#(gotta lose me some followers before i post more fic in case any of them read it and judge me for it!!!)

[nostalgia-tblr]

On one hand yes I agree that - from what I have seen of them - the Loki show would indeed lose on sexuality and gender stuff in some sort of fight with the Marvel comics about the same* character and it could/should try to do a bit more with those things. On the other (much larger**) hand, we were talking about the Marvel Cinematic Universe, a live-action film & TV franchise, in which the show that 'erases Loki's bisexuality' is the only bit that ever so much as mentioned that bisexuality in any way whatsoever. So it has erased it... by putting it there in the first place.

(*We'll just call them the same for now, for the sake of this Discourse, keep your knickers on okay.)

(**Like Fanfic!Sylvie I have one small hand and one giant hand.)

[pale-silver-comb]

So I know absolutely nothing about Leverage except what I've been seeing you post lately and I have to admit you're making it look tempting to watch! Can I ask what are some of your favorite things about the show/reasons you would suggest people watch it? And is there really a poly relationship that is canon?

Okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. I am going to do my best not to just “asdfghkjl” at you and answer coherently.

In a nutshell, Leverage is about 5 people. 4 are criminals (Parker, Hardison, Eliot and Sophie) with different and unique skill-sets and 1 is an ex-insurance investigator (Nate) who, at one point or another in his career, has tracked down (or at least attempted to) the other 4. The whole show is essentially: man reluctantly reforms 4 criminals to use their criminal powers for good and 4 criminals move into man’s life and stubbornly refuse to leave because, goddammit, now they have morals. 

I’ve got a lot of favourite things about the show but the main ones are as follows:

1. Found family. And I’m not talking about loners who come together to fight crime and happen to co-exist to the point where they realise they happen to have found themselves a family. I mean, Nate and Sophie are the Drunk Uncle and Wine Aunt who somehow become Mom and Dad to 3 beautiful criminal children. Mom and Dad love their criminal babies and the kids love them (as well as each other, but we’ll come to that in a moment). You get amazing family moments such as: Mom and Dad packing the kids lunch before sending them out to kick corporate greed’s ass; Mom and Dad giving the kids ridiculously expensive and personal Christmas presents causing their most Grumpy Kid to go very very quiet and soft as he runs off to gleefully play with his new murder toy; the kids interrupting Mom and Dad’s big Movie Style Kiss to ask if they can please keep their new underground layer and huffing and puffing when Dad tells them no.

2. Found family: the OT3 edition. To answer your question, the OT3 is indeed canon, confirmed by the creator. Now, usually, “confirmed by the creator” infuriates me because most of the time it’s a way for a creator to be seen as “progressive” without doing anything to actually be progressive. That isn’t the case here. The OT3 are built up carefully and while it is obvious the creators didn’t originally intend for all 3 of them to become a relationship in the romantic sense, by mid-season 5 we are given a very clear picture of where Parker, Hardison and Eliot are heading in their relationship. There aren’t any kisses at the end to signal this but there are solid marriage vows in not only one but two episodes. (And by marriage vows I mean literal equivalents of marriage vows: “for better or worse” and “’til death do us part”. I’m not even exaggerating). The OT3 also doesn’t need explicit romantic narratives to convey how much they love each other. Their love is laced through the whole show, from the way they teach each other things to the way they respond to each other and work as a unit. The way they fiercely protect and admire each other. Like someone once said, if you need characters to kiss or say I love you to let the audience know they love each other, you are writing them wrong. 

Aside from that, each of the parings in the OT3 are just. Gah. They are so well done, with friendship being the solid basis for them all. The creators never expect the audience to assume anything about them or fill in the gaps. They give us their relationships on screen and reference many things off-screen to show us how these relationships continue to build in between episodes.

Hardison and Parker are a canon couple and date in the show: it’s approached slowly and they are so goddamned sweet. They are basically every fluffy slow-burn trope with a healthy dash of mutual pining in the mix. They are basically that quote “love is patient, love is kind”. (I would like to add their romance never becomes the focus of the show or overrides the importance of any other relationship they have with the other characters, especially Eliot.)

Hardison and Eliot are the Old Married Couple and from day one are already bickering and looking at each other/making comments that are found in every UST fic ever (not to mention Hardison has a very good knack for making Eliot grin like a little kid, when usually he’s basically an Angry Little Chef Man). They argue, they play, and love each other plain as day. 

