#once i can sort out the transportation and get a job i won’t ask again

[dahyun]

i’m really sorry to post this, but i am struggling a lot right now and i could use some help. my job search has come to a standstill because i no longer have a reliable means of transportation. i have been using what little money i have left to help buy food for my family. i don’t know what i’m going to do once it’s all gone

any little amount will help immensely and if anyone can share this i would be extremely grateful!!!

(here is a pic of hazel as a token of apology lol)

[shima-draws]

THIS IS SEVERAL DAYS (WEEKS?) LATE BUT I LOVE YOU ALL thanks for enabling me

-The AU begins with a casual city patrol. Izuku, Todoroki, Uraraka and Ojiro are teamed up. Things are seemingly normal until they accidentally bump into Shigaraki and Kurogiri—a completely unplanned encounter. Despite Kurogiri’s warnings, Shigaraki charges into battle against the students. Kurogiri jumps in to back him up by using his warps

-There’s a close call where Izuku’s about to get the jump on Shiggy—but Kurogiri manages to open a warp right before Izuku can reach him. This is where things get...funky.

-Izuku activates One For All as he disappears into the warp. Kurogiri opens a gate somewhere nearby. Todoroki and the others wait for Izuku to reappear...but he doesn’t.

-Todoroki, Uraraka and Ojiro gang up on Kurogiri and demand their friend back. Kurogiri doesn’t know what to do, this has never happened before, and he doesn’t know how to bring Izuku back. Apparently his warp malfunctioned, and Izuku seemed to get lost between dimensions.

-Finally, several minutes later, Izuku reappears. In the ensuing chaos Kurogiri and Shigaraki make their escape. Izuku is weak and shaking from the distorted warp, so Todoroki calls Aizawa and takes him back to campus.

-Izuku explains that it felt like he was falling, and almost like his entire body was trying to rip itself apart molecule by molecule—but then he fell back into the warp and came out on the other side like he was supposed to. Recovery Girl checks on him and just says that he’s in shock, no other injuries besides that. Izuku tries telling her about the strange feeling of pain he had, but she just says it might be a side effect of Kurogiri’s quirk, and that it might be some sort of delayed reaction. Izuku accepts that and things go back to normal

Rest is under the cut because she is looooooong lmao

-Except they don’t. Izuku starts to have strange dreams about somebody calling out to him. They leave him feeling unsettled and shaky in the mornings, almost like how he felt right after the warp. The dreams don’t go away—they keep coming back almost every night, and while they seem to get clearer, he still can’t figure out what they mean.

-Things start to get worse when the dreams transition over into the waking world, and Izuku starts to see flashes of someone with white hair and sad eyes in the corners of his vision. He easily gets distracted during training, and can’t seem to shake the worried feeling he has about this being important. 

-It all comes to a head when Izuku suddenly finds himself in that weird place between dimensions during a training drill. He’s only there for a few seconds, but he’s finally able to catch a glimpse of what that world is like, because the last time he was there he was falling and spiraling and was too panicked to pay attention to his surroundings. After he snaps back to himself, he wonders if it was just in his head, but when it happens again and his friends have to shake him out of it, he realizes that his mind keeps transporting to that world...it seems like his place in reality is faltering.

-The “visions” slowly continue to get longer and longer each time, with Izuku slipping into that world more often. It’s getting harder to hide it from his classmates and teachers, and finally, there’s a time where it happens and Izuku is unresponsive for over 15 minutes. The person with the white hair keeps showing up, and Izuku is desperate to find out who they are

-During another training session, Izuku feels the lapse coming on, and decides to hide away for a bit to let it pass. Except this time he doesn’t just slip into the nether dimension with just his mind—this time his whole body transports there...and he finally figures out the truth.

-Izuku searches through the new world. Everything is distorted and gravity is all topsy turvy, and when he finally catches sight of the person reaching out to him in his dreams, he follows them. At long last he discovers just who has been communicating with him...and it’s himself!!

-The mystery ghost is finally revealed: an older Izuku, from another timeline. He explains to Izuku that the place they’re in now is a world between time and space that acts as a stabilizer and general overseer of other timelines and worlds. He refers to it as the Beyond, or by its more technical name, the nexus. Apparently the other Izuku has been here for a long time, keeping watch over all of his alternate selves and keeping the timelines in balance.

-Izuku questions just why he was brought there, and his alternate self tells him that when he activated One For All in Kurogiri’s warp, it ripped open a hole in space and he was able to make a connection to the Beyond, primarily because of his alternate self’s already existing presence there. That connection is unfortunately unstable so it kept pulling Izuku back in over time. The other Izuku has been trying to fix that connection but wasn’t able to do so without full contact, which is why he’d been reaching out to Izuku in his dreams.

-To make things easier, the other Izuku asks to be called Nexus. Izuku peppers him with questions, but Nexus is reluctant to answer. He decides to send Izuku back while he researches about his connection there to try and fix it—and then he makes Izuku swear that he won’t tell anybody about their interaction, mostly because outsiders shouldn’t be aware of the Beyond’s existence in the first place.

-Izuku arrives back in his world and realizes that several hours have passed since he vanished into the Beyond. His classmates and teachers swarm him when he returns, saying that they were about to send out pros to go find him. Toshinori questions Izuku about what’s been going on with him lately, but due to the promise he made Izuku can’t answer.

-As the days pass, Izuku continuously visits Nexus (mostly because he has no choice in the matter, being dragged there by the distortion lol) and tries to pry more answers out of him. Nexus is shockingly tight lipped and Izuku knows that something bad must have happened in his timeline for him to be here. Being older isn’t the only factor tying into Nexus’ general quiet demeanor and more serious attitude. Meanwhile, Toshinori and the Dekusquad are hurt by Izuku’s silence on what’s going on with him, and Izuku has an internal struggle over what matters more: the promise he made, or the trust of his friends and family. It’s a rough time.

-Izuku breaks down and Nexus realizes that maybe it’s time he starts being more forthcoming—he knows what the burden of secrets does to Izuku, being Izuku himself. Nexus finally reveals that his timeline had been completely wiped from existence centuries ago, due to an epic, climactic battle with AFO who was attempting to figure out how to access the Beyond and gain control over it in order to rule over all possible timelines. Apparently there was a backlash when AFO tried to access the Beyond and it caused the timeline to be erased. Izuku is absolutely horrified by the truth, realizing that billions of people existing in that timeline are just...gone now. Including everyone he loves. 

-Izuku asks if AFO is gone too. Nexus looks haunted by that, but says he’s sure that he’s gone for good...leaving himself as the only proof that his world even existed at all. After Izuku leaves, Nexus decides to do a bit of digging, just to make sure that the AFO from his world truly is dead. And what he finds is not comforting.

-Apparently, after the timeline had been wiped from existence, Nexus wasn’t the only one who was tossed out before it happened. He discovers that AFO is still around, and that he’s been skulking between timelines, gathering new quirks and more power. Terrified, Nexus summons Izuku and tells him of his findings, and says that if AFO were to come after him in the Beyond, or any of them from any timeline, there’s no way they would survive the battle.

-Izuku convinces Nexus to come to his timeline to explain everything, because clearly this is no longer a one man job and something Nexus can’t handle by himself. The issue with that is that the Beyond has a strict no interference policy, at least on the basis of entering the timelines and tampering with them, so Nexus has been stuck there for centuries because he’s literally not allowed to go timeline hopping lol

-However, since Izuku was able to make a connection there and can travel between the two worlds freely (for the most part…) he’s able to utilize that connection to allow Nexus to enter his dimension. Nexus sees the sky for the first time in hundreds of years and is shaken into complete silence.

-The rest of the Dekusquad happen to be there when Izuku arrives with his alternate self and immediately bombard him with questions, but Izuku tells them the first thing they need to do is go see All Might and the other teachers to explain what’s going on.

-Upon seeing All Might again for the first time in centuries, Nexus bursts into tears (and this is a MONUMENTAL moment because Izuku hasn’t seen him cry once since meeting him, even when he told him that everyone he loved no longer exists). There’s a lot of fluffy family bonding and it’s very soft. Toshi holds onto both his boys and cries and I’M EMO LISTEN

-Nexus prepares to tell all the staff what’s going on, but first he reveals to Izuku that he didn’t...exactly tell him everything about what happened to his timeline. A quirk user is brought in who can read memories and project them on a movie screen, and the teachers and Izuku watch in horrified silence as they experience the last night of terror and heartbreak Nexus went through before his timeline was erased forever.

-The memories play back. Izuku is awoken in the middle of the night to find that the entire city is burning. The screams and pleas for help echo all around, and he finds that he can’t get into contact with any of his friends. Racing outside, Izuku looks up to see AFO silhouetted against the red sky, floating among the ashes and smoke. As Izuku hurries to catch up to him, he witnesses the sheer horror of a mass body count and hundreds dead along the way, including lots of minor and pro heroes that he knows.

-Izuku finally reaches AFO and immediately leaps into the fight. He doesn’t stand a chance. AFO has gathered too many quirks, and explains his plan to escape this dimension and gain access to the Beyond in order to spread his control further. Izuku is joined by his friends, but does not get to enjoy their help for long, because each of them are struck down, one by one. Fueled by rage and grief, Izuku ramps up OFA all the way and completely lets loose, chipping away at AFO while he cries over the deaths of his friends. Yeah this is gruesome and dark as shit and I’m not sorry

-AFO is about to get one final attack in—but Bakugou arrives at the last second and takes the blow for him. Bakugou dies in Izuku’s arms and that’s the last straw—OFA goes out of control right as AFO is preparing to open a warp to the Beyond, and the power spark causes a backlash that distorts everything, making the world glitch out.

-When Izuku wakes up, he finds himself in the Beyond with the blood of his friends on his hands. Information starts flooding into his brain about the Beyond and all of the timelines it’s tied to, and Izuku realizes what has happened. His home is gone...his friends, his family, the entire world...all wiped from existence. Now he is the only one left, tasked with taking care of the Beyond and mourning his losses for the rest of eternity.

-Needless to say, everyone watching the memories play are extremely emotional, and Izuku (our Izuku) is overcome with so much grief for his alternate self that they end up in an embrace, sharing a feeling that only they know between each other.

-Nezu and the other teachers agree to help Nexus defeat AFO once and for all. Nexus tells them that bringing in Class 1-A would be smart as well, and that he won’t make the same mistake twice and let them die. They decide to battle it out in the Beyond, it being the safest place to go wild without any risk of casualties or property destruction. And so!! Izuku introduces Nexus to the rest of the class, they all take a trip to the Beyond together, and so begins their grand training arc.

-Nexus preps each member of Class 1-A individually and on teams. They take turns going up against him and all get their asses thoroughly handed to them :) Nexus is hella strong and has had centuries to practice. He teaches them how to use the terrain of the Beyond, how to deal with the gravity and use it to their advantage. He tells them how to look for AFO’s tells and quirks so they can deal with his multipurpose battle style. Overall it’s a very fun yet stressful time with lots of bonding, sleepovers in the Beyond, and everybody getting a huge ass crush on Nexus because 1. He pretty, 2. He stronk, 3. He’s literally an eldritch being at this point, and 4. It’s Izuku. How can they not.

-There’s a time where Nexus takes Izuku to a special corner of the Beyond, and Izuku sees it’s covered for miles and miles and miles with gravestones. Izuku realizes that Nexus had spent years crafting as many as he could for all of the people that were erased from his timeline, even those he didn’t know, and at this point he’s lost count with how many there are. There’s a separated section with all of his family members and friends, and each of the stones are carved with special memorials. The rest of the class shows up and gets to look at their own gravestones and it’s fucked up as shit!! It’s very emotional and then everybody smothers Nexus with hugs and hgnhhhgh 🥺

Obviously there’s a lot that happens after this and the whole battle and everything but like. I don’t have all that planned out yet. But this is the general idea for the most part!! I’ve had a lot of fun brainstorming for this AU, I would do anything for Nexus period, and I’m super excited to start making content for it >:D

THANK YOU FOR READING and thanks for letting me infodump oh my god this is so long

[prismartist]

Ponk’s discoveries and what they mean

Y’all haven’t been paying attention to Ponk and it shows. /lh

He has made many discoveries in his recent streams that are just begging to be talked about, and I, as the resident maker of farfetched theories, will take up the job of compiling and connecting them to the current lore.

For those who don’t know, Ponk recently built up the lore of Not A Very Good Town Town, aka the village that went mad, through a book he found in the basement of Jack’s (the potato farmer, not Manifold) Ye Old Farmhouse, written by Jack himself. And it reveals some interesting information.

There’s going to be a few sections for this post: first, breaking down what is in the journal, then theories as to what exactly happened to the village, and how these discoveries can tie into the current storyline.

The journal

For one, Jack seems to have interacted an entity that’s eerily similar to Foolish. In the first page there’s an entry that reads:

“Day 790 The strange man is back, his body made of straw but eyes of emrald.”

On the second page as well, it mentions:

“Day 800 A NEW LAND! A land that uses sand as stone! Gold.... GOLD EVERYWHERE!”

Which, of course, probably pertains to Foolish’s desert home, which also has a significant amount of gold due to the Egyptian theme.

But why would we get Foolish lore from Ponk of all people, instead of the totem god himself? Well, Ponk was the first person Foolish interacted with on the server aside from Dream, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they talked more after that and collabed for lore.

But anyways, now we move on to the more interesting section:

“Day 840 The Strange man has returned his name still unknown... BUT! he has brought a caravan of good! he talks about ancient magic and gifts 21 statues transported in make shift boats.”

Jack then goes on to describe that the statues are “calming” for him, before the next entry, written ten days later, show a disturbing shift in attitude.

“Day 855 CATS I HEAR CATS, CATS IN THE WALLS IN THE WALLS”

And another one five days later:

“DAY 900 murder... the cats murder ,,, the people I showed Shrimpy my satues he seems too intrested BUT THEY ARE MY SATUES”

Now those who saw the episode know that Jack and Bob (Shrimpy) turned out to be the murderers of the “canon round”. Seeing as those two people were the only ones exposed to the statues as we know, it’s logical to assume that the statues were the reason they went mad.

And this is backed up by the next entry:

“Day 905 SUDDEN URGE TO MURDER, THAT HELGA WOMEN IS TEMPTING BUT DAMN HER HUSBAND NEEDS TO GO BY ANY MEANS NESS…..”

Then there are two blank pages before the journal concludes

“Day 1040 Just me and Shrimpy and the cool statues life is good go od goo d g ood go odgood g oodg ood go odg good goo dgood goo dgood g ood good good good goodgoo d go od g ood go od dgo od g oo go od go o d - JACK”

It’s creepy as shit. But moving on.

There’s a lot of questions to be asked here. Why did Foolish–if it is Foolish–visit the Town? Why exactly did he gift a bunch of statues that drove Jack and Shrimpy to madness and murder? Why are there cats in the walls?

(Well, cats are very significant to Egyptian culture, even to a cult-like status, but that’s for another post.)

There are a few possibilities.

What exactly were the effects that Foolish had on the Town?

(Here’s the farfetched theories part lmao)

The simplest (and let’s be honest, the most likely) theory is that the statues probably had way too much power that caused people to become overprotective over them. Foolish just didn’t realize and wanted to give some nice gifts, but the statues drove Jack and Bob to insanity after being exposed to them for way too long. So they killed everyone.

However, considering certain factors, there is another possibility, specifically surrounding:

The “non-canon” round.

Did Karl say that it was a practice round and thus not canon? Yes. Am I suggesting it’s canon anyway for the sake of this theory that probably won’t be true? Also yes.

Besides, Karl probably also didn’t plan for TVTWM to be influential to the storyline, but because of it his character’s now a time traveler and Ponk is pulling out more lore so.

I think Foolish came by and gifted the statues, the first round did happen, and he brought them back to life after the first game. But the resurrection affected Jack and Bob, driving them to madness à la gothic horror lit character that just saw something they weren’t supposed to. Perhaps their attitude became cult-like, praising Foolish, thus the overprotectiveness over the statues as they were connected to the god, or they were of the opinion that “Hey no, everyone’s supposed to be dead,” and then sought to make that true once again.

“But then what about the first round, where everyone also died?” You may scoff at the ridiculous theory, poking my chest accusingly. “Why were the killers different?”

Well, I have a simple answer for that.

Egg.

“What, the egg again-“ I know, I know, it may seem tiring tying everything back to the egg, but hear me out.

In another one of Ponk’s streams, “Dreams of potatos?”, at 58:15 (correct me if wrong) Ponk had a dream where Mayor Jimmy was saying disjointed sentences to Jack, scolding him, telling him to stay away from Helga, and also something about burning Miles Memeington being burned at the stake for being a witch (????). At the end of it, Jimmy turned to the camera.

And his eyes were red.

Which, of course, is a telltale sign of being infected by the egg.

The egg being the main plot right now, seeing as it can easily be connected to the “Red-Eyed Village Wars”, and the fact that it is known to control people to murder, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to point to it as being the cause.

It also helps that Jimmy was only a character from the first round; in the “canon” round, Bad had changed his character to some sort of constable or something.

So the egg may have controlled Jimmy and Cornelius, the murderers in the first round, to kill everyone, Foolish then came along, resurrected everyone murdered in the first round, gotten rid of the egg’s influence, and then left. Then whatever effects the statues had on Jack and Bob took affect.

Alternatively, the statues may have been the ones to resurrect the dead, or have been given as protection from any threats, but became haywire for one reason or another. They influenced Jack and Bob to protect the statues at any cost, and they took it too far. Which may seem a little hypocritical as the egg literally does the same thing, but fire fights fire and all that.

And, just like with Karl, if Foolish has had to deal with the egg before, it makes sense why he’s so averse to it now.

Current lore

Now, how does this tie into the current storyline?


Aside from the egg, if resurrection and items do affect one’s psyche, then maybe that’s the same reason why Schlatt and even Dream–the only other two who know how to resurrect–acted the way they did, becoming apathetic to the wellbeing of other people.

Also, it is worth noting that in the basement where Ponk found the journal, there were 21 villagers in boats, the same amount as the statues. Thus Ponk concluded that they are the statues. And Foolish does have an affinity for villagers, if King Toad is any indication. This implies that Foolish can not only bring dead people back to life, but can also grant life to objects that never lived in the first place. Or, they were once living, but had their life taken away from them before getting it back for one reason or another. If Foolish really has this much power, it could be foreshadowing for future events where those powers will be utilized.

About the bloodvines, if Foolish has defeated them before, there’s a chance he may do it again. Unless something goes wrong and he accidentally drives a few people to madness.

(or maybe they were predisposed to madness, who knows-)

TL;DR

Foolish may have interacted with Not A Very Good Town Town before to save them from the egg and resurrect the dead, driving Jack and Bob to insanity as a consequence. Thus he could have a lot of power and will be the one to potentially defeat the egg once again.

[leviiattacks]

Boxer Levi & Coach Reader

author note :: i lost the ask for this, but this is not good at all. quite literally the worst thing i have ever written /srs anyways,,,,, anon said they wanted me to post it no matter what so i hope you do enjoy whatever this is,,, the pacing is non-existent and it has not been edited 👍🏼

requests are always open :-) i promise i am usually better than this,, anyway i may just use this as a rough outline for a fic 🤔

word count :: 5.4k....... yeah......

you and levi become acquainted with each other in university. it’s all very cliche if you do say so yourself. he steps in playing the role of good samaritan heroically saving your wallet and wordlessly he hands it to you even after running for the thief. the man doesn’t do as much as pant in exhaustion.

his stamina is…never mind that, his reflexes are out of this world

he expects a thank you because anyone else would expect at least a token of gratitude shown via words but the sentence you want to ask only ends up trapping itself in your throat

it comes to the point where he nods understanding maybe you have a sore throat or just don’t want to thank him at all

eyes flicking to his hands you immediately lunge forward taking your chance.

almost immediately you feel regret for holding onto the wrist of a complete and utter stranger without permission

“your stamina it’s great!” the man turns to you, he isn’t smiling but he’s definitely intrigued by the sudden change in behavior

and that’s where it all begins

levi’s horrible at getting to know strangers, even worse at forming bonds and connections. maybe that’s why he doesn’t warm up to the idea of having to deal with new people and new settings all at once

“i hope you’ve met your coach this is aman-” introductions are cut short by levi stubbornly interjecting in the middle of your sentence 

“i have, but is she you?”

pursing your lips an awkward chuckle leaves your mouth, you look around uncomfortably wondering what he means.

