#you cannot tell me Jonathan would have short hair

[redgana]

We’re back in Halloween season, and I’m back in my rogues faze

Without text below:

[winterscaptain]

rings.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

a/n: remember how i said aaron gives the girls haley’s rings? yep. here it is. it’s AU!2042 and i’ve included the kids’ ages and what they’ve been up to (which you may have seen earlier this week!) this is quite short, but i am hoping to tide y’all over until the weekend. love u

words: 1.5k warnings: none

summary: two rings, two daughters. 

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

Jonathan “Jack” Brooks Hotchner, 37, Department of Defense Civilian Contractor, holds a BS in Civil Engineering and an MS in Systems Engineering from George Washington University. Married, and has a son, aged 4. 

Isaac Spencer Hotchner, 26, PhD (3rd year) in Applied Behavioral Psychology at The Chicago School of Professional Psychology, holds a BA in Cognitive Science and an MS in Psychology from the University of California, Los Angeles. 

Caroline Emily Hotchner, 24, DPhil in Law (2nd year) at Trinity College Oxford, holds a BA in English from Brown University and an MSc in Conflict Studies at the London School of Economics

Sophia Haley Hotchner, 24, MS in Sports Management (1st year) at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, holds a BS in Kinesiology from the University of Southern California

Elliot David Hotchner, 20, BA in Linguistics (Junior/3rd Year) and D1 Pitcher for the University of California, Los Angeles

 +++

“I think it’s time.” 

You reach out for Aaron’s forearm and squeeze once. “I think so, too.” He stands with a sigh and your hand trails down his arm to his hand. “Hey.” He looks down at you. “I love you.” You offer him the smallest of smiles and he returns it.

“I love you.” 

Aaron crosses the house, climbs the stairs, and pops his head into the girls’ room with a little smile. “Girls, when you have a minute, can you come see me in my office?”

Caro, reading through a few affidavits against her headboard with her ankles crossed, nods without looking up. Soph shoots him a thumbs-up from her place on the floor, crouched like a gargoyle over her laptop, working on a project for her Master’s. 

The not-so-little ones are home for the winter holiday, and the house feels just a touch more alive with four-fifths of his children back in it. Elliot’s out back working on his curveball with Isaac, and Aaron can hear their crows of triumph every time the ball gives a satisfying thwack into Isaac’s mitt at about seventy miles per hour. There are mutterings about Minor League drafts, about grad school, etc. 

Aaron can’t help but be proud of his kids - they’ve never given him any reason not to be so. 

Jack and his family will join them next week, and the house will become that much fuller and louder. The addition of a toddler is always a welcome one, and Caroline is especially excited to see her nephew - this is the first winter she’s been home from Oxford since she started her doctorate. 

Aaron returns to his office and settles in, working out some lesson plans for the younger instructors at the academy. A few minutes later, two pairs of light footsteps track across the foyer (one pair even and the other pair just a bit favoring the left), and he moves to his chair, across from a little couch he put there just for the girls. His hands hide their gifts - closed into fists in his lap as they sit down. 

“I have something for each one of you. They are yours to keep from now on.” 

He addresses Caroline first. 

“Caroline Emily Hotchner, most days I feel like you were built special to be my daughter. Other days, I’m sure of it.” 

“Dad -”

He taps her knee with his knuckle, and she falls silent with a little smile. “I cannot tell you how proud I am of you and all you have accomplished. You, much like this,” he rolls his hand, and Haley’s engagement ring rests between his thumb and forefinger, “were custom-made for this family. You are one of a kind, very expensive, and cherished.” The adoration in his gaze undercuts his jab. 

She is, in fact, very expensive. 

But so worth it. 

Caroline is in tears, her face crumpled and breath shaky. The massive diamond casts rainbows on the wall, hit by the setting sun through the huge window behind Aaron’s desk. 

“This is the ring I gave to Haley when I asked her to marry me.  It’s yours. I had it re-sized, and if I’m right,” he takes her hand and slips the ring onto the middle finger of her left hand, “it should fit just perfectly.” 

It does. 

“Dad, I…” She’s overcome, and throws herself into Aaron’s arms. Sophia, leaning against the arm of the sofa, looks on with quiet, fond eyes. Caroline tucks her head into her father’s shoulder and he holds her close. “Thank you.” 

“I know you will appreciate its obvious beauty. Much like you, it’s eye catching.” He leans back, and bops the tip of her nose with his finger. 

He focuses on Sophia, who leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees and her hands laced together. She always sits that way when she’s really listening - confident and sturdy. 

“Sophia Haley Hotchner, I see so much of your namesake in you.” She smiles, wide and bright, making his point for him. “Your mother always says that if you didn’t come out of her body with your sister, looking exactly the same, she would be concerned.” 

Soph giggles, and her eyes get a little misty. 

“Haley’s heart was so big. She was tenacious, powerful, surprising. I see her in the love you have for Jack - the special bond you two share.” His brown eyes bore into hers, and she meets his gaze with her signature steadfastness. “I am so proud to be your father. You blow me away.” He flips his left hand, and Haley’s wedding band shines in the low light. It’s simple, a thin band with a tiny channel of diamonds arcing over the top. “I made a commitment to Haley with this ring - one that she fought for, bravely and without reservation. Now, it is yours.” 

Sophia holds her hand out, and he slips the ring on her middle finger. Another perfect fit.

“I know you will appreciate its simplicity. Much like you, it is representative of a great many things, all of which are often difficult to explain.” 

Soph takes a shaky breath, and admires the ring in the light. “Thank you, Dad. I love it.” 

He opens his hands, and the girls place one of theirs in each of his palms. “I consider the end of my marriage to Haley and my role in her death my biggest failure.” He makes no attempt to stifle the tears that fall from his eyes as he speaks, taking the occasional deep breath in an effort to keep going. “Haley died wearing those rings. They were part of her.” He pauses for a moment, collecting himself. “I kept them. And for a long time, I wasn’t sure why. I could have given them to Jessica, to Haley’s mother, to any number of people who would have loved and cherished them as I do.” 

Caroline drops to the floor like she did when she was little, popping up on her heels. She releases Aaron’s hand and brings her hands to his face. She wipes at his tears with her thumbs, and he smiles into her touch. When she’s satisfied, she drops her arms to his knee and rests her chin on them, listening. 

“But I kept them. Two rings, two daughters. I knew the moment you were born that they belonged to you. For nearly thirty years, they only ever belonged to you.” Sophia squeezes his hand, and he squeezes back. “Without my greatest failure, I would not know you. I would not be your father. I would have missed my greatest triumph.” 

Sophia watches him, pensive and gentle. She wraps her other hand around his, holding him tight. Looking at him, she realizes how much older he looks - his once-dark hair is more silver than black, the lines between his eyebrows and around his eyes and mouth are nearly canyons - but his eyes are the same. 

They’re always the same. Brown, deep, and warm. She’s heard stories of when the brown turned flinty in anger or frustration, but she’d never seen it herself. To her, they’ve always been cozy. Safe. Familiar. 

Her father always seemed outside of time when she was little. Maybe he still is, but she’s not so sure anymore...

She swiftly pushes the thought away. The prospect of adulthood without him is far too much to bear. 

“My girls, I would miss you even if we’d never met.” 

Between her father’s words and her train of thought, Soph breaks. She drops to the ground like her sister, but wraps herself around Aaron’s torso, her hands clasped together behind his back. He brings one arm around her, while his other hand rests on Caro’s head. 

“I love you, Soph.” 

She burrows deeper into his shirt, surely staining it with her tears. “I love you, Dad.” 

He looks down at Caroline and offers her a small smile. The one she gives him in return is one he recognizes from his reflection in the mirror. 

They don’t have to say a word. 

+++

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[skullrock]

the (secret) santa - Jonathan x Steve

12 days of fics day 2 - the (secret) santa

pairing: stonathan

summary: Steve is psyched to get Jonathan for Secret Santa, but has a hard time figuring out what to get him.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: simply none

a/n: Jonathan is Jewish here bc I love that headcanon <3 I used the Internet to tell me when Hanukkah was in 1986, and it said it was December 26th-January 3rd, so that's what I used! hope u enjoy <3 also I literally cannot find a good video to make a stonathan gif w sorry

30 days before Christmas; 31 days before Hanukkah

Steve knew Jonathan, but Steve didn’t know Jonathan. Not the way he’d like to, at least.

When he got Jonathan for Secret Santa, he was ecstatic. It seemed like the perfect way to get closer to him - to make things right, to see him in personal and intimate ways. Ways he has always wanted to. He was excited, until he realized that he didn’t know much about Jonathan, save that he made the bat Steve currently had in his trunk, liked to cook, was cute, and was a photographer. And Steve had already gotten Jonathan a camera, so that wasn’t a viable gift. Plus, the budget was twenty dollars.

Twenty dollars did not seem like enough money to spoil Jonathan Byers like he deserved.

So Steve did the only thing he knew how, which was talk, and try to be sneaky about it.

===

28 days before Christmas; 29 days before Hanukkah

“Jonathan!”

Jonathan and Will both turned on their heels to face the voice that had rung out. Will rolls his eyes when he sees Steve jogging towards them - of course it was Steve. And of course he wanted to talk to Jonathan. How neither of them saw it, he doesn’t know, but he climbs into the passenger seat to give them some space. They’ll get it soon enough.

“Hey,” Jonathan says, shoving his hands hastily into his pockets, as if he had something to hide. “What’s up?”

“Hey, man,” Steve pants, leaning forward just slightly and gripping his side. “Do you like music?”

“What?”

“You know?” Steve licks his lips. “Do you listen to music?”

Jonathan’s brows twitch together. “Yeah, I - I listen to music.”

“Me too.”

Jonathan stares, which is all he really knows how to do around Steve. Stare and observe. Take in the brunette and blonde locks, how they curl a bit on the end, how they all fall perfectly into place when Steve runs a tired hand through them. How his sweater is the color of red maple leaves in the fall, and how it clings to his shoulders. How that sweater rides up when Steve straightens, showing Jonathan the pale and smooth skin of his hips.

“What kind of music?”

Jonathan blinks and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. He glances back to Will, smiling knowingly from the passenger seat, then back to Steve. “I kinda - I gotta take Will home.”

“Shit,” Steve mumbles, then bends forward to wave at Will. Jonathan’s still watching the way the sweater rides up. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“‘s okay,” Jonathan says with a bit of a laugh.

It’s at this point Jonathan realizes what’s going on. Steve was not very subtle about being his Secret Santa. And if that’s not it, then Steve is making an enormous effort to be Jonathan’s friend, and who is he to deprive him of that?

“The Smiths.”

“Who?”

“The Smiths,” he repeats. “And The Cure. Stuff like that.”

It takes Steve a moment to realize these are bands and not families in Hawkins. “Oh. Oh. Awesome. That’s so cool.”

There’s an awkward pause before Jonathan asks, “You?”

“Queen,” Steve says, almost immediately. “Yeah. Queen. And, like, other stuff, too.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Yeah.”

Will knocks on the window and raises his eyebrows at Jonathan, because the sight was honestly a bit painful. Jonathan looks, then back to Steve. “I should -”

“Yeah,” Steve says again. “Yeah, go ‘head, don’t let me keep you.”

Jonathan doesn’t know why he feels so damn giddy, why a smile tugs at the corners of his thin lips, but it’s happening. He tucks his face towards the collar of his shirt as he rounds the car. “See you, Steve.”

“See you,” Steve calls back.

He wonders why Will is looking at him like that.

===

25 days before Christmas; 26 days until Hanukkah

There’s something about Jonathan Byers under the glow of Christmas lights.

Maybe it’s the mustard colored sweater he’s wearing, casting a warm glow on his face and illuminating the blonde in his hair. Maybe it’s just the holidays. Either way, Jonathan Byers looked beautiful, and it was just the two of them in Mike’s basement while the kids ran upstairs for snacks.

“Are you ready for Christmas?” Steve asks, his knee against Jonathan’s.

Jonathan bristles. “Oh, we celebrate Hanukkah.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers. “I - do you still do presents and stuff?”

“We do.” Jonathan shifts, bumping his knee against Steve’s again. “But we light the menorah and everything, too.”

“Oh.”

Steve mulls over the logistics of getting someone who is Jewish a Christmas present, but Jonathan luckily says, “So I could do the Secret Santa, because we still exchange presents. My family does, anyway.”

Steve hopes his sigh of relief isn’t too noticeable.

“What other things do you like?” Steve asks. “I - I just realized that we never really got to know each other.”

Jonathan feels himself about to smile again. “Music-wise?”

“Anything-wise.”

Jonathan doesn’t like talking about materialistic things, so he mumbles. Steve has to lean close to hear, and it makes his hair stand on end. “I like photography. And… peace.”

“Peace?” Steve smiles. “Past few years must have been real hell for you.”

Jonathan laughs mirthlessly. “Yeah, they were.” He takes a deep breath. “And I like drawing, sometimes. But Will’s better than me.”

Steve scoffs. “Doubt it.”

“What?”

“I - no. Shit. That’s not what I meant - I mean, like, I’m sure you’re good, too.”

Jonathan lets out a confused laugh. “Thanks.” He relaxes, and his knee is firm against Steve’s now, and both of their breaths hitch. “I really like seeing my friends happy. And I like seeing Will happy. And mom.” And you, he wants to say, but it’s caught half in his chest and half in his throat.

“How is your mom?”

Jonathan wasn’t expecting that. “She’s doing okay.”

“Good. Good.” There’s a sincerity behind Steve’s voice that Jonathan also wasn’t expecting, but that sends his heart soaring in his chest. “If you guys ever need anything….” Steve uses his thumb to point to himself as he turns to Jonathan to show how serious he was. “I’m not that far away.”

“I know,” Jonathan says, and before either of them can say anything else, the kids hustle down the stairs screaming about a movie.

Steve and Jonathan scoot apart.

===

23 days before Christmas; 24 days before Hanukkah

Steve has never been to the Hawkins Library, but Dustin practically holds his hand through the process of finding and selecting a book to read. Steve wants to learn more about Hanukkah, and a children’s book seemed like the best way to understand it all. It takes him only half an hour to read it - a personal record, Steve thinks - and while he’s not still completely sure what Jonathan does to celebrate, he’s at least got a better idea.

Steve thinks of maybe buying Jonathan a hand-made menorah, but the price is well over twenty dollars. Then he considers getting them candles for the menorah, but figures they probably already have that covered. Robin seconds this.

“Just get him a vinyl or a walkman or something,” she says, laying on the floor of Family Video.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” she starts, sitting up slowly, “I would say you’re trying to… impress him.”

Steve stutters. “What? No. No. No way. I - I - I just like getting good presents. I think - I know I’m really, really good at it.”

Robin narrows her eyes at him before sighing. “Steve. I see how you stare at him.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Robin says, sighing again. “It means nothing, Steve.”

About an hour later, a miracle happens - Jonathan comes to the store.

Jonathan Byers has never set foot into Family Video, and he treads lightly as he enters. Steve almost trips over himself when he sees Jonathan walk in, another pretty sweater on his slim frame.

“Can I help you?” he asks, approaching Jonathan, who stays relatively close to the door.

“I need to get Will something?” It’s more of a question than a statement. “He wants to watch a movie tonight.”

“Oh, I know the perfect thing!”

Jonathan watches Steve jog the short distance to the register and jog back. Jonathan wonders if he always runs around him to impress him, but he pushes that thought out of his head. Steve presents him with a VHS box with David Bowie on it - Labyrinth.

“Bowie?” Jonathan asks.

“Apparently,” Steve answers. “Will said he wanted to watch it, and Keith finally ordered it. You like Bowie, too, right?”

Jonathan’s brows twitch and he smiles a bit, that swelling feeling once again apparent in his chest. “You remembered what Will wanted to see?”

“‘Course.” Steve puts his hands in his back pockets. “I was holding it for him.”

Will was the most important person to Jonathan Byers. He would very easily trade his life with his brother if he could. He would do anything to make him safe and comfortable and happy. And Jonathan never really saw Steve as someone who would care about his little brother in such a way that he saved a tape for him. Which, yeah, maybe the bar is low, but Jonathan’s known for a while now that Steve Harrington has a knack for defying all expectations.

“It’s free,” Steve says, Jonathan shocked into silence. “Just take it. Let me know how it is.”

“Do you want to watch it?”

Steve’s eyes widen before he blinks. “I mean, maybe -”

“Do you want to watch it with us?” Jonathan almost tags on an “as friends”, but Steve’s almost certainly not thinking it’s a date. Steve’s a boy. Jonathan’s a boy. Just friends.

Steve blinks again, his brain short circuiting - like, yeah, of course he wanted to watch a movie with Jonathan Byers, and yeah, Bowie did look hot in that outfit, and yeah, they’re two men that hardly know each other except on a very deeply personal level that Steve can’t think about without making his head spin. It makes Steve’s head hurt when he thinks about the bond he shares with Jonathan, even though they’d only had approximately seven conversations over four years. He thinks Jonathan looks at him like he has him figured out, and it makes Steve’s stomach turn in excitement and anxiety.

“Tonight?” he finally manages.

“Yeah.”

Steve licks his lips. “Yeah, man. Yeah! Yeah. I like movies. Yeah, man, I can come over. What time? Want me to bring something?”

“No,” Jonathan says quickly. “Just yourself. Eight?”

“I can do that,” Steve says, not a hint of a joke in his voice. “Eight sounds perfect.”

“Do you remember where I live?”

Although Steve had only ever been at the Byers residence to thwart evil from overtaking the  universe, he does remember. He could make the drive with his eyes closed. “I do.”

“Okay. Eight.”

Robin smirks behind the counter.

===

Later, 9 pm

Jonathan cannot believe how obvious Steve is about being his Secret Santa.

“Do you listen to Bowie?” he whispers in the middle of the movie. Their knees are touching again.

“Yeah,” Jonathan whispers back.

“Do you, like, have all of his albums?”

Jonathan glances at Steve, then back at the TV. “I do.”

Steve lets out a defeated sigh and Jonathan has to stifle his laugh behind his hand. Will can’t believe how obvious they’re being, either, but he tries to focus on the movie and not the scene happening beside him.

“Do you - like… um. Is there an artist you don’t have… an album… for?”

Steve cringes at himself.

“I’m set,” Jonathan says, trying to wrack his brain for anything he could give Steve. He feels pity for Steve, who’s just trying his best, but Jonathan isn’t exactly materialistic. He doesn’t even know why he let Will convince him to be part of the exchange.

Steve lets his eyes wander around, trying to think of anything he could get Jonathan. Maybe a nice blanket, or a sweater. Maybe a David Bowie poster. His eyes wander towards the kitchen window, where he can see a golden candlestick holder.

“Menorah?” he asks Jonathan, gesturing towards it.

“Yeah.” Jonathan looks towards it, too.

“It’s the twenty-sixth this year, right?”

“What?”

“Hanukkah,” Steve clarifies. “‘Til the third?”

“H- how’d you know that?”

“I looked it up,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“You looked it up?” Jonathan asks quietly.

“Yeah.” Steve frowns a bit. “Was I not supposed to?”

“Why’d you look it up?”

“So I could know more about what you celebrate.”

“Oh.” Jonathan looks back at the TV. “That. That’s nice of you.” And then he looks back at  Steve and with a small smirk says, “We don’t need candles for it.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Steve says with a smile, bumping his knee against Jonathan’s.

They both smile the rest of the movie.

===

16 days before Christmas; 17 days before Hanukkah

Steve takes his headphones off. “I don’t know if I like them.”

Jonathan scoffs and bristles. “What - what don’t you like about Joy Division?”

Jonathan’s bed dips under Steve as he adjusts, his knee and elbow hitting Jonathan’s. “They’re, like, sad.”

“That’s the point!”

Steve rolls his eyes slightly, but smiles. “Why do you always want to be sad?”

“I - I don’t - they’re just good.”

“I believe you,” Steve says, and he means it. “I mean, what do I know about music?”

“Here,” Jonathan says, leaning forward to grab a Bowie album. “Have you ever listened to Bowie?”

“On the radio.”

Jonathan smiles and puts the tape into the walkman, and Steve puts the headphones back on. He gives Jonathan an apprehensive look as the younger boy clicks through songs, and is pleasantly surprised by the music that comes through. It’s not as sad as Joy Division - not at all. Not whiney, either - it’s victorious and upbeat and Steve can’t help but to move, shimmying in place, leaning sideways to hit Jonathan’s arm with his as he dances. Jonathan smiles and says something, but the headphones block him out. “What?!”

Jonathan chuckles and pauses the music. “I said, do you like it?”

“It’s happy!” Steve asserts. “You should listen to this stuff more often.”

“I do listen to it.”

“More. Often,” Steve enunciates, and then presses play on the walkman, his hand brushing against Jonathan’s.

Jonathan realizes how much he likes Steve being happy. He always knew it, but he didn’t know how much he liked it. Steve moves like he owns the world, like he’s not ashamed or afraid of anything. And Jonathan knows how bullshitthat is, that Steve, at heart, is a scared and insecure person who needs to love and be loved every moment of the day. Jonathan wishes he could give that to him, but if David Bowie gets Steve close to as happy as Jonathan would like to make him, he’ll take it.

“Put it in your stereo,” Steve says suddenly, pausing the music. “We should both listen to it, shouldn’t we?”

Jonathan shrugs a shoulder and takes the tape from the walkman, slipping it into the stereo and playing it. They both jump at the volume before Jonathan turns it down, and then they sit together, listening to Heroes until it fades out.

“Like us,” Steve says. “Heroes.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says. “I guess.” Jonathan chews his lip for a moment before pausing the tape. “You saved my life.”

“What?”

“When the….” Jonathan can’t say it. “With the bat.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Steve looks at his hands and then smiles. “After you saved mine by beating the shit out of me.” Jonathan stiffens, and Steve sighs. “I know I said it before, but I’m sorry, Jonathan. I’m… God. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jonathan says, voice a bit cooler. “It’s in the past.”

“You did save my life, though,” Steve says after a pause. “Seriously. If you didn’t beat sense into my brain….”

“You mean a concussion?”

“Sense,” Steve repeats. “If it wasn’t for you….”

“I know.”

It’s all that needs said.

“Another?” Steve asks.

“Really?”

“I like listening,” Steve says.

Jonathan suppresses another smile as he leans forward and turns the tape on again. Their arms are touching.

===

10 days before Christmas; 11 days before Hanukkah

“Just get him a new walkman,” Dustin says, tone bored, as Steve drags him through the biggest mall within an hour from Hawkins.

“It’s not good enough!”

Steve is exasperated, and desperate. He’d been spending way more time with Jonathan, and kept asking questions - he’s 90% sure Jonathan is on to him at this point - and he was still unsure of what to get him. Each day that passed made Steve more desperate to give Jonathan something that would make him happy, and a twenty dollar budget was just not enough for Steve. And though he feels like he knows Jonathan more than most people, he doesn’t quite understand Jonathan. And he wants to. He wants to so badly.

“Jesus, o-kay,” Dustin says, throwing his arms out.

“I’m not - I’m not mad at you.” Steve sighs and runs his hand through his hair as he stares at  a sweater displayed in a window. “I just - I don’t know what to get him.”

Dustin knows why, but he still asks, “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t! I don’t. I don’t care that much.”

Dustin sees through the bullshit, but he doesn’t think a mall is the best place to talk to Steve about his feelings. “I just got Mike a new dice set. It’s not the best gift, but he’ll like it.”

“Well, I’m not lazy.”

Dustin pouts. “I’m not lazy -”

“And you’re not supposed to tell me who your person is -”

“You told me yours!” Dustin already knew Steve’s, but the point still stood.

Steve’s brows twitch in agitation. “Well, yeah, because I need help!”