Parker and Eliot are more subtle but every bit as wonderful. They have an unspoken connection and understand each other on a level no-one else can. Parker and Eliot are not good with giving themselves over to affection for different reasons (and Hardison plays a central role in helping them realise it’s okay to want it and have it- that boy has endless patience) but there is something so beautiful in the way the two of them come together on their own and develop their own special bond that works for them. Parker and Eliot are that trope where the characters don’t need to speak to understand each other perfectly. They just do. Their love language is a lot of the time non-verbal but speaks volumes. (Parker also likes to annoy the hell out of Eliot and Eliot....just.....lets...her. Because he’s soft. The softest, grumpiest boy.) 

I could go into so much depth for each pairing and their dynamics as a 3 but that's for another post.

3. Subverting stereotypes. There is the occasional hiccup in the show regarding stereotypes but ultimately, Leverage gets an A+ when it comes to writing characters and making them 3 dimensional people who are not defined by certain characteristics or events. Nate could so easily fall into the White Man Pain trope where he uses the trauma of losing his kid as a reason as to why he is entitled to act like a dick. Nate is a dick but he doesn’t use his pain to excuse it and I appreciate that. Hardison is a black man who is soft and nurturing. Easily the most empathetic and patient of the group. He’s nerdy, an actual genius, and has the biggest heart of all the characters. Nate is maybe the glue but Hardison is definitely the heart. Media’s usual aggressive, amongst other, racist stereotypes can fuck right off. Parker is canonically autistic (I am sure this was confirmed by one of the creators) and she is not defined by it. It’s not written as some kind of singular personality trait. It’s part of what makes up Parker but it’s only one facet of who she is and not once is her actions, thoughts or feelings treated like a joke. Sometimes people don’t understand why she does and says the things she does but it’s met with patience and fondness over the course of the show. Equally, it’s not met with over-caution. Parker is just Parker. No-one tries to change her. The other nice thing is Hardison, who always makes sure Parker knows she’s amazing because of who she is and not in spite of it. Finally, Sophie is in her 40s. She’s not treated like she’s past her prime. Ever. She’s sexy, smart and never is she pitted against or compared to Parker (who is younger) for anything. Sophie is amazing and there’s never even a conversation of “I may be older but I am still *insert adjective typically associated with younger women here*”. Sophie is possibly the first female character I’ve ever seen who isn’t just unapologetic about her age but has never had to apologise for her age. It’s a non-issue and that’s that. The women on the show are written so well, right down to secondary characters and it’s beyond refreshing.  

4.) It’s just fun. The show has a “monster of the week” type format. Except instead of a ghoul or a ghost, the monster is some corrupt wealthy and powerful individual or organisation. The show draws on real-life individuals to do this and therefore closely parallels real-life people and events. It addresses important political, economical, social and environmental issues while at the same time remaining fun and light-hearted. The characters constantly get the chance to play dress up and by GOD do they have fun with it. You get to watch Eliot beat up bad guys in the most delightful of ways, usually after a witty non-sequitur and with a weapon you’d never think could be a weapon. The dialogue and back and forth between the characters is everything. And finally - my favourite thing- the team can never resist striking a dramatic pose after they’ve taken down the bad guy, making sure the bad guy sees them. I mean, they COULD just walk away, satisfied they’ve taken the person down, but nope. They gotta be dramatic bitches 24/7 and pose like they are models for every single month of this year’s Criminal Calendar.  

5.) Competence Porn. So. Much. Competence Porn.  

Honestly, I could list a thousand reasons for why Leverage is amazing but to list them would to be spoiling so many amazing moments you’d get to discover for the first time on your own if you do choose to watch it. It’s the kind of show you can watch with an eagle-eye and sink your teeth into. But it’s also the kind of show if, you would prefer, put on in the background for something entertaining while you do something else. Each episode is about the job at hand but it’s made up of so many moments between the characters that show how much the creators and writers care about them. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll do whatever it is you do when something Soft and Wonderful happens that makes your heart melt. I am so beyond grateful for Leverage. It’s everything I always wanted in a show. Nearly every show I’ve watched in the past 10 years has disappointed me in some way, usually either because the writers run out of steam or characters who I love are treated poorly or given some kind of unnecessary “shock value” arc. Leverage doesn’t do that. Leverage is what it says on the bottle. Fandom isn’t something I joined because I needed canon fix-its. Fandom only enhances and celebrates an already excellent canon. 

[granolabird]

Hope for Better Days

Post 2x09. I figured we didn’t get much Hournite content this EP so I made my own :) This follows Beth going to visit Rick at the jail just before the storm starts after she gets off the phone with Courtney. Just some good ol Angst/Fluff content. Sure Rick is in jail but I can still make him kinda-sorta happy. Ish.

Warnings: N/A

Taglist: @hournites @bethchapelsbonnet 

If you’d like to be added to my weekly Hournite fic tag list feel free to ask :) .