“well, no?”

“then i won’t box.”

?????

you don’t even know what to say??? here you were thinking maybe he would be a little more cooperative than this.

his index finger points right at you and he takes a step forwards. his shoes come into contact with yours and you find yourself holding your breath apprehensively.

“i won’t box unless it’s you in charge.”

that is when you and levi formally meet for the first time. you are but an inexperienced coach and he, an inexperienced boxer.

“i’m getting drinks you want anything?”

“oh no don’t worry i’m good!!” you smile at levi and he nods his head venturing off to buy himself a bottle of sparkling water

levi has had you coaching him for a few years now

really he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more than respect for you. respect for the way you stay back late with him to train, respect for the schedules you make him and he’s most definitely respectful of your boxing knowledge

sure out of the two of you he’s more physically capable but it doesn’t change the fact that he becomes frustrated when he’s told he has to spend a day without you.

it’s not like you think that levi cares or anything, nothing sappy like that.

he just probably hates, no, despises having to listen to anyone else’s instructions. he finds that they somehow sound demeaning or less sincere.

every instruction you give him has a reason behind it. you don’t beat around the bush and he’s stated before that he enjoys that he knows he’s developing his skill set and progressing when he’s with you.

the olympus ring - one of the largest boxing competitions known to man is approaching soon and if levi manages to place in the top two his career is set to sky rocket in no time at all

that thought makes you feel unusually nervous

worry gnaws at your mind and you wonder about whether or not he’ll replace you after the competition concludes. after all who wants a coach with little fighting experience? all you really know is from your family. your brother and father had been professional boxers years prior.

you have no doubt at all that levi will place number one that’s for sure but you really hope he doesn’t find a replacement for you.

you’ve never had much faith in your coaching and to be left behind in the dust hurts you a tiny bit but you never bring it up because you know what? levi progressing in his career will make him happy :-)

levi’s happiness over yours and it’s not good to be selfish you suppose >:(

“y/n.” he’s waving a hand in front of your face, you’re uncharacteristically quiet today and he’s caught on

“you awake?” he asks again.

upon receiving no response levi’s now waving his hand with more tenacity

“wake. up.” he flicks at your forehead and you stir a little finally coming to your senses once you see him leaning up above you.

he looks taller than normal from this angle and your cheeks blaze, he has a habit of walking around shirtless whilst training and doesn’t realise the effect it has on you

“i- yeah good totally good. just thinking.”

“thinking about?” levi kneels to the floor looking you in the eyes and your mind falters wondering when it was he began to sit so close to you. it feels like it was just yesterday when the two of you used to eat lunch separately out of embarrassment.

the silence stretches for a second too long and his eyes narrow suspiciously leaving you to think on your feet

“i well, you have a press conference soon and i have to think of transportation and-”

“coach. i can deal with that.”

you’re a little stunned when he says that because he’s never tried to take away from your responsibilities in the past. is this a hint that he no longer wants you around?

“but it’s my job?” you reply back feeling threatened

“but you’re always doing it. i can figure it out this once.”

without even hearing the rest of what you have to say he stalks back towards his punching bag leaving your chest empty

he’s definitely thinking of replacing you is what you think

really this should not be getting you worked up.

you’ve known levi for years, you should have faith in the fact he trusts you but you find yourself indulging in self doubt more often than you intend to

guilt fills you as you scroll through the multiple job listings in front of you but you have a justification. this is your lifeline, you can’t afford to lose your source of income and it’s best to be prepared

however there’s no real amount of preparation that can get you used to the prospect of not seeing levi every day

he’s sort of just made a space for himself in your daily routine

chewing at your bottom lip you can’t get through one job listing without thinking about him and you shut your laptop down thinking tomorrow will be a better day and you’ll check back in then

why does levi even matter?? he’ll officially be an ass when he dumps you of your position?? who cares about him???

but that doesn’t stop you from caring and now you’re hunched over your closed laptop trying to understand what it is that’s making you feel this way

maybe it’s the whole attachment you have with him??

he is the very first person you’ve ever coached that’s true

he’s made you proud and allowed for your name to get out there in the boxing world

maybe that’s what’s holding you back from looking into other jobs

but that reason doesn’t make much sense

you should still be frustrated with him.

AND

you most definitely should not care about how he’s doing OR worry about who’ll patch him up when he ends up stupidly injuring himself during practice (he does that a lot)

“why do i care so much for him?” you type into google thinking there’s no person on this earth that can help you with this predicament now

honestly at this point asking AI is probably going to have to be your only reliable option

tapping on one of the first links you hope to find your answer

“what happened? yeah, you had sex?” pops onto your screen and you tap off as quick as possible.

no. you did not have sex. oh god, you haven’t even touched levi much. the most you’ve done is lace your fingers with his and offer him a hug

are you meant to have… had sex???

is it wrong for you to feel that way withou-

okay enough. this has got nothing to do with sex and your feelings are still valid. maybe you are right and you’re attached to him that’s it!!! right?

scrolling further down you nearly give up until you reach another link titled “the science of caring for those who don’t care for you.”

rolling your eyes you still hesitantly tap praying you find some sort of answer

and an answer is what you find that’s for sure

staring you right in the face in bold letters

1. you feel responsible for that person

not really, he’s very independent.

2. the person is a family member

absolutely not

3. you could be romantically attracted to the person in question

…….

romantically interested?? no. that’s wrong. not true. incorrect. not right. just not real. you are not romantically attracted to levi

,,,or are you?

that does explain why he makes you feel jittery, it explains why you shivered the one time he engulfed you in a hug at his first championship

it also explains why you feel burning jealousy when a celebrity shoves their number into your hands asking you to pass it onto levi. they don’t even look at you like you’re a human being. you’re just a messenger pigeon

they’re worlds away from you. you forever stuck in your tracksuit and them - those beautiful models in skintight dresses and heels to match are stuck in a world where everything they want is handed to them. that includes men

you know it’s not their fault and you’d kill to be like them too but you guess the whole sweaty tracksuits and boxing daily has just become your niche

nonetheless levi is a man. a popular man.

and he sure as hell has no romantic interest in his clumsy, uncoordinated coach

sighing you huddle yourself into a ball choosing not to think about it anymore

but you know you’ve already come to your conclusion

you like levi ackerman more than a coach should

and it’s taken you years to take notice of it

when you became a coach you never really thought people would talk about you much

you were clearly very wrong about that. you and levi are both hot topics on discussion forums and boxing panels. luckily for you levi finds no entertainment in such forms of boxing and so never glances at them

he’s completely unaware of all the online comments. to be honest you’re happy he’s oblivious to it all. he doesn’t deserve to deal with spiteful, mean spirited jabs

you’re less like levi and find yourself aimlessly scrolling through news articles and boxing q&a pages. it’s interesting to see what people have to say on social media

but these days all the searches for your name are filled with “replaced soon?” and “not good enough to coach ackerman?”

the headlines are cruel jokes but again you’re willing to handle taking the brunt of the press’ force instead of levi. yes, even if it hurts you.

“what you reading?” levi peers over your shoulder and you nearly throw your phone away to the other side of the room but instead you choose to grip at it tightly and shove it into your chest

you grin hiding the screen away. “something private.”

levi doesn’t look like he believes you, he wants to ask if you’re okay and if you need anything because frankly you do look slightly distraught but he decides against interrogating you

“oh okay. i’ll be back. you want anything from starbucks?” he asks.

at that moment you wish he asked you if you wanted to talk about what had been bothering you

but you know even if he did ask you’d deny his help

the olympus ring’s official press conference is one in which many rivalries will be established

levi has always had an issue with zeke jaeger one of the top contenders in his division.

it’s a long story......

one which includes the purposeful injury of a mutual friend in order to sabotage his career

you remember it all, the way you had to physically hold levi back from pouncing at the man. it had been one of the most difficult things you had to do

erwin was your friend too and you wanted him to receive justice. part of you wanted to let go and allow for levi to attack zeke with his all but you chose to be levi’s coach before you were erwin’s friends

if he wasn’t going to make good decisions for himself you would do it for him

if you had let him go through with that rash choice he could have risked suspension and suspension could completely halt some careers. suspension almost always led to shorter longevity and motivation

and so that’s why you always shift to levi’s side when he walks past zeke. there’s no way you’re taking a chance. knowing levi he could lose his cool and completely pummel him with an upper cut

so that’s what you’re doing right now. trying to edge levi to the other side of the hall but he does no such thing.

“coach, do you have to be so cautious with zeke?” he finally asks with a bland look on his face

you wince a little when he doesn’t use your name and it looks like he notices the reaction. he makes no commentary on it

“this is my job. let me do it properly.” you explain nudging him to the side so your path doesn’t coincide with zeke’s

levi looks at you poking a tongue in his cheek clearly not amused nor happy

“i’ll do what i want.” and with that said and done he walks on ahead. you take note of the fact that despite saying he’ll do what he wants he does in fact comply with your instructions and walks in the opposite direction and into a nearby convenience store

sighing you rummage through your backpack trying to find your meds

your head has been pounding since you’ve arrived and you hope to fit in at least one nap

looking up to survey the area the street is clear and there is no sight of zeke. you feel at ease at that discovery, not only does he cause you discomfort but he’s a general displeasure to interact with

his tuft of dirty blonde hair irks you to no end and you’re up for no conversation with the man who who ended erwin’s career

he’s the last person you want to ever initiate small talk with.

but fate is a weird thing is it not? because as soon as you’re sure you’ve escaped the clutches of zeke jaeger you hear a chuckle behind you

“well if it isn’t levi’s side piece?”

a hand lands on your shoulder but you shake it away immediately

jaw clenching you try to ignore zeke as best you can but he continues to taunt you

“imagine if levi got an actual coach and not a whore to fuck in the gym?”

turning to face him you see him midway through shrugging his shoulders

believe it or not there had been a time where you and zeke were good friends. a time where he hadn’t let fame get to his head.

so for him to refer to you like that does make your heart sting a little

“cat got your tong-”

and there it is

the long overdue punch

it hits him right in the jaw without warning and you’re tripping trying to stop levi - who might you add has shown up from NOWHERE.

you thought he was shopping?????

“you know if i needed to swing at him i could have?!?” you whisper shout at him completely infuriated that he’s possibly thrown away his chance of competing

“you weren’t going to though.” he says plainly and you can’t deny it.

you don’t have it in you to swing at zeke.

levi doesn’t choose to inflict more pain on his opponent and instead kneels beside him leaning by his ear

you don’t know what he whispers - you’re completely out of ear shot but it’s not even thirty seconds later till levi rises and saunters away seeming content

shooting zeke an apologetic look for the over the top beating you’re surprised to see him look...regretful?

whatever levi said you wonder what it was

it’s been a solid fifteen minutes of you walking behind levi

his back is all you’ve seen so you have no idea about his mood and it’s not that you’re intimidated or anything but peering in just to look at his face is a little odd so you choose to stay a suitable distance away

“y/n.” he says finally when he reaches his hotel room.

fishing through your backpack for his keys you’re surprised when he holds your wrist to stop you

“listen to me.” he sounds calm but slightly on edge

“has zeke always said those things?”

twiddling your thumbs you awkwardly laugh

“well no, we used to be friends. remember how i told you ages ago? he was so cool back then and yeah i miss that zeke :-) but i don’t know what’s up with him.”

you’ve never really told anyone about how you feel about zeke’s hostility so you’re getting KINDA emotional right now thinking about the friend you miss

“i mean to ask, since you started coaching me has he always said that?”

“it was a bit before that but yeah. it’s no big deal at all. people change, zeke changed. i can’t do anything about it.”

moving to find his room keys again you don’t expect for him to hold his grasp

looking up at him there’s a look of simmering anger on his face

“why did you never tell me he said that about you?”

running a hand through your hair you’re only getting anxious having to deal with this in the middle of a hotel hallway

“levi. everyone says that about me. me and you are always together, all sorts of stupid rumours spread.”

“so why do you have to deal with all the malicious comments?? it’s unfa-”

“levi, the world has never been fair.”

handing him his keys he looks between you and them. he’s deciding if he wants to continue with his questioning

ultimately he decides he’s heard enough

a few hours have passed since the incident. neither you or levi have had the courage to come out of your separate rooms to discuss anything

you know you’re going to have to break the quiet and go through his possible press conference questions with him. even if you don’t want to this is your job after all.

so that’s how you end up sitting cross legged on his bed in your pyjamas. levi’s still in the shower so you’ve welcomed your self in. it’s common practice between the two of you to do so

after the one time he walked in on you naked…there’s practically nothing to hide from each other

scribbling a few ideas down onto your notepad you’re curious of what the press have in store for him this time

“yes exactly my thoughts” the sound of levi’s voice is coming from the bathroom, you suppose he’s had to take a business call and think nothing of it

“y/n?” he scoffs and you assume at first he’s calling out for you but then things take a turn for the worst

“sometimes i think about not having y/n coach me that’s all… there’s nothing wrong with that?”

oh.

so your suspicions were correct.

glancing down at the interview questions in your lap you jot down a note at the bottom

hey couldn’t stay for long but try to review the press conference questions on your own if you have the time! :-) much lov good luck, y/n !!!!

and then you retreat.

you don’t know if you make it up but you swear you hear knocking at your door during the night. you aren’t too sure but whatever it is disturbs your sleep.

stretching outside of your room the next morning you’re drowsy and beyond exhausted. you don’t even notice levi come outside.

one of his knuckles is rubbing at his bloodshot eyes. has he not slept well?

“i tried to wake you up but i guess you were asleep?” his statement comes out as a question. you’re not used to levi exhibiting much emotion at all and right now he seems unusually inquisitive.

“i was sleeping.” not even sparing him a second of your time you give him a rehearsed smile and walk off towards the hotel cafe

you can’t find the energy to even look at him

the hall is lined up with barricades to prevent possible assault or injury and you’re behind the stage with levi

the two of you have yet to say another word to each other since this morning. levi’s buttoning his shirt up and you’re looking around for his necktie. the least he can do after yesterday’s confrontation with zeke is to look presentable

“tie?” he asks over his shoulder

throwing it at him you hear a grunt of annoyance. he must have disliked that.

“can you help me with my cuff links?”

breathing out of your nose you feel anxious. you’ll have to get really close to him to do that.

but again you have to.

you take them from his hands and stand in front of him. you don’t really know how to go about this, what way is there for you to appropriately position yourself?

he’s sat on a backstage bench and checks the time on his phone “we’ve only got a few minutes left.” he’s clearly requesting that you hurry this up but you can’t seem to do it you’re completely frozen in place

“y/n, what’s wrong?” he asks

“nothing.”

he doesn’t have to know you know

“something’s wrong.”

“we’re in a hurry it doesn’t matter.” yanking him by his right sleeve you slot one of the cuff links through the slits in his shirt.

levi silently observes you fiddling with his sleeves, you can feel his stare burn into you. even as you’re moving onto the opposite side you can see from the corner of your eye that he hasn’t stopped staring

“was it something i said to you?” he asks again

a silence drags between the both of you and you debate on whether or not you’d like to enlighten levi with the information you obtained yesterday night

“more like something you didn’t say.” you finally respond.

thrusting his arm back at him his hand lands onto his lap and he opens his mouth to respond only to be cut off by an announcer

“THIS YEARS OLYMPUS RING CONTESTANTS MAY ENTER.”

crowds can be heard cheering outside but levi still hasn’t ripped his eyes off of you

“go on, maybe you’ll find a new coach after the press conference.” your bitter smile tells him all he has to know and his face visibly drops realizing what has happened

“i–”

“mr ackerman to the stage. i repeat mr ackerman to the stage!!”

he’s torn between staying behind and explaining himself or leaving to head towards one of the most important press conferences of his life

his teeth tug at his bottom lip as he looks between you and the entrance to the stage

“go levi.”

and he does.

levi’s sat on one of many chairs on the panel, he gulps taking a sip of water to calm his nerves. he’s not even nervous about the press conference, that can wait. he doesn’t know how much you’ve heard and how much you’ve misinterpreted what he’s said

he finds it weird at first that he’s even worried because you and him have a professional relationship

but then he has to stop himself from smacking the back of his own head. he knows that much isn’t true, hell if it was a strictly professional relationship he wouldn’t be walking around shirtless to get your attention

he wouldn’t lace his fingers with yours when he was nervous either 

he wouldn’t let you tend to his injuries and scold him if this was about being professional, he doesn’t tolerate being scolded by anyone but if it’s you he’ll take it

when it’s you scolding him for fucking up one of his fists it feels okay, it feels right. he feels warm inside knowing that you have to care for him if you get that angry 

he sighs feeling exasperated waiting for the last person to join the panel and get this question and answers segment over and done with

zeke makes his obnoxiously late appearance but levi doesn’t have it in him to roll his eyes. evidently he’s still stuck on you and thinking about apologizing as soon as this is finished

zeke sits right next to levi and some members of the crowd whisper amongst themselves

“have they made up?”

“think there’s gonna be another brawl??”

“i hope not they’re both my favourites…”

one of the reporters right in front of the stage but behind the barricades is the first to speak

“as we all know there has been an unmistakable sense of tension between two of the most promising contenders this year. mr ackerman and mr yaeger. would you like to put the rumours at rest?”

the question makes levi clench his jaw, zeke rolls his hands into two fists feeling just as frustrated. this is boxing not a reality tv show who cares what the terms of their long broken friendship are?

zeke nudges levi’s knee with his and levi returns the movement.

for now they’ll call a truce. it seems that both he and zeke have more pressing matters to attend to

“me and levi are bros. i’m frankly upset such a rumour started in the first place!” the crowd is mumbling again and the reporter himself is stunned by the unexpected response

“i admit that a fight which some may have saw yesterday was my fault. i had made some inappropriate comments towards his coach to get at him. it was a malicious move on my part and i hope people don’t think him and i are mortal enemies because of this bump in the road.”

zeke is so well spoken when he wants to be that levi feels self conscious sitting there having said nothing.

“mr ackerman? would you like to comment or?”

levi’s eyes light up, this is an opportunity to have you hear him. he doesn’t have to wait to explain when he can throw hints right now. you may be giving him the silent treatment but you wouldn’t miss this press conference for the world

sitting up in his chair and clearing his throat levi looks directly into one of the cameras pointed at him. he’s sure you’ll be able to see him from backstage.

“me and zeke have no other disputes apart from that i assure you. i simply value my coach greatly and so i acted rashly yesterday.”

the reporter nods along feeling pleased with the answer.

a few more questions are thrown around to the other contestants, levi sits there bored out of his mind until at the last minute before everything is just about to wrap up he’s asked a question once again

“regarding your coach, have you thought of a replacement if you win the championship?”

levi presses his lips together not understanding the question

“why would i replace my current coach?” where on earth has this question even come from??

