner

Chitose: once snuck a girl into homra’s van for a hookup. Everything was going well until kusanagi bursts in right when he was about to cum. Safe to say that him and kusanagi werent able to look each other in the eye for a couple of weeks

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Akagi: very healthy sex drive. He can keep it in his pants for the most part, sleeping around here and there. so unlike chitose, hes able to have normal conversations with ppl he’s attracted to. However, once he finds his person, hes suddenly horny like a dog in heat, needing to always touch them and grope them, before dragging them away to some secluded place

Chitose: wayyyyyyyy too horny to the point he might need some professional help. He sees one attractive person and it hasnt even been 10 minutes until he already starts fantasizing them on his bed, face down and ass up

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Akagi: exhausted by the time they finish their last round. For the most part, he tries to clean up his partner and run a bath for them before cuddling to sleep, but there has been times where he literally knocked out on top of his partner, his dick still inside of them

Chitose: chitose never really falls right asleep after sex, no matter how many rounds they go for. Sometimes, he’s sitting up and lighting up a cigarette. Sometimes, he’s laying down, staring at the ceiling. Other times, he’s in a rush, wearing his clothes and gathering his stuff and rushes out before the other person wakes up

#ty for the ask!#ask #ask game #starryredflames #akagi shouhei #chitose yo

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