“Has Rick called?” Beth finds herself asking as soon as she gets the chance.

Courtney called her to help devise a plan on what to do about Eclipso. It’s a valid mindset, one that Beth is trying very hard to reciprocate but she just can’t. She can’t stop thinking about Rick, alone and cold in his jail cell. The storm that’s hitting today is supposed to be really bad, there might even be a tornado. And sure Beth’s safe at home. So is Courtney, and Yolanda too, but Rick? He’s in a jail cell, which is probably one of the least safe places he could be. 

“No, he hasn’t called. Yolanda still hasn’t answered my calls either.” Courtney snaps Beth from her train of thought.

“Oh. Okay.”

Beth isn’t sure what else to say. Courtney seems to ignore her disappointment and continues to prattle on about how to use the staff and the goggles together to beat Eclipso. Beth tries to listen, she really does. What Courtney is saying is important, but Rick keeps flitting across her mind. She can’t help but worry about him. She looks out her window at the storm, wondering how long until it unleashed itself. Would there be enough time to go visit Rick? The police station wasn’t that far, and he should still have his twenty minutes of visitation time, nobody had gone to see him today. Beth could go see him.

“Beth?” Courtney seems to have asked a question that Beth has absolutely not heard.

“Sorry, can you say that again?”

Courtney sighs, but repeats her question; “You said Eclipso presented himself as a child?” “A child version of Bruce Gordon, yeah.” 

“Well then it’ll be…”

Courtney’s voice fades into obscurity as Beth spots her Dad’s car pulling into the driveway. He’s home early, this is too perfect. If she can convince him to drive her to go see Rick, then she’ll be good to go. It’s a foolproof plan, probably.

“Sorry Courtney, my dad just got home. I have to go.” Beth manages to get her words in between Courtney’s seemingly endless rambling.

“Oh, yeah of course. I’ll call you later, okay?” There’s a hint of disappointment to Courtney’s voice that makes Beth feel a little bad about the whole situation, but she really has to go see Rick.

“Yeah! For sure!” And with that she hangs up, sliding her phone into her bag. 

She’s still wearing her goggles, and spends a moment debating whether it’s safe to take them off or not. She resolves to put them in her bag just in case, not wanting to endure another questioning from her father regarding her wearing her ‘swimming goggles’ everywhere. Then she grabs her bag, pulls on a sweater and races down the stairs to see her Father.

“Dad! You’re home early!” Beth tries to put as much enthusiasm into her voice as possible, and judging on the smile her dad flashes her way her tactics are working.

“Yeah, work was worried about the weather so they sent everyone home early.” He’s already taking off his jacket and hanging it up. 

Once he gets his shoes off and sits down on the couch Beth knows he won't be moving. She has to act quickly. She steadies herself, shaking off any worries before she asks to go visit Rick. The worst he can say is no is all she keeps telling herself in a (failing) attempt to keep herself calm.

“So, dad.”

“What is it sweetie?” He’s halfway through unlacing one of his dress shoes.

“I was wondering if we could go visit Rick? You know, before the storm starts. I just want to make sure he’s okay.” She’s rushing her words, but her Dad seems to understand what she says perfectly well as he gets up and looks at her with some concern.

“Beth, it’s about to start raining any minute now. Don’t you think he can wait?”

“His hearing got cancelled today. I just think he could use someone to talk to, you know? The station isn’t that far away, I could walk there if you don’t feel like driving me-”

“Absolutely not. You’ll get soaked. I’ll drive you, but we have to be quick.”

Beth mentally jumps for joy, but she doesn’t vocalize her excitement, just offers her Father a smile.

“Thanks Dad!” 

Beth leans against the window as the car rolls down the street, her eyes scanning the dark clouds in the sky as they go. The drive to the police station seems to stretch on forever, especially with her Dad asking questions near-constantly. They’re just around the corner when her Dad asks,

“What is it with you and Rick anyway?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I mean, you two just seem close… You’d tell me if you had a boyfriend right? Your Mother and I would be so happy to hear that you-”

“Dad! No, it’s not like that! We… We're best friends, that’s it. He doesn’t really have anyone else, so I have to be there for him.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.”

The rest of the ride is silent.

Beth doesn’t tell her dad that she wishes her and Rick were more than best friends. It doesn’t feel like the right time to admit it. She doubts there ever will be a right time to admit it, but this would definitely be one of the absolute worst times. Her dad would never shut up about it. Not that that was a bad thing, Beth could talk about Rick and how much she cared about him for hours. But with her Dad? It doesn’t feel right. She continues scanning the clouds and fiddling with one of the straps on her bag while dwelling on thoughts of her relationship to Rick all the way to the police station parking lot.