“rumours have been flying around regarding lack of experience and the fact you’re outgrowing each other now. it’s all over boxing discussion forums.”

your hands are embarrassingly shoved into your pockets as people pass behind you backstage offering you pitiful looks. maybe wearing your bright pink team ackerman tracksuit wasn’t the best choice because everyone can hear what’s going on up front

levi’s memory flashes back to the number of times you hid your phone behind your back and awkwardly chuckled saying nothing was bothering you. he understands what you were hiding now

his mouth twists into a scowl, he knows you’re a few meters away listening to all of this and hearing it coming out of a stranger’s mouth is probably upsetting you

“i plan to stick with my coach till the day i die.”

you sit up not believing what you heard, it entirely contradicts what you heard last night

some journalists are jotting down notes, members of the audience are leaning forward listening intently

“well, why is that?” the reporter presses on

levi twirls a pen around in his hands staring off into the crowd.

“i don’t think anyone else could tolerate me.

you bite back a laugh because you know that’s true :-)

“they’re a person who saw potential in me when no one else did.”

he chuckles to himself.  “your stamina it’s great!” his witty imitation of you is rather accurate

“that was the first thing coach ever said to me.” he pauses allowing himself to reminisce.

“but i did want to drop my coach the other day.” he admits.

hearing him confess to it should make you mad, you should be pissed off right now but you can’t manage to feel that way at all

“i said it because i wanted them to relax. i never really understood the magnitude of the criticism they were receiving until recently.”

levi’s staring directly at the camera and his eyes pierce into yours, it’s as if he’s actually looking right at you

“i’d be lost without them, so i want to say to the one person rooting for me backstage, thank you for everything you do for me :-)”

you’re covering your face with your hands feeling the blush creep up your cheeks now. GOD what is he doing??? you may as well be the same colour as your tracksuit, you’ve never heard him be this sentimental in his entire life

“so no, i won’t be replacing my coach any time soon. if anything i should worry about my coach replacing me.”

levi ackerman...

he’s a HUGE idiot if he thinks you’ve ever thought of seriously replacing him

levi presses his arms against your sides when you’re both alone and in the solitude of his hotel room.

“i’m sorry for thinking you wanted to fire me.“ you mumble it into his chest feeling much too embarrassed to look up at him and say it

“also i may as well say this now but i have a fat, massive, huge crush on you “

after that you awkwardly laugh to yourself. you both kinda stare at each other and you’re meant to regret telling him how you feel right now but you don’t. having that weight lifted off your shoulders feels amazing.

"you don’t have to like me back or anything and i know you don’t like me back obviously you probably like that one actress- what was her name?? the one with the long black hair she gave you her number at a fundraiser dinner. you’d both look cute together, have i said that??”

levi gives you a blank look

“i threw her number away.”

you’re open mouthed feeling completely shocked, she’s gorgeous??

“HUH?? HELLO WHY? LEVI ACKERMAN, HAVE YOU EVEN SEEN HER??”

“i have but is she you?”

the all too familiar words from years ago ring in your ears 

nostalgia hits the both of you in waves and levi takes you in for another hug. your heart hammers in your chest and with your face pressed against him once again you can feel the irregular beat of his heart too. 

that is when you and levi formally meet for the second time. this time you are but an experienced coach and he, an experienced boxer.

:-)

[five-rivers]

Stars Aligned Chapter 3

(Please do not ask when the next chapter will be, I do not know. Links to AO3/FFN will be included in reblog.)

.

Here’s the thing. The very, very, stupid thing. Despite all his planning for this trip, Danny had no idea what his birth family looked like. Presumably, they also had no idea what he looked like.

As much as Danny would like to blame this on a wizardly aversion to the internet and photographs, he couldn’t. Danny could have sent them a picture of himself through the mail at any time. Even if wizard mail involved owls for some unexplained reason. But he didn’t. Because he was dumb.

And his equally dumb wizard family had also failed to send any pictures.

What were they thinking? Did they assume they’d somehow recognize each other on sight? Was that a wizard thing? Did they expect to spontaneously develop blood-relative telepathy? Was that a thing?

Danny did not know what to expect. He honestly didn’t know enough about wizards.

The end result was that Danny was standing in the middle of the wizarding world’s equivalent of an airport, which involved way more open fires than could possibly be safe, and people stepping into those open fires, which, again, could not possibly be safe. Of course, Danny had done it, as uncomfortable as it was for his core, and anything that used internal combustion was technically also using fire as a means of transportation, so Danny might have been a bit of a hypocrite, but still.

But, back to his dilemma. He, a dumb teenager, could be expected to do dumb, thoughtless things and make easily avoidable mistakes. It was basically a requirement. His actual family, who probably could have realized the error, didn’t want him to go and could be forgiven for any oversight. But dumb wizard birth family had at least one semi-competent adult in it. Supposedly.

Despite himself, his desire to kidnap his brother increased. Even though it would most likely cause an international incident.

He sighed. Maybe he should just follow the crowd and see if anyone stopped him. After all wizards might have magic blood-relative detection something or other.

He trudged along, pulling his trundle suitcase behind him. Silver lining was that whatever happened, he didn’t have to spend hours in a metal tube breathing recycled air. Silver lining. Silver lining. Silver—

Ah. Hm.

Danny blinked at his name written in large letters on a square of poster paper. His first and middle names, that is, and his bio-family’s last name.

He was highlytempted to turn around and go back home, but there was his twin, holding the card and looking fragile and hopeful, standing next to a tall woman with greying black hair.

He sighed. He was doing this, then.

“Hi,” he said, “you must be Draco. I’m Danny. And, uh, you must be Narcissa Malfoy?” He sort of held his hand out, feeling awkward.

“You can call me mother, Deneb,” said Narcissa. She sounded slightly tearful.

“It good to meet you, Deneb. Er. Danny.” Draco’s eyes flitted up to his mother.

“Yeah, um. Please don’t take this the wrong way, Mrs. Malfoy, but I don’t actually know you. And I’ve got a mom.”

“Yet,” interjected Draco. “You don’t know mother yet. That’s what this visit is about, right?”

“Right,” said Danny. “I’m… really looking forward to it.”

Draco looked relieved. “Excellent. Well, then, Looky can get your luggage and we can floo home.”

A very small, rather wizened person stepped out from behind Draco’s legs.

Okay. Danny had questions.

.

Danny did not particularly care for the answers to his questions.

.

Draco didn’t know why his twin had stopped talking to him before they’d even gotten home. He had, to some degree, expected rough spots. Merlin knew his family didn’t get along perfectly. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t hoped he and his twin would have a special connection. That they would mesh.

That… wasn’t happening. In fact, this was rather… awkward. Painful, almost.

He thought back to what they had been talking about. He didn’t think he’d said anything particularly objectionable. Had he hit on some chip on the shoulder those squibs had inculcated in him? Well, he thought, rather shamefacedly, he shouldn’t think of them like that. They hadn’t been the ones to abandon Deneb – Danny – just for not being immediately magical.

“Right,” he said, as Danny stepped (jumped, looking slightly disturbed) out of the fire. “Let me show you your room. We’ve had the house elves clean it out.”

Something on Danny’s face went dark, but he visibly controlled himself. “Thank you,” he said. “And, um, thank you, Looky. For your help.”

Draco frowned. He was confused, and he didn’t like feeling confused. He knew muggles didn’t have house elves, of course, but still. The concept wasn’t that hard to understand, was it? Although, it was possible Danny had never come across house elves at all, even second or third hand.

He supposed they might be unsettling if they were the first magical creature one came across. Ugh. He’d never tried to put himself in the position of someone learning about magic for the first time. Why would he? That was mudblood business, and he’d never associate with one of those.

But Danny was in that position, just about.

That meant it was Draco’s job to help Danny understand.

.

Danny was hoping he was misunderstanding something and that wizards did not, in fact, practice slavery.

This seemed to be a forlorn hope.

“So,” said Draco clasping his hands behind his back in the doorway of ‘Danny’s’ room, “er, house elves. You’ve probably not seen them before.”

“Can’t really say so, no.”

“Probably the first magical creatures you’ve seen.”

“Um,” said Danny. “Also no. I did have to go get a wand and stuff, and you’ve got to go to a wizard town to do that. I saw a bunch of different stuff there.” He didn’t really want to explain the ghosts, but… “Also, my parents study ghosts.”

“You mean, your adopted parents.”

“My parents, yes.”

“I didn’t know squibs could see ghosts. Well, they never seemed to have any trouble with it, so…” He shrugged.

“I… see.”

Danny doubted it, somehow. “But you were saying? About house elves?” Benefit of the doubt, he reminded himself.

“They’re servants,” said Draco. “Magically bound to serve certain families.”

“Magically bound,” repeated Danny, liking this less and less.

“Yes, it’s very old magic. An ancient agreement between our race and theirs, and the individual families and the house elves in question.”

“They can’t, like, opt out or anything?”

“That would defeat the point.”

“Okay,” said Danny. “So… Do they get, you know, paid at all?”

“Of course not,” said Draco.

Danny closed his eyes. “Okay. Um. Draco.” How to put this in a way that wouldn’t immediately alienate him. “Isn’t that slavery?”

“No,” said Draco, immediately. “They want to serve.”

“Well, they might say that to you, but human slaves used to say the same thing, because they’d get in trouble if they didn’t.”

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, confidently, “It isn’t like that.”

“Are you sure?”

“They aren’t human. They want to do this.”

Danny was no stranger to dealing with inhuman mindsets (but he most definitely did not have one himself). Even so…

“I think my point still stands. Like, are there very many house elves in this situation?”

“I don’t know,” said Draco. “I suppose so. Most families of substance and breeding have at least one.”

“Okay. Ah. Look. I’m not even sure where to start with this. Slavery is bad, right? We can agree on that.”

An annoyed expression passed over Draco’s face. “Yes, we can. That’s a given. But that’s for humans—"

“Great. Let’s start there. It’s bad for any human, right? Even, like, no-majs, or stupid humans, or—”

“Muggles,” corrected Draco. “No-maj is the American term.”

“When in Rome, I guess, sure. Muggles, then.”

“Yeah,” said Draco, uncomfortably crossing his arms.

Oh, Ancients, there was something there. Which Danny should have expected, given his birth father, whom he had yet to meet, threw him out of the house literally at birth.

Wizard supremacist weirdos corrupting his poor twin brother.

“Then what makes house elves so different?”

“Like I said, they want to do this. It’s in their nature. You wouldn’t, I don’t know, decide a dog was unhealthy because it barked instead of meowed, would you?” He spread his hands in frustration.

“I’ll give you that, but Looky looked actively afraid of you. And what was she even dressed in? That can’t be comfortable.”

“Giving them real clothes would free them – only if it’s their master, which in this case is Father.” He shifted slightly. “Except for Looky, I suppose, who is technicallymine. Great Aunt—Oh, you won’t know her. Why do you even care?”

“Why do I care about other people suffering? But otherthan that, what’s the difference between a house elf and a human servant? Like, would you treat a human servant like that? If you were a servant, wouldn’t you want to be treated with respect, even if being a servant was all you’d ever wanted?”

“But I’m not a servant.”

“But if you were. Can’t you just try to imagine it? A little? Please?”

“I… fine. But don’t bring this up to Mother and Father. They wouldn’t be pleased.”

“Okay. Deal.”

“Deal,” agreed Draco. “So. Do you like your room?”

Danny looked around. “Yeah, actually. It’s nice. Bit different from what I have at home, but, yeah. Good, um. Good floors. And wallpaper. And, um. Do all wizard paintings move like that?” He genuinely hadn’t noticed until just now, intent on the house elf problem.

“Yeah,” said Draco, seemingly relieved at the more normal topic. “It’s an enchantment on the canvas and paint.”

“Seems like it’d be hard to work with,” observed Danny.

“Well, the spell isn’t finished until after the actual painting part is done. At least, that’s my understanding.”

“I see, that would be easier.”

Silence.

“Would you like to see the peacocks?”

“Sure, why not?”

.

It took a bit of time to get bundled up in coats (cloaks in Draco’s case) because it was cold outside, but once they did…

“Wow. They’re albino peacocks.”

“Yes.”

“Wild.”

“No, they’re quite tame.”

“Oh, it’s, um, it’s an idiom. Like cool. Or wicked, I guess? Do British people use that?”

“I’ve heard some people use it. But Mother and Father are… not particularly enamored of slang.”

“Right,” said Danny. “I’ll remember that.”

They continued walking through the garden, towards the pond. Danny tried not to dwell on how much labor it would take to keep the grounds here so pristine.

“What do you do for fun in America?” asked Draco, out of nowhere.

Danny blinked. “Different people do different things,” he said. “Uh, a lot of things I usually do won’t work here because of the whole magic and electricity not getting along well thing. Have you ever heard about video games?”

“No,” said Draco. “Is it anything like quidditch?”

“I have only the loosest of understandings of what that is. It’s that broom sport, right? The one where you fly?”

Draco looked scandalized. “… Yes,” he said, finally. “I’m going to have to teach you how to use a broom before you have to go back to America.”

“The flying type of broom?” asked Danny, teasingly. Sure, he already could fly, but whatever.

“Merlin, yes.” Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m part of my house’s quidditch team. Letting you leave without some understanding of the rules would be a crime.”

“Draco, are you a jock?” asked Danny. “What is this world coming to. Related to a jock.” He shook his head dramatically. “I’ll never live it down.”

Draco nudged him slightly. “I’m not a meathead beater, at least,” he said. “I’m the team seeker.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

Draco’s smile slowly slid off his face.

“What?” said Danny.

“It’s just… you should. You should have grown up here, with family, as part of this world.”

“I did grow up with family,” said Danny. “Just not direct blood relatives. It kind of sucks that we didn’t get the chance to grow up together, but, like, I’m not really impressedby your parents so far.”

“Mother was very upset when she heard what Father did.”

“Sure, but she also kind of ditched us as soon as we got back here.”

“She has a delicate constitution? I’m sure she’s just trying to decide how to act… giving you space to make you feel more comfortable?”

Danny shrugged. “Well, we’ll see what happens. I’m going to be here until the end of the break, after all.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to Hogwarts, just for the rest of the school year? I’m sure they’ll be better than any alternative in America, when it comes to catching you up. Father has friends on the board of governors and the Ministry Department of Educational Oversight. It would be easy for you to go.”

“My friends are all back home,” said Danny, “and magic or not, what I really want to do with my life is become an astronaut, and I need ‘muggle’ grades and school for that.”

“A what now?”

“An astronaut?”

Surely, Draco had just misheard him.

“Is that some sort of muggle thing, then?”

“I- Do you not know what an astronaut is?” asked Danny, flabbergasted. “Really?”

Draco’s eyebrows were furrowed. “No, I don’t.”

“How about cosmonauts? Do you know about them?”

“No,” said Draco. “Is this related to the Argonauts, somehow? That Greek thing?”

“No,” said Danny. “I mean, the root word – But no. Not the same thing at all. How do I even… Do you know what outer space is?”

“Astronomy is a class at Hogwarts.”

“Not a very good one,” said Danny, “if you don’t know what an astronaut is. I think I’d die.”

“It’s a very good class. Hogwarts is the best wizarding school in Europe. And I know what outer space is. It’s the space up above the atmosphere, where the planets and stars are, and stuff.”

“Okay. I mean. I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything,” reassured Danny, sensing that he had ruffled some feathers. “I’m just… an astronomy class should teach about astronauts. Astronauts are people who’ve been to space. Outer space.”

“That’s rubbish,” said Draco. “You can’t go to space.”

Danny refrained from informing Draco that he had, in fact, been to space. “Well, I want to go to space,” said Danny, “and other people have been there.”

“No one’s been to space,” said Draco. “Unless maybe someone apparated there by mistake, but how would you even do that?”

“I don’t know what apparating is,” said Danny. “Some kind of teleportation?”

Both of them stared at each other, each one probably at a loss for words regarding the other’s ignorance of things they themselves considered common knowledge.

“Yeah, more or less,” said Draco, finally. “But you can’t get to space. It’s impossible.”

“It isn’t. There are people up there right now,” said Danny. “On the International Space Station. Which is… it’s sort of a little house. In space.”

“There’s no air up there.”

“They bring the air with them.”

“Wouldn’t it explode?”

“They figured out how to make it so it wouldn’t explode. It’s very, um. Sturdy. Rigid. The space station is airtight.”

“And you’re saying that there are muggles in it. In space. Outer space. Right now.”

“As we speak. I mean, I guess some of them could be secret wizards, but considering your reaction, I’m doubting it.”

“Muggles. In space.”

“Yeah. We made it to the moon, too. But that was—”

“The moon?”

“Yeah?”

“In the sky?”

“That, uh.” He looked up, as if expecting to see the moon despite the thick cloud cover. “Yeah. The moon.”

“You’re telling me,” said Draco, in a hushed voice, “that there are muggles on the moon. Right now. As we speak.”

“No, that was before we were born,” said Danny.

“What.”

“Yeah, some people went, but it was really expensive, so they haven’t been back. Which I think is silly, because can you imagine the scientific advancements we could have made? The resources we could have brought back?”

“The moon.”

“You seem really hung up on this. Are you okay?”

“You- That- The moon. And muggles in space?”

“Yeah,” said Danny. He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, you see why I need to go back. I’m sure Hogwarts is great and all, but I really want to be an astronaut.”

“Can you see them through a telescope?”

“See what?”

“The muggles in space.”

“On a clear night, sure, if you know where to look.” Before the Accident (the Big One, the Unaliving, the Green Flash, the Knockoff Origin Story), Danny usually checked the internet for the times the ISS passed overhead. But he’d developed a ghost power that gave him a pretty good sense of where anything in the sky was, so long as he concentrated for a few minutes. “It orbits the Earth every ninety minutes or so, although it doesn’t always catch the light enough to see properly. You can actually see a lot of satellites.”

“There are more of these things?” hissed Draco.

“Not with people on them.”

“I’m getting my telescope,” declared Draco, starting to stride back to the house.

“We won’t be able to see anything now,” said Danny.

“It’s enchanted to see through cloud cover and ignore non-reflected sunlight. It’s top of the line.”

Danny had never wanted a physical object so much in his entire life.

“What? What? Magic can do that?”

[alderaani]

Maybe a mixture of 65 and 58 with Wolffe or Rex please?

58 - Moving Around While Kissing, Stumbling Over Things, Pushing Each Other Back Against The Wall/Onto The Bed

65 - One Small Kiss, Pulling Away For An Instant, Then Devouring Each Other

A/N: from this prompt list! thanks so much for requesting something, i’ve been having a crisis of confidence over writing the past couple of weeks, but this got me back in some sort of groove. 

warnings: slight injury, canon-typical violence, very mildly suggestive. 

Wolffe x gn!reader:

He hasn’t spoken to you in hours. You eye the rigid line of his back across the hangar as he directs the men unloading munitions and salvaged equipment, the sharp, pointed motions of his hands and the angry jerks of his bucket as he snaps off orders spelling out his agitation.

“Maybe I should -,” you start, before Sinker interrupts, his hand on your shoulder forcing you back onto the crate you’re sat on, while one of the medics wraps your ankle. 

“Uh, no you shouldn’t,” he says. “Give him some time to cool off. You gave us a real fright out there, you know?”

You wince. It had been a split second decision down on the surface, an unexpected attack that had left you pushed at the edge of the camp and separated from the rest of the 104th with a new batch of shinies who hadn’t even earnt their paint yet. The detonators in your backpack seemed a better option than getting gunned down, but setting them had put you perilously close to the blast zone. You don’t remember much past the wave of heat and the sensation of flying; the next memory you have is waking up in the transport with your head in Sinker’s lap, his pinched face staring down at you.

“That’s what he’s mad about? But -,” you splutter, eyes darting between Sinker and Wolffe’s distant figure. “Would he have preferred I just wait to get shot?”

You go to stand again, but pushing against Sinker’s grip is like wrestling with an iron bar. The medic yanks on your trouser leg, too, grunting that you need to stay still. 