“And I am helping you. Get him a damn walkman.”

As Steve contemplates the idea, a new one pops into his head.

“Perfect!” he shouts, making everyone stop to look at him. Dustin inclines his head, trying to get Steve to elaborate.

“We have to go to the music store. Now.”

===

3 days before Christmas, 4 days before Hanukkah

It’s official - Steve hates Joy Division. Not as much as he hates the Smiths, but he definitely hates it.

His ears hurt after listening to Jonathan’s favorite music, hand selecting the songs with the lyrics that Steve thought best exemplified Jonathan. In a way, the music helped Steve understand Jonathan, which was a happy surprise. And, quite honestly, Steve doesn’t mind listening to the music, because he knows it would make Jonathan happy, and that’s mainly what he cares about.

But something seems missing. Maybe it’s because no gift on Earth would be good enough for Steve to give to Jonathan. Jonathan deserved the world, deserved much better than what he was dealt. So did the rest of his family. Steve knows if he gave Jonathan anything worth anything, though, he wouldn’t take it. And if he did take it, he would share it - and Steve wanted to get him something that was purely for Jonathan. Maybe a mixtape was the perfect gift, but it didn’t feel like it. Something was missing.

Not that Steve had much time to contemplate another gift, because the exchange was happening tonight, and Steve couldn’t even write a two page paper in six hours, let alone find a better gift.

There’s always next year, he thinks as he’s wrapping it. Or his birthday. Or….

The wrapping paper his mom had purchased was patterned with bright green mistletoe, plum colored berries hanging from the leaves. Steve’s eyes focus on it for a while - intimacy was something that he missed. The closest he’d gotten in a year was his skin pushed up against Jonathan’s, knees and biceps touching. It made him yearn, and not for just anyone, but for him. For Jonathan.

But Steve doesn’t know how Jonathan feels. Yeah, they touch each other a lot, but maybe that’s just what friends do. Steve wouldn’t know. Jonathan’s eyes had lingered on Steve’s face before, and when they were smoking Jonathan didn’t even wince when Steve passed the joint to him. Isn’t that kind of like kissing? Steve doesn’t know. He just knows he wants to kiss Jonathan. He’s known for a while, and Robin told him after Steve cried to her one night that maybe he’s bisexual, and Steve had adopted that term because he wants to kiss Jonathan Byers so bad. And a kiss would be a personal, for-Jonathan-Byers-only gift.

A kiss, though, seems very straightforward. It doesn’t seem like a great idea. Maybe back in high school when Steve would kiss just about anyone, but not now. Not when he doesn’t even know if Jonathan swings that way.

So Steve finishes wrapping the tape, and he prints Jonathan on it in the best handwriting he can muster, and he hopes Jonathan understands through the lyrics.

===

“It’s got, like, you know.” Steve clears his throat. He’s too aware of the mistletoe above them. “The bands we listened to on it.”

“Steve,” Jonathan says, turning the tape over in his hands. His brows are furrowed together as he studies it, wondering what’s on the tape, wondering what Steve thought was intrinsically Jonathan Byers. It was such a personal gift that Jonathan didn’t even know what to do or say. “I…. Thanks. Thank you, Steve.”

Max grabs another gift from under the tree. “This one’s for Mike.” She chucks it at him and everyone’s eyes seem to turn to Mike, except for Will and Steve.

Their eyes meet, and Will gives Steve a look he doesn’t understand.

What? He mouths.

Will’s eyes flit up to the mistletoe, then back down to Steve and Jonathan. He repeats this a few times until Steve almost gasps at the suggestion. Does Will know something Steve doesn’t?

Steve nods his head as subtly as he can towards Jonathan. Him?

Will nods furiously, then looks back to Mike, who seems quite pleased with the dice Dustin had bought him. But Steve doesn’t get it, and when the presents are done, he pulls Will aside.

“What the hell?” he hisses. “What - what does that -” he mimics Will’s eye movements - “mean?”

Will rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“Come on,” he repeats. He gets quiet, and Steve can see Joyce in Will. “He likes you.”

“What? Did he say something to you?

“Steve. You touch each other, like, all the time.”

Steve deflates. “So he didn’t say something?”

“He doesn’t need to. Why do you think I convinced him to do this?”

Steve knows he’s saying “what?” too many times, but he says it again. “What?”

“We all planned this. We paired you two together on purpose.” And then he walks away because he’s tired of hearing about everyone’s love lives. This isn’t his problem. He just wants to play with Mike’s new dice.

When Steve looks towards the kids, they’re all staring. They quickly start talking to each other again, and Steve lets himself sit with the realization that these bunch of punks just pulled the most amazing Christmas hijink of perhaps all time.

Shitheads, Steve thinks, and while he’s definitely going to confront (and thank) them later, he’s got to talk to Jonathan first.

Later, 9 pm

“I knew it was you, you know.”

It’s cold outside, but it’s the best privacy they could get.

“How?” Steve asks, though he already knows.

“You’re not very conniving,” Jonathan says, once again suppressing a smile. “It was pretty obvious.”

“I just wanted to get you something you’d like,” Steve says. He breathes out and watches his breath disappear into the cold air. “You’re impossible to shop for, you know.”

Jonathan has the audacity to seem offended. “What?”

“Impossible,” Steve says, stepping forward. “You’re not a materialistic person.”

“So?”

“So,” Steve says. “So.” He can feel his heart in his throat, beating loud and fast - he hopes Jonathan can’t hear it. “So….”

And then they’re kissing under the mistletoe that Mrs. Wheeler hung on the porch.

Steve pulls back first, quick, surprised with himself. “Shit.”

Jonathan says nothing - he just stares.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks, throat dry.

“Didn’t you just kiss me?”

“Um. Yeah.”

Jonathan blinks. “Then do it again.”

And this time Steve really steps forward, really takes Jonathan’s cold cheeks in his cold hands, and he really kisses him. Jonathan finally lets that smile come through for the first time in a month as he melts into Steve, like a snowflake into a snowbank. Steve’s warm - well, warmer than the air - and he tastes a lot like vanilla birthday cake. Jonathan’s never really liked cake, but he likes Steve’s lips. Weird.

Jonathan pulls back first this time, because it was getting increasingly harder to kiss as his smile grew. He even tries to hide it behind his hand again, but Steve stops him, taking his cold fingers and wrapping his own through them.

“Impossible to shop for,” Steve repeats, his own smile hurting his cheeks. “Good thing kisses are free and personal.”

A laugh bubbles up from Jonathan’s chest and to his lips. “Yeah.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. Their chests are touching. “Good thing.”

===

tags: @pterawaters​ @mpmarypoppins​

[yourfavewriteress]

rocky road | jonathan toews

Teaser: “We gotta figure this out because I don’t want to keep fighting you every single day.”

Jonathan and I were currently in the middle of a rough patch. The Blackhawks weren’t doing as well as expected this late in the season. The transition from winter to spring was having its effects on my mood and migraines. Work is killing me everyday to the point where I hardly do anything once I get home except shower and get in bed. To top it all off, Jon and I have barely talked in almost two weeks, aside from the frequent bickering.

We have never been the couple that fights excessively. Jon isn’t the type to go back and forth over something small and petty. He doesn’t like to argue, he likes to talk. Whenever we crossed the line from having a conversation to bickering, Jon always suggested a pause to refocus the conversation and come to an agreement. Yet, lately our fights have been getting less conversational, and more unproductive. 

The one thing that attracted me to Jon the most when we first met was how quiet and driven he was. He was a man in all aspects of the word and I loved that. While I dealt with the stresses of my job, Jon knew that I couldn’t be the trophy wife that many guys in the NHL desired. Although his job is a priority for him, my own job is a priority for me. I never felt like I was taking care of him, or him taking care of me. We were partners who have mastered scheduling their lives around each other, and the condo we had moved into seven months ago. 

When I brought up our current relationship situation with my friends, they assured me that we were simply going through a phase “and, yes, even perfect couples like you guys have them.” I wasn’t unhappy with Jon at the moment, but we have definitely been better. 

As I prepared myself for another day at work, I made my morning coffee and checked over the day’s schedule. While I would be gone until around 7 today, Jon had a busy day until 9:30. My coffee was barely finished before Jon appeared, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hey,” He mumbled, walking towards the refrigerator.

“Morning,” I responded. As I waited, all that could be heard in the kitchen was the coffeemaker and Jon’s movements. I poured my finished drink just as he spoke again.

“Did you turn the thermostat down last night?”

“Is it too cold for you?” I watched as he looked over at me.

“I’m kind of used to it at this point,” He responded.

“I did turn it down before I got in bed, why are you asking?”

“Can we compromise and keep it above 60?” 

“You live here, too, so if that’s what you want,” I shrugged.

“You really don’t have to be like that,” He sighed. “I’m just asking.”

“I’m not being like anything, Jon. Maybe you’re reading into things a little too hard.”

“You hog the blankets, which I don’t mind because I know you don’t do it on purpose. But it felt like the North Pole last night and I don’t want to get sick.”

“Oh, trust me, I know. We cannot let the star captain get sick when he has hockey to play,” I mumbled.

“Y/N,” He ran his hands over his face. “We gotta figure this out because I don’t want to keep fighting you every single day.” I didn’t say anything and Jon closed the fridge and looked at me. “You have to realize we can’t even talk to each other without arguing, right?”

“Mhm.”

“And, you don’t see that as a problem?”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Are you seriously asking me that? I asked you a week ago to talk yet here we are.”

“I had a game that day,” He defended. “I had to focus on that.”

“I’m happy that you so boldly point out that hockey comes before me, especially when we’re both going through a tough time. But, what about the next day? I’m pretty sure you had two days off and we still haven’t talked.”

He looked down at the counter, “Hockey doesn’t come before you, you know that.”

“Say that to me when it’s actually true. Other than that, don’t lie to my face,” I grabbed my cup, moving towards the hallway. “I have to get ready for work.”

I walked back to our bedroom, going straight to the bathroom and closing the door behind me. I turned the shower on, beginning to get undressed. I sipped my coffee slowly as I let the water heat up.

As mature as I was, I knew I had my moments where biting my tongue would have been the better option. I would absolutely be respecting Jon’s wishes about the temperature of our room, because it was our shared space. But, he didn’t have to know that yet. Especially when I have already told him he could change the thermostat whenever he was uncomfortable.

I showered and brushed my teeth quickly, wrapping my towel tightly around my body. I exited the bathroom to see Jon buttoning his shirt. He looked up when I entered the room.

I moved to my walk-in, grabbing my clothes for the day. Rushing myself to get dressed, I stumbled around the closet for a few minutes. When I walked out, Jon was fully dressed, reaching into his bag.

“I’m not gonna be back tonight til after 8,” He said.

“I know,” I responded, brushing through my hair.

“Make sure you actually eat today,” He said, followed by the zipping of his bag. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.” I did my best not to frown as Jon walked out of our bedroom. 

In the past two weeks, I could count on one hand the amount of affection that we’ve shown each other. We used to kiss or be touching each other in someway at all times. But now, the only time Jon was within three feet of me was when we were in bed. I guess that’s a plus, that we still sleep next to each other. I would be lying if I didn’t notice the deliberate space between us under the covers, though.

As the front door closed behind Jon, I continued getting ready for work. Until I had to stop. 

Washing my coffee cup in the sink, I felt the familiar sensation in my eye and head, signaling the migraine to come. I groaned to myself, pausing to down a full glass of water. 

At the on-site of migraines, I always had a decision to make. I could either one, power through it and continue on with my day or two, call it and get back in bed. The frequency of my migraines increased with stress so I wasn’t surprised as my left temple began to pulse. Looking at the time, I had over an hour before I had to be at my desk and thirty minutes to leave our condo. Already feeling nauseous, I decided that today would be the day that I called it. I would have all day to recover, with Jon being gone, and I could get a much needed break from work and the world. 

After calling my boss and explaining the situation to her, she agreed before I even finished. Annoyed at the fact that I was already dressed and basically ready to go, I changed back into sleep clothes. I didn’t realize until I walked past the mirror that my sleep clothes consisted of one of Jon’s shirts and a pair of his boxers as shorts. 

Forcing myself to eat, I made a small breakfast of eggs and toast before climbing back under the covers in our dark room. In the past, I made sure to tell Jon when I was experiencing a migraine so that he knew. I wasn’t sure if it was anger towards him or my sleepiness but as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out. No message to Jon. 

I spent the day in bed, slipping in and out of consciousness. Other than to use the bathroom, I stayed under the comforters as the sun set that afternoon.

I assume I slept through the entire day as I awoke to movement in Jon’s closet and the light on. I blinked a few times, trying to adjust my eyes after them being closed for basically over 12 hours. Jon walked out his closet and I watched as he looked around the room, his eyes landing on me.

“Hey,” He said, noticing that I was now awake. He moved closer to my side of the bed, crouched down so we were at eye-level. If my head hadn’t of been hurting, I would have noticed how close he was for the first time in awhile. He searched my face, “Are you okay?”

“I have a migraine,” I mumbled. 

“Did you eat?”

“A little,” I responded.

“You know you have to eat more than a little,” He said, standing up. “I’m gonna change and then I’ll make you something.”

“You don’t have to,” I sighed. “I’m sure you’d probably prefer to not be around me right now.”

“Not responding to that,” He called from his closet. “I always want to be around you, no matter what’s going on.”

I turned over in bed, pulling the covers back over me. “That sounded like a response, Jonny boy.”

The nickname slipped out before I could even think about it and when I looked back at him in his closet, he was smiling softly. I looked away just as I felt a smile creep onto my lips. It was the first time in a few days that our expressions towards each other were anything but annoyance or indifference.

“Can you see okay?” He asked after a few moments.

“Yeah, the aura went away a couple hours ago.”

“And, your head?”

“Pounding,” I said, simply. I heard Jon sigh before I felt his hand on my leg.

“Do you want to come downstairs to the couch?”

I nodded, moving to sit up. “How was practice?”

“Fine,” He shrugged. “Can we talk later though? I’ve been thinking a lot today.”

“I was being a bitch earlier, I’m sorry,” I admitted. “It was a simple request.”

“I’ve been an asshole for two weeks,” He responded. “This morning was nothing compared to that.”

He moved so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hockey is tough right now, I get that. We’ve been through this before, Jon. Work is kicking my ass, too, and it’s overwhelming,” I said. “I don’t know why we’re clashing so much but we know how to communicate. I know how to talk to you and you know how to talk to me, but…”

“...But, we're still fighting,” He finished, nodding.

“I know I can be a lot, and you have to worry about not only me but your team, too. I can’t imagine how much stress you’re under right now but you have to let me know what you need or want from me. I can’t just keep walking on eggshells while I’m stressed myself. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” He sighed. “I didn’t realize how much I was pushing you away. I don’t ever want you to be walking on eggshells around me. You live here just as much as I do and I’m sorry for everything. I know I can forget to stop bringing hockey home with me every night and I’ve clearly been doing that. I’m not gonna make excuses for it because we already talked about this. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care if you bring hockey home. Obviously, I would like it if I didn’t have to sit through hours of guys slamming into each other on the ice, but I would do it if it’ll be helpful for you. I don’t mind watching hours of hockey. I know it’s a priority for you right now, and I don’t expect that to change. But, we’re a team. I want to help so you’re not beating yourself up every single day.”

He smiled, “I know.”

“It’s not just you, I know I can be better, too. When I’m stressed, I know I can be a handful and a half and you’re an angel for dealing with it. I’m not easy to talk to and you still take care of me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve the world,” He said. “But, I don’t care how much of a handful you think you are, I love you and that’s not gonna change.”

“I’m just sorry,” I mumbled, looking down.

Jon moved closer, pulling me into his chest. “I think you’re just being nice because your head hurts. I’m equally at fault for this, if not, more.”

I laughed against his chest, immediately regretting it as I was reminded of my migraine.

“I mean it,” I said once he pulled away.

“Okay, so we’re both sorry, and we’re both gonna do better, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” He kissed me and I sighed against him.

“I missed you,” I said. “Even though we’ve both been here.”

“I missed you,” He smiled, pecking my lips again. “But, your head still hurts so dinner first.”

He helped me out of the bed, wrapping his hand around mine as we walked downstairs. 

“I’ll get you some water and bring it over,” Jon said as I sat down on our couch, leaning against the arm. I watched as he dimmed the lights in our apartment, looking over at me to hold up his thumbs in question. “Is this good for you?”

“Yeah,” I laughed softly. “Did you know the lights did that before you showed me this place?”

He nodded, smiling. “Thoughtful, eh?”

“I guess you could say that,” I shrugged. He walked over to me, handing me a glass of water.

“You don’t think I’m thoughtful?” He raised his eyebrows in question.

“I think you’re a sap when you want to be,” I laughed, making my head throb. I flinched, leaning back slightly.

Jon leaned in, pressing his lips to my temple. “Stop laughing at me, you’re making your head worse.”

I puckered my lips to him in response. He smiled, shaking his head while standing up straight. “You’re trying to distract me. I have to get you something to eat and then I’ll kiss you.”

“That’s unfair,” I whined.

“Once you eat, I promise you’ll have my full attention, baby,” He laughed. “So needy.”

“Hurry up, Jonathan. We have a lot of making up to do.”

[marlasomething]

Piles Of Nonsense Bingo: Poor Affectionate Souls

Hi there! This is my fourth individual contribution the @pilesofnonsense 2021 Halloween Bingo. My idea? To fill the marked column (bellow) adding an extra one in each entry.

"Boxes" filled: The Corruption and New Medium

Characters: Tim Stoker, Jonathan Sims, Original Avatar Characters, Original Human Characters, Original Non-Human Characters

Pairings: Background minor relationships, Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Sasha James/Tim Stoker

Additional tags: Original statement, non-Apocalypse AU, Archivist!Sasha, Web!Jon, Lonely!Tim, other countries’ Institutes, Greek mythology, Riordanverse references, yeah that level of nerdiness everyone is morally grey in here, a bunch of characters get just mentioned, because I can, no beta we kayak like Tim

CW: co-dependency, slight mention of family issues, Corruption Typical Content, violence, injuries, mentions of physical deterioration

Ranking: Teen and up (it is not really that harsh but maybe a bit thought for younger audiences)

Word count: 2614

Summary: a new type of human-ish person appear to make Tim’s day a little bit longer. However, this new individual didn’t come empty handed: they are handling yet another bloody testament…Ah! When did this become his life? (Don’t answer, he knows)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35034877t

As always, kudos/likes (as this is going both to AO3 and Tumblr), feedback or any random comments are so greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy it and forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes,

Allons-y!

Marla

“Oh my God Jon, don’t be so dramatic! I told you, putting in between Hopworth and me was more than enough to get back most of my trust. And I feel bad enough, alright? I should not have…I shouldn’t have mistrusted you so much before that, ok? So, yes, I know you were just looking for nice rings and I won’t say a word to anyone, especially Melanie. Jeez, when are you two let that go?” on the other side of the line, Jon starting a speech that, in an all public show would have been far too bleeped to be considerable audible. Tim laughed and toyed with some of his white hair; letting it grow longer had likely been the best decision of his life. “Fine, er…I called you later.”

One goodthing after his experience almost getting assimilatedby The Lonely was his new-found capacity to feel automatically annoyed when someone he hadn’t invited in came into a room he was in at the moment.

He called it, the reverse-vamp-power (for everyone’s annoyance).

He turned, to find a woman with naturally tanned skin and so many freckles Martin’s skin would look plain in comparison. She was smiling at him.

There was also some kind of fog around her, but it wasn’t like his fog.

No, there was something…wrong with hers…

“Hello there!” she said in which, he had to admit, was a pretty good imitation of the famous Obi-Wan Kenobi moment.

Actually, now that he came to think about it, she had literally used Ewan McGregor’s voice.

“What the actual fuck?! Lad…Pal, let’s cut this short, what Fear do you serve or are more in the Keay ‘pick-up’ style? And what are you doing here?”

“Kind-of Beholding. I am here to say hello to the new grey-area players! Honestly, to speak in terms you Brits understand (and, by that, I mean people of your our country), between all the Jonahs and Gertrudes, it is great to find more people that don’t necessarily want to end the world as we know it, but understand that cannot keep pretending to be some kind of John Wick against the other avatars. Soooo self-righteous” she laughed. “I’m from the Greek Institute: The Daedalus Institute. We kind of serve other powers, too. More of a family matter, if you may.”

Tim raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve read Percy Jackson and Co.; please, tell me you are joking.”

“Then you get it (thanks Rick!) and no, I am not. But it is not something you have to be worried about, enough you have with Smirke’s 14. Gods, the ego of that guy. The moment Jonah Magnus call you out on your hubris you know you have a problem” she lowered her head and, when she raised it again, her eyes glowed just like Sasha’s did when she went, as he liked to call it, Full Archivist-OP. “Something is coming to you, it might not be much, but it want revenge for what you once did to one Jane Prentiss (or what had become of the best of her) and better if you get a bit of context beforehand, isn’t it?”

Before Tim could say anything, the Greek woman had disappear, leaving behind a phone number under the text “Julia, of The Watcher and Hecate”.

He almost wished he had to listen to more of Jon-trying-to-propose drama instead of having to deal with more ominous random people that came out of nowhere.

It was starting to get old. He sighed and started reading the statement.

Statement of Jay Sanders, regarding their strange relationship with a litter of extremely tiny kittens.

Me and my friends graduated from Mathematics last summer and, since then, most of us had got it…quite harsh, to say the least, when it comes to make a living.

There had been a decrease of “shitty jobs” offers (to say something) and, as a mathematician…ha, that had been a funny experience.

However, of the five of us, three were…well, well-off enough to not have to actually worry about money if they didn’t want to. And so they didn’t.

I don’t blame them; they tried to make it in their own, they failed, and then they just moved on, back to rich-people town.

Fun to play the regular kid for four years. Now, it was only Sarah and me.

And we couldn’t afford our shared flat, nor go back home. In my case, it’s about having your standard ultra-conservative family and, in her case…her family is just very poor and she is too concerned about their well-being to go back and having to live under their roof again. She has always had this compulsory need to be the one protecting the rest of the World, never the other way round.

God, she is so stubborn and proud…Well, maybe was. I…we will get to that.

The thing is; we were seeing ourselves out in the street, our everyday anxiety increased and, basically, fed from one to the other….when our landlord came in one evening.

We had barely seen in him in the almost half a decade we had been living in the building. He was your regular cliché scary Nosferatu-like landlord: tall, rail thin man with pale gray-ish skin and thinning hair. However, that day he looked slightly better than usual, a bit of light in his dark sunken eyes.

“You two cannot pay rent” he stated, with such a flat voice for a second I thought he was going to discover himself at some kind of droid that murdered defaulters in his property.

“No, we can’t. But…maybe we can rent a smaller flat, right? Or share with more people, Jay is good at socialising, right?”

The only socialising I ever do is when someone does a terrible misused of mathematical concepts and, here I go, your best pedantic pal!

Anyways, I knew it was important to keep the place (or the closest we could to it), so I nodded.

“Yeah! My friends used to say: ‘They are the live of the party, that Jay!’” I composed a barely believable smile and, as such, it made our landlord laughed.

His laugh sounded so normal…too normal; no laugh sounds like that in real life.

“Don’t worry kids, I know you two are broke and kind of lone wolfs that cannot go home for whatever reasons. I am really good at peaking up signs…” then, he opened a box he had been carrying this whole time and, if it hadn’t been for extremely bizarre event that was having him here with us, I would have noticed before.

There was a muffled sound coming from it.

Meowing.

Inside the box, there was a litter of tiny kittens, barely a few hours old, if you ask me.

Even there, so small, fragile, bald and slightly bloody; they were adorable.