Rick is slumped in his cell, leaning against the wall as he sits on his cot. This place is hell, but at least he doesn’t have to deal with Matt. That’s an upside. The downside is the fact that he rarely gets to see his friends, especially Beth. Beth. His mind lingers on her name a moment too long, and he has to shake his head in an attempt to dispel any thoughts of her. He’s found it best not to think about her unless she’s visiting him. Every time he does it feels like his soul is ripping in two, a deep ache in his chest that he can’t dispel, so he finds it better to not think about her altogether. As he sits now, staring at the blank ceiling of his cell, Rick hears footsteps approaching down the hall. Probably just a guard going for an hourly checkup. The steps however, stop in front of his cell, and Rick turns his head to see an Officer waiting at the door.

“There’s a visitor here for you Mr. Harris”

Rick cringes at the name, but forces himself not to say anything about it. He’d rather not start any kerfuffle. 

“Isn’t there supposed to be a bad storm out there? Why the hell is someone visiting me?” Rick wonders aloud and the Officer shrugs.

“Not my business. I just gotta get you to the phones, the faster the better. I have a break in ten.” The Officer sounds exhausted, and Rick can’t help but feel himself sympathizing.

He really just wishes he could fall asleep, and wake up to find all of this was a dream. It won’t happen of course, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. Sometimes he wonders if all this is one giant illusion done by Eclipso, if he’s still stuck in that hellish landscape. But nobody would visit him if he were still in Eclipso’s hellscape. He’s not sure if it’s reassuring to know he’s not still there, or awful to know he’s actually trapped in jail. It’s a lose-lose situation, really.

When Rick sees Beth waiting on the other side of the glass to see him, his heart does a flip. He spots her Dad standing awkwardly in the corner, and makes a mental note not to say anything too personal, and not to mention the JSA. All inhibitions leave his mind as soon as he sits across from Beth and picks up the phone, however. 

“Beth, what are you doing here?” He tries to keep his voice steady but he can't help the relief that he feels encompassing his entire body.

“Visiting you, obviously!” Beth smiles, and Rick swears he’s going to melt on the spot. Nothing but a puddle of love-struck Rick Tyler left on the chair. The Officer would have to mop him up to get him back to his cell. 

“I thought there was a storm out there? Shouldn’t you be at home preparing?”

Beth shrugs as if that’s the least of her worries, which it really shouldn’t be, but she doesn’t seem to share that sentiment.

“It hasn’t started yet. I figured I’d come check on you before it got too bad.” As if on cue the police station is shaken by a peel of thunder that makes Rick wince and the lights flicker. 

“You don’t need to check on me Beth, I’m doing fine.”

“I don’t care if I don’t need to check on you Rick. I want to. I want to make sure you’re okay, and not freezing, and well fed, and as happy as you can be given the conditions. I just… I just want you to be okay.”

Rick can’t help but smile at this, wishing more than anything to reach through the barrier separating him and Beth so that he could hug her. She’s too kind. Too good for Rick. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve her. Frankly, he probably doesn’t deserve her. And yet here she is. Making sure he’s okay. 

“Thanks, Beth. I’m doing okay. I’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry about me, I’ll be alright.” This doesn’t seem to reassure Beth at all, but it’s all he can offer.

“You’re in jail, Rick. Of course I’m going to worry about you. There’s not really much else I can do.” Beth looks so serious, so distraught, and Rick hates himself for causing her so much stress. 

“I guess you’re right. But try not to worry too much, okay? I don’t want to stress you out. The thought of me stressing you out stresses me out.” He half-laughs, and butterflies fill his stomach as he sees Beth laugh with him. 

It’s a small laugh but it’s enough.

“Alright, I’ll try, I promise.” Beth agrees.

The conversation lulls into small talk about Courtney and how she’s doing, and how Yolanda still hasn’t called back. Nothing too consequential, but Rick likes it that way. Makes his life seem more normal if only for a moment. It reminds him of all the days spent with Beth in her living room or in the Pit Stop just rambling about nothing and everything. Enjoying each other’s company, because they had nobody else to talk to. Because they were made to talk to one another. Those are the days Rick misses the most. He just wants to go back in time to tell himself to enjoy those moments more, to take in everything Beth is saying, to tell Beth everything he’s feeling. Because right now it’s looking like he may never get the chance again. He wants more than anything to have that chance again.

The lights flicker once more, and that seems to spook the Officer enough that he puts a hand on Rick’s shoulder, gesturing for him to get up.

“It’s only been ten minutes.” Rick growls, and the Officer taps his watch idly in response.