“Of course not. But, come on, you know he gets stupid about you. Think he’s more mad with himself that he let it happen.”

You frown. Now that doesn’t make any sense. “What? Sinker, what are you talking about? What you mean, he gets stupid about me?”

Sinker stares at you in silence for a couple of seconds, while the medic - Gruff, you think - shakes with laughter. 

“...Boost was right.” He shakes his head in bewilderment and a small amount of disgust. “I actually can’t believe it. You really are that oblivious. Maker, not a braincell between the pair of you.”

He eyes Gruff, who has finished with your ankle and has moved onto sluicing out the gash on your forearm to assess the damage.

“Can you believe this?” 

Gruff snorts. “I try not to believe anything around here, you leave me out of this, Sinker.” 

“What are you talking about?” You whine, glancing over at Wolffe again and jolting when instead of meeting the back of his helmet, you find his visor staring back. He stays like that for a second before stiffly turning away, his hands clenching into fists. You want to be angry, furious with him for pinning this on you, but instead you feel your eyes sting. Dropping your gaze, you sniff hard, blaming the way your throat constricts on the hard day rather than the furious set of Wolffe’s shoulder.

“Oh no, I’m not gonna be the one to let that tooka out of the bag,” Sinker laughs, then catches sight of your expression. “Hey, are you - osik. Look, he’ll come back round. He just doesn’t like getting scared.”

You’re about to snap something back, how you didn’t exactly enjoy almost getting blown up either, but if you speak you’re not sure if tears will come out instead. You’re saved by Gruff pushing to his feet.

“That arm needs stitches and if we get up to the medbay I can use a bone knitter on the ankle. Give me a hand, Sinker?”

You only look back once as they hoist you up between them, your stomach dropping like a stone when you find Wolffe is nowhere in sight.

-

Things seem only marginally better the other side of the fresher. It’s never the same without water, and you stayed under the sonics too long, trying to wash away the phantom feeling of grime, so now your skin feels tight and dry. All you want is to curl up in your bunk and sleep for the next several rotations, but rest won’t come. 

Every time you lie down all you can think about is Wolffe turning away from you, and then you spend the next twenty minutes oscillating hopelessly between rage and wanting to find him and apologise. 

The knock on your door is actually a relief - it pulls you away from sitting at your desk, rolling your comm in your hand and trying to convince yourself that typing out a message when you’re tired and emotional is a spectacularly bad idea.

At least, it’s a relief until you see who’s on the other side.

“Never, ever do that again.”

Wolffe looms over you, quietly furious, his bucket under one arm. You let go of the door controls and try to step backwards, but he follows, boxing you in between your desk and the wall. After a second of staring at him, jaw working soundlessly, rage floods through your bones to settle hot in your belly. 

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” You snap back. “You’re behaving like a child.”

Wolffe slams his helmet down on the desk, expression spasming. “Didn’t have - you could have died.”

“So could you!” You protest, crossing your arms over your chest. “We were being attacked, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Wolffe snarls, running an agitated hand through his hair. “And you decided to get yourself blown up.”

“To save the men!” You counter, pushing up close to him as anger outweighs intimidation. “You’d have rather I just let them get mown down by a pack of B1s?” 

Wolffe scowls and pushes in too, so that you’re chest to chest and glaring directly into each other’s faces. 

“ Of course not, I - They’re trained soldiers. Trust them to do their job next time and work with them instead of being a distraction.”

A distraction? The absolute nerve of him. You make a small shrieking noise in the back of your throat and drop backwards to try and relieve the urge to smack that stupid frown right off his face. What’s almost worse is that the words actually hurt. His attention and approval always mean so much to you, more than you’re willing to admit even to yourself. For him to treat you like a wayward child...it stings. Badly. And you never go down easy when you’re backed into a corner. 

“A distraction to who?” You spit. “I don’t know why you’re being such an ass about this. The others have to make calls like that all the time and run the risk that it won’t work out, and you never go after them about it. What the hell makes me so different?”

Wolffe splutters. “Because - because -”

He breaks off and swears something in mando’a. For a second, you think he’s going to push you. His hand comes up, but instead of shoving it fists in your shirt and pulls. 

You stumble into him, his other hand catching your hip and pinning you against the plastoid, and you open your mouth to ask him what the hell he’s doing - 

His mouth slants over yours.

Your mind goes blank, screeching utterly to a halt. The world narrows down to the dry press of his lips, the heavy weight of his hands, and you cannot believe this is happening. Almost as quickly as it starts, though, Wolffe lets you go with a small gasp, so abruptly that it gives you whiplash.

“Shit,” he whispers, eyes wide. His tongue darts out and touches the curve of his bottom lip. “I’m -”

In the half-second it takes for you to catch up, you realise several things: Wolffe just kissed you. He kissed you, and Sinker was right; you are both idiots. You would really like him to do it again, but instead the bastard is now trying to apologise for it. 

Without really considering it, you slide your hand round the back of his neck, sinking it into the hem of his blacks and tugging him back down. Your back hits the wall with an oomph as you press your lips urgently to his, pouring in every desperate month you’ve spent pining after him as your free hand scrabbles for purchase on his armour.

For a moment Wolffe is totally rigid, a taut line of shock, his lips stilled against your own. For a moment, you think you’ve completely fucked this up. But then he makes a noise, a little groan in the back of his throat, and his hand comes up against the wall next to your head, returning the kiss hungrily, desperately. His other arm snakes round your waist, and you could drown in him, you really could. His hand dips under the hem of your shirt and you gasp into his mouth at the warm touch. Wolffe huffs and licks in, the first slide of his tongue and the slick wet heat of his mouth electrifying something in your veins. You whine, high and needy, hitching upwards as far as you can. 

Without breaking contact Wolffe’s hands slide down over your ass, grasp under your legs and lift, wrapping them around his waist with only a small grunt at the effort. You pull his bottom lip into your mouth and graze lightly with your teeth, savouring the shudder that runs through his body before pressing back in, sealing your lips together as he moves, carrying you with him.

He stumbles backwards, hands steady under your thighs, until his knees hit the back of your bunk. Then he goes down, catching you so that you land with your legs either side of his body. It dislodges your mouths and he stares up at you, his eyes wide, his lips kiss-bruised, a flush high in his cheeks. 

“Shit,” he says again, but his voice is soft and dazed. You laugh softly as he clears his throat, hand coming up to thumb over your cheekbone. “I, uh, guess we’ve got some things to talk about.”

“Yeah, but later.” you say, leaning in and stealing another kiss. “Much later.”

taglist // @nelba @bad-batch-of-fics @majorshiraharu @leias-left-hair-bun @simping-for-fives @battletales @bluejay6800 @snippytano @missinashkin @iscream4clones // list here

[wevegottogetaway]

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone. 

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind. 

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and  a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?" 

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins. 

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-" 

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

                                                       ***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.  

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it. 

                                                       ***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm. 

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!" 

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before. 

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place. 

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?" 

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me." 

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?" 

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation." 

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order. 

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

                                                        ***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once. 

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test. 

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

                                                       ***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

                                                         ***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in? 

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

                                                       ***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming  and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer. 

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether. 

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides. 

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics. 

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that. 

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence." 

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!" 

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming. 

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go. 

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits. 

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows. 

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

                                                       ***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place). 

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm. 

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why. 

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop  for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes. 

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head. 

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

                                              ��        ***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her. 

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building. 

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant. 

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know. 

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be. 

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them  however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place." 

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection. 

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’." 

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is. 

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper. 

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n." 

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own. 

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear. 

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink. 

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his. 

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."  

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?" 

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words. 

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss. 

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans. 

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right." 

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?" 

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek. 

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead. 

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties." 

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra.  Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach. 

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips. 

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment. 

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways. 

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good." 

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough." 

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths. 

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness. 

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?" 

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering. 

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly. 

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind. 

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell. 

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry  doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused. 

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."  

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was." 

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference. 

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

[biderboy]

MARAUDERS RAISING THE WEASLEYS PRT 2

contrary to popular belief, they NEVER get fred and george mixed up. each of the marauders know exactly who is who, even when the young boys try and trick them. nobody else can ever tell but they do, sometimes they indulge them though, to see their mischievous little grins

sirius let’s ron color in his tattoos when he’s feeling anxious and tells him stories about why he got them

FANILY TRIP TO A MUGGLE ARCADE !!! james and bill are on a team against sirius and george to see who can get the most tickets. charlie convinces remus to play dance dance revolution with him. lily, ginny, and percy are content playing that deal or no deal game he whole time. peter and fred spend hours on the racing games

percy and peter have a special bond, though most people think peter is bad with kids, percy quite likes his company. he always goes to him for advice and asks peter to show him certain spells

remus was the one who got ginny to take her first steps, granted he was bribing her with chocolate but STILL, she had the biggest smile on her face and took a total of 3 steps before she fell

charlie has an extremely bad temper and likes to fight with his siblings so when he gets really upset james takes him for a long ride on his broom, letting the small boy look over the miles of forests and sea to calm him down

one day bill wanted to make lily and remus breakfast and ended up burning everything so he blamed it on sirius with a perfect lie and sirius was banned from the kitchen for a month

peter was the one who decided they should have family games nights and was the one to build a giant fort, filled with blankets and pillows to fit each family member, it became a tradition they did every friday night

fred stole remus’ wand once and instead of hexing someone he simply used it to stir and mix dirt for 2 hours seeing as he thought it was a stick

sirius wanted to do a crafts day and lily ended up coming home from work to see the twins covered in paint, ron had a mustache drawn on his face, harry had glue absolutely everywhere, and bill had 4 new paper cuts

on “bring your child to work day” james brings bill, harry, ron and ginny to a quidditch practice and all his teammates coo and how cute they are. sirius takes charlie and fred to the shop and lets them sit in old cars and motorcycles all day. remus takes george to the muggle library he works out and lets him run around picking out books he likes. lily takes percy with her to hogwarts and lets him meet all his future professors.

one day james came home to see bill wrapped up in 2 blankets on his bed, sleeping peacefully. and james just joins him in his nap, so lily comes home 2 hours later and see her boys sprawled out in bed

sirius teachs each of the kids a few words and phrases in french and watches james loose his shit because “WHEN DID WE LEARN FRENCH???”

SNOW DAYS !!!!!! bunch of little red heads wrapped in 12 different lays because james is a worrier and he can’t have any of his kids getting sick, he wasn’t even going to allow ginny, george and ron out because they got sick easily

percy and harry pick flowers for lily from their garden and each time she puts them in a vase at the dinner table so everyone can see and compliment them

ron sometimes has nightmares so more often then not remus wakes up to find a tiny red head clinging to him

ALL THE BOYS LIKE TO DRESS UP IN THE MARAUDERS CLOTHES !!!!! bill sneaks into james closest and wears his old gryffindor clothes, charlie and george dress up like remus’, percy and harry raise peters closest for sweaters and socks, ginny, fred and ron sneak into sirius’ room and come out in leather jackets and boots

for father’s day they all make a bunch of cards and ask lily to take them to the muggle store to buy candy and so the boys come home to find a cake and a mess of presents and they definitely don’t cry (they do, especially james)

OH and for mother’s day the boys dress up and demand for lily to wear her prettiest dress and trhey dance through the living room and lily is so lucky to have her little (big) family

they get everywhere by floo BUT when they go to visit remus or lily’s fanily they have to take muggle transportation and the looks they get are horrible but they don’t care because sirius has harry on his shoulders and ginny is happily hanging from remus’ neck and the twins are pointing out different cars and trees

fred is an avid rock collector and spends hours telling james about each rock and what he named it and why and james listens very intently, nodding and asking questions and even gets offended when sirius gets a name wrong

bill hates cleaning and hates chores but sirius plays music while they’re cleaning his room and so he enjoys it a bit more, especially when sirius pretends to play the guitar and shouts out the words to the songs

george and remus really like rainy days and they’re more often then not found playing in the rain and jumping in mud puddles and they get so dirty, but they don’t care

charlie doesn’t like his freckles but sirius started calling them star kisses and calling charlie “baby star” and now he demands everyone to call them such

ginny and harry are very picky eaters, harry hates bananas because they are too mushy and there’s a wide variety of food ginny throws at peter because she simply doesn’t care for it

sometimes george has magic outbursts that he can’t control and random things will start levitating or smoking and to make sure he doesn’t get embarrassed, sirius cheering s him on with “yea georgie !!! ur magic is so cool !! i wish i could do that”

after each full moon, as if they know, all the kids crowd around remus’ bed and bring him a bunch of his favorite chocolate and tell him stories till he feels better again

george and fred almsot left the house in mismatched shoes and james was fully prepared to let them because it looked cool

carving pumpkins is a complete mess because ron wants to eat the pumpkin seeds and harry threw guts in bills ahir and Sirius and james are the same amount of child as the rest of them , it takes hours and the decide to paint pumpkins the next halloween

surprisingly ron was the first to start calling james “dad”, after copying harry mostly. but they all fell along into it. but at some point the started calling remus and sirius “dad” too and so when charlie went to school one day he gladly told the teacher he had 4 dads and a mum

one day remus gets up in the middle of the night to find fred and ron sitting on the kitchen floor eating sweets they weren’t suppose to have nd he sits and joins them because there was chocolate james his from him in there

i 100% think they had the “kisses make everything better” thing going on and everytime one of them got hurt, sirius would kiss the injury while simultaneously healing it and so for years they all genuinely believe kisses fix everything

bath time was so long in the house, luckily they had 2 bathrooms but still , fred liked taking long baths, ron and harry refused to even step near the bath, running around the house until one of them got caught, and count in sirius taking an hour long shower and bath time simply lasted forever

each kid, yes even bill, especially bill, had to be tucked in properly each night. each and everyone of the marauders had to say goodnight and give hugs. the younger ones demanded stories and songs until they fell asleep, and charlie absolutely made james lay in bed with him while he told james a story

lily introduces them to a ton of muggle things, including muggle sports, so the boys take a liking to soccer and every chance they get, they make james and peter run around playing with them

one day james can’t find his old gryffindor hat and goes to look for it, only to see charlie outside, sitting underneath a tree, wearing said hat. when james asks about it he says, “oh! i wear it when i miss you”

taking the kids camping was a BAD idea. ron hates bug of all sorts and had 3 fits just with the idea of having to sleep on the ground. ginny and harry won’t stop chasing bill when he’s trying to get firewood. percy insists on knowing how to put the tents up and ends up hurting more then helping. and getting a fire started was remus’ job but the twins see to like making things difficult and so they just go home

and yes this is longer than expected but once again, i will never stop talking about it

[achillestiel]

the parent trap only works if you’re identical | part two

based on this post by @destiel-is-canon-i-guess which now lives rent free in my brain | Part One 

Dean looked out across the sea of faces for the familiar sight of Claire. After four weeks he had to admit that he’d missed her like crazy. All he wanted to do was get back home and hear all about her summer over some burgers. 

“Hey Dad!” A kid around Claire’s age called out as he raced over to Dean. Dean looked over his shoulder, guessing that there was another parent near him. No. Just Dean. He looked back as the kid stopped at his feet. 

“Think you got me confused for someone else kid. I’m looking for Claire Winchester, you seen her?”

“Dad, it’s obviously me. Claire.” The kid said with a grin. Dean loved kids, especially his own, but sometimes they were freaking annoying. 

"Kid, I've been driving since yesterday morning and I'm pretty beat. Can you grab Claire for me?"

"That might be difficult...she's not here." The kid said as he chewed on his bottom lip. Dean just closed his eyes and let out a long sigh because of course, this wasn't going to be easy when his damn kid was involved.

"That girl, I swear. Send to camp for the summer Dean, she won't get into trouble in Maine Dean. Last time I listen to Sam. Ok kid, where's Claire? Is this gonna be a job for her dad, the sheriff or the FBI?" Dean asked and for what felt like the millionth time he wished that parenting, especially parenting Claire, was easy. 

"That depends...she’s on a train...to meet her dad so I could meet mine..." The kid said, once again worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. For a second Dean was transported to fifteen years before, watching another person bite on his bottom lip as he did the Sunday crossword.  

"She what?" Dean asked and that was finally when Dean looked at the kid. Really looked at him. “Wait...Jack? Jack, is that you?” Dean asked looking down at the kid. The kid’s face broke out into a nervous looking smile. “Oh, holy shit.” Dean gasped out because of all the people he was expecting to see today, Jack was not one of them.

“Hi Dad.” Jack said as Dean pulled him into a fierce hug. “Ok, this is nice.” Jack said into Dean's chest as he hugged Dean back tightly. 

“Damn kid you grew up." Dean said with a laugh. The last time he'd seen Jack, the kid had only been six months old. Now here he was in the flesh looking every inch the miniature Cas clone. "How...what...ok, start from the very beginning. How did any of this happen?" 

"Well, Claire started it."

"She normally does." Dean said with a roll of his eyes. “Ok kid, get the car. I got a call to make.” he added with a sigh. This was going to be...interesting to say the least.

Cas Novak bobbed on the spot as he looked out for Jack. The train station was packed with people and none of them so far has been Jack. Cas looked over the train schedule to make sure that Jack’s train had definitely come in. He looked around once again and nearly jumped a mile when a blonde teenage girl strolled right up to him, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Sup, it’s your boy Jack” the blonde girl said, grinning at Cas like he hung the moon. Cas stared back at her in confusion as his phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and just stared at the name on the screen. Why on earth was Dean of all people calling him? 

“Hello? Dean, is that you?” Cas asked. The blonde girl groaned and hid her face in her hand. “This is odd, why exactly are you calling me?”

“Hey there Cas. Long time. So listen, our kids are freaking morons.” Dean said over the phone. Cas tried to ignore how much his stomach flipped at the sound of Dean's voice. He was staggered to find that after all these years Dean still had an effect on him. "Um yeah kiddo, you're a moron. Did you two geniuses think this was actually gonna work?" Dean said to someone. 

“Our kids? Dean, is Jack with you?” Cas asked looking back at the blonde girl.  

“Yep, the kid is sat in the car right next to me.” Dean said. “And he won’t stop bugging me to change the channel. At least Claire had some respect for Led Zeppelin.” 

“Wait, so that would make the blonde girl standing next to me...”

“Goddamn, that kid is going to be the death of me. Put Claire on the phone.”

“This is Claire?” Cas asked as he stared at the blonde girl. "You're Claire?" He asked the girl. She nodded her head, suddenly looking nervous and Cas’ heart just gave out completely. He’d last seen his daughter when she was barely six months old and now here she was. All grown up in beat up boots and a flannel shirt that looked like it was really Dean’s. "Oh my god." Cas said, pulling Claire in for a tight hug. 

"Not that this isn’t nice but...dude, you're kinda crushing me." Claire said. 

"I'm sorry." Cas said as he pulled away and just stared. Long gone was the tiny blonde baby, and now here was a teenage girl who seemed to be oozing in Winchester confidence. From the way she stood to the amused look on her face, Cas could see every ounce of Dean Winchester influence. 

"Hey Cas, once you're done with the hugging, put Tweedledum on the phone." Dean said loudly over the phone. Cas sighed and switched his phone over to loudspeaker. 

"Claire is here Dean, she can hear you." 

“Hey, Lindsey Lohan. You know The Parent Trap only works if you’re identical twins...and maybe of the same gender?” Dean said over the loudspeaker. 

"Yeah and the parents in that film sucked so why did you two do the exact same thing huh?" Claire shot back and God, did she remind Cas of Gabriel at that moment. “You call me and Jack morons but-”

"Claire Mary Winchester don’t think about finishing that sentence. You get your annoying butt back home to Kansas before I ground you-"

"Hey dad, am I on speaker?" Claire said, interrupting what Cas knew was going to be one of Dean’s long speeches. 