Sarah and I composed a collective involuntary “Awww” to which our landlord responded with a smile that just…didn’t feel like a smile at all.

I know that might not make much sense but…it was what happened: he composed a mouth curvature that can only be described as unsettling.

“You can stay, on one condition: take care of the kittens.”

Yes; I know: this is likely the shadiest scenario possible, how come we both agreed to it without a second of hesitation?

First of all, if you have ever seen yourself at the verge of losing your home and still question desperate measures…what the hell is wrong with you?!

Second of all, sleep deprivation. Sorry, might sound stupid but we hadn’t had a good night sleep in what already felt like months (though they had just been a couple weeks) and it showed in everything we did (or, better said, tried to do).

And third: the kittens themselves. They needed someone. They needed us.

Especially one of us.

At first, having the kittens was the best thing that had ever happened to us.

They were extremely small rays of sunshine in our everyday otherwise bleak existence. They required to be taken care of but, if it hadn’t been for a pretty nasty habit of having a taste for cut fingernails and hair (and even that was kind of adorable from time to time), they would have been the best pets ever.

Plus, we couldn’t exactly prove it but…the moment they appeared, we got jobs. In our field, nonetheless!

It is true that the kittens didn’t seem to grow and, after three weeks under our care, that was starting to worry us.

What if there was something wrong with our kids?

Or maybe there were just some of those races that barely grow; we thought. It was comforting, since there was still a selfish part of us that was quite worried that, if our landlord saw us taking the kittens to the vet, he might think we weren’t taking proper care of them…and lose our flat.

And so weeks kept passing, winter cold arriving and our teeny tiny cats still capable of fitting into their box, where they were nothing but peaceful.

We could just sit next to them and stared at their bald, wrinkly skulls and pet their pointy ears while they playfully used their sharp claws against our fingers.

It was all just fine.

Until one day, when Sarah decided that, since we were just friends, the kittens could only be the children of one of us and, obviously, since her work as online, she spent more time with them, therefore, her offspring’s.

Not only that, but SHE CHANGED THEIR DIET without asking me first.

She started giving them well cooked meat and soy milk, as if that was the two most adequate things for baby cats.

I confronted her, clearly upset. Perhaps, more upset than ever before in my entire life.

“That is not cat food, Sarah” I told her, annoyed and, I must admit, jealous of how popular that had made her with our kittens.

“Of course not” she answered, as if it was obvious that she knew perfectly well this fact. “But they are not cats, look at them! They look like us!”

Yes; it was true, they looked like us, like a feline version of us combined in different shapes.

I grunted.

“Cats can look like their owners, it’s a thing” I, obviously, didn’t know whether that was true or not; but, since it was the only logical explanation, is what I decided to believe.

And then…she hit me.

Actually, no. She didn’t hit me; she threw me across the room, a ball of pure rage and fury.

“WE ARE NOT THEIR OWNERS. HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT THEM THAT WAY?!”

As I tried to stand up, I realised…she was right. I was being unfair to our kids; we didn’t own them. Hell, not even the landlord did. They were our buddies; we couldn’t keep letting them in that box. So, instead of apologising to Sarah, I did what needed to be done: I let the kittens free of the box, making both the little ones and my best friend the happiest people on Earth. I have never been prouder of myself in my entire existence.

The kittens still didn’t grow, but they became completely independent and even cooperated on house tasks, under one condition: we had to feed them all the waste our own body produced, even the thick liquid coming out of Sarah’s almost juvenile pimples.

Some days, we just went to work and then be with them. There was no need for anything else, not even eating. As long as they were well fed, we didn’t seem to need anything for our own body.

They even learnt how to use their tiny teeth! Isn’t that great? Now, we will never mistake their favourite soy milk label ever again.

Sorry, now I am reading all this and it is…crazy. Even as I wrote it down, I BELIEVED AGAIN it was normal, actually, it is not that bad, is it?

Never mind, I shall continue.

Even though I couldn’t notice what this ordeal was doing to me, Sarah was a completely different story: Sarah, whose raven hair was turning a dirty grey and her marathon kind-of-skinny figure was turning into a starving kind-of-skinny one.

Her eyes were now as sunken as the landlord’s had been when he left the kittens, and she was allowing them so much as once saw her carrying one of them entirely on her mouth.

I want to believe I didn’t get to that extreme.

I tried to speak to her about it, worried at the time not only for the well-being of the first person who had called my Jay without a moment hesitation, but of the kittens’. As I have already stated, I didn’t spend that much time at home and, if Sarah couldn’t do it…I shivered at the mere thought of what could happen to them.

But, the moment I started talking about her maybe needing more time for herself…the kittens did something they hadn’t done since we adoptedthem: they started meowing.

Firstly, very low; then louder. And louder.

And louder.

And louder.

So loud that, by the end, I could feel my ears bleeding.

It was a clear protest of my words and, while this just made Sarah cry and point at me as if I was responsible of the cats’ suffering; it made me snap out of whatever trance we had been in for the last few months.

I flew the flat without even taking my phone with me.

From there, I went straight up to her parents’ house. Yes, being independent was nice and all but…we, SHE needed their help and, as much as it might be an economical tall on them…Sarah’s life was at risk.

Maybe mine too, as I collapsed the moment I entered their house and had to be committed to hospital for, between other things, malnutrition and plenty of infected animal bites.

I haven’t heard from Sarah since; her parents went to our flat, finding nothing but an empty box filled with a hulking mass with such a strong reek to it that their clothes still kept the smell when they came by to visit me to the hospital that day.

They kept looking, no results.

I went myself to the building after recovering and, luckily enough, confirming I still got my new job (maybe, after all, the kittens had had nothing to do with that particular fact). I asked for the landlord and, the moment I said that he had given us a box full of kittens, one of my former neighbours laughed.

“Our landlord is a she, dearie. Ursula, she lives with her kids, very nice boys, they are the only children that can awake my maternal instincts...Are you sure you weren’t fooled somehow, youngster?”

Yes, ma’am, I am almost certain.

And…that is all. Sorry I cannot give a conclusion. I can’t stay much longer, either way. I have to get home. They came back yesterday and they could get very upset if I don’t feed them...

…I hope my broken toenail will be of their taste.

Yes, I think so. What do you think?

Statement ends.

-----

It had been a month since Julia had randomly popped-up inside The Institute and the menace she had preconized had just been eradicated.

Murderous kittens were more tough than you could ever imagine.

As his boss (both out and inside the work space), Tim had given Sasha the card to call their mysterious friend.

“Ok, what do you want in exchange?” she asked.

“Ah! Director-Archivist! A pleasure! Nothing special just…You can take it as a warm welcome…

Welcome to the monster world, good to have new players.”

Extra notes:

Was this slightly inspired by the creepy-ass subplot of Brand New Cherry Flavour where Lisa pukes kittens? Well…maybe, yeah, it was just disgusting in the best possible way (quite enjoyed the show, didn’t like the ending ENDING, though –like, the last ten minutes or so, I was like…meh, wouldn’t have done that this way-).

[kabootarandishaan]

Riverbed

Summary: The reader has taken in a stray dog and always takes it to the riverbed for walks, one day they see a random purple haired boy and things ensue

One-shot/Series: Part 6

Pairing: Jonathan Joestar/ Female reader

A/N: Sorry for the weird cut off point. It would’ve been too long if I kept going. I had been sitting on this for awhile for that reason. Hopefully ya’ll are still here love ya’ll! Enjoy!

Warnings: Heated kissing

You turned once again to face him, the softened expression taking over your face completely. You suddenly felt more relaxed and thought to tease the man before you a bit.

"Simply just nice? An evening walk along the riverbed is nice. Afternoon tea is nice. Are you saying I am simply just nice to you Jonathan Joestar?!" You had exaggerated your intonation slightly not too overt that he would notice but just enough for him to be caught off guard.

It seemed something had also come over Jonathan on this day as his next words were bold to say the least. A smirk you'd never seen before came over his face before he spoke. "Ah! I cannot say I've completely misspoke by saying that Y/N." 

"I think you are indeed nice. You can certainly be as blissful as an evening walk along the riverbed. To be with you fills me with a serenity equal or far more than that of afternoon tea. But...there's something you missed in my words." 

You look at him with furrowed brows waiting for him to go on. He reaches out his hand towards yours and asks "May I?", you can only nod as you fear that if you speak only a squeak will escape. 

He takes your hand into his and tugs you slightly closer. You can feel your heart beating faster and the sounds of your breathing encapsulates the atmosphere.

"Y/N." You simply stared down at your shoes. You weren't sure why but you feared what would happen if you were to look directly into his eyes. You were sure Jonathan could hear the pounding of your heart as he pulled you close enough that you felt a slight fan of his breath over your face.

He released his grasp from one of your hands to gently raise your chin. Your breath hitch at the feeling but slowly you closed your eyes, the new sensation making you feel slightly at ease.

"Y/N, will you look at me, please." His voice was just above a whisper. If it weren’t for the proximity between you, you probably would have never heard him. You quickly took a breath to stabilize and slowly opened your eyes.

The softness in his eyes mirrored that which you heard in his voice moments before. You could not help but smile at the sight before you. As he timidly moved his thumb so it ran over your cheek, you absentmindedly leaned into his touch. 

It all felt so natural, so right. He spoke once again in the same hushed tone as before.

 "Y/N, I feel with you a warmth and affinity so raw sometimes it scares me. I know it sounds bizarre since we have only known each other for a short time but I am incredibly drawn to you. I am eager to see you in the evenings as the thoughts of our conversations linger with me constantly. Being with you Y/N is exactly as I said fully, completely, and unconditionally nice."

You felt your chest swell at his words. You bit your lip out of nervousness but could not hold back a smile as a feeling of genuine joy washed over you from his confession. You slowly touched the hand that made its way over your face as you went to speak.

"I am not one to share my feelings overtly. To be quite honest after losing my mother I never had the opportunity to show too many emotions. I had roles and responsibilities to assume and in order to fulfill those I learned I had to be stoic so as to not be taken advantage of or manipulated.

I have not had much companionship over the years despite father and Nila. But as odd as it is, I wanted to know you Jonathan Joestar. I do not know what it was about you but I can say that I have never felt the attraction that I feel with you. I'll admit although it scares me as well I cannot help but fall further into it."

You had never been so vulnerable. In any other circumstance you would have been shocked or scolded yourself for being so transparent. But, here in this instance with Jonathan you could not get yourself to care about what could or would happen. You just wanted this moment to last.

A small laugh left Jonathan's lips as you said your last words. You felt as if you were entrapped in his gaze. A sense of momentary bliss stopping the otherwise practical and sensible mechanisms that worked like clockwork in your mind. 

His thumb carefully ran over your bottom lip, the touch so light that if you had not seen him you might not believe it to have happened. You once again felt the tug of an unexplainable force pulling your face slowly closer to his.

You reached out and held your free hand against his jaw. He let go of your hand that he held onto and placed it tentatively on your hip. He gauged your reaction so intensely any indication of discomfort or distress and he would stop this as quickly as it started.

You held the hand that rested upon your hip and gave it a light squeeze as to ease any reserves Jonathan had. You were so close his breath falling just above your lips and yours hitting his chin. The tension was immeasurable and with one swift movement you felt it dissipate.

You had never kissed anyone before. You slightly wondered if Jonathan had. That thought was quickly washed away and engulfed by a feeling of affection that overtook your entire body. You felt not only satisfaction but an overwhelming sense of passion. 

Jonathan's grip on your hip tightened only slightly but you knew he was feeling the same. You tried your luck by deepening the kiss and Jonathan only fervently responded. His hand now snaked its way around your waist, capturing you fully. Your hand moved from his face into his hair.

Had it not been for that godforsaken ring of the bell, there was no telling how long you two would have kept up. An immediate combination of fear and instinct overcame you and you had given such an aggressive push against Jonathan you ended up stumbling back.

You quickly flattened out your gown and hair and hastily made your way towards the front end. The irritation that you had heard earlier once again made its way through the shop as Dio Brando came waltzing further in.

"What in the hell is taking so damn long! Jonathan!" You could tell Dio Brando was not a man of many virtues, patience being one of them. He glanced over to you and grimaced at the sight of you before directing his anger towards you.

"Do you lowly merchants have nothing better than to try and con men of rich families into buying your trash?! Had I not said that we have somewhere to be?! Are you bloody deaf?!" 

The earlier events had left you flustered leaving you at a loss of words otherwise you knew how to deal with this. Disgruntled customers was not a new occurrence but right now you were out of your element.

"I...I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused Sir. I was only trying to show Mr. Joestar our collection." You were fumbling over your words, his tone in combination with your nerves caused a crack in your otherwise put together demeanor.

"You apol-" He was cut off by Jonathan's hand tugging at his shoulder. "Dio!" His voice was far firmer than it was just moments ago. "This is of no fault of hers so there is no need to yell at her. Apologize to her." Your eyes widened at his exclamation.

"No no! There is absolutely no need for that Mr. Joestar! Mr. Brando was simply frustrated. Please let us just go on from this and continue our respective days." You were frantically trying to salvage the situation.

From what little interaction you had with the man you could already tell that asking Dio Brando to apologize was not a good idea. Now asking Dio Brando to apologize to a "lowly merchant" well, you did not want to find out how that would look. Before you could say anything else he spoke.

An incredulous look plastered on his face before he gave out a deep laugh. Had it been in any other context that laugh would have  sounded incredibly menacing to you. When he spoke his voice took on an icy tone. "You want me to apologize to her." 

The coldness with which he said the words sent a shiver down your spine. As if the flavor of those words left a foul taste in his mouth, he said them with such a disgust. Jonathan nodded his stance unwavering.

Dio raised an eyebrow amused was not the word but you could say he was intrigued. "If you think that I am apologizing to this inferior shopkeeper then you are a depraved lunatic. I am going back to the carriage, do not keep me waiting."

As he turned to leave Jonathan grabbed his arm preventing him from going any further.

[starship-imzadi]

S5 E17 The Outcast

Androgyny is defined as having both male and female characteristics so that a specific gender cannot be determined.

Jonathan Frakes has reportedly gone on record to express his belief that Soren should have been cast with a male actor as it would have sent a stronger message. And I absolutely agree.

As it is, Soren identifies as a woman and is played by a woman which is just reestablishing a heteronormative status quo. In fact, all of the credited cast who portray the J'naii are women.

I have a problem with this. Often times the dichotomy of western heterosexual gendering is seen as "the haves and the have nots". E.g. men have body hair, women do not (which is absolutely untrue). Women are emotional, men are not (also absolutely untrue). Women as "the weaker sex" are often seen as "without" and androgyny is sometimes construed as being more "without" because it's supposed to be lacking the characteristics that give definition or.... features that are identifiable as a certain gender. Casting all women to be androgynous is, in a way, sexist for this reason. Though the non speaking and background J'naii are far enough away they seem less defined and more androgynous (some might be cast with men but it's not possible to tell...which is the way it should be).

Okay...so, Riker gets a bad rap for his struggle with pronouns and misgendering BUT what he's doing is actually incredibly important and valuable. Riker is canonically an American, heterosexual, cis gendered, Caucasian, male. He is the character that the most privileged, and most represented demographic will see themselves in and relate to. He is put in a position where he doesn't understand the experience of the person opposite him, he's trying his best and he makes mistakes, but he's also demonstrating that he's open to learning.

I've also seen some small uproar, especially from younger viewers (I'm looking at anyone born after the year 2000) over the writers not using they/them pronouns "I do not think there is really a translation". It is true that "they" as a pronoun to refer to a non specific person in common speech has been in use since the time of Shakespeare. Up until women's suffrage in legal context the pronoun used was "he" without specifically meaning a man. I.e. those pronouns were place holders for an unknown person regardless of gender or sex. Non masculine or feminine pronouns used to refer to a known individual is a slightly different story. There have been many different pronouns developed and used to greater or lesser extent through the entire 20th century (e.g. Hir or Xe) However, none of them really caught on for regular use across the entire language. "They" has been adopted most successfully because it is already in the language but its prominent use and acceptance wasn't until between approximately 2013 and 2015. This episode aired in 1992.

I really like that early on Soren and Riker are given an established shared interest. Too often on this show two people are put together....and it's not clear why they like each other. In such a short span of time it's tough to establish a believable new relationship, but this is a good first step.

They've known each other two days? It is reminiscent of "The Masterpiece Society" just a few episodes ago where Troi started to fall in love after five days. (Maybe they're both just very loving people.)

Also, in the midst of the misgendering, I'm pleased that the writers (or whoever) chose for Riker to use "he" because it plays against this species that's supposed to be androgynous but... Have a tendency to look feminine.

Riker's dad had a recipe for split pea soup...I wonder when he ever cooked it though. Riker mentions that it's good for cold Alaskan nights and it's the second episode in recent memory of his mentioning that he's from Alaska (the other was "Conundrum") I can't actually remember it being mentioned prior to that episode.... though there's a good chance it was established in the "Icarus Factor" and i know it's mentioned again in "Lower Decks"

A lot of the focus on this episode from fans seems to be on Soren being transgender but the J"aii are also homosexual. Riker and Soren have two different paradigms that are represented as neither worse nor better nor even given a moral label, they're just different. (Although, the J'naii's insistence that Soren cannot be male or female in gender or sex, is clearly meant to be the reciprocal of any insistence by humans that we can only be male or female in gender and sex.)

"I like one who's intelligent, sure of herself, who I can talk with and get something back. But the most important thing of all, she has to laugh at my jokes."

This conversation has a great sub text: different men like different things in women (and vis versa) so for someone to even identify as "heterosexual" doesn't mean every member of a different sex is attractive to them. And it begs the question: why are so many people with different qualities all under the same gender "umbrella"?

I've seen screen caps of Soren asking about human male genitals but they only show Riker's surprise. Really he deserves more credit because he handles the question really well. The way he handles everything very kindly and graciously, and the fact that Soren continues to ask questions, is a real testament to the safe place that he makes for discussion and curiosity.

There's some... dark humour in how Star Trek talks about misogyny and sexism. It's one of the notable hypocrisies and failings in star trek: to talk about a better future, while still operating on damaging ideals, and without any real idea of the journey it would actually take for society to reach "better". Both Gate and Marina had struggles with how they and their characters were treated compared to the men.

Oh boy. Worf's sexism fluctuates a lot, but when they need someone to be a misogynist, Worf is the go to and it's always painful. And Data asks the innocent, child-like questions. With a scene like this there are unfortunate reflection on some of the characters BUT the main purpose of the scene is, a slightly heavy handed, means of proposing different view points for representation and comparison. It's not really about the characters at all.

I'll say just from experience with that long hours spent working together will create some sort of bond for pretty much any two people. Love or other wise.

This scene is clearly about Soren coming out to Riker. And he takes it as kindly as he has everything else so far.

Geordi has a beard! (LeVar apparently grew it for his wedding)

"good hunting commander"

"thank you sir. See you for dinner." Do Riker and Picard have dinner together? (I love a good found family shared meal).

I really like this scene between Will and Deanna.

"well this one looks like you" with the teddy bear absolutely gets me every time. And Deanna's side look! I love their friendship and comfort together.

"You're my friend and I thought... I don't know, i thought I should tell you."

"I'm glad you did"

"Nothing will change between us, will it?"

"Of course it will. All relationships are constantly changing. But we'll still be friends, maybe better friends. You're a part of my life, and I'm a part of yours. That much will always be true."

This really hits home. Regardless of the label for their relationship, regardless of the details of the boundaries of their relationship, Troi is affirming for Riker that they are important enough to each other, that he is important enough to her, that she will stay in his life and keep him in hers. In a way this touches on what was established way back "Haven". The characterizations were still being sorted out to a large extent, but when Troi was due to be married Riker thought he was losing her and Troi ask him "i am no longer imzadi to you?" But even as much as they love each other, Riker isn't taking for granted that Troi will stay in his life once he becomes involved with someone. Troi is assuring him, promising to him, that she will stay. And the fact that Riker went to her, to tell her about him and Soren, was his way of demonstrating to Troi that she is still important to him, and that he wants to keep her in his life too.

Props to Riker for protecting Soren. Not only did he keep her secret he tried to help her preserve it.

This is a really good and impassioned speech that, even though its clearly about legislation against homosexuality, doesn't feel over the top like a lot of star trek speeches can. It's probably one of the better speeches not given by Picard.

This is the second episode in a row Riker has gone to Picard for guidance...kind of.

It's kind of sweet that Worf offers as a friend to help Riker jeopardize his career, for the sake of someone important to him, even though he doesn't like or understand the J'naii.

In the end, the Enterprise must maintain its status quo, so much like "The Host", there had to be a reason then love interest cannot stay. Even if the reason is honestly so disheartening and sad. I genuinely believe Riker cared for Soren, and this is so devastating. This was probably the best single episode relationship in terms of development.

Picard is so gentle and subtle with Riker.

Engage (!)

[thesetrashimagines]

The Man Pt.4

A Peaky Blinders Imagine (reader insert)

Warnings: Fighting, blood, broken bones, losing of teeth, swearing, and a very vivid description of a bullet wound.

Illustration is from here. Creds to Jonathan McGonnell for the concept art.

Pt.3    Pt.5

Summary: The fights have begun.

AN: It’s another long one, sorry! Hope you like it though :)

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen!” You heard the microphone squeek to life then Peter’s voice boom through it. “I am so glad to see all of you here tonight! And look at all of those familiar faces!” Peter was the announcer tonight, said he didn’t want to go home to the missus all bruised up.

He went on his usually spiel about boxing and threw in some jokes here and there. You ignored him. Taking another look at yourself fully dressed, you were filled with anxiousness. Hercules was a lot bigger than you, but so was every man you fought. Most of their arms were the size of your head. You hopped from one foot to the other, to shake the feeling off. A series of knocks came from the door, “Adi? Nik is about to start.” You tossed everything back into your bag and went for the door. “Wanna go watch Nikki kick some arse?” Cal had the biggest smile on his face, “Yeah let’s go,”

Both of you walked to the front and saw a row of seats with some faces you recognized. The Shelby’s took up one end of the row, Finn sat next to the woman you saw at the store, ‘should’ve guessed she’d be here.’, then it was Polly, her son, the capped man, Tommy, and lastly Arthur. Sat beside Arthur was Theo and beside him was Dante. “You took long enough Adi.” “Bite me Dante.” He chuckled while you took the seat next to him and Cal planted himself in the unclaimed seat.

“Your lucky shorts?” Dante flicked his head to your shorts, “Yep.” You crossed your arms and leaned forward, “‘ello Theodore!” The large man shifted your way, and so did the Shelby’s along side of him. “Adi! Glad you joined us!” You smiled, “You know I wouldn’t miss one of Niks fights.”

Arthurs’ head poked out from behind Theos’ arm, “Ya think Nik will win?” You shrugged, “Can’t say. Don’t you want to keep it interesting?” “Why you know something we don’t?” Flashing a toothy smile you answered, “You’ve never watched Nikolai Elis fight?” He blinked, “That’s the Nikolai Elis?” Theo clapped a hand on Arthurs back, “Yes lad who’d you think we were? Amatuers?” Cal laughed and leaned over you, “Come on now Arthur you didn’t think Peter would be friends with just anbody?” The man stuttered, “I knew you lot were well known boxers but-”

Tommy interrupted, “Adonis, Cal. You haven’t met the rest of the Shelby’s have ya?” Looking to him you shook your head. “this is Pol, Ada, and John.” He pointed to each person, with a tight lipped smile you responded, “Hello.”