“Twelve minutes actually. I’m sorry, really, I just want to get you back to your cell before things get worse. It’d be best your friend here goes home too, I don’t think anyone should be driving in this weather. Car accidents kill so many people every year, you wouldn’t believe it!”

Both Rick and Beth wince at that statement, and Beth shoots him a sympathetic look. Rick swallows down any malicious retort, knowing the Officer only has good intentions, deciding to respond with a nod. 

“I’ll talk to you as soon as I can.” Beth reassures him as Rick starts preparing to leave, and he smiles at her softly. “Yeah, of course. Get home safely, okay?” “Of course I will. Sit in your cell safely, okay?”

Rick can’t help but laugh at that as he nods, blinking tears from his eyes.

“I always do.”

And then he’s hanging up the phone and being escorted down the hallway. He throws one last glance back at Beth as he goes, but she’s already talking to her Dad, so she doesn’t notice his longing stare as he’s carted away.

The walk back to Rick’s cell is relatively silent. Most of the other cells are empty, save for a few sleeping drunks in some of the holding cells. Blue Valley isn’t particularly known for it’s non-supervillain related crime. It is a small town after all, so Rick’s incident was quite the exception. As they reach his cell, and Rick steps inside, the Officer finally speaks up.

“You know, that girl really must care a lot about you to come all the way out here to see you in this weather. You’ve caught yourself a good one there Mr. Harris.” 

Rick gives a breathy laugh as he walks into the cell, sitting down on his cot. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” And he does. Beth is like no other girl he’s ever met, and for that he will forever be grateful. She’ll always be there for him, and he knows that as long as he’s alive he will always be there for her. 

He hopes it will stay that way forever. 

And a few blocks away, driving home in the pouring rain, she hopes for the same thing.

[andwereallmadhere]

You’re Not Alone | Jean x Reader

Paring: Jean x f!reader (slight Eren x reader mentioned)

Genre: FLUFF!, song fic

Word Count: 4.5k 

Warnings/ Triggers: Alcohol, underage drinking 

A/N: I was inspired by the Big Time Rush song You’re Not Alone (Link below). This is not the first thing I have written, but it is the first I am posting. Characters might be OOC but I feel like the overall feeling is there. I hope you enjoy!

Link to song: https://youtu.be/tbS5JF32szE

I bet you didn't notice First time your heart was broken You called me up and we talked til the morning

Jean is woken from his sleep by the harsh ringing of his phone. He fumbles for a minute trying to slide the little green button to answer the call. He puts the device up to his ear before stuffing his face back into the pillow, “Why are you call me it’s the middle of the night?” Sleep heavy in his gruff voice. He is quickly answered by your voice sobbing on the other end of the receiver. This immediately broke him out of his sleep-filled mind. He should have known when he saw your picture flash on the screen that you would only be calling if it was important. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He says wiping a guilty hand over his face. You didn’t respond. Still unable to form proper words through all the tears. He continues to quietly talk to you in an attempt to calm you down. Once the sobbing ebbs he finally asks, “Y/N, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

He only hears you choke out a single word, “Eren.”

Jean and Eren never did get along, in however long you and Jaeger had been dating. But, as your best friend, Jean tried his best to accept him since that would make you happy. So hearing that HE is the reason you are crying at 2 A.M. enrages Jean. 

“What did that bastard do? Did he try something you didn’t want? Do I need to beat him up? Y/N, I swear to god if he hurt you I will-“

“No Jean. It’s not like that.” “Then what is it like?”

“He dumped me.”

“Y/N…”

“He just came by my house and told me that “I’m just over it I guess”. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“He’s a dick, I’ve told you that from the beginning.”

You only respond by sobbing more.

Eren had been your first real boyfriend. And as much as Jean didn’t want it to be true, you were head over heels. Everyone knew this would happen eventually, he just hoped there would be a little more warning. Maybe a fight or something but just cutting it off without a real reason? Jean had theories that he was probably hooking up with someone else and didn’t want the guilt of being a cheater, but you didn’t need to hear that right now. You didn’t need overprotective Jean hating on Eren. You needed best friend Jean to comfort you and assure you that you are worthy of love and everything is going to be okay.

“Hey, you can do better than him. He’s the real loser here. Any guy would be lucky to have you and the next one has to go through me first.” Jean says half meaning it, half attempting to make you laugh.

“Stop it, Jean, You know you’d lose every fight.” He can almost hear the smile in your voice, despite the tears that are certainly still running down your face. 

“Why don’t I come get you? We can go for a drive or something.”

“Okay.” Your soft voice is followed by a sniffle.

“I’m on my way.”