"You're not on speaker...no, Jack I'm not putting your sister...kid, don’t give me the eyes...stop it, you look way too much like your dad when you do that...ok fine...yes, you're on speakerphone."

"Hi Jack! I don't think our plan worked." Claire said with a shrug. 

"Yeah, me neither. Hi dad!" Jack called out to Cas. Cas let out yet another long sigh and shook his head. 

"Hello Jack. You're grounded." 

"Dang it." Jack said. 

"Claire enough messing around, where are you?" Dean said, sounding more and more exasperated. 

"At a train station with my dad." Claire shot back, still grinning. "And I'm not coming back. You're just gonna have to come and get me."

"Goddamn kid, I swear she gets this stubbornness from you Cas.” Dean said. What surprised Cas the most was that despite how exasperated Dean sounded there was still some affection in his tone “Whereabouts are you guys? I'll bring Tweedledee back to you and drag Tweedledum back to Kansas with me."

"We're in Washington DC, I'll send my you address and we can sort this all out." Cas said.  

"Great. Jack, do up your seat belt and stop trying to change the station. Claire...just don't do anything stupid."

"Scouts honour Dad. Bye!" Claire said, leaning over to end the call. Once she’d hung up she turned to Cas with a giant grin on her face. "So...what now dad?”

Tag List (If you wanna be tagged in parts just lemme know):

@littlerachelbee @imthedoctorlove

[sdvvillagers]

Fic - Jodi and Gus

Word Count: 1,516

Summary: Jodi never intended to be the unofficial barber in Pelican Town, it just... happened.

Notes:  Thank you to @floopthecooper for the prompt!

Jodi was never sure exactly when it was she became Pelican Town’s unofficial barber. It just sort of happened over time. Slowly more residents in town came to her for their haircuts and before she knew it, she was cutting the hair of almost every person in town. Word of mouth spread in a place like Pelican Town. Though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she got the reputation around town as the unofficial barber, she could at least pinpoint exactly when it all began. It had been a cool spring morning, not long after she, Kent, and Sam had moved to Pelican Town. Jodi had always been the one to cut Sam’s hair, it was always so much easier and more affordable to do it herself and it wasn’t all that difficult. She’d never had any formal training, just a few attempts of trial and error, maybe a bad haircut or two for Sam, but she ended up figuring it out along the way.

Whenever possible, Jodi tried to cut Sam’s hair outdoors. It made less of a mess inside the house and was easier to clean up. Jodi had sat Sam down outside, covering his shoulders and back with a towel, before starting up the clippers to give his hair a trim. It was about halfway through the haircut when the local saloon owner, Gus, passed by their house on his way to visit the house nextdoor. Jodi waved politely, though she still didn’t know him all that well. Jodi never found herself visiting the saloon, she always prepared homecooked meals and wasn’t a drinker, so there was just no need. Still, if this was going to be her family’s new home for quite some time, she wanted to be sociable. When she waved, Gus stopped walking and waved in return. The large, welcoming smile on his face seemed genuine and his eyes were soft and kind.

“Hi there, Jenny!” Gus greeted her happily.

“It’s Jodi,” Jodi corrected him with a nervous giggle. Gus slapped the palm of his hand hard against his forehead.

“Sheesh, what a knucklehead,” Gus muttered to himself. “My apologies, Jodi. And this here must be Samson.”

“Yes, though he prefers to go by Sam,” Jodi answered, already smiling and waving her hand dismissively for the apology she knew was going to come. Sure enough, Gus looked mortified.

“Two for two, I’m usually so much better than this,” Gus replied apologetically. “Sorry for the mixup, I promise it won’t happen again.”

“No apologies necessary,” Jodi assured him.

“So I’m sorry to bother you, but uh… I couldn’t help but notice that you’re cutting the little one’s hair,” Gus pointed out, tilting his head curiously. Sam cringed on the spot at being called ‘the little one’.

“Oh, am I not supposed to be doing that outside?” Jodi asked nervously. “I was hoping the breeze wouldn’t blow the hair around, I apologize. I can move this indoors if it’s bothersome.”

“No, not at all!” Gus replied, shaking his head. “I was only asking because… well, I hope this doesn’t come across as odd, but… is that something you do for a living or just for your son?”

“Just for my son,” Jodi answered. “I’ve been cutting his hair since he was about three years old. Cheaper that way.”

“I hear you,” Gus replied, nodding. “Haircuts can be so expensive. Even worse when we have to travel all the way to Grampleton once or twice a season for it. It ends up costing a fortune when you consider the cost of the haircut plus transportation and in the amount of time it takes, you usually need to grab lunch while you’re there. It ends up being a whole day trip just to get half an inch trimmed off my hair.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Jodi remarked, feeling a bit guilty. Between cutting Sam’s and Kent’s hair herself, plus trying her best to trim her own, she hadn’t had to take any of her family to get a haircut in quite some time.

“I guess I was just wondering if I could ask you… sheesh, I feel bad even asking, but… would I be able to ask you for a haircut?” Gus asked nervously. “I’ve been putting it off for over a week now and it would be so much easier if I could get it done and over with here.”

“I don’t know,” Jodi answered uncertainly, her eyes darting back and forth to avoid seeing any disappointment in Gus’ face. His kindness and personable nature made it difficult to disappoint him.

“I would pay you a fair rate,” Gus clarified.

“Oh no, it’s not that,” Jodi assured him. “It’s not the money issue, it’s just that I’m not exactly a trained professional. I never went to school for this or anything, I just have what I picked up over the years from trial and error with Sam. I’d be nervous about messing up or not being able to cut it the way you want it to be. I’d never forgive myself if I gave you a bad haircut.”

“I promise you I’m an easy customer,” Gus remarked with a light-hearted chuckle. “I’m not picky at all. I could walk out of here with a bowl cut and still be okay, I just need this hair a bit shorter. Too much hair in my eyes drives me nuts.”

“I really don’t know, I’m not qualified,” Jodi went on, swaying uncertainly on the spot as she mulled it over in her mind. “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind if I completely mangled your hair?”

Gus stepped closer to the porch and took a look at Sam’s hair which was halfway through being cut, looked thoughtfully, and nodded. Poor Sam sat awkwardly in the chair, fidgeting as some stranger gawked at him and his hair.

“From what I can tell, I highly doubt you’ll mangle it,” Gus said kindly. “I’m willing to take the risk, but only if you are. I’d never want to pressure you to do it if you’re uncomfortable, though.”

“I’m certainly happy to give it a try,” Jodi replied optimistically. “I’ve never cut anyone’s hair besides my son’s and my husband’s. I suppose if it would save you the trouble and you’re willing to live with the results, I’ll give it a try. No charge, though, especially since I’m just winging it.”

“No deal, then,” Gus replied seriously. “I won’t take something for nothing, especially not from a working mother.”

“Oh, I don’t work,” Jodi corrected Gus.

“You don’t?” Gus asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. “You don’t cook? Clean? Organize? Plan? Provide care? Teach? You don’t do any of that?”

“Well that’s diff-” Jodi began, but Gus cut in.

“Moms have the hardest job of all, in my opinion,” Gus went on, smiling warmly at Jodi. “Don’t tell me you don’t work when you’ve got more jobs than any of the rest of us. Yes, I’m paying you for your work.”

It was incredible how warm Jodi felt while Gus spoke, she could feel her cheeks flushing at his comments and it made her feel more validated and understood than she’d felt in quite some time. Too often her role was diminished or looked down upon, it was nice for someone to notice and appreciate her value as a stay at home mom.

“Thank you,” Jodi giggled nervously, turning her head slightly to try and hide her blushing cheeks. “Just let me know when you want that haircut.”

“The saloon opens in two hours, I doubt there’s any chance you can do it before then?”

“I could probably get started in about fifteen minutes,” Jodi estimated. “Just gotta finish with Sam first but I could cut your hair right afterwards. Might as well as long as I’ve got everything out.”

“Perfect, that gives me plenty of time to stop by your nextdoor neighbor’s house for a quick chat,” Gus remarked thoughtfully. “Both of their daughters’ birthdays are in spring, so they called me over to talk about ordering a cake for them.”

“You’re a bartender, chef, and baker?” Jodi asked, nodding at Gus with an impressed grin.

“You’re not the only one juggling a lot of jobs,” Gus replied playfully. “Thanks again for the haircut, I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet until after it’s done,” Jodi teased. “See you in a little bit.”

“See you then,” Gus replied, waving to Jodi as he continued on his way down the path to the house nextdoor.

At least that’s how it began, one small favor for the kind bartender in town in his time of need. Yet by the time fall rolled around, Jodi was cutting hair at least three times a week and had never been sure how it snowballed that way. What she hadn’t learned yet, but would learn during her time in Pelican Town, was that everyone in town loved and respected Gus. And when he gushed to a saloon full of patrons about his fantastic haircut from the new woman in town, people listened.

[boredandelusive]

05.

♞ TW: Amm-nia, death, this chapter has a case in it not from an episode, but from a generator. It may sound stupid, but it’s effective, isn’t it? Also, there’s a bit of a wet dream, yet Spencer’s awake, so there’s that.

♞

As Kiara woke up from her sleep, she witnessed Spencer frantically rushing around as if looking for something. "Something wrong, baby?" She asked groggily, which made him stop and look at him.

"I can't find my shirt and there's another case," it wouldn't be the best idea for him to go back to work in the same clothes he wore yesterday, however, he didn't have much of a choice. He couldn't risk being late for his job, especially because he was the star agent of the team.

"Then just take some of my smaller clothes from my closet." She admitted groggily, which looked over to her closet with an unsure look. "Spencer, I was skinny once, I still have those clothes, and they should fit you. Just take the clothes and go."

"But I don't have my boxers," that was the other thing he looked for, which she turned over in her bed. Considering she now lied on her stomach, her words would've been muffled.

"That dresser, second drawer on the left." Listening to her words, he moved to get the clothes and noticed all of the clothes almost perfectly fit him. "Before you ask, I keep my old clothes in case I date skinnier people."

"Thanks, I owe you!" He rushed out of her room, and soon, out of the house. Once they had enough time, they could go over last night. Now, however, they had things to do.

♞

As Spencer got to work, which he hoped his colleagues wouldn't notice his clothing, he passed Garcia, who still noticed something off. "Rough night?" She called out, which Spencer stopped in his tracks.

"Something like that. Where are the others?" If Penelope noticed something different, no doubt the others would, too.

"In the conference room. You're not late, but you might want to hurry up." With that, he rushed toward the conference room and sat down. "Did you get any sleep?" Derek was the first to ask, but Spencer didn't understand why.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Because your hair's a mess," at least that sent a wave of relief in his body, which meant they didn't question the woman's clothes on his body. Running his fingers through his hair, he fixed it. Seeing as no one said anything about his clothes, there was a bit of silence before Penelope walked in.

"In Fort Wayne, Indiana, three victims were found scattered in the forest," as she spoke, she clicked the buttons on the remote in her hands. "Each of them had traces of ammonia in their lungs," her voice dropped to barely a whisper. She wasn't the type to enjoy cases, she just liked being in her bat cave.

"It says here that all of the victims died just after sunrise. Maybe it's the unsub's motive," Spencer pointed out before Hotch stood up.

"Regardless, Fort Wayne requested our help. Wheels up in thirty (30)." As everyone else got up and collected the file, there was some sort of tense silence in the room. Trying his best to ignore it, Reid glanced up to see the others glancing at him.

"Is something wrong?"

"You're wearing a blouse," Emily pointed out, which meant his hope went bad.

"Did you have a fun night?" Derek teased and considering his messy hair, all of them assumed he finally got some. "Come on, kid, what was their name?" As he got everything together, hr walked out of the room.

"Kiara," Emily looked at Derek with an open mouth, as if shocked he would admit it.

♞

As the plane was in the air, Spencer kept his head in the case, and knowing Derek, he would've either pestered him about it now or ask about it later. "How many victims are there so far?"

"Five (5) of them. The first two were found three months ago in an abandoned cabin. The police only got word of it from an anonymous tip." Garcia admitted from the video call in her office.

"Alright, when we land, JJ, Prentiss, go to the ME's office, see if there's anything else on the victims the files might've missed. Morgan, Reid, set up at the police station. Rossi, you and I will go to the crime scene."

♞

Once the two were in the car and driving to the station, Derek decided to break the silence. "So, Kiara, huh? Wait, lemme guess: you didn't bring an extra pair of clothes so you had to use hers?"

"Was it that obvious?" He asked, yet he didn't look his friend in the eyes. It wasn't out of embarrassment, but probably out of how much Morgan would taunt him about it. He didn't say anything at first, but he peeled back his collar. "Hey!"

"You need to learn to hide that better, Reid. And fix your hair before we get inside, it still looks like a mess," he teased and messed up his hair intentionally.

"Okay, okay! Leave my hair alone. I was rushed out the door by the case, and I didn't want to be late." He excused, yet Derek wouldn't drop the conversation just yet.

"I guess we have to let the kid out of the coop someday. Fly away little Reid, I'm proud of you," he teased again. This was going to be a long case, and he didn't know if the rest of the team would give him shit about how he lost his virginity.

"You know, I could just be trying something new," Spencer tried excusing his appearance, but he blushed while he did so.

"You definitely tried something new, alright. Even if it weren't for the hickey," Derek tapped his chest with enough force that the scars from her scratches hurt. "That told me enough. Now come on, we gotta get the office set up."

♞

As JJ and Emily made it to the ME's office, Em pushed the door open for both of them to walk inside. "So what do we have?" The blonde woman asked first, which the coroner looked at them both before pulling down the cover.

Because of it, there was irritation around the victim's mouth and nose, most likely from being forced to breathe the gas. "You would think the irritated skin would be the most concerning part, but this was," the coroner then pulled the cover down farther to reveal a series of stab wounds.

"I don't get it, why would the unsub force the victims to breathe the ammonia then stab them?" Getting that piece of information was confusing enough, but it also meant the unsub was disorganized or greedy.

"I don't understand it either, but I can tell you that they're smart. All of the stab wounds were inches from the major arteries." The coroner wasn't the profiler, but there was something about the case that proved there might have been more to this than what meets the eye.

"So they're torturing the victims before killing them?"

"And restraining them, too," the coroner also pulled the blanket away from their wrists and ankles to show the bruising. "The tox screens came back and the only thing pumping through their body was anesthesia. However, the color of her lungs indicates she was gassed repeatedly."

"Okay, thank you." Both women turned to the door as if realizing something. When they got to the hallway, Emily stopped for a moment. Though JJ was a media liaison, it didn't stop the fact she could help on the missions by being a second set of eyes. "What is it?"

"If the unsub has them sit up, and they pump gas into their lungs, but they also stab them..." she trailed off, as if trying to get some sort of idea. For now, she couldn't think of anything because she hadn't been to the crime scene yet. "Let's get back to the station."

♞

As the two women met up with the others, Emily's brain started putting the pieces together, but still needed Reid's nerd expertise with this. "Hey, Reid?" She called out to the boy, though he didn't respond immediately.

His head was buried into the file, yet his mind was elsewhere.

"Be a good boy for me, won't you?" Kiara's voice rang out in his head, and the scene was set. Spencer was on the bed with his dick in a chastity cage while his Mistress hovered over him. His eyes trailed down to her waist, which a nine (9) inch tentacle dildo hung with lube almost dripping off.

"Yes, Mistress," he whined, and considering she wouldn't stroke his dick to help him feel better, he just rolled his hips. He wanted her, but she wouldn't let her baby have her.

"So eager, already? I wonder how your tight little ass would feel around my new strap. Now stay still or I'll leave you here with the belt on," almost immediately, he stopped moving, despite what his brain told him to do.

As she climbed on top of him, she lifted his legs and slid the dild-

"Reid?" Hearing the voice made him look up from the file, which proved his mind was somewhere else. "Do you have any nerdy facts about the case?" Emily needed to know the full parameters, and judging by the growing blush on his face, he thought about something not safe for work.

"Eighty percent (80%) of ammonia is used for either fertilizer in the agricultural community or used as a refrigerant gas. Ammonia gas itself is lighter than air, so it rises, yet when mixed with moisture, turns into a vapor. The vapor turns so heavy that it keeps to the ground, but the unsub's found a way to transport the ammonia gas without it turning into something harmful to the unsub themself." He rambled on, but it also indicated the level of skill the unsub had.

"So we might be dealing with a chemist?" Morgan asked, which Emily pulled out her phone and dialed Garcia.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" She asked into the call, not aware that she was on speaker phone.

"Garcia, you're on speaker. I need you to make a list of all of the chemists within Fort Wayne, Indiana," she placed her phone onto the table, which meant anyone could ask the tech wizard to narrow the search.

"There's over six hundred (600) names. Do you have anything to narrow it down?" Hoping there was more to the search than just the job alone, she looked to another screen as she waited for an answer.

"Look for anyone who might have a history of violence. It might be something as little as peeping to murder." Derek said something next, which caused Penelope to type it into the filter. Though it was a great thing, there were still a lot of names on the list.

"That leaves me with sixty names, sugar. It's majorly concerning how many of them could pick up jobs. Some of them have misdemeanors, others have assault, someone has aggravated battery." Penelope listed off some of the crimes that popped up on the screen.

"That's all for now. Thanks, Garcia," Emily picked up her phone.

"You're welcome, my Mistress," she ended the call before Em had a chance to say something back, so she shook her head. As they turned to the door, an officer rushed in.

"There's been another body," hearing those words, all of them rushed out the door. Considering they only got here a few hours ago, it meant this death was fresh. Taking two cars, one that had Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss while the other had Hotch and Rossi, JJ stayed behind in case she had to deal with the media.

♞

As Kiara worked, her mind wandered to last night. What she wouldn't give to hear him beg for mercy like that again. However, she couldn't keep her mind on it, considering her phone rang. The noise and feeling of the sudden buzz almost made her jump, but she contained herself enough.

Looking at the caller ID, it was Spencer, which made her confused but she answered it anyway. "What is it?"

"How do you undo a downward prayer? Each shibari design has a failsafe wrapped in," this must've been important, which also meant this wasn't time for jokes. Closing her eyes for a moment, she thought to herself.

"On the back, there's over three (3) dozen ties to create the design. The one you're looking for might be tucked in behind one of the strings. If he's an amateur, it'll be tucked between the hands of the person in the rope. If not, then it'll be wrapped around their neck."

"Are you sure?"

"There's only two ways to create a downward prayer and there's always a failsafe. Always." There was a bit of silence before someone picked up the phone again. "Did you save them?"

"Yeah, I did. Thank you." He ended the call, most likely trying to keep his voice to a professional level.

♞

The place I got the ammonia knowledge was from here. 

[yetanotherhiddlestoner]

                            The Asgardian and his Atlantean.

  (First time writing a marvel related story and and LokiXreader one at that. So forgive the way it is. I got bored one night watching Atlantis on Disney that I came up with this mixture of a story. Hope you enjoy I own nothing of marvels or disney’s. This story is also on my Wattpad -https://www.wattpad.com/user/HatterMoon )

Life at Stark Tower was good for you. All the Avengers loved you and they treated you like family. You loved helping out Tony the most with his suits and helping him advance the technology. This morning started like any other day, you woke before the sun had started to shine in the sky, you check your pendent. A couple more days before you need to be returning home.

You prepared breakfast for everyone, despite being told numerous times that you didn't need to do it.

You made sure to brew enough coffee for everyone as they all seem to need it first thing in the morning. You preferred tea to start your day, and so they have gifted you your own tea pot and tea set at Christmas.