Cal waved, “Hi!” but your introductions got cut short by Peter jogging up to the mic. “Is everyone ready for a fight?” Cheers and whoops filled the arena. “That’s what we like to here! Alrighty, bring ‘em up.” Nik entered from the left side of the ring, you and the boys cheered for him. Dante called out, “You’ve got this one Nik!” He winked in your direction as a response. Then Isaiah entered from the right and most, if not all, of the Peaky Blinders stood up and cheered. “Kick his fucking arse Isaiah!” Finn shot a fist into the air which Isaiah returned. Then both Nik and Isaiah were called to the middle of the ring by Peter.

“Lads listen here now. I want a clean fight, this ain’t no backwater bullshit alright?” They nodded, “Okay so no hits to the groin, no stomping on each other, and no biting. Got that?” They nodded again. “Good! Ladies and gentlemen we have in the right corner, Isaiah Jesus!” Isaiah faced the crowd and rose both arms, “And in the left we have Nikolai Elis!” Nik waved an arm. “Okay let’s tap gloves boys and get on with it.” Both men stepped forward. Isaiah hit Nik’s hand and jumped back.

People started yelling immediatly. Isaiah jumped around for bit before taking the first plunge, almost as if he knew, Nik blocked the outstretched fist. They went in a circle, Isaiah went for another punch. This time Nik turned slightly and took it to his shoulder. Planting his feet firmly, Nik threw his first hit; punching Isaiah square in the face. The boy staggered back a bit, arms low to his side.

“Raise them arms Isaiah!” Arthur yelled. Isaiah’s arms came up to block his face, seeing his bare torso, Nik took his chance and hit Isaiah 3 times. Then he swung his arm back and delivered a left hook to the side of Isaiah’s ear. This time Isaiah jumped back and bounced on the balls of his feet to shake himself off. He watched Nik stand there in a defensive stance and stare at him. Isaiah ducked down and got underneath Nik’s arms. He punched over, and over, and over. You could hear Nik’s breath come out in puffs.

“The legs Nikki!” Dante added to your advice, “Fold him Nik!” Isaiah’s hits were getting weaker so Nik dropped his elbow into his shoulder. Then, while Isaiah had his back arched, Nik took a step and hooked his foot behind Isaiahs knee and pulled. The ring shook from the impact and the bell rung. Nik waited for Isaiah to get up before going into his corner. Cal stood and walked over to him, you could see them talk to each other then share a fistbump. Cal came back over and whispered to the 3 of you, “He’s gonna take him out this next round. Said he’s done playing nice after that kid tried to beat his kidneys to a pulp.” You all chuckled and focused back on the fight.

Nik stuck to his word. In the first few minutes he let Isaiah tire himself out, every punch Isaiah gave, Nik blocked. Then in just seconds Isaiah was out. Nik hit Isaiah in the gut causing him to hunch slightly, a right hook to his jaw, and an uppercut to finish him off. Isaiah rolled over onto his stomach and his blood dripped onto the floor. Not wanting to waste anymore time, Nik grabbed Isaiah’s leg and bent it towards his head. The sound in the arena was deafening but you could still hear the pained groans coming from Isaiah. He slapped the ring floor. Nik dropped his leg and stepped away from the boy as people came into the ring to help him stand. “And we have a winner! Nik Elis!” Peter raised Nik’s arm into the air. You all shot up clapping and cheering.

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

Finn and Dante stood facing each other as Peter went over the same set of rules. Then bumped gloves. Right off the bat Dante hit Finn with a round of punches to the stomach. The quick attack took Finn off guard but he recovered and swung at Dante, hitting him in the face. You could tell that Finn had more of a ‘prefessional’ way to his fighting style. His throws were more thought out than Isaiah’s. Though his defense against kicks needed to be brushed up on. Dante saw this and went with everything he had. “He’s kicking the shit outta that kid.” You turned to Cal, “That’s gonna get him in the end.” “Good we’ve told him enough times to conserve his engery in matches.” Theo grunted in agreement and folded his arms, “ ‘e’s gonna get a good one to the face in a minute.” On que Finn hit Dante with a left hook to the jaw. Dante spat out blood and smiled. He was riled up now. The two of them dodged and blocked, their speed was almost equal, almost. Dante took a step to the left and Finn mirrored but as soon as Finn settled into his stance, he dropped. Dante had roundhouse kicked Finn in the face, Cal stood up and cheered, “Atta boy Dante!” At the call of his name Dante looked up and gave another bloody smile. In his moment of distraction Dante failed to notice Finn getting ready to kick his feet from under him.

Now both men wrestled on the floor trying to get the other into a lock. In the end Finn was able to secure Dante arm behind his back. Dante hated tapping out, you could see his mind go through every possible way to get out. 

“Don’t let go of his hand Dante!” Theo called out.

While laying on the floor Dante held out a thumbs up. And with whatever strength Dante had left he used and got out from under Finn. Moving quickly, Dante put Finn into a headlock and gave him 2 punches to the face. Finn twisted himself out of Dante’s hold and threw a fist to the side of his face. Dante took a few steps back and Finn followed, he didn’t stop until he was against the ropes; he jumped backwards into them and allowed them to send him forward into Finn. Knocking both of them down, Dante put Finn into a leg lock. They lid there on the floor for a bit with Finn trying his hardest not to tap. Eventually he did. “Winner by forfeit, Dante!” You all stood up again and celebrated.

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There was a small intermission before the next match. “Cal!” Bonnie Gold came bounding over to your small group, “Bonnie!” Cal jumped up and hugged him. “We’re fighting next,” Cal nodded, “Yeah can’t wait to see what new tricks you’ve got” Bonnie said hello to the rest of you and began talking. His father came shortly after and said they had to get go. “I’m gonna get my arse handed to me.” You giggled at Cal, “Yes you are and I have front row seats.”

Nik and Dante came back to join you. Theo looked over and smiled at Dante, “Look at that lip.” Dante smiled back the best he could, “What you want me to give ya a kiss Theo?” He pouted his lips out, “Yeah Theo give us winners a kiss.” Nik joined in and started to make kissing sounds. “Oi piss off you!” Theo put his arms out to hold back the two of them.

From the microphone, Peter cleared his throat.

“As most people know these next two fighters have versed before,” Almost as to prove they knew each other, Cal and Bonnie climbed into the ring and wrapped their arms around one another. “You’d guess these two were married. Look at ‘em!” The audience laughed. Peter broke them up, “Get in your corners now, can’t spend the whole night holding each other.” He went over the rules again, “I gotta add an extra special rule for this one. Bonnie, you cannot go pulling Cal’s beautiful ‘air okay?” Cal secured his hair back and yelled out ‘thank you!’ while people laughed and Bonnie nodded. With both men in their corners, Peter stood back and signaled for the bell to ring.

They began side stepping around in a circle. Cal took the first jump forward and threw a punch towards Bonnie’s face but his fist made contact with Bonnie’s forearms instead. Cal went for the torso next, he landed a few shots before Bonnie swung and hit him in the jaw. The force of Bonnie’s hit almost made Cal’s head spin. Bonnie got him good. Cal took a few steps back and shook his head, a few hairs coming loose. 

Then as Bonnie went to go for another hit, Cal stepped to the right and hit Bonnie with a combo; two punches to the ribs and one to the side of the head. Bonnie spun around quickly and threw up his arms in defense, Cal tried to kick him in the stomach but Bonnie grabbed his leg and shoved it forward, sending Cal onto his back. Cal didn’t stay down for long though, he threw his bottom half up and jumped once his feet touched the floor. Standing to his full height, he faced Bonnie again. Bonnie kicked Cal a few times in the ribs and Cal made sure to keep his hands high. While Bonnie was winding up for another kick Cal stepped forward and landed a hard punch to Bonnie’s cheek. This time Bonnie’s head swiveled. Cal took a moment to laugh but it was short lived because Bonnie punched him in the eye. He hit the floor like dead weight.

“Fucking hell Bonnie!” Everyone watched Cal curl up and cover his face, “Why’d you go for my money maker!?” Bonnie keened over in a fit of laughter. Cal scooted over to Bonnie and grabbed his arms then rolled on top of him, throwing as many punches as he could before Bonnie put up his arms. Bonnie did put up his arms but not in the way people were expecting, he put his hands onto the back of Cal’s neck and shot his knee up. Cal fell to the side and lid down on his stomach then shot a hand out and slapped Bonnie hard on the pec three times.

Peter ran over to see if Cal was really tapping out, “And the winner is Bonnie Gold!” Bonnie helped Cal up and then they patted each other on the backs. Cal was passed off to the medics and Bonnie hobbled along after them.

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“How’s Theo as a fighter?” Tommy’s voice made you jump, “Theo?” You turned yourself towards him and Arthur. “He’s as good as a guy that’s 226 centimeters tall.” Nik leaned forward to add on, “He’s light on his feet too.” Both men nodded.

“Isn’t Goliath Solomons’ nephrew?” Tommy looked a little surprised, “You know Alfie?” You scoffed, “Who doesn’t?” You mentally winced at the slip up, it probably wasn’t the best idea to tell Tommy that you’ve worked for Alfie before. Ignoring the look Tommy gave you, you turned back to Peter as he took to the middle of the ring again.

“You lot are going to enjoy this one. To make it simple, these men are giants.” Goliath climbed into the ring, “Goliath and-” Theo stepped over the ropes, “Theodore!”

Theo isn’t a agressive, or even violent, man. But watching him box would make you highly doubt that he wasn’t.

It didn't take long after tapping gloves when Theo threw his first hit. It was an uppercut and he landed it. There was a small space of time where Goliath was getting into his stance, and that's when Theo struck. The unexpected hit really threw Goliath off. He was stumbling a bit before finding his footing. He swung aimlessly at Theo, which Theo easily avoided.

Coming back from the dodge, Theo gave Goliath a left hook to his ribcage then another to his right side. Theo bounced back, ready for whatever was thrown at him. Goliath stepped forward, he seemed a little more in the moment now. Theo noticed and raised his arms and hunched, being taller than most of his opponents meant he had to crouch down more to limit the unprotected space of his torso.

Goliath jabbed at Theo's sides and even threw a few punches to Theo's forearms that were blocking his face. Wanting to tire out Goliath, Theo gave a quick succession of easy to dodge hits. Taking note of the shorter man slowing down, Theo knew his fist would be able to break Goliaths defense. So shifting his weight to his back foot, Theo swung his dominant arm forward straight into Goliath's forearms. And just as he predicted, his hand went straight through and made contact with Goliath's face. His entire head shot back from the force. Not letting the moment go to waste, Theo threw another left hook to Goliath's face.

You watched the tooth fly out of Goliath's mouth, "Knock his fucking teeth out Teddy!" You looked up to see Cal standing and hollering at Theo.

"Hey look there's the tooth," Nik nudged your arm and pointed down at the ground where the bloody tooth sat. "Should I pick it up? You know as a souvenir." You shook your head with a laugh, "By all means, go for it." Nik kneeled down and grabbed the tooth.

Looking back up to the fight you saw Goliath swaying. He wasn't gonna last much longer. Theo's light blue gloves had dark red smears on them and when he flicked his wrists, the blood went everywhere.

Theo's next few moves happened fast. His fist hit Goliath's stomach, which sent the boy waddling backwards. Then with another big wound up, he gave Goliath the winning blow. And like a sack of potatoes, Goliath dropped to the floor.

"Knock out!" Peter ran into the ring and put his hand on Theo's back, "And your winner is Theodore!" You and the boy were freaking out. While cheering you looked to the side and gave Thomas a wink.

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

You were up next, the last fight of the night. You versus Hercules. The crowd was yelling both of your names, you tried not to let it get you worked up. Being nervous about these kind of things was bad ‘Come on YN you’ve done this thousands of times.’ Maybe it was the thought you might go too far in this fight, that you might hurt Hercules more than intended. ‘Stop thinking like that, you’re not gonna kill him.’ You slapped your face a few times to snap out of it.

“This has been the fight we’ve all been waiting for, Adonis versus Hercules! The fight between gods!” You cringed.

“Hey kid you’re up.” You smiled in thanks to the man opening the door and walked into the arena. Making sure to keep your shoulders back and head held high, you hopped into the ring and not too long after Hercules joined you. He had to be a little over six feet tall. With his strawberry blonde hair styled in a fashionable way and a stupid smirk on his face, he raised his arms to greet the crowd. 

You looked around till your gaze fell on the row filled with your friends and new acquaintances. Cal, with his bruised face, hollered while Dante and Nik laughed, Theo smiled and nodded towards you. You gave them a smile and shifted your gaze to the Shelby’s. Ada and Polly were grinning, Finn and Isaiah were looking at you and talking to one another, John was leaned back in his seat with a smug look on his face, Arthur was grooming his mustache in thought, and Tommy just stared at you like he was trying to pick you apart. ‘The fucks his problem?’

“I’m sure you both have heard me go over the rules enough times tonight but-” Peter dragged on about the rules, “Now let’s have a good clean fight.” Hercules nodded and you looked at him expressionless. Peter gestured with his arms for you two to tap, then the bell rang.

You knew Hercules was going to go for the first hit, the confidence oozed out of him. You raised your arms in defense and danced around on your feet, you heard Hercules laugh before he followed you around the ring. You could tell that the fact you weren’t saying anything or showing any emotion was bothering Hercules. He let out a grunt then shot his arm out. Seeing his fist coming towards you, you ducked and went underneath his arm, ending up behind him. He turned to face you again and took another swing, you went underneath his arm again. You waited to see if he would pull the same move again or change his tactic. He didn’t. When his third attempt came towards you, you leaned to the side and gave a right hook to his head then, a straight punch from your left hand to his stomach. He let out a burst of air and hunched over slightly. You bounced around him then sent a swift kick to his back which made him take two steps forward.

You backed up to the other end of the ring. Again you watched and waited.

Hercules stood up straight and turned to look for you, his eyebrows rose when he noticed you were a few feet in front of him. He bounced on his feet and rushed to you, taking a step to the left you hit him in the ribs. Hercules stuck out his arm and turned around fast. His forearm smacking you in the face, your head whipped back and you could hear a few people let out an ‘oooo’. Going with his momentum, Hercules threw a punch to your stomach. You keened over and stumbled backwards, you stayed hunched as Hercules’s thundering steps came at you, he threw another hit to your side. You felt your stitches pop. But you ignored the pain. Hercules put a hand in your hair and went to hit you in the face but you pushed yourself back, out of his reach, and kicked the back of his knee. Now a good foot shorter, you put Hercules’s in a headlock and punched him the face. Two, three, four times you wailed on him before Peter and a few other men came to separate you from the bloodied Hercules. People were yelling at you saying how you were cheating, ‘How am I cheating by using his own move against him?’ You scoffed a laugh and stood in your corner. Nik came rushing over.

“Good play Adi!” He was smiling from ear to ear. “What’s the plan?” Meeting his eyes you shrugged, “Maybe knock the fucker out.” You picked up your water canister and took a gulp, “Well you got him good” Nik had his arms up on the rope leaning against them. “I know.” You watched his eyes widen, “Your side’s bleeding!” You put the canister back down, “I know. I already told the medics it’s just a small scratch.” Nik put his head on his folded arms, “I shouldn’t be surprised.” You ruffled his hair and smiled, “Stop worrying, I’ve got a fight to win.”

“Let’s get our lovely fighters back in the middle!” At Peter’s words Nik patted your shin and smiled back, “Good luck YN.” You stared at the back of his head as he walked back to his seat. 

You stalked forward and looked at Hercules in the eyes then glanced up, his left eyebrow was split. “Alright we had a good first round, keep it up.” Peter dropped his hand between the two of you and got out of the ring. Hercules immediatley threw a punch at your face, no doubt trying to get you back for splitting his brow. But his fist smacked into your arms as you raised them to protect yourself. Hercules then threw a hit to your unprotected torso though before he made contact, you swung a right hook into the side of his face, making his head turn with it. He took one step to the right and you landed another hit to his jaw. He finally put his right arm up to block you. You could tell he was a little dazed so you jumped backwards as he swung about blindly. You wanted this to be a fair fight, you wanted everyone to watch you knock him out with nothing but pure skill.

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

“He’s like a snake,” Nik looked to his side and saw that Polly had taken Theos seat. “Huh?” She smiled, “he reminds me of a snake. Sitting back and watching for his prey’s next move, and when the moment is right, he strikes.” Nik chuckled, “I guess so.” Cal looked at Polly in confusion, “Adi? a snake? Noooo, if anything he’s a puma. Stalks his food when he’s hungry and when he’s full, takes a nap in the sun.” Cal and the rest of the men laughed, “Yes cause if it’s anything that Adonis enjoys, it’s sleep.” Nik turned back to Polly, “If we’re being honest with you here Polly, Adonis has this, sixth sense almost. It’s like he knows what his opppenents are going to do. He can read anybody like a book.”

Polly raised her brows, “He can read people?” Dante leaned forward, “He’s like a dog, he knows when somethings up. It’s like his senses are heightened.” Next to Polly, Tommy spoke. “By the sounds of it, Adonis is an entire zoo.” Dante laughed and shook his head, “Now you’re getting the hang of things Tom!”

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

You studied Hercules while he came back from his dazed state. His jaw was starting to get develope a welt and blood trickled down his face from the split in his brow, and his eye were deadset on you. There was anger in his eyes, you could see that from a mile away, he was mad you were beating him so easily.

The taller man got back into his stance and started walking in a circle which you copied. You started closing the circle and Hercules followed, now you were standing a few feet away from each other. Hercules smirked at you and in return you stared blankly. His fist shot forward and hit you in the cheek, you quickly put up your arms and tried to stand your ground but with the force behind Hercules’s punches, it was getting harder. You had to think fast. So you dropped to the floor, you weren’t near anything so Hercules couldn’t trapped you, it seemed like a good idea in the moment but of course something had to go wrong.

When getting to the floor your foot slipped, making you land on your back. The bottom of Hercules’s boot was all you could see. You raised your arms and blocked the foot, in the distance you heard the bell ding and people yelling. Wrapping your hands around Hercules’s leg you pulled him down and tossed him to your side but before you could get on top of him, arms pulled you back. “Adi I’ve got you mate, I’ve got ya.” Peter. You spun around, “If he fucking does that again Peter, I swear to God I’ll-” Peter put his hands up to calm you down, “I know what you’ll do Thomas told me and Nik what happened in the Garrison.”

You blinked at him a couple of times, “Oh...”

“Yeah oh. You have some explaining to do after this.” You laughed, “Of course dad.” You touched his arm and went back into your corner. You could hear the harsh whispers being thrown at Hercules. He diserved it after all, making an illegal move like that.

“One sitation to Hercules.” Peters voice was strick in the microphone. “In the middle please,” Peter looked between the two of you. “Kicking is off the table because apprently someone can’t follow the rules.” Peter was talking only to the two of you now. “You make that move again and you’re out, got it?” Hercules sighed, “Yeah I got it after the first ten fucking times you told me.” Peter’s jaw glenched. “Fight!.” He dropped his arm and left the ring.

You didn’t wait this time. You threw 3 quick hits to Hercules stomach. Then an uppercut when he bent over. With his head tilted back, you shot punch after punch into his ribcage. At some point you felt a bone snap under your gloves. Hercules shouted out in pain. 

He grabbed one of your out stretched arms and bent it behind your back. He was gonna try and get you to summit. Thinking 5 steps ahead of him, you slipped your hand out of his and slid it up to just above his elbow. Your back was to his chest and then you bent your knees and started to pull. You put your other hand onto his neck when his head came to the side of yours and just like that, Hercules was flat on his ass in front of you with his arm twisted up.

He tried grabbing you with his opposite arm but with every move you would step just out of reach. You leaned down the tiniest bit and spoke into his ear, “If you move anymore you’ll dislocate your shoulder.” He scoffed and went to grab you again, “A small thing like you couldn’t do shit.” He started to get up.

You twisted his arm a little further and he screamed and grabbed at the shoulder joint, “You’re gonna break it!” You rose a brow, “I remember saying if you moved anymore you’ll be the one to break it.” He let out another yell, “If you think I’m tapping out, you’re fucking wrong!” You shrugged your shoulders, “Alright.”

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

“What’s he doing?!” Cal was freaking out, “I don’t know...” Theo answered, “maybe he’s waiting for him to tap?” Dante let out some air, “After his boot nearly squished him? No he’s gonna break his arm.” Nik rubbed his face, “Adonis won’t break his arm.”

“You sure about that?” Nik looked to his right, past Polly and Tommy, to see John. “It’s a pressional fight, Adonis knows the rules.” John nodded slowly then looked back to the ring, Nik stared for a bit longer then followed suit.

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

Guess you had to go with your first plan. ‘Knock the fucker out’

Hercules was on his feet but in a crouched position and still holding onto his shoulder. You felt the arm in your hold try to bend forward, ‘Maybe I should let him.’  You thought to yourself.

If you let go right now he could only do one of two things: Spin around and try to get at you, or, Stand up and try to get at you. You sighed, pulled back his arm just the smallest amount then dropped it. Hercules let out a yelp and held his sore shoulder. You didn’t move. “Get out of there Adi!” It was Dante, you felt the sides of your mouth curl at the thought of the 4 men sitting together and worrying over their ‘little brother’.

Hercules’s shadow pulled you back into the fight, he was standing up. It didn’t take long for him to throw a punch to your face. You knew he split your lip when it felt wet, ‘fucksake.’ You brought your hands up to your face and dodged the next swing. You noticed Hercules was only one of his arms to punch and was using the other as a blocker, this gave you an idea. Leaning away from his swing, you planted your foot behind you and used the power of your legs to throw a hook to the vulenarable part of his face. He staggered to the side. You stepped with him and threw another hook, his arms lowered a little and that’s when you hit him. Right in the center of his face, a sickening crunch filled the air and blood poured down his face. He started to fall back and you hit him again. Hercules eyes crossed and he slumped to the floor.

Peter slid into the ring and raised your right arm, “We have our winner! Adonis!”

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

You were sitting in the changing room staring at your bruised face, “Could’ve been worse I suppose...” Just as you were about to pull off your shirt, knocks and yells sounded from outside your door. “Adi you bastard!  Let us in!” You sighed, “Okay! Don’t get your panties in a twist Cal.” Opening the door you let the bodies flood in. Strangers were first to enter. Then the boys stumbled in; Theo, Cal, Dante, and Nik. Then some of the Shelby’s followed, Arthur, John, and Finn while Tommy, Ada, and Polly hovered around the doorway.

Next thing you knew you were being lifted in a bear hug and shook around, “Ahaha our little Adi knocked that fucker out!” You let out a wheeze, “Theo I can’t breath.” He dropped you and clapped a hand onto your shoulder, “You wrecked him mate!” You smiled, “That was the plan I guess.” Words of congratulations were said by mostly everybody.

Dante was sat on the counter, “I swear to God you were gonna break his arm.” You laughed, “It’s funny you say that cause Hercules said the same thing,” You squeezed through the crowd, getting patted on the back while doing it. You reached the mirror and looked at yourself again then to Dante, “I told him if he moved anymore he’d disslocate his shoulder. Then the cunt said I couldn’t do shit to ‘im.” You turned on the faucet and washed the blood, Hercules’s blood, from your face and neck. “Showed him didn’t I?” Dante chuckled and shoved you, “You did more than that Adi.”