Jean gets out of the warmth of his bed and finds his sweatpants. He throws on a hoodie and grabs an extra in case you forget to bring your own. It's pretty chilly out tonight. He grabs his keys and begins the drive to your house. Once he arrives he sees your form sitting on your porch. Always the gentleman, he walks over to you and offers to help you up. You grab his hand and he can still see the tear stains on your cheeks. Once you are on your feet he pulls you into a hug. “Hey,” Jean says returning your tight squeeze. “Let’s go get you some food.” 

You don’t respond, but your grip around his waist losses and you begin making your way to the car. He opens the door for you and watches as you immediately grab the spare hoodie and slide it over your head. It’s obviously too big for you, but you are grateful for the extra fabric to bury your sad face in. 

The ride is mostly silent, Jean wanted to give you room to talk if you wanted. After a bit of having his hoodie pulled up to your nose, it was clear that you were too caught up in your own drowning thoughts to say anything so he turned on a very soft playlist from his phone in hopes of providing you some distraction.

Jean stops the car and you see he has brought you to a Waffle House. He knows it your favorite. Sure the food isn’t great but there is something about the mediocracy of the establishment that gets you. “Come on slowpoke, I’m buyin’,” Jean says after opening your door. You give him a thank you before following him into the restaurant. 

The two of you find a small booth, given that it was well into the night, there weren’t any people there other than the handful of employees. “You’ll have to talk to me eventually you know,” Jean says. You take a moment to look up from the menu he knows you have memorized by now. Just then a waitress comes by to take your order. 

Jean already knows exactly what you want because you always get the same thing. Just as he tells the waitress your order you finally speak, “Hey Jean.” Your voice is slightly above a whisper, “can I have chocolate milk?” You look back down at the table while Jean turns back to the waitress, “And can the lady have a chocolate milk, please and thank you.” Jean smiles at you as the waitress walks away, your silly request signaling that his best friend is slowly but surely coming out of this shell of sadness. 

Sure enough, you begin to open up. You tell him more of the details about Eren dumping you. Your food arrives and you laugh when Jean spills his glass of water on his lap. The two of you eventually move to the barstool countertops to talk to the fry cook, trying to convince him to make you a pancake instead of a waffle. Eventually Jean pays, leaving a generous tip as an apology for your late-night shenanigans. 

Walking to the car you can see the pastel colors of the impending day reaching the sky. Not ready to go home yet you lean into Jean’s body, tugging on his arm, “Let’s go watch the sunrise!” 

“You’re ridiculous.” He says shaking his head, “get in the car.” He smiles and opens your car door. Of course he was going to let you watch the sunrise. He is going to drive you to the park and find a place high up and the two of you will talk about nothing at all until you fall asleep in the passenger seat of his car. He is really just happy that the outing has worked. No, 4 A.M. waffles cannot cure your broken heart but it at least made you smile. 

And the time that you were stranded I was there before you landed He was a no show, I made sure you got home

High school seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Graduation came and went and your family decided that you should spend the summer at your aunt’s house on the other side of the country. Of course, you loved your aunt and her kids, but spending your last real summer break away from your friends wasn’t a huge selling point. Ultimately, your mom said you had to go because the trip was already paid for and your aunt was expecting you. The only reason you eventually agreed was that the majority of your little group were all attending the same college, so at least it wasn’t goodbye.

The day before Freshman move-in everyone decided to throw a party at Eren and Mikasa’s house. Eren’s parents were out of town a lot so that is usually where the gang got together. Jean and Eren still don’t along great, but Jean was close to Sasha and Connie who happened to be okay friends with Armin and Mikasa, and thus your little group was formed for better or for worse. After the night Eren dumped you out of the blue, Jean was furious with him, only for you to accept Jaeger’s lame-ass apology and take him back a week later. Luckily there hadn’t been any more repeats of that night. Maybe Eren was telling the truth and did actually like you, so Jean played nice even if he didn’t fully forgive the brunette. 

And now he was here, with you on FaceTime while you wait for your flight at the airport and Jean is getting ready for Eren’s dumb party that you won’t even make it to. 

“So when does your flight get in?” Jean asks folding the remains of the load of laundry his mom did this morning. 

“I think about 11 if it’s not delayed again. I’m super bummed that I won’t make it in time for the party.”

“It’s at Jaeger’s house, can’t he just bring you by after he picks you up?” 

“I guess so, but he also said something about taking me home because it’ll be late and we have move in tomorrow.”

Jean hums in response. It is a valid argument logically, but none of them have seen you all summer except for the occasional FaceTime. The only real reason Jean was going to this stupid party was that you were supposed to be back in time. Jean can hear a voice come over the intercom in the airport. “Hey, Jean, that’s my flight. I gotta go.”

“Alright, Y/N, let me know when you land. See you soon.”