The first to wander in was Nat, still in his PJ's with messy hair and rubbing her eyes, you chuckle silently. "Morning Nat. Sleep well?" She mumbled a reply, followed by the words "Need Coffee" One by one all the Avengers entered the common room, some more awake then others. "Tony where is Steve and Bucky?" Wanda asks as you take in notice that you are two short. "They left on a mission last night so for the time being it will just be us." Tony answers "Good Morning Y/N." Bruce said as he come to stand beside you. "Morning Bruce. I might need the lab later today to test out some test for healing drinks is that fine with you? "Hey I only borrow the Lab myself you best ask Tony since you know, he owns it" "I know but you are the one in there most of the time. It feels like I am invading  your space" "You can use the Lab Y/N. Do I need to remind you that you live here, you do not have to ask to use something." Tony said as he had overheard the conversation. You smile at him. Tony had become like a father figure to you over the years. "Thanks Tony."

It's not long before they all go off and do their own things, Clint goes to the shooting range, Natasha and Wanda go to the training, Bruce to the lab and Tony goes to the armory, leaving you to do your own thing. It unusually quiet this day. You so used to Bucky keeping you company while you wander through various jobs that need doing.

As the day went on you made your way down to the lab for a few hours, The Avengers went on a small mission, leaving you alone. As much as you hated them going on missions you enjoyed the quiet. You took note of the potions and ingredients and the ones that needed restocking.

"Miss Y/N. They will be returning shortly. I was informed by Mr Stark" "Thank you Jarvis, will they be requiring my assistance?"

"I am unsure Miss Y/N best to be prepared in case" You nod and gather a couple of jars in your hand and take them to the Med-bay.

"Hey kid we're home" Tony called out through the building. You make your way to them to see Nat and Clint heading to the med-bay, limping.

"There is a new stock of healing potions in there for you guys to try if you want." You smile and they nod at you as you continue your way to Tony. "How did it go Tony?" "Wasn't our best, wasn't as small as we had predicted." "That bad?" "You could say ,might be a problem in the future but not right now, also kid we have a new person for you to meet. They will be staying here for a while." He said as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. "Oh?" Now you were curious. "Yeah its Thor's brother, Loki. He will be arriving later today. If you want to join us in collecting him you are more than welcomed." "I might just do that. It has been awhile since I left the tower and I will be returning home in a couple days to grab supplies, So you will have to survive without me for about a week" Tony chuckles "You mean we have to cook our own breakfast? Oh no how will we survive." You roll your eyes at the sarcasm but smile. He pats your back as he walks out of the common room.

You head to your room and rest for a while, you slowly starting to feel the drain on your body. Closing your eyes you dream of your home, your friends and family.

A knock on your door alerts you to wake up. "Hey Lady Y/N, Stark told me to come and grab you." Only one person calls you by that nickname and its Thor so its no surprise when you open the door and see him there. "Please Thor call me Y/N. No need for formalities." "No. Lady Y/N we will be leaving soon, walk with me to the landing dock?" You nod and allow Thor to lead you to the Quin-jet. "So your brother is joining the Avengers?"

"Sadly no, he will be helping out on missions but will not be a Avenger. He is barely happy about helping us. He might even be able to help you in the Lab and with the suits." "I doubt Tony will allow anyone to touch his suits, do you remember the trouble I had when I fixed his suit the first time, I was all but grounded" "I am sure you could convince Tony to allow Loki to help?" "Ah the God of Mischief and Tony Stark agreeing on something. Is this not the same Loki that attacked New York?" You joke to the god of thunder. "The same one, I would like to think that Tony will one day sort of agree with him, he has done his time on Asgard and Father thinks this will help him amend the past." You stay quiet, you had not been here when the New York attack happened, that was the week Tony had sent you home to grab supplies, but he had filled you in on some of the details.

"Lady Y/N if you may" Thor says gesturing to the seat "We will betaking off soon." You smile and get strapped in to your seat. You stay quiet for the flight, everyone around is chatting between themselves, and joking. You pick up on bits and pieces here and thereof what they discussing.

"We might as well have a party for Reindeer games arrival." Tony says loud enough for everyone to hear. "Another party Tony? Must we, you know Loki won't like it" Nat says glaring at the male beside her. "Another reason to have it. He needs to get over it and show us that he is changing. So a party is the perfect way to do it." You sometimes wondered what went though Tony's head some days. He had to host a party for everything. He even held one for you when you finally agreed to help them. FLASHBACK It took a lot of convincing and asking for you to accept Mr. Starks offer to work for him. Some how your little secret was out in the open and now you had the richest man in the area, all but begging you to join his crew. "We could use a smart woman like you on the team. You would have your own room, hell I will even give you your own floor for your technology and gear." "Mr. Stark as much as I would love to join, I am afraid I will never fit in." "Why because your Atlantean? You do know Thor is a god, Bruce is the Hulk. You would fit in fine. I do not care what you are or where you come from."

You look at him and then look away to your garage filled with old Atlantean war machines. You could use a bigger place for them to be stored while you fix them up and get them back in the air. "Could I bring all this? I have worked to hard to give up" You wave your hands round the room. "Not to the tower, but I have a compound that we can store them at and you can go there and work on them whenever you need." "Alright Mr. Stark. I will accept." "Great and call me Tony. I will start arranging the transportation of your vehicles and your personal belongings. Please excuse me" You watch him walk out, a bit stunned at how quickly he got to setting everything up.

ENDOF FLASHBACK.

You feel Thor tapping your shoulder, you glance at him "Yes?" "We will be landing soon. Are you ok? You seem to be a bit distracted?" "Oh its all good Thor, I was just thinking." "As long as you are well Lady Y/N" A few moments alter you have landed and everyone has started leaving the Quin-jet. You look around you, nothing but grasslands for miles. Next thing you see a giant beam of light land on the ground ahead of you and in a flash it is gone, leaving nothing but a raven hair man in green armor.

Loki.

"Brother it is nice to see you again." Thor approaches the man alone. "Thor. I see you bought the whole team for this arrival. Couldn't trust me enough to come alone?" "It is not like that Loki. Do not start this" You watch the interaction between the brothers as does everyone else. No-one moves to greet him. "Come now Brother, there is someone I wish for you to meet." Thor looks in your direction. They make their way over to you. "Brother is is Lady Y/N." You bow a bit to Loki, knowing of his royal title, you have no choice but to. "Your Highness, nice to meet you" "Lady Y/N you do not need to bow to him." "Best you listen to my brother Mortal" Loki said with a smugness. You raise your head and you feel his eyes trail to your neck. You see the realization kick in once he sees your pendent. "You're Atlantean?"

[misslilli]

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Chapter 11 - Friday Night's Alright For Fighting

[ FM ]

On Friday, it’s Felix’s mother’s turn to pick him up from school since he’ll be spending the weekend at her place. I briefly wonder if he’ll tell her about his new-found admiration for the enigmatic Miss Scully and for just a little bit, the petty side of me wishes he would. It’s not that she’s a bad mother per se, but she never shared a strong connection with our son and ever since the divorce, it somehow got worse instead of better.

Felix took the divorce pretty hard, lashing out at me and the teacher and kids at kindergarten. There were times when I couldn’t even recognize my own kid. Because of my background in psychology, I tried to talk to him countless times but I finally had to admit that I was too emotionally involved to really help him. So we began to see a therapist back in Washington, D.C, him and I. His mother refused to participate because “He never acts out when he’s at my place, Fox, seems to me like that’s a you-problem.” That day, only the thought of what would become of my son if I went to jail had kept me from murdering her on the spot.

We don’t stay in contact much, except for negotiating pick-up and drop-off times for Felix, and that’s about all I can handle from her. The custody battle was a hot mess, not because she particularly wanted to keep Felix, but she used it to humiliate me, dragging my abilities as a father and caretaker through the mud in front of a judge and our lawyers. I tried to keep Felix out of the court hearings, putting my foot firmly down when her lawyer suggested that we could just ask the child where he wanted to live. He was three years old at the time, fat chance I was going to let that happen.

Thankfully, we were able to convince the judge that I was willing and more than capable of caring for our son and that me working from home was a more child-friendly environment than his mother’s job, which takes her out of the country several times a month.

I take off my reading glasses and close my laptop, this trip down memory lane has put me in a sour mood. After putting away everything work-related for the weekend, I stretch my arms over my head, contemplating what to do with my free time. I don’t have any friends here yet and since I can’t meet anyone at work, I decide to walk down the street to the harbor.

The streets are pretty busy with locals and tourists alike and as I walk past the crowd that stand around the rock that marks the place where the pilgrims debarked the Mayflower back in 1620, I think to myself ‘Guys it’s just a rock. In the ground. Walled in on all four sides.’ I was pretty disappointed, if you couldn’t already guess that.

I continue my walk and pass the dock where you can usually see the Mayflower II anchored, swaying with the waves of the Atlantic. She’s an accurate and beautiful reproduction of the original ship with which the pilgrims had sailed to America, founding Plymouth Colony after 10 gruesome weeks at sea.

Currently though, the dock is empty safe for a few seagulls harassing the tourists – they have taken the ship to a shipyard in Connecticut for restoration, much to Felix’s chagrin. When he heard that we were going to move here, he spent countless hours reading up on the history of Plymouth, the Pilgrims and everything that happened afterwards. He got a real kick out of imagining the American Protestors and the British Government officials dressed up in frilly dresses and huge feathered hats, actually having a fancy tea party instead of the Boston Tea Party, which escalated the American Revolution in 1773.

His special interest, though, had been captured by the Mayflower, which is not surprising because he loves anything that’s big and can transport people or cargo. Planes, helicopters, trains, you name it, but especially ships. On the first night in our new house, he insisted that we leave the boxes packed for now and head down to the harbor, right now.

At first, always the responsible adult, I refused, but he didn’t let up, resorting to pleading with me, then he practically begged me and when I still wouldn’t budge he went in for the kill with his puppy-dog look and a pronounced pout. I could see the tears welling up in his eyes. Damn, he was using my very own look against me!

The tears still came a little while after, when we reached the harbor and found the dock deserted. I wanted to kick myself for not checking if the ship was actually there or not and I had to carry a bawling, devastated Felix back to our house. He only stopped crying when I promised him that we’d go see the Mayflower II the very second she sailed back into the harbor.

After another, more pleasant, trip down memory lane, I had reached my destination: The Cabby Shack, a local bar and restaurant that is made up of an inside bar downstairs and two large decks, the lower one housing the outside bar, the upper one the restaurant.

Making my way through the crowded room, I spotted an empty seat at the bar and ordered a drink aptly named Islands of Misfits. I snorted out a laugh at how accurately it described my situation right now. Island of Misfits alright, inhabitant: 1.

I took a sip of my drink and twirled the tiny umbrella between my fingers when out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone take the seat next to me at the bar.

“Islands of Misfits, huh? Must be bad!” Looking up, I’m surprised to see that it’s Walter Skinner, my son’s principal.

“Yeah, sort of. Sorry, hello sir, it’s nice to see you!” He shakes my hand briefly and orders himself a whiskey on the rocks. Had I been a more insecure man I would’ve felt stupid for my drink choice, but as it was, if I like my drinks sweet and with a cutesy umbrella in it, then that’s what I’ll have. And don’t you dare forget the fucking umbrella!

“So Mr. Mulder, what is it, love troubles?” As a born and raised city boy I have yet to come to terms with small town frankness but I like Principal Skinner and his lack of beating around the bush.

But still, I couldn’t exactly tell him the whole truth, I don’t think he’d appreciate a Actually yes, sir, I’ve been staring at one of your teachers for every damn day of the week and when I’m not busy staring at her, I think about her all the time. I wonder if her kisses taste like strawberries and what her hair smells like. I’m driving myself slowly insane by imagining running my tongue over the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and let me tell you about the dreams I’ve been having real quick. Yeah that won’t fly.

First, he’d kick my ass into the sixth dimension and then he’d have me arrested for gross misconduct or worse, sexual harassment. Even though I’m not sure if that’s really applicable when it only takes place in your mind, it’s still inappropriate as all hell and I’m not going to test out my little theory. I don’t think I’d fare well in jail, to be honest.

So instead, I opt for a more appropriate half-version of the truth. “Yeah, sort of. I had a huge argument with my ex-wife over the phone when she was late picking our son up from school. If I had one, I think my swear jar would be able to buy me my own Island of Misfits. And what’s even worse is that I think my – our son was there to hear at least her end of the fight.” I take a miserable sip from my drink.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Mr. Mulder. Your son’s name is Felix, right? He’s in Miss Anderson’s first grade?” Thankful for the slight change of topic, I nod.

“Yes, sir, that’s him. We got off to a rocky start but after the first week, he really loves going to school, Mr. Skinner.” The other man shakes his head and offers me his hand once again.

“Please, call me Walter. Outside of school only, of course, you understand.”

I grab his hand and give it a brief shake, smiling wryly. “Of course. I’m Fox but I make everyone call me Mulder. Even my parents. I hate my name.” He huffs out a laugh at that and I can tell that it’s a rare occasion.

“I get the feeling you’re in need of a friend on your island, Mulder not Fox.”

That I do, indeed.

Island of Maybe not such Misfits, inhabitants: 2.

Chapter 12 - A Rainbow In Its Natural Habitat

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars #1-3

May, 1984

THE WAR BEGINS

Oof, here we go.

Just gotta replicate the pace that let me do the Hawkeye miniseries in one go, three times in a row.

This is probably too much effort considering its Secret Wars (or more accurately Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars) and maybe there’s not going to be a lot of big changes from this in the Avengers book to really justify it.

But we’re getting Jim Shooter writing the Avengers and his non-consecutive runs were a lot better than I had remembered. And it continues the theme he had from the Avengers book.

It just makes sense in a nonsense way to cover this story.

Last relevant time in Avengers! Acting Completely Normal Vision warned the Avengers about some weird, possibly hostile energy surges right in time for an energy surge to surge energetically in Central Park.

When the Avengers went to investigate, they found a weird structure that looked like a techy coliseum maybe. When some of the Avengers wandered into it (apparently the most bankable Avengers? Sucks to be Vision and Wanda, shrug) they vanished.

In the next issue, after several days, these heroes returned, speaking of a secret war they fought. Weird stuff like She-Hulk taking the Thing’s place on the Fantastic Four happened. In other books, Spidey got a cool new suit.

Would you know more?

After being raptured in their various books, the missing superheroes all end up on one of those distinctive structures like the one that appeared in Central Park, except IN SPACE.

Its cool that the Avengers will have some company.

We’ve got a terrific 3/4ths of the Fantastic Four, the X-Men (including Lockheed but not including Kitty Pryde for some reason), the Avengers, Iron Man, Spider-Man, the totally Articulate Hulk, and hilariously Magneto is also here.

Maybe Secret Wars is just setting up the most awkward moment in the universe, as a prank show.

I think I’d enjoy a big event that turned out to be a prank show at the last minute. The fan discontent. Imagine.

Everyone introduces themselves to each other but mostly the audience and Ben Grimm claims his new codename as the Easter Bunny.

Checking, marvel wiki doesn’t have Easter Bunny listed as one of Ben’s known aliases. Cowards.

Looking up into space, Captain America spots another one of the totally cool constructs and Professor X scans that it contains EEEEEEEVIL.

Specifically Amora the Enchantress, Ultron, the Wrecking Crew, the Absorbing Man, the Lizard, VICTOR VON DOOOOOM, Kang the Conqueror, Doctor Octopus, and Molecule Man. Also, hilariously, Galactus is there.

I’m more convinced than ever that this is a prank show.

You know what would be more hilarious? If Punisher ended up on this construct.

The distribution of villains is kind of odd though. Galactus and Doctor Doom map to the FF. Doctor Octopus and the Lizard to Spider-Man. Ultron, Molecule Man, and Kang are Avengers foes. The Absorbing Man and the Wrecking Crew can go a couple ways but started off as Thor villains. And Amora is usually a Thor villain but supposedly has chilled out around this time or at least is less of a pain than her horny sister.

No X-Men villains. Because Magneto is chilling with them in the generally heroic pod.

Also, all the heroes were raptured from Earth while the villains were grabbed from Earth, from space, from Asgard, resurrected just to be here, or from the FUTURE.

I know marketing is wagging the dog but be consistent, secret organizer who we don’t know yet.

The Thing points out that Magnet is off-sides, re: being in the hero construct, and Magneto is like ‘hey, chill out dudes’ and denies specifically doing murders.

Magneto: “I know not what power transported me here from my secret lair, nor why I was placed among you -- but I find it more appropriate to ask why such as you were judged fit to be placed in my presence!”

Oof.

Burn.

Then the conversation is put on halt on account of the wildest shit any of them have ever seen.

An entire galaxy vanishes but probably not due to a wave of anti-matter.

Thor: “It’s gone! Gone -- ! Swept away like dust before some unseen, giant hand!”

And then around that last star left unswept, various chunks merge together to form some sort of world, perhaps for battle.

A nice touch for later is that you can definitely see that one of the chunks is a stray chunk of city.

Some of the villains start squabbling because close quarters, ego, etc.

But Ultron goes hey we’re allowed to fight? I’m the best at that.

Ultron: “I am Ultron! I do not understand the events transpiring! I do not understand how I came to be resurrected... nor how I came to be here! Nothing computes... Insignificant! I am Ultron! My purpose is to slay that which lives. You are all living things, ergo -- Ultron must destroy you!”

With the benefit of having read all the Avengers up to now, I feel that Ultron got up on the wrong side of the resurrection a little.

He’s not not like this but he’s not usually this turned on?

(Then again, maybe he just came back cranky)

DOOM grabs and shakes Molecule Man to do something about this because given enough time even the mighty DOOM might fall before Ultron.

Ultron is famously annoying to defeat, what with that adamantium.

But Molecule Man is in therapy after the Avengers kicked his shit and Tigra yelled at him for being a punk. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

So Doom with all his brilliant genius tells MM a cool way to help out that won’t hurt anyone. Directly.

Using his Molecule Man power over molecules to lightly toss Ultron into Galactus.

So that Galactus goes ‘who the fuck scuffed my boots’ and rips out all the energy in Ultron’s Ultron.

He can do that.

Why wouldn’t he? If he can do that to a planet, he can do it to a pissbaby robot. Even one apparently containing more power than an atom bomb.

Then, because this is one of those plots where things are always thenning, a rift opens in the nothingness of space and a heavenly esque light shines out. A warbly voice commands the action figures beat each other up.

I mean. Its more like

The Beyonder: “I am from beyond! Slay your enemies and all you desire shall be yours! Nothing you dream of is impossible for me to accomplish!”

But you have to admire that this toy commercial of a comic book is being honest and upfront about being a story where action figures bonk off of each other.

Galactus just hears ‘i can finally shake off these persistent forever munchies’ and flies off to demand prepayment for action figure bonking, with DOOM following behind him.

The Beyonder speaks up warning Galactus that hey, personal space. And that a guy that can effortlessly wipe out a galaxy is gonna have a sweet barrier but Galactus wants the hunger pangs gone and does not listen.

DOOM recognizes a bad idea when he sees one once in a while and hangs back but still gets blown out of space by the force of Galactus bonking off the Beyonder’s barriers.

Captain America: “They were swatted back like flies!”

Professor X: “To the Beyonder, even Galactus is less than a fly, Captain!”

Interruption dealt with, the Beyonder gets the show on the road and sends the two constructs to different parts of the patchwork planet.

The Marvel Super Heroes And Magneto land on some hill and quickly make sure that there are no villains excepting Magneto around.

With Magneto around, the non-X-Men raise an objection to Magneto being around.

He sank a Russian submarine with all hands back in X-Men #150 but he insists that it was self-defense and also they started it.

The X-Men’s position is ‘hey he’s a jerk but he’s our jerk plus we could use his help? The bad guys get GALACTUS, how is that fair?’