You could hear Nik shooing people out of the room. “D’you know any of them?” You looked to the crowded hall, “No.” Nik pushed Ada, Polly, and Tommy into the changeroom, “Can’t have you lot fending for yourselves out there.” Ada laughed, “I don’t think anyone has said that to a Shelby before.” Nik put his hand on her back as he walked around her, “Well theres a first for everything huh?” John was glaring at him, “What’s that suppose to mean?” Nik was beside you looking over your injuries, “It means that not everyone has to be alone and fight against the world by themselves.” He turned your face towards him, “So philosophical Nikki.” He slapped your cheek lightly, “You don’t even know what the word means.” You pulled back in shock, “I do so!” Nik leaned on his hip on the counter and rose his brows, “What’s it mean then?” Theo opened your bag and dug around for a bit. “Don’t answer him Adonis, you’ll just embarass yourself.” Your jaw dropped, “Aren’t you suppose to be on my side?” Cal and Dante looked at each other and busted out laughing, “What’s got you two cackling?” Cal’s head was tilted back and Dante was holding his stomach, “Adi...” Dante gasped, “Adi...you should know,” Another wheeze, “We never listen to you.” Theo chuckled and walked over to you with a clean shirt in his hand, “Awe don’t pout little brother,” He pinched your cheek, “I’ll knock you on your fucking ass Theodore.” You swatted his hands away.

“Are you always bickering?” You all looked at Polly and Nik answered, “Only sometimes.” You broke eye contact and snatched the shirt out of Theo’s hands, “Do you think you could steal a med kit for me?” Nik pinched the bridge of his nose while Cal spoke up, “Do you want me to just go get one of their medics?” You shook your head, “No I don’t like ‘em”

“Why don’t you like ‘em? They’ll fix you up for free and you can stop stealing shit.” You looked at John, “They’ll half ass it and for your information I only went to the hospital in the first place because-” Peter opened the door. “What’re you yelling about now?” Nik faced him, “Adonis wants to snag a kit from one of your medics.” Peter groaned, “Adi we’ve been over this, they are qualified-”

“I don’t care! I couldn’t give a flying fuck if they’re qualified.” You turned to John and pointed a finger at him, “I also don’t have to explain shit to you.” Your fist clenched the fabric in your hand. “I need some fucking air.” You shoved Peter out of the way and left.

“Adi!”

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

“Look what you’ve done now.” Dante said. “Me?! The fucking kid knows my team is legit!”

“Yes but you know how he is!” Dante had his arm out in the direction of the door, “And hows that?” Dante looked to Ada who was sitting on a chair across from him. “He’d rather do things himself. Trust me it took him forever to even let Nik come near him in a 100 mile radius with a fucking dishcloth.” Nik slouched on the counter, “He doesn’t have the best track record with doctors.” Peter huffed a laugh, “He doesn’t have the best track with fucking anybody apparently,” Peter looked to the others, “Did he tell you he broke into their pub?” He jutted his head to Tommy and Arthur. “Peter-”

“No Nik he’s hiding shit from us and I’m done with it.” Cal groaned, “Peter we know he’s into some dodgey stuff.” Peter gawked at Cal, “Dodgey stuff? Cal he killed three men and left on the fucking floor!” The room was silent for a moment. “Did he really?” Tommy looked to Theo’s hazel eyes, “Yeah.” He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, “I guess it makes sense.” Peter put both hands to his face and took a deep breath, “Please Theo, mate, elbrorate.” Theo pulled his shoulders back and spoke, “He leaves for weeks on end with no communication, he doesn’t own a single thing except for whats on his back, and the every growing list of shit he can just do. I don’t know how you never put two and two together Peter, but it’s pretty obvisous Adi isn’t just a boxer.” Peter seemed to calm down when the rest of the group nodded, “I guess I never thought of it like that.” Cal walked over to him and put his arm around Peter’s shoulders, “We never want Peter McFought to think to hard or you’ll blow a casket old man.” The room dissapaited into quiet chuckles.

“So he is an assassin?” Nik glanced at Finn, “Hes a handy man and we’ll leave it at that.” Finn nodded.

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

You wanted to yell, you wanted to punch something, you wanted to break down. But you couldn’t, you wouldn’t do that to yourself.

The cold outside air burned your heated skin. You were at the back of the building in the small alleyway, it was quiet except for the rumble of cars in the distance. It was nice.

You leaned against the wall and ran your hand through your hair, taking a deep breath. ‘I need to leave soon.’ You pulled at your sticky red stained shirt and scoffed a laugh. ‘All I asked for was a fucking med kit. A med kit! And he acted like I told him I slept with his wife!’ You let out another scoff before the firey rage came back and you turned around to punched the wall a couple of times. The air stung your open knuckles, you watched the blood crawl down your fingers and drip onto the pavement.

“Adonis?” Your shoulders stiffened, “Yes Polly?” You heard her heels click on the concrete then felt her hands cradle your own, “Now there was no need for this.” You ripped your hands out of hers, “Don’t fucking tell me about what I need to do.” You looked down the alleyway, “I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Her hand touched your chin lightly and turned your head towards her, “I know love.” She slid her hand down your neck and settled it on your chest. “How ‘bout we go and get you all fixed up hmm?” You grabbed her wrist and dropped her hand then nodded, “Ladies first.” She smiled at you and walked back into the building, she looked over her shoulder once in awhile to make sure you were still following her.

She opened the dressing room door and waltzed in, “He’s alright now.” Everybody was sat down at this point. You could feel their eyes all on you as you walked up to the sink and started washing the dried blood away. “You okay Adi?” Nik had his head tilted trying to catch your gaze, “I didn’t mean to yell at all of you.” He smiled kindly and put a hand on your shoulder, “It’s alright mate we shouldn’t have over stepped.” You finally met his eyes, “No Peter was right,” You tuned to face the rest of the room, “I’ll just go see one of your guys.” Peter’s eyes widened, “Adi you don’t have to, I know how you feel about doctors,” You put up a hand, “Yeah well I’m gonna have to get over it at some point, so let me put on my big boy pants and get this fucking thing over and done with.” Peter stood up slowly and left the room.

“So why are you afraid of doctors?” Ada let out a groan, “Arthur you can’t just ask that!” He turned to face his sister, “Why not?” She glared at him, “Because it’s rude.” You attention was caught by the flame lighting Tommy’s cigarette. He took a long drag and let the cloud of smoke out.

“Adi?” You looked to Dante, “Hm?” He looked to the floor surrounding you, “You’re hands are dripping blood everywhere.” You flexed your hand, “Yeah they are. Hope you don’t mind a little blood Tom.” He let out another cloud, “It’s not like I haven’t cleaned up blood left by you before.” You laughed, “Yeah I guess not.” You sat on the floor, “You wanna know something? I still haven’t been paid for that yet.” He let out a chuckle, “No?” You shook your head then lid down with your arms propped behind your head, “Nope. Imagine that, getting sent into a gun smugglers barn, full of armed men, then getting chased and shot at, just to end up in a little pub with the fucking three musketeers trying to kill you.” You shook with laughter, “I couldn’t even keep the nice car either cause you lot shot it up.” John laughed, “What’d you expect? Just to leave?” Before you could answer, Peter and a man with a large bag entered the room.

“Mr. Adonis?” The medic looked around the room for you, “Get up off the floor!” You put a hand out and gave the ‘gimme’ fingers, “Help me up please?” Nik grabbed your hand and hauled you up, “Excuse me Mr. Adonis, I’m gonna have to ask you to please take off your shirt.” Nik froze, “Could we go somewhere else and do this?” His head whipped around to look at you, “Uh well sir there isn’t any better place than here.” He saw you clench your jaw then smile, “I’m gonna keep my shirt on thanks but, do you have any morphine in there? My stitches ripped open in the ring,” Everyone watched you pull up your shirt to just above the wound, “Oh shit. Yes, yes I have morphine.”

The wound was terrible. Just like you said the stitches were ripped open and the skin that once held the thread, looked torn, almost shredded. Blood was crusted around the wound in a weird oval shape while some was still wet and began to trail down your side slowly. You could tell that all the moving you did ripped the edges of the wound, making it longer horizontally.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” You looked up to Cal, “Feeling woozy?” He closed his eye and flipped you off. “Can I ask how you got this?” The medic handed you a small bottle of morphine. “It’s a gun shot wound.” He knelt to the floor and looked closer, “Are you sure? this doesn’t-” You finsihed the bottle and tossed it to the ground with a clank, “I’m pretty fucking sure yeah, cause I pulled the bullet out myself. It looks like that because of the fight. You know the stitches tried to keep it closed but then I got hit and it all tore open again.” You looked down at his head, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Adonis,” Peter growled out your name, “knock it off.” You looked to Nik and then jumped back, “Ow fuck! Don’t go sticking your fucking fingers in there you twat!” The man pulled back, “Sorry! Just tryna to make sure there isn’t anything else in there.” You glared at him, “I told you I pulled the bullet out myself. There isn’t any of it left. It was a clean shot from behind, the gun was shit so that’s why it didn’t blow all the way through.” The man on the floor nodded, “Okay I believe you.” You squinted at him, “Just stitch it up and get out.” Peter was about to say something but Nik put a hand to his chest and gave him a look that said ‘don’t’

The morphine had kicked in when he started to thread the needle through your skin, “Since the skin is ripped, the stitches are going to be fragile. Meaning no more fights.” You nodded. “No more fights, got it.”

“All done.” The medic stood up, “Good now leave.” You dropped the edge of your shirt and faced away from him. The door closed, “You’ve got some nerve.” You picked up the discarded shirt you threw in your earlier rage, “Yep.” You tossed the shirt into your bag and then you reached for your water cannister and did the same. “Arthur, Tommy.” You stopped yourself and looked at them, “Your money's over there.” You pointed to a briefcase that was under the counter. “It was nice to meet the rest of you,” You tipped your head towards the rest of the Shelby clan.

“I’m going home now.” You hoisted your bag onto your shoulder and left, still dressed in your boxing gear

“Why is he being so dramatic.” Cal scratched his beard, “He’s pissed off.” Dante scoffed at Nik, “Yeah no shit.” Theo stood up, “I’m going with ‘im” He left out the open door.

“Oh for fuck sakes.” Peter lifted his arms up and then back down. He crouched down and picked up the briefcase. “I hope this can help you forget about the last few minutes.” He handed the case to Tommy, “It’s alright Peter, we all have our moments.”

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

When you got home you stripped out of your gear and put on a clean tank top and some briefs. You felt tired so you went upstairs and lid down in bed. After laying there for what felt like hours, you couldn’t fall asleep. 

There was a thud downstairs then there was some harsh whispers. ‘Are they back?’ You stood up and walked down the steps. At the bottom of the stairs, standing in your livingroom was 4 men all dressed in dark clothing. 

“Can I help you gentlemen?” Their heads shot up to you, then one of them held up a pistol to your head, “You’re the one who fucking killed my men.” He gestured his gun to the side, “So this is how it’s gonna work, you come with me nice and quietly and tell me who you work for or,” He cocked his gun, “I blow your fucking brains out right now.”

‘Fuck.’

And that’s part 4! I really hope you guys enjoyed this one, I sure did lol. I apologise if things are a little messy in some parts, I was sorta rushing the writing a little bit. Also I know that the Shelby’s are so out of character but I feel the need to tie them in every chapter so please forgive :( 

In the next part though there will most likely be a lot of backstory for the reader (that do be you). Just thought I’d let you guys know so you have a little bit of an idea what’s to come next! As always, thank you so much for reading! <3

Tags: @finallyforgotten​

[istanstens]

I’ve been thinking a lot about John Segundus lately as I want to write a modern day AU and I came to the realization about something. 

He is (if not practicing) of Jewish heritage. 

Allow me to explain. 

1. His last name, Segundus is Italian, not English. (In fact, in the book Strange thinks Segundus looks Italian. Why bother to mention this description at all?) It always bothered me why an English character had such a foreign name unless it was significant. Now, I know what you might be thinking; the Jewish people are not known for living in Italy. This is true, with the notable exception of Venice which had a sizable Jewish community. (And remember, it’s mentioned in the book that the invalid woman Dr and Flora Greysteel go to visit is living in the attic of a Jewish man.) Granted, Segundus is not a Jewish name, but it is highly plausible the family took it to better fit into Italian society (it is well known Jewish families in the past, especially in hostile areas changed/altered their names to better fit into society. My own family did this.) 

2. He looks Jewish to me. (Yes, this is based on Edward Hogg’s appearance and definitely the weakest of my points, but indulge me.) Segundus has a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and dark curly hair kept short (before it can really curl. I’ve seen photos of Edward with longer hair and it’s wildly curly.) Curly (usually dark) hair is as stereotypical a Jewish trait as a large nose. (I’ve had people not believe that I’m Jewish simply because I have straight hair.) With the exception of my uncle (who has blond curly hair) Segundus looks exactly like every member of my Jewish family with his strong jaw, high cheekbones, and dark curly hair.  

3. Him being Jewish explains his love of education/knowledge. Education is extremely important in Jewish culture. Historically, all male children (and to a lesser extent female children) were taught to read and study the Torah. Moreover, as Jews were strictly limited to the types of employment they could have, education became more important to insure they held on to those limited job opportunities. There is a long tradition of Jews being teachers/tutors/court advisors to those who who did not generally tolerate Jews in their country. If I remember correctly, after Queen Isabella expelled the Jewish population from Spain in 1492, the King of Poland made a comment about gladly welcoming them into his kingdom as their knowledge would benefit his country. Segundus would have grown up with and been instilled with the love of education. He did after all go on to become a teacher and found a school of his own. 

4. Him being Jewish also explains his obsession with magic. Judaism has it’s own branch of mysticism/magic - Kabbalah. If he grew up with Kabbalat teachings - magical teachings - as being normal, of course he would become interested in English magic. (I don’t know much about Christianity, but isn’t magic/witchcraft seen as bad? Weren’t a number of women burned at the stake across Europe for it? And even within the book magic is looked down upon until Norrell restores it. What gentleman such as Segundus should have any interest in PRACTICAL magic? It is not respectable after all and Mr Segundus is as respectable a gentleman as one can be! And yet we are introduced to him wanting to know why magic is no longer preformed in England and getting ridiculed for asking it. It is a perfectly reasonable question if one has already grown up with magical teachings.)      

5. Him being Jewish also explains why he was able to see the fairy magic surrounding Lady Pole and Steven (the rose at their mouths) when no one else could. He has the sight/perspective of on outsider. He can literally see things others cannot, he has a unique perspective. (And let me tell you, growing up Jewish surrounded by Christians does give you a unique, sometimes strange perspective on things.) 

6. Him being Jewish also explains the secrecy surrounding him. The only thing we really know about Segundus is that before arriving in York, he was in London. The largest Jewish population in England has always been in London (being traced back to the 1630s). It is very possible Segundus came from a successful immigrant Jewish Italian merchant family based in London which had recently fallen on hard times. (During the time, not many families outside of the aristocracy had the money to send their sons to college and Segundus is obviously well educated.) His Jewishness could explain why he never mentions his family and tends to keep to himself. Given antisemitic feelings, he would not want to experience the pain of losing a friend (or worse) if the wrong person found out he was Jewish. (I’ve lost “friends” once they found out I was Jewish and it’s 2020.) Also, the book mentions that Segundus had to take various employment to support himself, but it was always thwarted by “ill-luck or other.” Could that ‘other’ be no more simple then his employer dismissing him once they found out he was Jewish? Segundus concealing his Jewish heritage/identity would take secrecy on his part, incredibly so if he was practicing; making excuses for disappearing every Friday at sundown until Saturday evening (Shabbat) and not going to church/resting on Sunday. Not to mention the long history/tradition of Jews concealing their faith and practicing in secret or still practicing their faith after forced conversions.  

Now I know what some of you must be thinking. This is all great meta/theorizing, but how historically realistic is all this really? Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell is after all a HISTORICALLY based novel. 

May I present British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, born in London to Jewish Italian merchant parents (just two years before the start of the book). 

Sounds quite a bit like our boy John Segundus doesn’t it? 

[kchuarts]

Flowers in Blood

A/N: A new fanfic that I couldn't wait to jump on!! This one is very much different from the ones I normally write. I am also introducing a new OC. This takes place in 2018 going into 2019 

Summary: Angela Burr takes on a case that had been cold since the 70's as there is a sudden spark in activity relevant to the case. She calls a friend from across the pond and gets a hold of Katie O'Connor, a 24 soon to be 25 year old American woman for the job. The case is assigned to Katie and Jonathan for them to solve and bring down the leader of an unnamed group that was involved in the crimes back then. Unfortunately for Jonathan, Katie is connected to a friend of his time while in Iraq that did not end well.

Warnings: Cursing and mentions of assault

Taglist: @lucywrites02​ *(Let me know if you’d like to be on the tag list!!)*

Chapter 1: Poppy

A loud rapping at the door of Angela Burr’s special agency causes the Director to jump from her seat. “For fuck sake, can’t a mum have one minute of peace to ‘erself?” Angela huffed, getting up quickly and noticing Rob wasn’t at all around which irked the tired woman further. “Better have a good excuse for why he isn’t here.” She muttered under her breath before opening the door being met with a shorter, pale skinned woman. Angela’s brows knit together in confusion as she studied the young woman, “Green eyes, short brown hair, looks 157 centimeters in height-” She stopped as she noticed the woman give her an odd look. “What? I’m just trying to get a better look at ya. I dunno if you are who we sent for, you’re so short! Wait, wait. I got it, you’re American is that it? Your unit of measurements are-” She sighed and smacked her own forehead as her thoughts finally caught up to her. “Right! Dear, I am so terribly sorry. Come in, come in. You are exactly who we called for over from across the pond. I swear I must still have a pregnancy brain even after three bloody years. Katelyn O’Connor is it?” She waved her hand over to a seat. The American brunette woman grimaced at her full name and nodded, “I uh, sorry, I prefer Katie.” She cleared her throat and held her hand out, shaking Angela’s hand. “No, no! That was my mistake, dear. Oh for fuck sake Rob! It’s about damn time you got in here!! What’s your excuse for your lack of being here?” Her large brown eyes watched as her assistant, Rob Singhal walked in. The Indian man froze and looked from Angela to Katie in confusion then down at the tray of coffees he held. “Shite! Ang, you coulda said we were gonna have company!! Apologies, miss. Next time I’ll get you tea or coffee.” He practically slammed the hot beverage in front of Angela and sighed with great irritation. Katie waved her hand as a gesture of thanks and then looked down into her lap as she fiddled with her fingers. 

Angela looked up at Rob, raising her brows at his attitude. “There’s extra cream in it?” 

The assistant’s hands dropped to his sides and he let out a groan, “Not even a thank you or are you ok?! I stood in line for twenty god damn minutes for your bitter rubbish and some prick hit my new chaps with his fucking bicycle!” He pointed to his pants aggressively, a large stain apparent on the light khakis. Angela rolled her eyes, taking a test sip and nodding “Alright good, there’s cream. Last time the bastards didn’t. Sorry about your pants, sweetheart but you wasted twenty minutes of preparation for our new agent!” She turned to the younger woman seated in front of her. Katie looked up and gave a warm smile, smoothing her pencil skirt out. “It’s alright Mrs. Burr-”, 

“Angela, please. I had my first and last kid three years ago, I already feel old as is when I get the “Mrs.” added. Now, back to business.” Angela shuffled through documents and licked her finger to sift through properly. This was Katie’s first time out of America and she would definitely be lying if she said she hadn’t gotten a major culture shock. London was somewhat similar to New York in a manner of ways; for one thing, the people were always very loud and blunt. While London did feel more tame, it still had that familiar city smell and livelihood to it. This was certainly a new experience for a girl from a small village in Michigan, USA. “Sorry ‘bout that, Miss O’Connor. By the way, you got any relatives over in Ireland? Your last name is extremely Irish- Oh there I go again, getting off track. Sorry it’s nearly getting time for me to be checking in on the babysitter to see how my little one is doing.” Angela cleared her throat and handed Katie the files on a peculiar case that had gone cold. Katie frowned as she skimmed over the pages and gathered information on ten very high scale murders of wealthy families. Each page had a familiar theme of illegal trade, fraud, weapons, drugs, and prostitution. She noticed that there was a mysterious yet oddly recognizable symbol carved into the skin of the inner forearm of the husbands. Katie placed the photo evidence down and tapped on the sigils, “I’ve seen this before in my lessons. Mrs- Angela, why are you showing me such an old case? No one has been able to figure anything out about these crimes since the Seventies…” She leaned back and raised a brow. The older woman nodded and grabbed a stack of papers, plopping them in front of the young American. “Not until now.” 

As Katie skimmed over the pages, she noticed that the activity of this particular group had risen up again and even had a public support group. The sigil was much more clear now and shaped into something more recent. It was of a Poppy flower and now that Katie thought about it, she remembered that a single poppy flower was always left behind at the crime scene. A chill ran down her spine as awful memories of her ex boyfriend Travis resurfaced. She knew there was no correlation between the two, but Travis always seemed to love giving her that type of flower and he even had a tattoo on his neck of one. To make matters worse, during her older brother Cameron’s funeral, there were poppies in some of the bouquets before he was laid to rest. It was a closed casket ceremony as he had died courageously while serving. 

-flash-

“TRAVIS STOP!! GET AWAY FROM ME!” Katie screamed, kicking her legs as hard as she could to get the man off of her. Exhaustion was coming over the 20 year old girl as she had been struggling for an hour to get away from her abuser. 

-flash-

A gag was shoved into Katie’s mouth with her hands and legs bound. The sounds of a blade ripping her clothes off filled the room along with the sound of her whimpers. “No one is ever gonna want you, baby girl. Not after I’m done with you. There’s no one for you to turn to, not even your dead big brother.” 

“Katie?” 

The green eyed woman gasped, coming out of her trance and quickly wiping a stray tear away from her cheek. “I-I’m ok, Angela. I just… I really hate poppies.” She smiled sadly, handing the paper back to her boss and taking a deep breath. “I can tell… I know we’ve just met, but if you need to talk about it you can. I see that you’ve some past trouble of sorts, I do apologize for requiring your services specifically, but I don’t think anyone else here can speak Japanese, Korean or” Angela looked down at her papers and scratched her head “Russian. Dear god and you’re only twenty four.” She whistled and nodded at the woman, impressed by her choice of studying harder languages. Thankful that the woman chose to not press further into her trauma, Katie sniffled and smiled at Angela. “I’m still learning Russian, but I think I can manage making my way through.” She nodded and sighed, that memory now seared into her brain after she had tried to bury it for good 5 years ago. “Well good because you’re going to be taking a little trip to Russia and eventually, Japan.” Angela noticed the sudden excitement in the young woman’s eyes and chuckled a little “Don’t get too excited, this is not any vacation. I understand that you are a rookie and this being your first true traveling experience, but don’t get cocky.” The chair she sat in scraped across the floor and she hoisted her purse onto her shoulder. “We will be discussing travel arrangements and the like tomorrow, but I’d like you to meet your partner today first. You two will be spending quite a bit of time together so it’s better to get used to each other now. Come along.” Angela hustled over to the door, checking her watch and noticing the time. She looked back up and eyed Rob, “Thank you for the coffee and sorry about your trousers. Have a nice night, sweetheart.” She waved with Katie following shortly behind, also waving goodbye to the assistant. 

“Oh for the love of-” Angela huffed, scrambling to get her umbrella out of her purse and cursing under her breath as rain poured down on the two. “No one ever likes the rain here, it’s bloody awful.” She offered Katie to get under it. The green eyed woman obliged and rubbed her arms, the air hitting her with a bite. “I think I am used to it at least to some degree considering I grew up in Michigan. The weather there never knows what it wants to be!” Katie grimaced, continuing to rub her arms. Clearly, she had underestimated her choice in attire and was now suffering from it. She heard Angela give a little chortle and shake her head as they continued their journey to an apartment complex. The two women idly chatted on their walk to this strange building about Katie’s life as Angela wanted to get to know her better and genuinely seemed interested in her well being. “I cannot stand the thought of living in a country with a deranged clown for a leader. I mean, the mission at hand is not a pleasant one but at least you’re not having to deal with his bullshit. I reckon he’s more dangerous than this group we’re about to send you and Mr. Pine into.” The Director noticed her agent flinch and stumble for a moment. She placed a tender hand on her arm and stopped their walk, “Is something the matter dear?” Her voice softened. Katie nodded and sighed through her nose, “I wasn’t expecting to work with someone else let alone a man. I have issues with men, personal reasons I’d rather not get into.” She smiled wryly and felt the urge to cry build in her throat. “Oh. I’m sorry. Well, remember what I told you earlier, if you need to talk about it I will be more than happy to listen. Men are garbage.” She laughed, trying to lighten the mood and wrapping a comforting arm around the young woman’s shoulders. “However, Mr. Pine is not a part of the garbage I am referring to. I am hopeful that you will be comfortable around him. He is my pride and joy… And my kid too. Honestly, they’re both my kids even if one of them is 38 years old.” 