With that, the call ended. Your face replaced by a photo of you and Jean at prom making silly faces. Yeah, Eren was your date and Jean took Mikasa, but you all took photos together and his mom insisted on getting one of the two of you. It was obvious that the picture pissed Eren off, and that made it even more special to Jean. 

Eventually, Jean finished the laundry and headed over to Eren’s. At least everyone else will be there and he can kick Connie’s ass at beer pong. Jean purposefully arrived a little late, so he knew everyone else would already be there, and sure enough, Eren had the white folding table already set up in the garage and Armin had started a little bonfire in the backyard. “Horseface You made it!” Connie says throwing an arm around Jean. 

“I told you not to call me that.”

“What are you going to do send Y/N after me? Oh wait…She’s not here!”

“We both know Y/N could easily kick your ass so shut up.”

Jean went around greeting everyone else and made good on his promise to dominate at beer pong. A while later he takes a seat next to Armin, who was currently roasting a marshmallow. “Ever put peanut butter on a s’more? Whole new experience.”

Armin looks over at Jean, “Y/N show you that?”

“Oh no, secret’s out,” Jean says taking a drink of water. After the game of beer pong, which was a little closer in score than Jean would have enjoyed, he decided to take it easy on the booze so he could actually drive home.

“When does her flight get in anyway?” Armin asks removing his marshmallow from the flame. 

“She told me about 11 when we talked earlier. Said Eren was going to pick her up.” 

At the mention of his name the two look over to see Eren taking a shot with Sasha and Connie. “Did anyone tell him that?” Armin says with a small chuckle. 

Jean looked at his watch, it was only 9, if the bastard stop drinking now he might be sober enough to come get you. So Jean let it slide. 

But Eren didn’t stop drinking. It was now 10:30 and Eren was plastered. Jean watches as Eren and Connie arm wrestle and sighs. What would Y/N think if she saw her boyfriend like this? “Shit,” Jean says standing from his chair around the fire. This gets the attention of Armin and Mikasa who were also over Eren’s drunk bullshit, “What is it?” Armin questions. “Y/N. Eren is supposed to pick her up from the airport in 30 minutes.”

“Well, that’s not happening!” Sasha laughs, also drunk. 

Jean stood up and finished his soda before pulling his car keys from his pocket. 

“And where are you going Horseface? Afraid you’ll lose in arm wrestling?” Eren suddenly joins the conversation. Jean cannot believe this asshole, he doesn’t even realize! Jean contemplates throwing a punch, but that will inevitably start a fight and the airport is almost 40 minutes away so he’ll already be late. So instead, Jean crushes the soda can in his hand and walks away. “Ha! Horseface is a scary cat!” Eren yells at his back before Mikasa smacks Eren on the head. 

Jean’s anger melts through the drive. As upset as he is that Jaeger forgot, Jean is excited to see you. He’s not sure how he’s going to explain this one to you though. He parks his car and glances at the time, 11:15. At least you haven’t been waiting too long. 

Luckily the airport is pretty small and there are only a few incoming flights so it’s not hard to figure out which gate your flight should have landed at. He thinks it's a little odd you haven’t texted him that you landed safely but he dismissed it as he made his way to the gate. Jean is surprised to find the gate empty. No hugging families or people searching for their luggage. There are a few scattered people here and there, also apparently picking up various passengers. After talking with another guy, Jean finds out that the flight had been delayed before take off so it is running late. You were not stranded at the airport, you hadn’t even landed. 

Jean found a seat and began scrolling on his phone. He didn’t expect to have so much time so he didn’t really bring anything with him, not even headphones to listen to music. He sat waiting for what must have been a solid 30 minutes before he started to fall asleep in the chair. 

“Jean!” He hears your voice call, this rouses him from the light sleep. Once he sees your face he can’t help but smile. He stands to walk over to you but is practically knocked over when you throw yourself into his arms. “Hey, stranger.” He says wrapping his arms around you. 

“It feels like it has been forever!” You pull away from him and reach for your suitcase, but Jean beats you to it, grabbing the handle before you can. “I can carry it you know.” But you know it’s useless arguing. Mama Kirstein raised a gentleman, that’s for sure. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at a party?” You ask, giving him a side-eye as you follow him to his car. “Yeah…about that…” Jean still hasn’t figured out exactly what to say about why Eren ditched you. 

“Eren drunk himself stupid, didn’t he?” You say, almost casually. Like you expected it all along. 

“Yeah, but lucky for you I know a guy with a soft spot for you.” Jean places your things in the trunk before opening your car door.

“My shining stallion, always coming to my rescue.”

“Yeah, yeah, get in the car Princess.” He says. Eren’s stupid horse jokes have started rubbing off on you.