Well, they don’t say it but they’re probably thinking it.

And Hawkeye decides to be a little racist today.

Hawkeye: “You mutants stick together, huh? Well, sticking to a blood-soaked maniac like him doesn’t speak well of you, pal!”

Dude, Clint. Your dear old friend is Wanda.

Wait, why ISN’T Wanda here? Did the toy people really not want her? Fools. Her husband is toyetic as all get out.

Also, point of order, Wolverine? If anyone qualifies as ‘hey he’s a jerk but he’s our jerk!’ here its you.

Johnny “good life choices” Storm decides he’ll just kick Magneto’s ass and end the debate but yeah. Yeah, no. Magneto makes a fool of him.

And then Magneto decides eff this noise and flies off.

With Magneto alienated (good job, guys), Professor X decides this group needs some dang leadership and throws a nomination to Reed Richards. Reed defers since he’s thinking of Sue, left at home and not able to participate in the event.

Wasp, the cool leader of the Avengers, nominates instead Captain America.

Wasp: “We’re off in a strange land, up to our ears in a little secret war that may decide the fate of the universe! Some people don’t know me well! They might have doubts... and there’s no room for that!”

I’m baffled that there’s people here who don’t know Wasp who has been heroing since the 60s but sure. Cap(tain America) probably gets more crossovers and whatever.

I mean, heck, we’re talking a group of heroes consisting of the Avengers (who she already leads), the Fantastic Three (who she’s well acquainted with), and the X-Men (who I’m sure she’s met, although awkwardly its going to later be revealed that Wasp is in the Hellfire Club, but only the sex parts).

And I guess Wolverine’s extensive backstory with Cap doesn’t exist yet because Wolverine isn’t keen on him being the leader, describing him as the least of the assembled heroes. When Hawkeye is right there!

I kid because I love.

Meanwhile, DOOM wakes up adjacent to Galactus ankle and heads to a nearby fortress which he correctly assumes is where the villains have ended up.

Wait, the heroes get beamed down to a random hill while the villains get sent to an advanced fortress with weaponry and we later learn vehicles sold separately?

Kinda stacking the deck, the Beyonder.

You gave the villains GALACTUS and A FORTRESS PLAYSET right out of the gate.

The other villains tell Doom that they’ve (mostly) decided that he should be their leader. But Doom has bigger fish to fry than the prizes that the Beyonder is offering.

In typical Doomesque fashion, he wants the whole kettle. But the other villains what with their petty concerns think he’s too afraid to fight.

So he ditches.

He goes to steal-borrow a spaceship and even though he hates the thought, takes off to go talk to Richards. And then Kang shoots him out of the sky with a GIANT GUN THAT THE VILLAIN FORTRESS ALSO HAS? to stop him from allying with the heroes.

Said (marvel super) heroes see the distant explosion and fly as a group in the most hilarious way possible to check it out.

God, I have always loved this image. Its squished down into the bottom third of the page but its a delight.

They find Doom sprawled in the crash site, rambling that he’ll only speak to RICHARRRRRDS and about the Beyonder’s power. But Cap offends Doom mightily but offering him a hand up and because Doom sees pity in Cap and RICHARRRRRRDS eyes.

So he blasts the heroes and fucks off.

How very Bakugou of him.

And right as the heroes recover from that, a bunch of villains arrive to get this secret war started.

I have a fondness for this particular issue. For a long while, issue 1 was the only issue of Secret Wars I could find. So I just had the start of this story with all these non-Spider-Man non-X-Men heroes I barely knew cliffhangering into an attack by villains I really didn’t recognize except for Doc Ock and the Lizard.

It was a window into another side of the Marvel Universe. And for child me, this first issue worked perfectly to intrigue me. All these characters, the very straightforward conflict, all the complications that immediately pop up like Magneto, Galactus, and Doom. Alas, small child resources.

June, 1984

PRISONERS of War!

The heroes react slowly to the sudden villain attack but thankfully, the villains aren’t working together well. Unthankfully, half of the heroes were already knocked out by the first attack.

Meanwhile, over at Doctor Doom’s side of the plot, he flies back over to where Galactus just in time to see him finally rouse from being slapped down by the Beyonder.

Galactus floats to his feet and wanders off.

Doom: “He ignored me! As though I were a gnat buzzing at his feet! And so I am... Just as all of us, even Galactus himself, are but insects to the all-powerful Beyonder! Thus, the others have chosen to play the Beyonder’s simple game -- thereby, in effect, paying homage to him. Should I, too, pay homage? Should I worship at the feet of this god-like being -- or chose another path... one only Doom would dare!”

I think anyone that knows Doom knows which option he’s gonna choose.

He heads back to the villain fortress and finds Ultron’s deactivated body and decides Doom can use this.

Meanwhile, back at the first secret battle of the secret war, the heroes rally and start fighting back under Cap(tain America)’s leadership.

She-Hulk even gets a designated girl fight with the only female villain on the villain team.

I’d complain, I would. But at least She-Hulk isn’t the only heroine on the hero side.

She-Hulk: “Hiya! I’m the She-Hulk! You must be the Enchantress! Gee, I’ve heard so much about you -- ! You’re a not-nice lady!”

Enchantress: “A green woman? Is there no end to the varieties of mortals?”

The Enchantress magic slaps She-Hulk away and comments that she could crush She-Hulk physically but its beneath her.

Yeah, all Asgardians have some level of super strength, that’s right. Even the squishy wizards.

But all She-Hulk heard was, ‘someone I can really punch!’

She-Hulk: “I don’t often duke it out with someone solid enough to really unload on -- and slow enough to let me! Oh, wow! That was, like tubular, you know -- to the max!”

Uh. Jen, are you okay? Did you have a stroke? You don’t usually talk so much in Mario World secret world levels.

I think maybe Jim Shooter didn’t have a good grasp on her. I don’t think he’s ever written for her. And the other heroes mostly don’t vary too much from generic hero speaking patterns. Add some smart for smart characters, add some rude to Wolverine, and so on.

The battle wraps up with Kang, the Enchantress, and the Wrecking Crew captured and the rest of the villains fleeing when the battle didn’t go their way.

Cap sends Storm off to scout for a cool playset that they can use as shelter and she does so, noting that the winds on Battleworld are super easy to control. Like Battleworld was created to create ideal fighting conditions for everyone. Pretty neat, the Beyonder.

Storm finds a particularly rad fortress (”Bigger than fifty-four and a half Pentagons, I’d estimate!” Wow!) and the heroes move in.

I unironically enjoy how toyetic this story is with the fortresses and the vehicles and the weapons. Because I’m almost positive that Mattel barely capitalized on it.

There were only two playsets. Pitiful.

Over in their new headquarters, Reed stashes the captured villains in some form of psychostasis which “works by controlling aggression through brainwave modulation!”

He also sticks Enchantress in a healing pod to address that nasty case of being She-Hulked right in the face. Nothing will salve her ego though.

Captain America: “It’s no wonder that the name Mister Fantastic is renowned for compassion as well as courage! You give added meaning to the word hero, Richards!”

Whenever someone loudly announces that Reed is super compassionate, it makes me feel like they’re overcompensating.

Nobody ever makes note of, say, Captain America’s compassion.

With the prisoners (of war? Is that the whole reason for the title?) accommodated, Cap calls everyone for a meeting in a cool meeting dome he found which has a small waterfall for aesthetic and so everyone has to yell to be heard.

Wolverine yells that they should mop up the rest of the villains and get this over with.

Not mentioning that in order to “win it” they’d have to kill the villains, which none of the heroes have shown any interest in doing so far.

Cap(tain America) replies that A) planet big and they have no idea where the villains got to. And B) the remaining villains slash antagonists are Galactus, Doctor Doom, Molecule Man, Doctor Octopus, the Wrecker, the Absorbing Man, and Magneto. Not really people you mop up.

In a fun logistics bit, Cap sends out a patrol to make sure the area is secure but he also sends out two additional groups to find  if there are any places in this fortress they can sleep and whether there's any... food.

Makes me imagine a Secret Survival War where the sides have to wrestle over limited resources.

Hours later, the villains that escaped the fracas arrive back at their fortress.

I’m sort of confused here.

Maybe it took so long because they had to make sure they weren’t followed. Or maybe because they didn’t have the sweet tripod vehicle anymore. But think about the flow of events of: everyone beamed down to Battleworld > Doom ditches the villains and gets shot down > heroes investigate and Doom ditches > villains show up for cliffhanger fight.

The villain fortress should be pretty close to where that fight took place. And then the heroes find a nearby fortress of their own so their fortress should be pretty close to the villain fortress. Maybe not in the same neighborhood but surely the same zip code.

Anyway, they find that while they were gone, Doom swanned in and renamed the place the Doombase.

If they have problems with it, they can talk to his Ultron.

Which I’m surprised he didn’t rename Doomtron.

Doom also tells them that he’s in charge now.

Absorbing Man: “Aw! Who gives a hoot! I need a meal an’ sleep! You wanna be in charge, Doom? Okay by me!”

If you think about it, this is just some steps added what the villains wanted all along.

They wanted Doom to be their leader but he told them he had bigger fish to fry and fucked off. Now he’s fucked back on and told them all that he’s their leader. They initially object before reconsidering due to Doomtron but, yeah, its all gone full circle.

Doom is a lot more cordial to Molecule Man though.

Doom: “Molecule Man... uh, Mr. Reece, I believe it is? I trust you were not inconvenienced.”

Molecule Man: “Well, being absolute master of molecules I can just assimilate molecules when I want, so I never have to be hungry, and I can just shoo away dirt molecules, so I’m always nice and clean -- but I am tired!”

Doom: “I have prepared a special chamber for you! I hope you like it!”

Molecule Man: “If not, I can always reconstruct the molecules -- !”

Heh.

Nice to see Jim Shooter able to follow up on the trajectory he sent Molecule Man on.

The rest of the villains head off but Doctor Octopus, the only other brain cell in this group, hangs back to talk to DOOM.

He wants to know what he plans to do about Galactus and then shows Doom on the biggest screen TV that Galactus is standing on a mountain glowing with an awesome power.

Doom just retorts that his plans are for his forces to triumph.

Doctor Octopus: Something tells me he’s got ambitions that dwarf merely triumphing in the Beyonder’s little contest! The question is whether he will destroy us in trying to achieve them -- or immediately after fulfilling them?!

Like I said, the only other brain cell in this group.

Meanwhile, while Magneto secretly sneaks into the hero fortress for Reasons, the heroes have a quiet moment that lets this Secret Wars biz really sink in.

Wasp: “I’d be having tea in my studio now, Jenny... And lunch on my patio tomorrow... This... um... situation we’re in... is kind of... much, you know? I feel there’s just a little thin wall inside me holding back a flood of despair!”

Its a nice touch, if intentional, that Wasp only admits this kind of thing now that she’s passed off the leadership responsibilities to Captain America. Its been a recurring character beat that she’s been keeping these sorts of worries to herself as chairwoman.

Over in another part of the fortress, Cyclops complains that he was right in the middle of his dang honeymoon when he was yanked into this event.

Cyclops: “I don’t know about you, Richards, but more than angry or afraid, I feel cheated! I -- I was on the verge of real happiness...”

Oof. This really sets the tone for his marriage with Madelyne Pryor.

Spider-Man and the Human Torch even have a little conversation.

Spider-Man: “You mean it doesn’t shake you, Torch, being here? What if we don’t get home?”

Human Torch: “The Fantastic Four have been off on space missions a couple of times, Spider-Man! We’ll get back! Believe me!”

I like when they’re friends.

So, I’m not sure what Magneto’s plan actually was. He was going to sabotage the fortress’ fusion generator as a distraction but Spider-Man’s Spider-Sense Spider-Alerts him to shenanigans afoot and he runs off to the power plant while Johnny Storm goes to get the other heroes.

Magneto decides to abandon whatever his plan was and captures Wasp as a consolation prize.

Gasp, another prisoner of war!

The Thing tries to give chase but inexplicably turns back to normal, smooth skinned Ben Grimm.

Also, Magneto escapes with the Wasp.

It’s like the aardvark says, you can get what you want and still not be happy.

Captain Marvel is holding the randomly anti-mutant ball for Hawkeye here and comments that none of the X-Men showed up to help stop Magneto.

Cap(tain America) tells her to belay that.

Captain America: “Let’s keep our minds on solving problems, not creating more!”

And they can’t even go after Magneto or rescue the Wasp right now because they have bigger problems: Galactus glowing with an awesome power and a massive storm that’s forming on Battleworld.

July, 1984

TEMPEST WITHOUT, CRISIS WITHIN!

The Beyonder has thrown in a nice stage hazard to keep things fresh in the form of a massive storm raging on Battleworld, with lighting that shatters mountains and winds that could tear someone’s limbs clean off.

Or perhaps its the unintentional result of just slapping a planet together out of random stuff you have lying around. The climate must be shot to shit.

I like it either way. Secret Wars has a lot of very toyetic collisions between groups of characters so its nice when Battleworld itself manages to be an obstacle.

Over in his giant U-shaped fortress, Magneto finally unwraps Wasp from the ball of random metal crap he has her in.

He lets her wander around until she finds him so that he can be all casual and eating a space scone.

Magneto: “Do not bother trying to attack me, my dear! My person is magnetically shielded!”

Wasp: “Well, la-de-da!”

Wasp: -blows up his space scone- “You think I have to strike at you directly to hurt you, monster?”

Hilarious spite, thy name is Janet van Dyne.

She also makes the point that magnetic shielding or no, she could bring this whole room down. Her being able to knock over a small house with her pew pew hasn’t stopped being true.

Magneto hastens to ask her not to do that because neither of them want to be out in the storm outside.

Besides, he just wants to talk! And flirt!

Magneto: “You are obviously a woman of intelligence and understanding as well as great beauty -- and I am not the monster you believe I am -- which is precisely what I wish to discuss!”

Wasp: “Oh? My intelligence, understanding and beauty or your non-monsterhood?”

Magneto: “Why... both!”

Back at the hero base (which is apparently ROUGHLY THE SIZE OF CHICAGO?? I want that playset), the storm has almost completely flooded the area, leaving just the top dome and such poking above the water.

The storm keeps dropping chunks of mountain at the base but Thor is standing on top, protecting it while grinning like a loon.

Captain Marvel even speculates that Thor could calm the storm but is whipping it up into a greater frenzy instead. Those storm gods, amirite?

Hawkeye is also standing by, with his explosive arrow, thinking to himself that if Thor fails, Hawkeye will totally save the day.

I don’t know whether that’s sad or endearing.

Mostly though he’s trying to distract himself from thinking about the new wife he left behind.

Cap, Reed, and Hulk are watching the villain base because apparently they do know where it is. The storm is keeping the villains in too but Cap figures they’ll pull one desperate attack as soon as the storm breaks.

They’ve already lost four of their dudes. Plus, Galactus isn’t a team player.

Spider-Man is just swinging around, enjoying how good for swinging the random technological pipes and tubes and whatsits are when he stumbles upon the X-Men having a secret meeting.

Professor X has decided, possibly on the basis of two (2) rude comments from Hawkeye and Captain Marvel, that the X-Men just don’t belong here and that they’d be better off going and teaming up with Magneto.

This... sure is a take.

Rogue comments that the Avengers don’t trust her because of that time she kicked their asses collectively. Which, hey, very possibly. They haven’t really had a thing to say about you though. They’ve mostly been grouchy about Magneto.

Which is kinda born out by the way he tried to blow up their base and definitely kidnapped the Wasp?? And is even now aggressively eating scones at her?

That’s the Magneto you guys want to go join because he’s more your people than the Fantastic Avengers and friends are?

You know, there’s a pattern I sometimes see with the X-Men where they loudly insist that the other superheroes don’t help them and don’t care about mutant stuff while at the same time doing shit like this.

“Should we get Reed Richards, smartest dick in the world to help with the legacy virus or the techno-organic virus Stryfe shot into Xavier? NAHHHH Beast can handle it.”

“Should we stick with the other superheroes or go hang with Magneto instead in a cool mutants only U-shaped fortress? Well, U is the coolest letter that isn’t X...”

If you squint, you can definitely see Krakoa all the way in the future.

Anyway, Spider-Man overheard all of this and goes ‘I’M TELLING!’

Wolverine tries to tell him that snitches get stitches but the thing is?

Spider-Man is ridiculous. He’s a ridiculously good combination of skills and powers which lets him make chumps out of entire groups at a time.

He’s embarrassed the Fantastic Four, the Avengers, and now he’s about to embarrass the X-Men.

After making them all feel foolish, Spider-Man gets away and goes to tell Reed what that doody-head Xavier said when Xavier uses his psychic powers to just wipe the entire encounter out of Spider-Man’s memory.

Yeah, it’s to cover their imminent blowing off but also? I don’t think he wants anyone else to find out how badly his X-Men just got stomped.

Psychics are too OP, I tell you what.

In fairness IN FAIRNESS, the X-Men kind of have the right to fuck right off if they wish. I don’t even know what it had to be in secret. In fact, doing it in secret is a massive dick move of its own for reasons.

What would the Fantastic Avengers have done if the X-Men had just said ‘hey we’re heading out’? Would they have put them in stasis tube jail? I doubt it.

Professor X made the decision to handle this the stupidest way for whatever reason. That scamp.

Speaking of Magneto, he’s over at the U-Lair turning down a partnership offer from DOOM. So, hey, he has standards.

Wasp has become less ‘i’ll blow up this room and your breakfast’ about him over the course of whatever the hell they discussed in their offscreen chat.

Magneto even starts to make out with her and Wasp is like ehhhhhhhhhh what the fuck why not.

Why is this happening?

I guess he has a...................... magnetic personality?

Eh? Eh??

No, but seriously, I do have a theory that I heard someplace but it’ll have to wait.

What’s weird is that there’s a Marvel What If about some spinoff babies that come about if the heroes and villains got stuck on Battleworld and never managed to leave.

Wasp has a son with Human Torch. Which is pretty weird and comes from nowhere. I guess a lot can happen during a massive time skip. My point being though, its weird that they didn’t have a Wasp/Magneto baby instead given the weird chemistry they have here.

Meanwhile, over at DOOMBASE, DOOM has some women in giant tubes.

That’s So Doom.

Doctor Doom: “All is ready -- ! This alien technology, so rich, so subtle... so easily harnessed to serve my purpose... Energy, tapped from the raging tempest... And two mortal subjects who dare to gamble for power -- knowing that to lose is death, for truly, here I shall test the limits of power a human body can contain! With the throwing of a switch... so -- the die is cast! Hear me -- ! Power must be seized -- ! Crave it! Welcome it! Drink it in, despite the pain... or it will destroy you.”

And thus are Volcana and Titania created!

Talk about lasting effects of Secret Wars! Titania is going to be around forever! Mostly annoying She-Hulk!

Where did Doom find two random women to give superpowers?

Denver, Colorado.

No, seriously.

That city chunk we saw as Battleworld formed? That’s Denver, Colorado, USA, EARTH.

Why isn’t there a miniseries or one-shot about a normal ass civilian from Denver having to deal with OH MY GOD WHERE DID EARTH GO?

I actually read an interesting thing re: this scene. It exists because Mattel asked Marvel to introduce some new female characters so Shooter wrote in these two and a third who I’ll get to when I do.

Mattel then promptly used none of these characters for the associated toyline.

The toyline, in fact, used none female characters at all. It made toys of characters who weren’t in the story but did not have a single female character.

So its very weird that they asked Marvel to introduce some but I’m not going to knock the results.

Doom introduces these two new characters to the other villains.

Hilariously, Absorbing Man guesses that Doctor Doom just made women from scratch. Because doesn’t it sound like something he could do?