Katie hoped that Angela was right and wanted to trust the woman. Those two years she had spent with Travis practically ruined her and how she viewed men. Hopefully, this Mr. Pine would help her heal and reshape her opinion. 

Both women sighed as glorious heat hit their numb faces upon entering the building. “Your flat is going to be on the floor below Mr. Pine.” Angela looked at her watch and smiled with some hope, “I would perhaps suggest maybe grabbing a pint together seeing as it’s supper time. If you’re comfortable enough.” She added quickly, grabbing Katie’s arm as she noticed the slight shift of her body. Katie nodded and smiled back, shuddering the last remnants of the cold from outside. “I’m not a big drinker, but that does sound nice. I’d like to see a few of the older pubs before we go. I’ve always wanted to see the Tower of London and “haunted” locations.” She smiled more and chuckled at Angela’s unimpressed face. “Really? Oh you’re one of those spooky chasers or whatever they’re called. Well, I can assure you that London has plenty of that but for now we need to focus on the task at hand.” Angela pressed a button up to the 14th floor and walked in, holding the elevator door for Katie. The ride up had the American woman’s stomach in knots as each floor made a ding noise each time they advanced a level. “Uh, you said that Mr. Pine is 38 years old? H-How long has he been working for you?” Katie swallowed, trying to calm her nerves. “You know who Roper is? Richard Roper?” She raised her eyebrows at the girl. “I’ve heard about him and of his dealings, but other than that not much else.” Katie replied, shrugging. "Well Pine is the one who took him down. That case gave me the nerves it did. I'm just glad Pine got out and decided to stay with us instead of going back to being a night manager at hotels. Charming and handsome fellow he is. He even managed to snag Roper's girl for a while but it didn't last too long. Enough about him now, you're about to find out more on him soon." The elevator made the noise signaling they had reached their destination. Katie once again had to calm herself and shake any nerves off. She had to tell herself that things were going to be ok and that she had to act professional. 

The sound of their footsteps padding along the wooden floor mingled in with the raindrops hitting the window at the end of the hall. “Here we are-” Angela said under her breath and knocked on the door, “Oi! Pine, you in there?” She waited for a moment before knocking on the door again before finally hearing footsteps. Several latches were undone before the man known as “Pine” finally opened the door. Katie’s heart stopped for a moment as this man was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Her green eyes were wide as she took his appearance in from his lithe form, piercing blue eyes, dark blonde hair, chiseled jawline, and prominent forehead. Angela was right when she said he was handsome, but handsome was not a strong enough word for him. “Angela? Is there something wrong?” His deep voice caused chills to run through Katie’s body. Dear lord, not only was he stunning but his voice was enough to make a woman’s panties vanish. “No, no. Not at all. I’ve just come to introduce you to your partner for the mission ahead.” Angela stepped back, holding her arm out and slightly nudging Katie forward. Jonathan’s attention turned to the shorter woman in front of him and his expression softened a little. Shyly, Katie extended her hand out and gave a small smile “I’m Katie O’Connor uh, I have an extremely Irish name. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Pine.” She blushed and chuckled nervously at her dumb joke. Katie felt like she was in high school all over again with how awkward she felt. The American woman flinched a little as Jonathan took her hand to shake it, her eyes quickly darting away before looking back at him. This man’s hand was incredibly warm and oddly comforting, which made Katie feel a little bad that she flinched. Pine noticed her flinch, but decided against questioning her on it as it was probably just a nervous tick. He flashed a smile and returned the chuckle at her dumb joke. “The pleasure is mine and yes it is extremely Irish.” He released her hand before turning to Angela, waiting for anything else for her to tell them so he could get back to packing. 

“Now that we are all settled with introductions, I will be taking Katie to show her to the flat and then making my way to pick up my little one. I expect the both of you to be at my office at 6 AM sharp with your belongings packed and ready to go. I’m just praying for the love of anything living that the train to Moscow isn’t stalled. I’ll see you tomorrow, Pine. Come on then love! Let’s get you tucked in.” Angela turned, waving to Katie. The short brunette gave a smile to Jonathan and waved shyly before hastily heading back to Angela. The man watched as the two women walked down to the elevator and was puzzled by his boss’s choice in a partner. It wasn’t that he had anything against her pick, he was more than happy to have an attractive young lady on his team. He had to wonder why Katelyn O’Connor of all people though. Pine was very much aware of who this girl was and he slid back inside of his flat, closing the door and covering his face. Flashbacks of his time serving in Iraq surge forth and the screams of his squad echoed in his brain. Tears stung his eyes as guilt crawled up into his throat from the memory of leaving Katie’s older brother behind, as he begged for help while a bomb strapped to his chest ticked away. Pine would forever blame himself for his friend’s death and wished that he had been the one to die instead of Cameron. 

Once Angela had bid her farewells after showing Katie to her new home, the young woman began to set up. She had not the faintest idea that she would be sharing a flat building with her partner let alone have it be someone intimidatingly handsome. Yet, there was something odd about Jonathan Pine that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Hey Cam.” She sighed, pulling a picture of her late brother out, placing it at her bedside. “I’m here in London, can you believe it? I’m out of that house and traveling the world!” She sat on her bed and smiled to the frame. “I know you wouldn’t be too happy with me sort of following you in your footsteps, but I wanted to be just like you. Mom and Dad were really hesitant at first at letting me go but I convinced them this is a chance for me to explore the world.” She picked the picture up and licked her finger, smudging some dirt from the glass off. Katie smiled sadly as she set the picture down and felt her chest and throat warm up from the oncoming tears. “I wish you were still here to see how far I’ve come. Shit, I-I even managed to escape Travis, even if you were long gone before him. I know you still watch over me and I know you would have probably been locked up if you got a hold of him.” She chuckled through the beginning of a sob before sniffling and wiping her eyes. “I gotta get going now. I’m going to Moscow tomorrow for the beginning of my mission. I’m pretty much all set but, my boss Angela told me I should probably try to get to know my partner… H-He seems nice.” Her hands clenched together as fear now made its course through her small frame. “I don’t think h-he’ll hurt me. He’s not Travis or those nasty old men from my retail days. No he’s not.” Katie gasped suddenly, noticing that her anxiety was getting the better of her and causing her to hold her breath. She shook her head and let out a quiet sob, sitting on the bed completely before pulling her knees in on herself. Who was she kidding? She was absolutely terrified to be alone with a man taller and stronger than her. Ever since she had left her abuser, not once did Katie even consider to look for another chance at romance. This only made her fear of men worse and she even lost a few friends because of how terrified she was to go out. It was only a year ago in 2018 that she finally decided to grow a backbone and shake off whatever fear she had. She would not let the past repeat itself and uncurled herself, smacking her face with her hands and taking a deep breath in. “You’re gonna be fine little fox.” She muttered to herself, using the endearing term her brother used to call her. Katie hopped off the bed and took one last look at herself in the mirror, grimacing at her puffy eyes. She would wait before going up to ask Pine if he wanted to grab something to eat. 

After about 15 minutes later, Katie calmed down and fished her worry stone from her suitcase. Naturally, it was a Petoskey stone from a camping trip back home. She shoved it into her pocket before grabbing her jacket as she had underestimated London’s weather earlier. “Keys, phone, wallet, knife, spray, money, lock pick, ok I think I’m good.” She huffed, looking down at her attire she changed into as the skirt from earlier had proven to be a poor choice. Instead, she opted for a large hoodie, skinny jeans, sneakers, socks, jacket, and a tee shirt under her hoodie. She was cozy and felt that this was appropriate for the weather. Locking her door, she headed to the elevator and reached Pine’s floor. She felt less anxious than the first time she had walked down with Angela. Nervously, she raised her hand as she arrived at Pine’s flat and knocked on the wood door. “Uh, Pine?” her voice cracked and she shoved her hands into her pockets. Once again, several locks were unlatched before the door opened with Jonathan looking surprised to see her. “Oh, hey! Er, Katie yeah?” He gave a fake smile, trying to not think about her brother and his guilt over his death. “Y-Yeah! Uh you don’t have to but uh, Angela suggested that maybe uh… We go grab a pint? Maybe get to know each other a little before we buckle down? I-If not that’s totally cool, I get it.” The brunette held her hands up and gave an awkward grin. She low key hoped he would say no and save her the trouble of being a nervous wreck. 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea actually.” He replied. 

“What? Wait, you will? Great! Great… Do you need a sec?” She leaned back and forth on her heels, her stomach growling and also in knots from his answer. 

Jonathan shook his head and opened his door, offering her to come in. It would sincerely be rude and weird of her to decline his offer so she obliged. When she brushed past him, Katie almost froze as he smelled faintly of cigarettes and a delicious cologne. The scent made her cheeks turn a bright pink and her head spin slightly. “So what state are you from?” He already knew the answer, he just had to play it low as he searched for his keys. “Michigan. I’m from Metamora which issss… Here.” She held her right hand up and pointed to the spot. Sometimes Katie was rather lucky she lived in the mitten shaped state as it was easy to point out where she lived. Pine gave a smile and chuckled a little at her literal handy map, “You can also use your left hand for the Upper Peninsula, yeah?” He raised his brows at her and chuckled again as she immediately held her left hand over her right. A smile cracked across her face at his amusement. “It’s really pretty in the fall where I’m from. My folks actually own a place up in Tawas which is here,” She pointed it out “And my grandparents own a place in Caseville here.” She moved her finger down. Finally, Pine found his keys and looked at Katie, nodding his head to the door. "So I assume you spent summers on the lake then? Which one is that, lake huron?" It was hard for Pine not to just tell her he already knew everything about where she grew up. Cameron always talked about Katie during their down time and how he loved his little sister. In fact, she was the reason he joined the army in the first place so he could protect her. Jonathan had seen many pictures of Katie as a child and seeing her now was almost surreal as she looked nothing like the pictures anymore; aside from the brown hair and large green eyes. She had grown up beautifully and Jonathan couldn't deny that she was quite a catch. He shook his head thinking if Cameron were still here he would kick his ass for even thinking about Katie like that. 

"Yeah all the time. I was practically a fish and would come out a lobster from how burned I was." She laughed at a pleasant memory. "Anyways, I'll let you pick where to go since this is my first time outside of America." The shared feeling of discomfort eased out with the change of subject. After a few more minutes of walking, the pair finally made a decision and headed inside a cozy pub. 

The ambience of an English pub was unlike anything that an American pub ever hoped to compare to. Katie looked around in awe as they were given a table to sit at. "You were certainly right about it being your first time out of the country. You look like a Deer in headlights." Pine snorted, nodding at the younger woman. The brunette shook her head and blushed a little at her companion's jeer. "Don't be making fun of me the minute we just met!" She smiled at Jonathan and laughed a little, feeling at ease with the weirdly relaxing atmosphere. "Sorry, my mistake. I should have said you look like a tiny deer in headlights." Pine grinned and flipped the menu open, amused at the pout he was given as a reaction. "Oh now you're going after my height? I totally didn't ask to get the shit end of the stick when it came to how tall I would be." Katie rolled her eyes and snorted. The two thanked their waiter as waters were brought over and placed their orders. Jonathan leaned forward a little, smirking "You could have asked whoever was giving you the "shit end of the stick" to perhaps lower it a bit-" he gave a chuckle as Katie scoffed and playfully hit his shoulder. He didn't feel bad about his jokes at all as he had her giggling and amused. Much like Cameron, she fired back with insults of her own and seemed to even pick up on a bit of English humor despite never having been here. She must have been exposed to it when Cameron came home from duty. Pine took a swig of his beer and licked his lips, truly examining his soon to be partner. While she was short in height, she had a nice hour glass shaped body with curves to compliment her in the right areas. Naturally, his eyes lingered upon the ample bust of her chest causing a slight arousal to stir within him. Katie took a bite of her food before washing it down with her water. She decided against drinking that night as her excuse was "Moscow better serve if we get the chance to dip into the motherlands true Vodka" and she said it with a perfect accent. "So what did you do before all of this?" She bit into a pub fry and raised her brows, finding herself at ease with him. This was the first time in a long time she had felt truly comfortable with a man and she had to give herself an inward cheer for it. "I am going to assume that Angela told you I managed hotels?" He mimicked her expression and leaned back, taking another swig of his beer. Katie nodded and took another fry into her mouth, waiting for him to continue. Pine was a bit hesitant to tell her that he served as they were having a great night and started an understanding of each other. He certainly didn't want to ruin the evening with his own guilt and trying to come up with the excuse of not being able to help her brother and that it was his fault he died. "I… I served. Two tours in Iraq." He tested the waters and immediately should have known not to say anything as he noticed Katie's expression change. 

"Oh. Uh, I-I had a brother who served too. His name was Cameron." Her green eyes darted away and fingers tapped on the glass of her water. The brunette's heart sank as pieces began to fall together. She had seen Jonathan Pine before in pictures that her brother sent home. Albeit, he was younger and still very much handsome. Any chemistry that had built between the two was now gone and panic struck Jonathan. "Kate, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before." He noticed her shift uncomfortably and start to pack her belongings. She froze at the name he called her as only Cameron referred to her by that. "Do NOT call me Kate." Tears welled up in her eyes and she stood abruptly, pulling her money out and nervously shuffling over to where she had to pay. This was the friend who told her brother all of the jokes that he gave unto her. This was one of Cameron's best friends… And the very person who watched him die. She felt around her pockets and noticed her phone was gone. Quickly she head back over and gave Pine one last look, "See you tomorrow." She muttered before rushing out as fast as she could. The pub was relatively close to their flat so she didn't need any sort of guidance. Jonathan grit his teeth together and ran a hand through his short curly locks. Brilliant. Some spy he was. How in the world was he supposed to work with the little sister of the friend he killed while on duty? Only time would tell and Pine certainly hoped like hell that it would heal the wound too. 

[fortune-fool02]

Odd Friends

Angel Jonathan Joestar x Demon Robert E.O Speedwagon

Demon/Angel AU

Modern AU

This is an idea I got and I hope you all enjoy it! 

Please enjoy! 

***

For as long as time itself has existed and further than that, there had always been light and darkness. Warmth and cold. Good and evil. Heaven and Hell. Humans had once believed them to be as real as the ground they walked upon and the water they drunk though as the centuries passed, their faith and hope wandered away and turned to science for answers they sought. And yet both were true, both were real and often engaged in battles that were invisible to humans, allowing them to go about their lives completely oblivious to the two forces clashing against one another. Even when they looked at them straight in the eye.

Only a handful of angels travelled to Earth, and that was only for a short time as they preferred to observe the humans from afar. Behind a one-way window that they could never see. It was mostly demons who made more frequent travels to Earth to rain their mischief and misfortune upon any poor soul unfortunate enough to cross one. Jonathan was one of the few angels who travelled to Earth more often than the others did, as he preferred to wander and explore the new eras and times in person. He had always been more curious and amazed of humans and their creations than the other angels. It wasn't that hard to blend in, all he had to do was conceal his wings and dress differently though the way his eyes sparkled with such vibrancy and the kindness of his heart was something he could never hide, and he didn't want to. He had even bought himself a lovely house to stay in.

Soft hums were made as the angel stirred the mixture of milk, water, sugar and tea together, making sure it was properly done before setting the spoon in the sink and taking the cup. The sweet aroma of the tea was soothing to him, they didn't have anything like this in Heaven, another reason he also loved Earth so much. Angels may not require to consume food nor water but he had grown to enjoy it.

As he took a sip, a soft sound caught his attention. A golden furred cat sat on the windowsill outside, its bright golden eyes locked solely on Jonathan as it meowed again, turning its head and motioning to the door. Jonathan chuckled softly, setting his cup down and going to the door, opening it and allowing the cat inside.

"Should I just have a cat flap installed for you?" The cat gave a purr sound as it passed him and made its way into the kitchen. No sooner had it done so, the feline's body began to change and alter. Growing in size rapidly as the fur faded to skin, the tail and ears vanishing as long, golden locks fell past his shoulders. Somewhat formal yet casual clothing covered his body as he stretched a little, turning to the dark-haired angel with a smile. His eyes remaining the same with their golden hue that seemed to have a light mix of orange and red too, more like the shades of fire, and their slitted pupils.

"Nah, I like havin' you open the door for me. Makes me feel special." Speedwagon spoke, flashing the angel a smile as he did.

Many would frown upon their friendship, an angel and a demon as friends was completely blasphemy and would be punished with execution for the pair of them. Still, they were both careful with one another and made sure that they had reasons for such things, mainly that they were keeping an eye on the other. And, at first, that was true but over the centuries the two grew close to one another. Speedwagon hadn't caused destruction or harm to humanity beside bits of inconvenience, stealing and playful mischief, nothing worthy of severe punishment. As for Jonathan, he wasn't as strict and uptight as the rest of the angels in Speedwagon's eyes, if anything, he was what other angels should have been like. Rather than killing a demon upon seeing them, he let Speedwagon explain himself. Saying that it would be wrong of him to pass judgement on him for something that wasn't even his fault.

And ever since, the two became friends.  Jonathan made Speedwagon some tea as well and the two sat together, "You redecorated?" he asked and the angel nodded, smiling as he did.

"Yes, I'm glad you noticed. I changed the carpet because the last one was quite old and I really liked the colour of this one, and it also matches the new curtains I bought." As he spoke, he got up and showed the demon, motioning to the new carpet and the curtains. It was quite funny to see something like an angel like Jonathan being so excited and happy over something as simple as new curtains and carpet; well, Speedwagon found it adorable. Everything about the angel was adorable, ranging from his kind-heartedness to the way his head would tilt a little when curious and happy. The softness of his hair that would put clouds to shame, those sparkling eyes that radiated with light and warmth, unjudgemental and open, something that the demon cherished.

How could he have been so lucky to cross paths with this angel? What did he do to deserve such a blessing? Around him, he didn't feel shunned nor the need to stand his ground, he felt relaxed and calm, all the stress and weight lifted high off his body and thrown so far away it was nothing to him. It was like...it was like feeling the light of the sun for the first time, its soft and gentle warmth that washed away the cold. They often said that demons couldn't appreciate such things but Speedwagon could easily prove that false -in his case, at least.

"-and then I finally finished arranging the books." The angel's words pulled the demon back to reality, standing beside the large bookcase packed with all types of books both old and new. The blonde smiled back,

"I think you've done good. The place is nice." That earned more of his smile as he sat back down beside Speedwagon. He was right, the place was cosy to live in for anyone, it was even big enough for another to stay in. The thought of that sparked something in the demon but it was quickly snuffed out before it had a chance to grow; Jonathan was an angel, and no matter how far their friendship was he wouldn't have a demon like Speedwagon move in with him. Why would he? Why would he have someone damned like him who cannot even bring himself to be a decent demon? A heaviness pulled down in him at these thoughts, shooing away any joy he felt a few moments ago. This didn't go unnoticed.

"Speedwagon, is something troubling you?" The demon sighed and shook his head but that didn't fool him. Moving to sit closer to his friend, Jonathan gave him a concerned look, "Please, tell me what it is." Soft words coated with an equally soft warmth, concerned and worried for his friend. Sighing, the demon spoke.

"Why're you friends with me?" He asked, "You're an angel, you're supposed to hate me and my kind, supposed to 'smite with the power of Holy Righteousness' but you don't. Why?" It just didn't make sense, and this isn't the first time such questions have pestered Speedwagon. It just...it didn't make sense. At this, the angel simply gave him a warm smile that shot right through him, his hand coming up to rest on the blonde's shoulder with a comforting touch.

"Speedwagon. You are not just a demon to me, you are special. You're unique in a way I cannot explain. I just...I find myself drawn to you. Your boldness, your playfulness and your strength, everything about you draws me in." Each word he spoke came straight from his heart and out his lips, no lies nor deception in them. "I'm not sure if it could be some kind of temptation you're doing and, if I am being truly honest, I wouldn't mind being tempted by you." His words flooded through Speedwagon's being like a rive bursting its banks and letting it all flow, his mind trying to process this and make sure he heard him correctly and it wasn't some kind of trick he wanted to hear.

"...you what?" was all he could get out of himself. Jonathan chuckled softly at this response, before he repeated what he said.

"I wouldn't mind being tempted by you, Speedwagon. I care about you." There was a moment of silence between the two as those words floated around them like a leaf on a lake. For a moment, Jonathan feared he spoke wrongly, that Speedwagon didn't want to hear such things but that was silenced when Speedwagon suddenly leaned forward, cupping Jonathan's face and kissed him. Shocked by this, he remained still as he was kissed, a mix of things coursed through him. Confusion, uncertainty, hesitation, joy. Speedwagon pulled away after realising what he was doing,

"Oh shit, I-I'm sorry, JoJo." He screwed up, didn't he? Demons don't just go about kissing angels like that, they forbid stuff like that! Damnit!

"No, don't be." Speedwagon looked at him, confusion painting his face, "I...I liked it." Again, that little flicker sparked up within him at Jonathan's words. He liked it? He didn't hate Speedwagon for his action? A smile lifted the demon's lips at this, his flame hue eyes glowing softly.

"You do?" The angel nodded, one hand slowly lifting up and gently resting on Speedwagon's cheek, his thumb softly brushing against the scar on his face. The action was gentle, careful, affectionate. Something Speedwagon hadn't felt in a long, long time.

"May...May I kiss you?" He asked the demon, and Speedwagon could hardly believe that this was truly happening. But the moment he felt Jonathan's lips press against his, he knew this was no delusion nor trick. This was real. He kissed back, refusing to just sit there and let Jonathan do all the work. His arms slithered around Jonathan's neck, pulling him closer as they kissed, pouring as much affection as they could into the kiss. At this moment, Jonathan didn't care if this would possibly lead to his damnation, what mattered was that he was here with Speedwagon. 

That was what mattered to him.

[psychosistr]

The Stars of the Stage- Chapter 1

Summary:  Jonathan Joestar is an accomplished playwright currently working on his next big production: Phantom Blood. During the auditions for the lead actors, though, a certain blond Englishman catches his eye.

Notes:  So, this story was inspired by this piece of art by @corgi-shorts that I saw back when I did one of the Jonawagon weeks where Jonathan was a playwright and Speedwagon was an actor. I felt a HUGE need to write this as it was such a cute idea x3

In the midst of the already bustling heart of New York, a large theater within the appropriately named Theater District is packed with several hopeful actors currently reading over and practicing lines from sample scripts. Some are seasoned veterans of the theater while others are hopeful new-comers. Despite their level of skill and experience, each one seems eager to land a part in the production.

Through the chattering crowds and lines of people waiting to enter the main theater for their audition, an extraordinarily tall and muscular man with dark hair carefully weaves his way through the crowd, throwing out a “pardon me” or “oh, excuse me” every now and then to be polite as bumping into people in such a crowd is unavoidable given his size.