Volcana and Molecule Man immediately hit it off, her being attracted to his sensitivity and him being attracted to... positive attention at all, I guess?

He muses that he could easily stop the storm outside, because molecules, but his therapist told him to let nature take its course. “Unless Doom asks me to!”

And Titania and Absorbing Man. They don’t hit it off. She either wants to hit him or hit that and its not clear and it might be both.

(Spoilers: Its both)

Titania: “You! Absorbing Man! You look like the toughest man here! Get up!”

Absorbing Man: “Whatcha got in mind?”

Titania: “I’m going to do anything I want to you! Everything I always wanted to do to everybody who used to be bigger and stronger than me! Maybe I’ll just play with you... or maybe I’ll make you eat dirt... or maybe...”

Absorbing Man: “Woman, if you got somethin’ to prove, prove it tomorrow against the guys we’re fightin’!”

Titania: “You’re backing down?”

Absorbing Man: “Nope! I just ain’t getting up! I got nothin’ to prove... to a dame!”

Would you believe that they become one of the healthiest and most stable romantic relationships in Marvel?

Speaking of weird relationships, back over at hero base, Thor goes and pops the lid on Enchanteress’ healing tube because he’s bored and wants to talk to a peer. A god peer.

Enchantress is at first more characteristically worried about what her face looks like after being She-Hulked.

But she then creates a portal so she and Thor can go have a chat.

Later, it’s morning and Hulk has been too busy stressing over losing his Banner smarts to actually keep watch or wake up Cap for watch like he was supposed to.

So when the villains ram an airship into the hero base, the heroes are not at all prepared.

Titania hurls a giant slab of wall through the room the Terrific Three are sharing, breaking Johnny Torch’s arm and ribs and knocking out the other two. He manages to get himself and co out of danger by melting through the floor.

Meanwhile, She-Hulk is carrying a big heavy as she’s been doing since the previous night and is caught unaware by Volcana who blasts her off her feet and then collapses the room on top of her.

Doctor Octopus knocks out Captain Marvel who is in the hot springs dome but gets chased away by Hawkeye, claiming that long-range firepower is his weakness.

I’m stunned at the implication that Doc Ock is one of Spider-Man’s most dangerous foes but could be scared off by Hawkeye while Spider-Man could pretty easily drop Clint’s ass. There’s some rock-paper-scissors nonsense at play here.

Spider-Man and Iron Man are also taken unawares by Ultron but manage to hide under some rubble.

Hulk leaps into the fray at Molecule Man and Doom but Cap convinces him to fall back to a defensible position.

The villains reconvene with all the captured villains freed except Enchantress (since she fucked off to have a chat with Thor) and the heroes scattered and buried under various rubbles. How the fortunes of Secret War turn.

Sure would have been nice if the X-Men had been around to help or if they mentioned they wouldn’t be. Sure would have been.

Doom: “We have accomplished much here today! And to finish it, we shall level this place so that no stone remains on stone!”

No wonder Mattel didn’t make a playset of this base! Dammit Doom, you’re ruining the merchandising!

Follow @essential-avengers​ for more of Secret Wars! At this same pace! Its sustainable! This is fine! Like and reblog too!

[skepticbeliever-bookclub]

Any fics where they commit a heist of some sort? Thanks!✨

here you go!

The House Always Wins - sequence_fairy | E, 2.2k, Complete (Shyanara)

“Ry,” Sara’s voice cuts in through Ryan’s muttering about combination possibilities, “you’re going to have company in about five minutes.”

“Shit,” Ryan swears.

“On my way,” Shane says, voice pitched low.

ships that pass in the night - beethechange | E, 21k, Complete

The more Ryan thinks about it, the more he thinks he just needs to return the favor, that’s all. And then it’ll be done, like it was meant to be done weeks ago, and they can both move on for real.

It’s not that he wants to. It’s that he won’t be able to stop thinking about it until he evens the score. He has to restore balance to the Force or order to the universe, or—or whatever. It’s a karma thing.

“I think you have to let me jerk you off,” Ryan tells Shane one night. They’re working late, alone in the Watcher office, one of many such late nights these days.

“Wh—here?” Shane asks. He looks around, baffled, like he’ll have been magically transported somewhere else. “Have to?” And then: “Let you?”

Or: A middle-of-the night rendezvous; a series of escalating dares; a lazy river; a heist; a do-over.

Gardner Museum Heist - orphan_account | T, 3.3k, Complete

Shane Madej hates his job. Always has, always will. He thought that being a security guard for a place like the Gardner Museum might be kinda cool. Ya know like Night at the Museum or something like that. It's not, it's boring as shit.

That is until he's got a gun to his head with a very cute man threatening to kill him.

I Pray for the Wicked on the Weekend - saturdayskeptic | T, 1.3k, WIP

Various blueprints were hidden away in desk drawers, disguises kept tucked away in duffel bags at the bottom of the room’s closet, and multiple sets of papers with different alias names in innocuous looking folders on the desk. As Ryan walked into the room, it only took a few seconds for him to recognize the blueprint currently tacked to the desk: a museum that, in a little more than a week’s time, would be showing the Devil’s Key.

The Thrilling Gardner Museum Heist - orphan_account | M, 42k, Complete

Ryan and Shane met once before, when one was just a petty thief and the other was your average cop. Now they’ve both climbed much higher in their professions, and are about to cross paths again. It might get a bit personal.

Spoiler: it will most definitely get personal.

The Great Heist Of Shane Madej - jay (tofupofu) | M, 16k, Complete

Have you ever wanted to run away?

Ryan Bergara, local troublemaker and scoundrel, has his whole world turned upside down when he finds out that his best friend, Shane Madej, is being abused by his parents. Ryan spends the next four years of his life trying to get Shane away from his family - but what happens when they finally make it?

A story about being lost, and then being found again.

Lost a fic? Check out our fic found tag, and if you still can’t find it, send us an ask!

[padfootagain]

Always

Next trope for my winter event will be one bed, with our favourite Jedi, Obi-Wan!

I hope you all like it, it's just fluff!!

Do I know anything about the climate on Alderaan in winter? Absolutely not, but I don't exactly care.

Gif not mine

Word Count: 3097

There was snow outside, and a loud wind blowing. Sky grey with clouds that didn't seem willing to move away, and speeders hurrying back and forth through the main street. The town went on for miles all around you, and yet it was merely a little city for the planet's standard. The complicated and elegant architecture, showing the wealth and skill of the people of Alderaan, made every building magical, and the white snow that had settled on the crevasses of the sculpted façades made it all the more beautiful.

However, you were not on Alderaan to enjoy the magic of the wintery season. You were there on a mission for the Jedi Order.

Your friend Obi-Wan was accompanying you to retrieve and bring back to the Senate a valuable copy of the decree stating the partnership between Alderaan and a nearby planet of their system. It wasn't exactly the most excited mission you had been on, or so you had thought. That was before your contact on the planet was found dead.

And now, you and Obi-Wan were on the run.

You had left the capital for this little town, and hoped to find a way off the planet as fast as you could. However, the magical weather seemed to play against you, and all the transports were stuck on the ground until further notice.

You had no choice but to hope for a better weather the next day, along with a safe passage off the planet.

Your hand came to nonchalantly rest upon your chest, touching the decree safely hidden in your long brown robes.

The sun was setting already, the season shortening the days, and the question of finding a shelter for the night started to seriously worry you.

"I think there is a hotel of some sort, straight ahead. Do you see it? Up the street," Obi-Wan told you, as if reading your mind.

You hated it when he acted this way. When he answered your question before you could ask it. You had no doubt that it wasn't a mind trick, your own defences were way too powerful to allow anyone into your thoughts, talented Jedi or not. He just knew you that well. After years and years of friendship, training together as Padawans, now both of you Masters, you knew each other better than you knew yourselves. And sometimes, you hated the fact that he simply knew you too well.

"I'm freezing," you admitted, tightening your robes around your shivering frame. "We have to find shelter for the night.

"We will."

Ha, that overconfident tone of his. You hated that as well about him, it was driving you up the walls.

Which he clearly felt, as he turned to you with an amused smile, and that made you even madder.

Although, you weren't angry, just mad. There was a difference between the two when it came to Obi-Wan: he was annoying you to no end, and yet you could never be tired of his presence by your side.

You chose to ignore his glance, and hurried up the busy street instead. Up ahead, a speeder was stuck under a deep layer of snow, and five people were struggling to get it out. Had you not been under such danger yourself, you would have gladly used the force to help them. But you couldn't take the risk to draw too much attention to yourself. You reckoned your Jedi clothes were doing a good enough job for that already. Which brought you to your next worry.

"We should change our clothes tonight," you told Obi-Wan. "Our robes are kind of… not mingling well with the scenery."

"You're right," he agreed with a nod.

"We should find some new clothes before going to that hotel."

"Where to?"

You looked on both sides of the street, and spotted a shop a few meters further. Obi-Wan silently followed you there.

It was a strange thing to be on a mission with him again. You hadn't since the beginning of the war. He was always off somewhere playing the General, while you were more on spying missions than pure military. Your skills for reckon missions were of value as well, and you seldom found yourself in big battles Obi-Wan had grown used to handle. You were surprised by the Council's decision to send the two of you to Alderaan, especially with Anakin and Ahsoka off fighting a battle on the other side of the Galaxy. But who were you to question the Council's orders. As Obi-Wan kept on reminding you, if you had wanted to change their minds, then you shouldn't have refused the seat that was offered to you.

However, you were aware that politics were far from your forte. You were a woman of actions first. Obi-Wan was 'the Negociator', he was the one in your team with good words and manners who was able to sort any situation – or most of them at least – by talking his way through it. You were more of a lightsaber sort of Jedi.

Maybe that was the reason why the two of you worked so well as a team. If Obi-Wan was more diplomatic than you, you were also quicker at taking decisions and weighing risks. Besides, you were both gifted with a strong bond to the Force and great skills in combat.

Oh, and you loved flying still, unlike him.

You bought some warmer clothes and hid your lightsabers well under your coats, along with the decree. Your own clothes were hidden in a backpack you bought. You were thus wearing some brown leather pants, large boots perfect against the cold, and had bought a new brown coat designed against the dropping temperatures. Obi-Wan had settled for some classic beige pants and a long coat as well. You were now better equipped to walk through the city unnoticed. And well, the way he looked in these clothes didn't make things easier for you, but you tried to push the thought in the darkest corner of your mind and walked on.

You weren't aware of the fact that Obi-Wan was thinking the exact same thing about your civilian clothes, but he did. He would never confess some thoughts to you though.

The snow fell even more heavily than before, by now, it was almost impossible to see more than a few meters ahead. The speeders had all stopped, and the wind blew stronger. With that kind of weather, you would probably stay stuck on Alderaan longer than a night. You pushed the thought away though. No need to darken a future so uncertain, you forced yourself to focus on the issue near at hand. You reminded yourself of the old lessons your master had told you, about focusing on the present. You didn't always respect the lessons you had once been taught though. By your side, Obi-Wan's beard was covered with white snowflakes by now, and the sight brought an amused smile to your lips.

You walked inside the hotel a few minutes later, and asked for two rooms at the reception.

Waiting for the employee to check the rooms available, you couldn't help but eavesdrop the conversation between two men behind you in the hall.

"They're Jedi, they won't be hard to spot! Long cloak and lightsaber at their belt, and it's done!"

You and Obi-Wan exchanged a silent glance.

"The reward is huge, there'll be a lot of people on the bait!" the other thug replied.

"We're the first to know about it, we are one step ahead! Come on, let's look for them! We'll check the spaceport first."

You gave Obi-Wan a look that meant 'I told you so' while the two bandits exited the building, and the Master by your side gave you an approbative nod. You had been right to change clothes. And not only because Obi-Wan looked very handsome in these ones…

The employee of the hotel came back, but there was only one bedroom left. You couldn't take the risk to remain out in the open, and you both knew it. So, you took the key with a nod as a thanks, and went off looking for the right room.

In the elevator, Obi-Wan heaved a sigh, and brushed the snowflakes off his beard.

"Looks like we're not the only one stuck here for the night," you pointed out in a conversational tone.

"Indeed." Obi-Wan nodded, still stroking his beard.

"It also means that the men after our… package are still here as well."

"You heard the two geniuses in the hall. They're just the beginning of our trouble."

"We should call Anakin and Ahsoka in reinforcement. They could be an entire army for all we know."

But Obi-Wan shook his head.

"They're busy enough with their own assignment. Besides, if we can't fly off the planet, then they can't fly to the planet either."

"That… is a valid point. But maybe they can reach someone who can help here."

"Or we can handle the situation ourselves. Since when do you think twice about fighting?"

"I don't fight battles I cannot win. Then I avoid them your way."

"Negociating?"

"Running away."

"Ha… very funny…"

He was looking for an ironical tone, but ended up chuckling.

"Besides, with Anakin as a Padawan, falling back is sometimes the only way to avoid having him doing something stupid and ridiculously dangerous," he went on, but you shook your head with amusement.

"Excuses, excuses…"

The door of the elevator opened, leaving you to a sight of a richly decorated corridor, although it seemed a little old-fashioned. You found your room easily, and were not surprised to discover the only bed there.

"I'll take the ground," Obi-Wan spontaneously proposed, but you merely rolled your eyes in answer.

"Don't be ridiculous. For how long have we known each other?"

"Far too long to answer that question."

"With the weather outside, it will get colder in too. You'll freeze without a decent blanket. Don't be ridiculous."

"I was simply being… polite."

You rolled your eyes again, but there was a playful smile on his lips that made you wait for his next tease.

"I heard that you didn't like sharing a room with Master Windu…"

"He snores!" you replied.

"So if I do snore…"

"I will throw you out. Yes. Precisely."

You both held each other's gaze for a moment, serious, but it only lasted an instant. Before long, you both broke into laughter.

"I will wake you up if you snore though," you warned him more seriously, and he merely doubled with laughter.

You didn't like the way his laugh made your heart warm in your chest, as if it turned into a burning star. You didn't like how happy it made you to be near him now. You didn't like how much you trusted him. You felt guilty for it all, and at the same time, not guilty at all. You couldn't see how your feelings for him could be a bad thing, they felt so… right.

You dropped your guilt to the ground, and smiled at him instead. After all, these feelings were far from new. It seemed they had always been with you, for as long as you had known him. And you knew he felt this way as well.

The knowledge that he felt the same came piercing your heart in every happy and painful ways possible. Because the man you loved shared your feelings, but you couldn't be together.

A Jedi's life was a lonely one.

"Right or left side?" Obi-Wan asked, throwing his coat onto the chair and nodding at the bed, tearing you out of your thoughts.

"Right, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

You both got ready for bed, and soon, you were both under the warm blanket, lying in the dim light coming through the curtains. The yellowish glimmer of the street lampposts and the houses all around gave a strange atmosphere to the room, soothing and warm and familiar. Obi-Wan could feel the way your weight shaped the mattress, the way it yielded under you, caving in to embrace your shape. He could feel how the blanket wrapped itself around you as well. He wished he could hold you the way the bed embraced you. But he couldn't.

There was a whisper coming from the street, from the humming of the speeders and the distant conversations. It was soothing, so much so that it was already lulling you to sleep. And Obi-Wan could feel it, by the way you rested on the bed, by how your breathing became deeper and deeper. It wasn't very surprising that you would be exhausted, the mission was intense and dangerous. You must have been just as exhausted as he was.

He could feel your hand close to his, just a few centimetres away, and yet unreachable. But at least, you were here.

Obi-Wan relaxed, after being vigilant for so long. He couldn't help it, not while he was lying by your side. Your presence was too soothing for him to stay as tense as he was before. You had always had this way to soothe him, calm him down, which he didn't like at all, because it was terribly unproductive for his work. He needed a certain level of tension through his body to be as aware of his environment as the situation required. But then, you came along, and he was doomed to fail.

He closed his eyes, and focused not on the soft sounds of the street but on your breathing, on the rhythm with which you inhaled and exhaled, and he pictured the air passing your lips in one direction or the other while all tensions left him. The sound was more reassuring than any other sound in the universe. Except for your laughter, perhaps.

He was about to surrender to sleep when your rhythm changed. Becoming a little more erratic, breaths held longer. You let out a little groan.

And then, you snored.

Not too loudly, but enough to be called a snore, and Obi-Wan's awareness focused again, as he smiled at the sound. He forced his stingy eyes to open and he looked at you.

Lips slightly parted, and hair already a mess, you looked so peaceful then. He couldn't stop his mind from thinking beautiful too, and he hated himself for it. He wasn't supposed to feel the way he did for you, the Order held strict rules against it all. And yet, how could his love for you be wrong when it felt so… right.

You snored again, more loudly this time, and after a few minutes, Obi-Wan knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if you kept on snoring all night long.

So, he gently rubbed your shoulder, until the sounds disappeared and your eyes opened.

"Som'ing wrong?" you mumbled with tiredness and sleep distorting your words.

"No, we're safe. You're just snoring."

You rubbed your eyes, chasing sleep away, and frowned.

"Me? Snoring?"

"I bet it was worse than Master Windu…"

"Ha… very funny," you replied in a yawn.

"Sorry to wake you, but…"

"No, no. You did well. Sorry."

You turned to your side, hoping that the change of position would solve the problem. You were facing Obi-Wan, who had turned to his side with you.

You kept on staring at each other for a while, none of you noticing your smiles. It just felt so right to be this close, staring at each other, studying the other to carve their features in your mind so you would never forget them.

A thousand words could have never expressed the way you felt for each other. There was something that ran deep into you that was entirely his, and there was a part of him he treasured that belonged to none but you. It was ineffable, the way you felt for each other, and there was no more certain truth than the knowledge that you would both forever feel this way.

And the words could never be openly spoken, you could never confess your feelings for him, and he could never speak out loud how much he loved you. None of it mattered though. You didn't need to say it all, your eyes spoke better than your tongues then. Or sometimes, some innocent words held more meaning than their mere definition.

"Obi-Wan?"

Your voice wasn't even a whisper, it was just a breath leaving your lungs, delicate and fragile that could have been destroyed by a mere breeze. But in the quiet room, it was more than enough for him to hear.

"Yes, Y/N?" he answered, his tone as soft as yours.

"I just meant to say…"

That I love you more than anything, that I'll never stop loving you. No matter if we are separated by galaxies or death or mere inches, I'll always love you just as ardently and my heart will always be yours.

"It's good to work with you again," was all that passed your smiling lips.

He answered your sad smile by one of his own.

"I just…" you went on, stuttering under his intense blue eyes. "Of all the Jedi in the order, you're the one I trust the most. I know… I know you'll be here for me if I need you."

Your hand rested on the sheet between the two of you, barely inches away from his fingers. And a thousand times before, he had stopped himself from reaching you, and he knew he would stop himself a thousand times more in his lifetime.

But not this time.

This time, his fingers crossed the unreachable distance, to rest upon yours, and you held hands, trying to carry all your love and care for each other through the tender gesture.

But his eyes spoke better, and when he answered, his words meant so much more than what they were supposed to mean.

I love you, Y/N. I always have, and I always will. No matter if we can be together or not, my heart will forever be yours.

It did not matter that he couldn't actually speak his mind nor act the way he longed to, though. It had never mattered, and would never matter. Your love was more than kisses and touches, it was a feeling transcending rules and time and space.

You loved each other, and it was all that mattered. And when he spoke, the promise was meant for him being there for you, but for so much more as well. You knew it, and it was enough.

"Always, Y/N. Always."

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

Tag list : @ponycake27​ @horsesreign​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @jbluevelvet​ @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss​ @stuckupstucky​ @snek-shit​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @i-padfootblack-things​  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi​@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy​ @addictedtofictionalcharacters​ @wangmangagavroche​ @yana-versio​ @goldenor5​