He reaches the theater doors and turns to the crowd, cupping his hands around his mouth to be heard properly. “If I may have your attention, please!” The chatter of the crowd slowly dies down as the actors turn to look at him curiously. Once he knows he has their attention, he smiles and gives a quick bow of his head. “Thank you all so much for coming out. My name is Jonathan Joestar- I am the writer and co-director of this production. In a moment we will begin the auditions, so please give it your best. I will be looking forward to seeing what all of you can do!” He finishes with an encouraging smile. He opens the doors long enough to walk in and close them behind himself, nodding to the two men standing behind the door to take the actors’ resumes and headshots. “Dire, Straights, afternoon. Ready to start?”

“Just waiting on William at this point.” Dire says with a nod of greeting. “I think he’s taking care of the lighting or something.”

“More like finishing off his pre-audition glass of wine.” Straights comments indifferently while glancing away. “Though I can’t say I blame him. This is always such a hassle..”

“Necessary evil of the industry, my friend.” A voice greets the group and the trio of men turn to see a man in a white suit and checkerboard top-hat. He offers them a smile and a tip of his hat in greeting. “Ready to summon the horde, gentlemen?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be, William.” Jonathan says with a grin as he walks with the older man down towards the table waiting in front of the stage with two seats for the pair.

________________________________________________________________

The theater is packed, the auditioning actors having taken up the seats in the order in which they’d come into the room. Quite a few of the seats are already empty, as some of the actors had to leave after their auditions while others have opted to stay and scope out the competition.

The process has been long and grueling, but it is necessary for casting the right people for the parts. Jonathan was glad, though, that he was working with William as the director- the older man often listened to his input regarding casting more than other directors did. As he often said, “Who knows a character better than the man who wrote them?”

Jonathan looks down at the piles of resumes and headshots in front of them. He has kept them organized into a few basic groups: People who had not gone yet were on the far left, closest to himself. The “wouldn’t call them back in a hundred years” pile, as William secretly called it, was beside the first one in the middle. The maybe/later consideration pile was next to that one and closer to William. The last pile on the far right was the smallest of all, reserved for the ones the two had agreed would definitely get the part they’d auditioned for.

Jonathan takes the next resume off of the pile on the far left and calls out the number pinned to it. “Number 157!” He looks at the headshots that accompany the resume, noting that every picture seemed to be taken from the right side of the actor’s face.

As the man in question approaches the stage, he can see why: There was a scar across the left side of his face. Not to say that that was a problem in anyway- the man was still quite handsome (from a purely aesthetical perspective, Jonathan tried to remind his wandering thoughts) and besides, that’s what cosmetics were for. Still, he knew how tough some directors could be and how they tended to avoid actors with visible marks as they couldn’t always visualize a way around it.

“ ‘ello.” The man says with a quick bow of his head once he is in place on the stage and looking down at Jonathan and William. “The name’s Robert Speedwagon, an’ I’ll be readin’ for the part o’ Sir Haste Dray.”

Jonathan is a bit surprised by the man’s accent. He’s clearly British like Jonathan himself, though with a cockney dialect rather than Jonathan’s own aristocratic manner of speaking.

While Jonathan is more surprised by the accent, he can hear others making quiet, hushed, snide remarks about it.

“He does know that’s one of the main characters, right?”

“Talking like that, he’d be a better pick for one of the extras..”

“This outta be good for a laugh.”

Jonathan ignored the comments, curious to see how the actor would do with his own eyes. “Very well then, Mr.Speedwagon. Which section will you be using for your audition?”

The blonde haired man lifted his own copy of the script that had already been opened and turned to the part he wanted to use. “Page 57, line 8. Can I get a read-in?”

“Of course.” Jonathan turned the copy of the script in front of himself to the aforementioned page and cleared his throat before reading the line. “This battle shall be a dangerous one, my friend. I fear we may not escape with our lives. If you wish to turn back, now is the time. I would bear you no ill-will for such a decision.”

Speedwagon closed his eyes for a moment. “I know..yet this decision is beyond me alone.” The earlier chatter and snide laughter was dead in an instant. “It is a decision that must be made by every man, woman, and child of this plane of existence. Unless I were to have every single being upon this world in attendance to answer, then the decision is not truly mine to make.” The man opened his eyes again, looking out in front of him as if speaking to the target of the monologue and only taking brief glances down to see his lines. “Since they cannot be here to tell me not to do so, then I shall take it upon myself to fight on their behalf. After all, if we were to stand by and not do a thing, then who would be left to protect the innocent, unknowing lives of this realm?” Without the earlier accent, his voice held a calm seriousness that perfectly captured the tension of the scene. “I am afraid this daunting task is for us alone to face, lest the evil that hides itself within the darkness of both the world and the hearts of mankind be free to unleash its reign of death upon us all.” The serious expression on his face softened ever so slightly, almost turning into a sad smile that tugged on Jonathan’s heart strings. “Still, even without the threat to all we hold dear in this world, do you truly think that I, of all people, would turn from you at the eve your greatest struggle? Whom do you take me for, old friend? A coward? A fool?” He gave a short laugh, more of a broken chuckle born of melancholy and sadness rather than joy. “Well…perhaps I am both these things. I do admit to fearing the fate that lies before us, yet it is not myself I fear for- rather, it is you. I fear what would become of you if I allowed you to so gallantly face these forces on your own. As for the fool..” His expression softened again, the smile on his face beautiful and sad and full of love and adoration conveyed in a simple quirk of his lips and the gaze in his eyes. “I suppose I have been a fool since we met that one cold, dark winters’ night. With but a touch of your hand, you shattered the reality which I built so flawlessly for myself. I thought myself strong, yet in your presence I am weak. I thought myself a king, yet to you I would gladly play the role of vassal. I thought myself wise, yet the very sight of you fills me with confusion that renders me as foolish as a drunkard lying on the streets. Still, I do not wish for these beliefs to be returned to me. For, in their place, I have gained far more than I ever dared to dream before: Inner-peace. Conviction. Loyalty. And love.” He closed his eyes again, the tragically beautiful smile still on his face. “So, yes, I may be a coward and a fool..but..I am the cowardly fool who will follow you to the ends of the earth and down into the depths of hell itself without fear..for, without you, there would be no point in fighting for this world at all. Above all else, you shall survive. I shall see to it, even if it costs me my very soul- the devil may have it, so long as your radiance remains to shine the light of hope upon this undeserving world.”

Everyone in the room was stunned by the performance, not saying a word as the man opened his eyes once more and gave an elegant bow.

Jonathan, who had been staring at him with stars in his eyes, was the first to react. He quickly stood from his seat, placed his hands upon the table in front of himself, and excitedly declared. “The part is yours!”

William yanked his sleeve hard and pulled him back down into his seat, whispering harshly to him. “You do not say that aloud in front of everyone else here, Jojo. I thought I taught you better than that.”

Jonathan’s face flushed at the realization of his blunder, his voice hushed to the same level as his mentor’s. “Oh..my apologies, William..it’s just..that was perfect! The delivery, the execution, the emotion- I felt as if I was looking at Sir Dray in the flesh!”

“I agree, but there is still a certain etiquette one must follow in these matters.” He chastised the taller man before turning his attention back to the man on the stage. “My apologies for my associate, he became a touch too excited. That being said, that was an exceptional performance. We have a few more auditions to go through and discussions to be had before final casting, but we will certainly be in touch.”

Speedwagon offered them a polite smile. “I’s quite alright, sir. I’m glad ‘e liked it. Be seein’ y’, then.” He tipped his hat politely before walking off stage and back out through the doors leaving the theater.

Jonathan watched the man leave, his heart still thrumming from the effect the blonde actor’s performance had on him. He’d never been so taken by a mere reading before.

Without even looking back to the table, he grabbed Speedwagon’s resume and moved it to the “definite” pile, ignoring the look he was sure to be receiving from William for reaching over him so rudely to do so.

Next Chapter->

End Notes: Speedwagon: *shows up, introduces himself, reveals his accent*

Everyone else: *laughs and mocks him*

Speedwagon: *delivers a flawless read that lands him the part instantly*

Everyone else: *jaws on the floor*

Jonathan: *instantly in love*

[bubonickitten]

TMA fic: Knock-Knock

While relistening to the scenes where Elias implants knowledge into Melanie's and Martin's minds, I got to thinking, "What if he did that to Jon?" and... yeah.

Summary: Statement of an unnamed childhood bully regarding a fatal encounter with Mr. Spider. Statement procured by Elias Bouchard, head of the Magnus Institute, for the edification of one Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.

More below the cut, or on AO3 here.

[Note: A lot of unsettling and visceral spider imagery in this one, so big CW for that if you have any degree of arachnophobia.]

[SPOILERS up to and including MAG 92.]

[There are a few verbatim lines I used from the podcast itself; they're all marked by an asterisk.]

ARCHIVIST

I never chose this.*

  ELIAS

You never wanted this, no. But I’m afraid you absolutely did choose it. In a hundred ways, at a hundred thresholds, you pressed on. You sought knowledge relentlessly, and you always chose to see. Our world is made of choices, Jon, and very rarely do we truly know what any of them mean, but we make them nonetheless.*

 [SILENCE.]

  ELIAS

You seem uncertain, Jon. Do you need convincing? [sighs] Very well. Shall we discuss the very first door you chose to open?

  ARCHIVIST

What are you –

  ELIAS

A Guest for Mr. Spider. A particularly nasty book, wasn’t it? How did you describe it?

  ARCHIVIST

I – how –

  ELIAS

“A violence seemed to ooze from it, sticky and pungent—”*

  ARCHIVIST

Stop it.

  ELIAS

“—I had no idea what was inside, but I knew I hated that book—”*

  ARCHIVIST

You’ve made your point.

  ELIAS

“And I knew that wasn’t going to stop me from opening it.”*

 [A PAUSE.]

  ELIAS

Your… childhood bully, I believe you called him. You don’t remember his name, of course, but you remember what happened to him – or so you think. But you don’t have the whole picture stored away in your memory, do you? No. He died alone, behind the door you ushered him through. You couldn’t face the thing that took him.

  ARCHIVIST

I – I was eight –

  ELIAS

Oh, Jon. We both know that survivor’s guilt is rarely rational. You agonize over hypotheticals, let your vivid imagination run wild with all the gruesome possibilities of what happened after the door closed behind him.

 [A LONG PAUSE.]

  ELIAS

[with a smile in his voice] Do ever wonder what his statement might have been like, had he lived long enough to give it?

  ARCHIVIST

[brusquely] No.

  ELIAS (STATEMENT)

He knows from the moment he cracks open the book that he is pinned beneath the might of something other.

  ARCHIVIST

Don't –

  ELIAS (STATEMENT)

[overriding] Before he drinks in the first page, he is flooded with dread and his only wish is to cast the book into the gutter and run until his legs fail him. Instead, he finds his eyes locked on the words, scanning feverishly left to right without his input, and when he tries to shut his eyes, he finds that he cannot even blink. He has the sudden, unshakable impression that some tacky substance is pulling on his eyelids, holding them in place; his eyes begin to dry and sting and still he stares, riveted—

 [FAINT STATIC.]

  ARCHIVIST

[compellingly] Elias, stop –

  ELIAS

[a short laugh] You need more practice before you can command me, Jon.

Besides, you’re riveted, too, aren’t you? You tell yourself you don’t want to hear this, but you do – there is a guilty part of you that believes you deserve to suffer through this knowledge, but that’s not all, is it? Eclipsing your guilt is the simple desire to know. To observe, to fill all gaps in the testimony.

So sit, and listen, and drink it all in.

 [ANOTHER PAUSE. THE ARCHIVIST TAKES A SHAKY BREATH.]

  ELIAS

[self-satisfied] Good.

  ELIAS (STATEMENT)

He turns the page. He does not want to turn the page, but he is a marionette with gossamer wire wrapped twice, thrice, a dozen times around his wrists and he turns another page, turns another page. Mr. Spider’s legs are shifting and he realizes all at once that so are his own legs, marching him steadily forward – to where, he does not know. He can see nothing except for the book.

He turns another page.

          KNOCK-KNOCK.*

 The words reach out to him like so many spindly, creeping legs.

He turns the page again, again, again and the considering, hungry eyes of Mr. Spider bore into him like botflies burrowing into flesh.

          MR. SPIDER WANTS ANOTHER GUEST FOR DINNER.*

 His knees lock and he comes to an abrupt stop. He does not know where he is; his eyes are still glued to the page.

          IT IS POLITE TO KNOCK.*

 He raises his clenched fist and reaches out.

  ARCHIVIST

[strained] Elias –

  ELIAS (STATEMENT)

[louder] When the door creaks open, something in him releases and he is finally, finally allowed to look up.

He wishes he did not.

 [THE ARCHIVIST’S BREATHING IS AUDIBLE, QUICKENING.]

  ELIAS (STATEMENT)

The spider silk winds its way through the crack and the door, sticky and writhing; slowly and deliberately it twines itself around his arms, his knees, his neck, and he is pulled inexorably toward the impossible, palpable darkness that lies behind the door. Something shifts in the shadows and he catches a glimpse of an enormous, bristly limb. It stretches toward him, curls around him in a possessive, many-jointed embrace. The click-clack of mandibles surrounds him as he is drawn in closer, closer, closer, like a doomed fish on a hook. He is pulled past the threshold, and only then is he finally allowed to scream.

 [A SHARP INTAKE OF BREATH FROM THE ARCHIVIST.]

  ELIAS

Spiders are remarkable creatures, aren’t they, Jon? Those eight skittering legs grant them such agility; all those eyes, watching and waiting; the fragile beauty of the deadly webs they spin. So many millions of years of evolution coming together to weave such a perfect little assassin.

They could be anywhere at any time – and that’s what scares you most, doesn’t it, Jon? Any tickle at the back of your neck, any subtle movement out of the corner of your eye, every tentative reach into the murky space under your bed – your mind jumps immediately to the spider. You enter the dusty storage room and it’s not a question of whether they’re there, but where they are. Did you walk through a web just then, or was it your overactive imagination? You run your fingers through your hair, dreading the moment your fingers brush against the spindly legs of an unwelcome passenger, but dreading even more the idea of not checking, of not knowing whether it’s there.

You tell yourself you can handle reading about spiders, but I see what those statements do to you, Jon. As you read, you feel the faint tiptoe of too many legs on your shoulder, the stubborn cling of web on your cheek, the many eyes watching, waiting in the corners of your office. You picture wicked chelicerae, moving independently of one another, dripping with venom that can paralyze, necrotize, tranquilize. Your skin itches, and crawls, and you shudder, and no amount of restive fidgeting will relieve it.

  ARCHIVIST

That’s enough –

  ELIAS

[speaking over him] You finish the statement and try to pretend that you aren’t gagging on cobwebs. You try not to think about the fact that spiders don’t knock, don’t even announce their presence until they’re crawling down your spine.

Unlike you, Mr. Spider’s sacrificial victim never paid any mind to spiders. But when he saw those legs… oh, the primal, gnawing fear that clawed its way out of his throat like so many needling, skittering legs. You didn’t get to hear it, did you, Jon? The door closed on his terror before you were able to behold the full experience of it.

Feel it now, Jon.

 [A PAINED NOISE; PANICKED, HEAVY BREATHING.]

  ELIAS

There you are. Hear the clicking and snickering of the monster pulling you into the dark. So many legs, certainly more than eight; so many eyes, hundreds of them – you can’t see them, but you can feel them dissecting you. You are lifted into the air and the legs begin to spin you in slow circles and you’re flooded with the image of meat turning on a spit. The spider silk clings to you layer upon layer and you think hysterically of all the times you glimpsed a spider preparing a fly, such a small and mundane thing to witness that you never spared it a second thought.

You do not want to think about how spiders feed, but the human mind is predictable and it supplies you with every scrap of information you ever encountered, filed away as insignificant and promptly – you assumed – forgot. You know with crushing certainty that you will be fully encased in web; you will feel yourself suffocating, but what ultimately kills you – slowly, so very slowly – is the spider’s bite. You feel the double puncture of fangs, the digestive enzymes injected into your body, the leisurely liquefaction of your innards. The creature sucks in the visceral slurry, transforming you into a dehydrated husk.

You are conscious for every moment as it wrings the terror and life out of your fragile young body.

 [THOUGHTFUL PAUSE.]

 Do you know what his final thoughts were, Jon? When the fear burned away into numbness, what was left was anger – dull and desiccated, but anger nonetheless, and all of it reserved for you, Jon. An infuriating, arrogant, know-it-all brat with his nose in a book and so many insolent, prying questions.

It should have been you, he thinks. This fate was intended for you.

 [THE ARCHIVIST TAKES A DEEP, SHUDDERING BREATH, AS IF FIGHTING BACK TEARS.]

  ELIAS

You still can’t remember his name, can you? He became a mystery, and you let it happen, hoarded the memory to yourself and never told a soul. For all your hungry observations, you have remarkably little consideration for the people who cross your path, don’t you? You devour the details that help you complete whatever puzzle you’re working on, and discard the rest as so much superfluous detritus. I would call it egocentric, but you don’t even prioritize yourself, do you? No, it’s all about the knowing. You would sacrifice yourself and anyone unlucky enough to cross your path if it meant satiating your own curiosity.

 [ANOTHER PAUSE, AS IF TO ALLOW THE WORDS TO SINK IN.]

  ELIAS

This isn’t a criticism, Jon. Consider it a performance review. I believe I made the right choice in appointing you as the Archivist. You had the temperament for the role long before you ever joined the Institute. You opened the book, you stood on the threshold, you just as good as opened the door. You would be making the same flavor of choices regardless of whether you became my Archivist. You never could tolerate an unsolved mystery.

If you want to stop the Unknowing, you cannot afford to stand around wringing your hands over what it means to be human. And you won’t allow the Unknowing to happen unopposed. Cling to that conscience as proof of your humanity, if you’d like. 

But more than that, we both know that the Archivist in you can’t leave a question unasked or unanswered. 

 [A HEAVY, SHAKY EXHALE.]

  ELIAS

[businesslike] Now. Do you have any further concerns, Jon?

  [LONG SILENCE, PUNCTUATED BY THE ARCHIVIST'S RAGGED BREATHING.]

  ELIAS

Good. Well, I have work to be getting on with. I’ll send you a Return to Work form, but don’t worry about the doctor’s note.*

 [THE SOUNDS OF PAPERS RUSTLING, A COMPUTER MOUSE CLICKING, AS ELIAS TURNS TO OTHER MATTERS.]

  ELIAS

[gloating] Do take care, Jon.  

 [HARRIED FOOTSTEPS, A DOOR OPENING AND CLOSING. A HEAVY, CHOKED GASP – PERHAPS A SOB – MUTED BY A CLOSED DOOR.]

[kabootarandishaan]

Riverbed

Summary: The reader has taken in a stray dog and always takes it to the riverbed for walks, one day they see a random purple haired boy and things ensue

One-shot/Series: Part 4

Pairing: Jonathan Joestar/ Female reader

A/N: Jonathan deserved better in my opinion so here's something not so short and sweet for a boy who’s also not so short but definitely sweet. This took way longer than I expected but I school has been very busy hopefully ya’ll enjoy

Warnings: None, I think.

You both went at a leisurely pace taking the time to simply enjoy each other's presence. Nila had taken to walking in front of the two of you sometimes stopping to observe a rock or watch an animal scurry by. You had moved from the riverbed to the small dirt road that led to your home, you thought this would be a good time to speak. "Thank you for offering to walk me home." You smiled and turned to look at him. "As I mentioned before Y/N it really is no trouble. If I may ask, how long were you at the river before I arrived?" He asked before clasping his hands behind his back. "Today I had to come around nine. My father owns the general store in town so oftentimes I must help him with business. After I came home late last night he came to the decision that I leave after supper. But today was so busy I had to leave later." You really did not have to tell Jonathan all of this, you did not plan to say anything other than the answer to his question. Yet, his presence made you feel comfortable and you wanted to tell him more.

"I apologize then." You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, not quite understanding why he had apologized. He took notice of your expression and let out a breathy chuckle before speaking. "If I had not taken up much of your time, you father would not have had to schedule your walks as such." You shook your head and smiled. "It is not entirely your fault. I had lost track of the time myself. But I do not regret it, if I am to be honest. It is not often I have time for conversations of leisure. My interactions with people are limited to those in the store and if I am shopping in the markets. I'm thankful to have met you Jonathan." You were simply speaking at this point. You weren't necessarily trying to be vulnerable but you let the conversation flow to wherever it felt fit. You were being honest anyways, you did not talk to anyone very much save for your father and Nila. Was this what it was like to have a friend? 

He looked at you grinning widely. "I'm more than glad to hear that Y/N. I feel the same way. Believe it or not I often feel lonely at times myself." You scoffed at his words, Jonathan Joestar had a problem making friends. People probably threw themselves at him just to get a greeting. "No, truly. I am popular amongst people, that much is true. But, when you have something that other people want that's all you become to them. A means to an end. Most people I have met have either tried to use me for my wealth or wanted me for my looks. With most women it is the latter I must say. You're the first person to speak to me as if I am a simple human. Thank you Y/N." His words were honest and they caught you off guard, it was his turn to be vulnerable. You did not carry sympathy for the rich, you did not envy them either. But hearing Jonathan you felt sorry for him. It couldn't have been easy growing up in the shadow of his father, being expected to live up to his name.

The pressure of perfection was a constant in his life from a young age. He was also different, from what you had known of rich young folk. His arrogant peers most likely took his kind demeanor for weakness causing him to be an outcast where he was supposed to belong. You were not sure why you did it but you lightly grazed your hand across his, hesitating to hold, you simply let it linger giving him room to decide. You saw him glance at you, curiosity in his eyes. You could feel the heat rise in your face once more before you went to speak. "Well, I am sorry that your experience with others has not been the best. I can assure you we aren't all arrogant pricks." You tried to joke only to go wide-eyed when he lightly clasped your hand. He gave out a short chuckle trying to remain casual, but you felt the sweat on his palm. It made you calmer, to know he was just as nervous, just as unsure about what to do or how to feel. But, one thing you knew for certain was that you enjoyed the feeling  of your hand locked with his.

Your conversation seemed to become open after that occurrence. You learned that Jonathan had an adopted brother, Dio. You had seen the man around the town occasionally, always seeming like he had some stick shoved up his arse. You learned that before that he was an only child and lost his mother as well. Oddly enough, it was something you two bonded over. He explained he did not ever really know his mother but he liked to think many of his traits came from her. You told him of your mother before her death. You explained the bonding you had with your father after her death and about how you found Nila. He listened intently taking in word after word, nodding or reacting in some sort of way at every pause. 

Nila had been taken aback by the appearance of a few fireflies, she jumped when she saw the flicker of one by her paw. You and Jonathan laughed. "You wouldn't expect her to be frightened by a mere lightning bug." 

You nodded to Jonathan's observation. "She's actually just a big baby, she likes to put on the guise of being big and strong but you eventually see right through it." You looked towards your dog fondly, you loved her so much. Nila really was a lucky charm for you and you would never take that for granted. You turned your attention back to Jonathan only to catch him looking directly at you. "You know staring is impolite." You teased him. "Well, good thing I was gazing." He gave you a smug look causing you to roll your eyes, trying to hide your own smile. You felt your smile drop when you saw Nila stop abruptly. You looked up only to see the makings of your home in the distance. You knew that this would have to be where you told Jonathan to turn back. You sighed, it seemed Jonathan was able to pick up on your displeasure as he simply gave your hand a squeeze. He slowly pulled causing you to turn and face him.

"It seems the lady has arrived at her humble abode. I will be taking my leave now. Thank you for this wonderful walk Y/N." He slowly raised your hand to his lips and gave it a soft peck before releasing. Your hand went limp at your side and you felt your face go red once again. He turned and slowly walked back in the direction you came from. You yelled out his name barely able to form a coherent sentence in your flustered state. "Jonathan! Will I see you again tomorrow?" You mentally scolded yourself for sounding so pathetic. It seemed Jonathan did not think so as he eagerly responded. "Yes! I will come earlier so we may speak more!" You smiled folding your hands under your chin. You spun around to see Nila staring at you, a smugness in her eyes. "Don't look at me like that." She simply stared on, her eyes never leaving your giddy form. "For God's sake let us just go before father finds another reason to reprimand us."

You had made your way inside your home, absentmindedly latching the door behind you. You turned grazing the spot on your hand where Jonathan's lips had touched. You smiled remembering the feeling and gave your head a light shake before sighing. "Well, you seem to be awfully content. May I ask what is it that has my daughter in such a good mood?" You were torn from your trancelike state at the sound of your father's voice. You looked towards him and smiled a small chuckle leaving your lips. "The weather was very lovely this evening. Nila and I even saw a few lightning bugs outside tonight. Right Nila?" Nila had made herself comfortable by the fireplace and only gave a small whimper in response to your question. Your father laughed, "I take it Nila wasn't too happy to see them. I hope you don't mind that I had my dinner already, love." Your father gave you an apologetic look. 

"Of course not! I would rather you eat if I make it home late. I would be worried sick if you hadn’t. I can fix something up for me and Nila just fine." You went over to the kitchen and began to heat up the stew your father had cooked up. Although he was not the best chef, he could manage to cook a few things here and there. He had to learn a bit after your mother had died. You two would help each other and in the beginning and would spend much time cooking together. After business increased, you two had lost that as well. You were saddened at the lack of time you got to spend with your father. Even at the store you two would be busy and did not have the opportunity to simply chat very often. You were brought out of your thoughts by your father calling your name. "Y/N, I am closing the shop early tomorrow." You had poured the stew into a bowl and made your way out of the kitchen, your brows knitted in confusion.

"Is there something going on tomorrow that I am not aware of?" The news had caught you off guard to say the least. Your father looked to you mirroring your expression. “It’s the first of the month tomorrow Y/N. You know I was quite surprised you hadn’t even reminded me this time. Good thing I remembered or the shop would have undergone a huge loss this month.” Your father let out a chuckle as he finished speaking. Your eyes widened in shock. Tomorrow was the first of the month! Every first of the month was when your father would go into the big city and restock on goods for the shop. Ever since you began helping your father around the shop you had taken up the responsibility of reminding him a week in advance, and you had done so without fail, except this time it slipped your mind. 

“I cannot believe it just slipped my mind.” You shook your head slightly disappointed in yourself for being so scatterbrained as of recent. “Well, that means you will be gone for the entire day tomorrow. When will you be returning this time?” When it came to restocking your father was very precise on what merchandise he wanted, sometimes that meant he would do whatever it took to get a specific type of item. Even if he had to wait for it, that would result in him being gone for at least a day or two. At most, he was gone for three days, you were able to handle the shop while he was gone. Most of the townspeople had become familiar with the routine, as they were regulars who had been frequenting the shop for some years now.

“Well, I had telegraphed the supplier some time ago to ensure he would not keep me waiting nearly as long for our produce this time. He had gotten back to me yesterday saying that for the particular type of fruit we need it would not come until the day after next. You know it usually takes some time to travel to and from and considering you hate when I rush back I believe four days this time. Ha! That’s the longest I’ve been gone yet. Do you think you will be able to handle the shop for that long Y/N?” You looked at your father,  a small smile etched on your face. “I will happily handle the shop for as long as you are gone. Ensuring that you keep that promise and do rest when you arrive at the city, instead of trying to rush back home the moment you receive everything we need. Your father walked up to you and engulfed you in a tight hug. “It is settled then. We will close the shop around 5 o’clock tomorrow and I will leave then. For now, let us sleep. I have a long journey tomorrow, love.

You simply nodded and made your way to your own room Nila following behind. After bathing and changing into your nightgown you took your hair out of the tight bun that you usually dawned. You watched as it cascaded down your shoulders stopping at the base of your back. Your father told you it was yet another trait of your mothers you had inherited. He said as you got older the resemblance only seemed to grow. You brought it over your shoulder pausing as you looked at the reflection of your hand. You smiled fondly remembering how Jonathan had bid you goodnight. You tried to shake the thought from your head as you made your way to your bed. But you failed miserably and finally did succumb to the thoughts of Jonathan’s lips on your hand as you fell asleep.

[okimargarvez]

TASK FORCE - 12

Original title: Task force.

Prompt: during the Doyle case, FBI Director calls five teams to catch him.

Warning: A.U., what if for S6, character’s death, crossover.

Genre: action, family, angst, romantic.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Phil Brooks, Kevin Lynch, Sam Cooper, Mick Rawson, Gina La Salle, Beth Griffith, Jonathan Simms, Jack Garrett, Clara Seger, Russ Montgomery, Matthew Simmons, Mae Jarvis, Mary Meadows, Owen Quinn, Jack Flicker, O.C.

Pairings: Garvez (Penelope x Kevin, Luke x O. C.), Hotchniss, Katt (slight), demily (slight), Mick x Gina, O.C. x O.C.).

Note: oneshot 74 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💏 😘😈🔦🎲 🕶️🎈⚰️.

Song: La differenza tra me e te, Tiziano Ferro

Task force - Masterlist

See the notes for more informations.

GARVEZ STORIES

And if... my life occasionally wiped out... the uselessness of these insecurities... I wouldn't tell you...

*checkmate

She is not openly crying, but she is so close. -It cannot be true. I can’t believe. I don’t want to believe it.- she shakes her head, while her friend increases the grip on her hand, even though he is no less upset. -Why shouldn't she have told us?- Morgan would like to console her, but he can't. He's too busy cursing himself for not seeing the signs first.

-That's exactly the point, Penelope.- the older man explains to calm down her. -We are her family. And remember what Doyle's goals is?- awareness makes its way into her chest as she nods.

-We have to find her.- she looks above all at Hotch, who seems strange, different. But it will all be in her head, she sees things that are not there, perhaps she dreams of them as well. And it would also be easy to believe it, if she didn’t have certain marks, signs on her body, which persist in not wanting to go away. But this story is not in the least important now that they have lost Emily.

The last piece of the puzzle, the discovery of Lauren Reynolds' identity, also reaches the other teams, which for the occasion gathered in their initial formations. In the IRT, Clara is definitely the most upset. They worked together for years, she considers her as one of her best friends and she cannot understand how she could have been so blind, and above all why she didn't trust her. Once, perhaps for too many glasses of wine, she had told her they were like sisters. Jack tries to convince her that it wasn't her fault, almost unnecessarily.

Mick, who has notoriously always had a soft crush on Prentiss, lets out his anger by punching things. Gina tries to calm him down and finds no other way than to hug him. It is the first time it has happened in years and years of working together. Both remain puzzled by the sensations they feel, but don’t have time to deepen them.

In the remaining teams, it is those who have collaborated with her for a few days, since they are part of the same group, to be confused and most affected by the story. Someone even makes a joke, citing the film with Juila Roberts, but is soon sedated.

Four days have passed since that night and Luke was no longer able to even approach her. He saw her in passing, during some general meeting, but she avoided his gaze and vanished instantly. Phil snatched the truth from him, almost choking on his beer, but not the details. He gave him a pat so hard that he almost broke a bone. But he couldn't help it. This coldness on his part mortally wounds him, but he expected it. But when Vladimir tells them the latest discovery, Luke instantly senses the effect this thing will have on her and abandons the discussion before it's over. Dalia stares at Phil, convinced (rightly) that he knows what's wrong with Luke. Claudia manages to calm her down; she is the only one with this magical power.

Luke practically runs to her office, but freezes, recognizing the male tone and the nuances of anger in his voice. -But I know why you're doing it.- an evil, really bad laugh, thanks to which he would have already gained a punch, if only he had this guy in front of him. -You fucked with that man of the fugitive team, that seems to have come out of a Mexican comic book.- he doesn’t even feel particularly offended to be defined through a stereotype, indeed, he is almost happy, because he captures the only positive side of the thing: what there is among them it is so evident that even this jerk has got there. -What is his last name? Alvarez?- a crooked grimace paints the lips of the Latin hearing his surname wrong. He looks around, but no one is coming, so he keeps eavesdropping.

-It's Alvez, and whit whom I fucked or not, is no longer your business!- a noise, like something being pushed. He hopes that it was she who did it and not the other, because if he only dares to touch her hair... -We are not together or am I wrong?- his heart jumps for joy, considering that in a bizarre way she is defending him, and also... Them.

A snap, compatible with a slap. It takes him a while to understand that probably he has beat one hand against the other. -No, you're right.- another laugh that is half a sob. -Luckily I didn’t buy that ring.- Luke's eyes widen dramatically.

-What?- Penelope's upset cry is reflected in his stomach.

A series of sighs. An exasperating pause, before Kevin continues. -I wanted to make peace with you, take you out to dinner and ask you to marry me.- was he really ready to take that step? Was he really that close to losing everything? But inside he feels that she wouldn't have said yes anyway. -So, there would be no more breaks. It was fun, when we were younger…- he continues to explain, then he laughs again. -What a jerk I was.- at least he was able to say one right thing.

-Maybe it was fun for you, but certainly not for me!- he instantly recognizes the shades of pain in her voice. Somehow, for some strange, arcane reason, she really loves him. Not enough, or she wouldn't have ended up in his bed. And this is not a male chauvinist thought but a simple observation.

-Tell me, plum sauce, have you ever loved me?- he imagines them. He sees Kevin trying to take her hand, one last desperate attempt. But he also sees her reject him, free herself. -Because I find it hard to believe, given the speed with which you threw yourself into another's arms...- in fact melancholy quickly turns into sadness.

-I didn't throw myself in anyone's arms!- she protests and Lynch can't know she's telling the truth. It was he who captured her, and it was a hard fight to win.

An ironic laugh. Luke clenches his fists, looking around again. -Want to deny? Come on, Penelope, I saw the way you look at him and how he looks at you.- his heart begins to beat wildly. -You two had sex with your eyes during the meetings, but from the way you treated him today... in my opinion he also hit the target. - how the hell did he notice? Is it so obvious? Will his friends, his team, Dalia, have noticed it too? What about her team? Morgan? All the rest of the world, including Flicker? He believed he had been clever and discreet. Before he hit the target, as Lynch called it, they had exchanged short, stealthy looks at strategic moments. But he's right, that was a kind of foreplay.

A loud noise, of something or someone who is pushed and ends up against some wall, pulling down what is hanging on it. -Stop it, Kevin, I can't stand your tone anymore!- pain and anger continually exchange roles, in her voice. -That's why I don't want to go back with you.- Luke closes his eyes, savoring the moment. -Alvez has nothing to do with it. You men must always find a lover, a scapegoat to feel you have a clear conscience, don't you?- he imagines the grimace on her mouth and feels the urge to kiss her. -I'm sorry, it won't be like that. And yes, you were right not to buy the ring, because I would never have said yes!- as he had imagined. -Now, go out, please. I want to be alone.- it spends a few frightening moments of absolute silence, before he can hear the steps of the man coming towards him. He barely hides himself just in time. He has an absolute need to see her, but he respects her will. Loving often sucks.

-

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[steebharringt0n]

sanctuary - part 4

summary: Subject 001. That’s what you’ve been called your whole life. You’ve known nothing but pain, violence, and isolation. You were their greatest secret weapon, but when your final mission is to ensure the end of the universe, you escape to Hawkins, Indiana to team up with Eleven and to put an end to all this chaos, once and for all - you just never expected to fall in love with the resident bad boy along the way.

rating: m

pairing: billy hargrove x reader

warning: graphic violence, slurs, abuse, curse words.

A/N: holy SHIT I am blown away by all of your responses! Seriously, you guys keep me motivated, I never thought my little idea would blow up but I am so, so happy you guys are enjoying it. I cannot say thank you enough <3 PLEASE let me know if you want to be tagged, or if I missed you. thank you, thank you <3

tagged list: @thefandomzoneisdangerous @jujurandy @littlebrownngirl @harduy @art-flirt @bish-ima-clown @lynnskata @snakelaufeyson @creativedogs @nightshade7117 @letsloveimagines @sorry-didnt-mean-to-stab-you

001. prologue 002. firestarter 003. spitfire --- 004. friend

“Sit right there and don’t touch anything”

You rolled your eyes at Billy’s command. Plopping down on the old worn out couch as he was pulled aside, Nancy grabbing him by his leather jacket and pulling him to the back of the basement, they were whispering furiously to each other, not loud enough to where you could hear.

You could tell she wasn’t happy to see him by the way they greeted each other when you met the petite girl by the back gate of her house. They spoke harshly and curt to each other. She had short curly hair, and kind eyes, not ones you saw very often. A feeling in your gut told you that you could trust her. At least you had hoped.

She had led you two through the back gate and into a large room (which apparently is called a basement) with a large, old couch, and nick-nacks haphazardly placed all over the floor. You looked over at the small table next to the couch and saw a picture of 4 little boys, happily smiling with some sort of weapon in their hand. You gently picked it up with your hand and stared at it, examining it with your eyes as you realized it was the same boys that you had found in the file.

The file.

You looked up at the girl, speaking in harsh whispers to Billy who seemed annoyed by her.

Nancy Wheeler.

She knew Eleven.

“Nancy. Nancy Wheeler”

Billy and Nancy froze mid-conversation and turned their bodies to face you. 

“Your brother is Michael Wheeler. You both know Eleven.” 

Billy and Nancy exchanged concerned looks. “How do you know my name?” she questioned, taking a step towards you.

“Your name … it’s in the file.”

She shook her head, confused, “What file?”

“Eleven’s file. They’ve been watching you, for quite some time now. They know.”

“What? Who’s they? What do they want?” she crossed her arms, her brows furrowed.

“It’s the Russians” Billy interjected plainly.

Nancy let out a laugh, “Wait, wait, so you’re telling me the Russians know about Eleven, have been stalking me and my family for the past year, and now this asshole - “

“Watch it Wheeler”

“- is telling me that the world is going to end soon and you want to stop it? Did I get all of that right?”

Your eyes shifted around the room. “... yes”

Nancy threw her hands up in the air, clearly exasperated, “Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me”

She paced around the room, her eyes closed and her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. You watched as she let out a heavy sigh, “I - I have to call Jonathan … he needs to know” 

She quickly started to make her way up the wooden stairs. Billy walked over to you and plopped himself right next to you, a tired look on his face as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He placed one in his mouth, and you were ready to help him light it when a voice from upstairs yelled down back at you both,

“Don’t you dare smoke in here Hargrove!” 

Billy glared at her figure from the top of the stairs. He grumbled something and shoved the cigarette back into his pocket of his leather jacket. You sighed and leaned back into the couch, although it was old and worn down, it was comfortable; something that you had very little luxury of having in your short life. You felt your body become relaxed and your eyes suddenly became heavy. It had been a long three days, your body was completely worn out and it ached for a warm, soft place. You heard a soft clicking noise, cracking open one eye you glanced over at Billy who was playing with his zippo lighter with his left hand.

“Billy, that’s annoying”

He twisted his neck to look at you. You two were both still tense from the argument in the car so he had absolutely no patience to deal with you at the moment. He snorted at your comment and turned his attention back to the lighter, continuing to mess with it. 

The sound was becoming grating to you, as you were trying to at least catch 10 minutes of sleep, but he kept on playing with it. You fully opened your eyes, leering at him with disdain.

Click, click, click, click

Your hand quickly reached out and grabbed his wrist. Not tight enough to hurt him, but tight enough to have him stop that damn clicking noise. He fully turned to you, anger flashing in his eyes, “Would you fucking let me go?” he huffed.

“Well would you fucking stop?”

“No, gimme back my wrist”

“No, stop flicking the stupid lighter”

He tugged his wrist away from your hand, pulling tightly but you had a good grip on it.

“If you break my wrist I swear to god … “

“What? What are you gonna do? Hurt me?” you countered. 

Billy growled lowly at your comment. He knew that he couldn’t hurt you if he could, for one, you could kill him, and for two, he was strangely attracted by the fact that you didn’t put up with his bullshit. Most girls would typically be groveling to get attention by him, but you, you didn’t care. You two were both having an intense staring contest at this point, his blue eyes staring intensely into yours - stubbornness was a quality you both had and you both refuse to let the other one win.

Though he knew this was a battle he physically couldn’t win - he knew another way to fight back.

Billy smirked at you, licking his lips slowly. Your eyes widened as your heart started to beat loudly. He leaned into your ear, his hot breath sending intense goosebumps throughout your body. 

“I know what I can do to you” he whispered, his voice was deep and rich, it was almost seductive. 

You felt blood rush throughout your body and those stupid butterflies in your stomach reappeared. You swallowed harshly, and your grip in his wrist started to ease up. You felt your cheeks start to heat up and he quickly yanked his wrist away from your pull, a shit-eating grin on his face as you realized what he had done.

Your eyes narrowed at him, “You motherfu-”

“Are you guys done flirting or ...?” 

Both you and Billy looked up at the top of the stairs and saw Nancy staring at you both, her head cocked and a sly smile on her face. In her hands were clean clothes, most likely for you to change into. You quickly jumped away from Billy, placing yourself on the other side of the couch. Your arms crossed, avoiding eye contact with either one of them. “We’re not … flirting … whatever that is … “ you grumbled.

Nancy mouthed an ‘okay’ while Billy leaned back into the couch, a triumphant smirk on his face as he looked over your embarrassed figure. She walked over to you and handed you the clothes, “Here, clean clothes. I figured you could borrow some of my old clothes. Get into something nicer”

You smiled at her, you took the clothes from her hand and placed them on your lap. You reached down to pull the sweatshirt over your head, exposing your skin and to Nancy and Billy when Nancy yelped at you, “Whoa, whoa!”

You froze.

“I’m changing … is that okay?”

Nancy turned away from you, an embarrassed smile on her face, “Uh, not in front of us. You could change in the bathroom, take a shower, you know?”

You glanced over at Billy who still had a smirk on his face. He would never pass up a chance to see a naked girl - especially one who knew how to get under his skin. Nancy scoffed at him, “Gross Billy, grow up”

He shrugged, “I’m not trying to get in her way of changing … if that’s her prerogative” he trailed off, his face still with that smirk of his. Nancy shook her head, rolling her eyes at his comment. She turned her attention back to you, “Listen, you should go shower, get comfortable you know?”

Before you could respond to her, a loud banging noise and the sudden thuds of loud footsteps broke your attention. Instinctively you jumped up from the couch and moved towards the noise, your adrenaline running as you flexed your right arm and emitted a fireball from your palm, ready to chuck the ball of flame towards the threat.

“WHOA, WHOA!” 

Nancy ran over and pulled you away, as the basement door swung open and a terrified Jonathan appeared at the top of the stairs. He threw up his hands, surrendering to you. 

“He’s good! He’s good! He’s my boyfriend!” Nancy shouted at you, her hand still tugging at your left arm. 

You instantly relaxed, the flame disappearing from your palm. You turned back to a terrified Nancy who was still trying to catch her breath, “S-sorry … it’s a reflex … “ you muttered, walking back over and sitting back on the couch.

Jonathan then slowly made his way down the stairs. His heart still pounding out of his chest as he surveyed the scene.

Billy Hargrove on his girlfriend’s couch, a strange girl who could control fire, and his terrified girlfriend. He would have never thought in a million years that he would walk onto this scene, but then again, crazier events have occurred. 

“See what I mean!” Billy exclaimed, gesturing over to you.

Nancy walked over to Jonathan and gave him a quick hug and a peck on his lips. “You okay?” she questioned quietly. He nodded, “Yeah, just … give me a second to compose myself”

You stared at them in complete and utter confusion. “Did you just … put your lips on his?”

“He’s my boyfriend … “ Nancy trailed off, expecting you to know what she meant, but you just simply shrugged, your eyebrows still etched together. 

“Oh yeah, that’s the other thing, she doesn’t know a lot of things … she’s kind of clueless” Billy added, his arms outstretched on the couch as he settled himself in. 

Nancy and Jonathan exchanged looks, this was going to be a lot harder than this presented itself to be - and it did not help that Billy Hargrove, resident bully of Hawkins High, was also mixed in this.

“Never mind that - we need you to tell us everything you know, about El, about the Russians, about you … everything” Nancy announced, taking a seat on the floor as Jonathan followed suit. 

You stared at the pair in front of you, then glanced over to look at Billy who although didn’t seem as if he was paying attention, was most definitely interested in learning more about your backstory, and how this mess was going to play out.

So you told them everything. From the beginning.

You told them about the experiments that Brenner and his Russian buddies were performing on kids, and how you were the first experiment.

“I - I never knew my mother, nor my father … Brenner was the closest thing I had to a father … “ You trailed off, your mind wandering back to all those times you had trusted Brenner, all those times he abused you, used you for his own means. You swallowed harshly, feeling tears brim your eyes.

Nancy reached out to you and placed her hand on your shoulder, “Hey, we can stop if you want, we don’t need to talk about it”

You furiously shook your head, “N - No, in order to understand you need to know everything”

Billy stared at you with sympathetic eyes. He so badly wanted to reach out and give you a reassuring touch, as you did with him at the diner. But he fought against it - especially not in front of Nancy and Jonathan. 

So you continued, you spoke about how you could carry assassinations for the Russians, how they trained you for hours and hours until you perfected your strength and your pyrokinesis. The only thing that they ever let you own was an old radio that sometimes, whenever it wanted it, played music.

“My powers … I can control fire with my mind, and with my hands … I - I’m also really strong, like really, really strong”

“Yeah, she pretty much broke Tommy H’s hand” Billy chimed in. “And has almost broken my wrist … twice now” he added dejectedly, raising his wrist to you. You rolled your eyes, “I said I was sorry”

Billy grunted and turned his head away from you. You sighed heavily and continued your story,

“T-these Russians, they know, they know about the gate, the know about those … things … those monsters … They’ve been watching you all for the past year or so because of what had previously occurred”

Jonathan blanched, and Nancy had the color drained from her face. 

“They want to control it, t-the monsters - they want to control to take over the world and they wanted to use me to do it, but I refused, I escaped. I came here because I need to find Eleven, she’s a telekinetic and the only one who could help me close the gate and end this once and for all” 

The room was silent. Even Billy was taken aback by the revelation. There was heavy breathing in the basement but you soldiered on, 

“I - I’m tired of being their pawn, of killing innocent people” you paused, swallowing and shaking the tears from your eyes. “I - I’m tired of being a monster, I want to help, I need to help. This is my last option.” you breathed out, tears shimmering in your eyes. You started to nibble your bottom lip as you waited for a response - from anyone. 

Jonathan was the first to speak, he reached out and placed his hand on your knee, “We’ll do everything we can to help you. We’re your friends okay?”

Nancy nodded, placing her hand on top of his, “We’ve done this once before … and we’ll do it again this time. For good”

You breathed out shakily, staring at the pair in front of you. For once in your life, you felt hope, you saw a ray of light that once could never be seen. But here you were, spilling your guts and secrets to people you’ve never met before and they were willing to help you. You gave them both a watery smile, “Friends? I - I don’t know what that means … “

“It means someone you can trust, someone you can count on”

You whipped your head around and saw Billy with a gentle smile on his face. He reached over and placed his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it with reassurance. You returned the smile and placed your hand on top of his. He could feel the warmth emitting from your palm as you stroked his hand with your thumb.

“Friends” you stated, hesitatingly testing out the word. 

Billy nodded slowly. “Yeah, friends”

You turned to look down at Nancy and Jonathan who returned the same hopeful smile that Billy had. 

You took a deep breath and spoke with conviction, your eyes flashing with determination, “Okay, let’s do this”