You spent the whole drive telling Jean about your trip, even though you talked with him almost every day you were gone. Jean in turn told you all the ridiculous things Sasha and Connie did while you were away. They still had group game night, which surprisingly Eren and Jean only tried to kill each other a handful of times. You laugh when Jean tells you the full story about Connie smashing Sasha’s face into a cake she brought one night, claiming “There is never a bad time for cake.” Sure they all sent you the pictures but you still loved hearing the story. And before you know it Jean pulled up in front of your house. 

He carried your suitcase to the door and turned to you, “I’ll pick you up at 6 alright?” Right, Jean offered to drive you to orientation tomorrow and it was a four-hour drive to the University. With all the excitement of seeing your best friend, you forgot about college tomorrow. “Ugh so early? That’s like 4 hours from now” 

“Unfortunately. Even then we’ll be cutting it close.”

“Fine. I’ll see you at 6.” You say giving him a final hug.

“Jean," you say into his chest, “I’m kind of glad it was you and not Eren that picked me up. I missed you. Thanks for always being there for me.”

“For you. Always.” Jean returns your hug before walking back to his car.

All the days that you were stressed out Feeling like pulling your hair out They were all missing but I was here listening

Freshman year came and went and now you were currently crying over your trigonometry textbook before your final tomorrow. Your other finals had gone pretty well and other than this stupid test you were finished with your first full year of university. Surprisingly Jean and Eren didn’t kill each other despite being suite mates. Originally the two were supposed to be roommates, but Armin quickly volunteered to switch with Jean, the blond being a little more equipped to handle Eren. You on the other hand shared a dorm with Sasha and Mikasa. Since it was the three of you you managed to snag a bigger room and didn’t have to share a bathroom with anyone else. When the gang got together for movie night it was usually in your room since the boys lived just down the hall. Overall it had been a pretty good year. 

Everyone else had already finished their finals, the majority of your group moving back home on Wednesday, except Jean who had his last final today. Jean also offered to stay an extra day so you could drive home together, but he would never say that out loud. “I’m gonna use the extra time to relax since Jaeger is gone. Living with him for a year almost killed me!” He would claim, ever the dramatic. But you knew he was also staying for you since you didn’t have a car and he did a similar thing for winter break. 

Trig had been your worst class all semester. No matter how many times you worked through the problems you were always getting a different answer, usually the wrong one. Armin helped you study for your midterm, but since he was already gone you were left alone. While your overall grade wasn’t bad considering you did all of the extra credit options your professor offered, this test could make or break your final GPA. If you could get at least an 85% it would bump your grade from a high C to a low B. So you have been doing nothing but math since your other finals finished this morning. And you were about to cry. Again. After completing the study guide and taking half a dozen practice tests you aren’t anywhere close to what you needed. After grading your last practice test, you barely managed an 80% and that was being nice to yourself. 

“I’m never going to get this.” You sob, ink running from the tears now spilling onto your paper. Then there is a knock on the door.

“Who’s there?”

“The pizza guy?” Jean says from the other side of your door. At the mention of food, you realize you hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning, which wasn’t saying much since you had a muffin and cup of coffee after Mikasa yelled at you for forgetting to eat earlier in the week. But you didn’t want Jean to see you struggling this much. Yeah, you could talk to him about anything but he was always so gifted when it came to school, even graduated top of the class in high school. So the idea of him seeing you brought to tears by something he saw as easy made your heartache. You were afraid he would accidentally make fun of you in that cocky way he does, or he would offer to help but realize you were a lost cause before ditching you altogether.

“Go away, Jean. I’m studying,” You yell back, attempting to hide the overwhelming stress from your voice.

“Well take a break, I wasn’t joking about the pizza. Mikasa told me you haven’t been eating so you better open this door, Y/N, before I resort to drastic measures.”

You give up getting him to go away, plus that pizza sounds so good. You get up and open the door, “And what would these ‘drastic measures’ be?” 

“Sasha left her keys in our dorm, so I probably would have just walked in.” Jean finally takes a look at your face, and despite your efforts to wipe away your tears, Jean knows you’ve been crying.

“Y/N what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? You-‘ You cut him off before he can finish. “What kind of pizza did you bring?” 

“Your favorite, of course.” Jean sets the pizza on your bed while you grab some drinks out of the little micro-fridge. Jean glances at your desk and quickly takes in the scattered notes and tear-stained papers. Suddenly it makes sense. Your lack of eating, how you haven’t been responding to texts, and the tears when you opened the door. “I can help you you know? I took Trig last semester.” 

“I told you not to worry about it.” You say attempting to be mad at him for snooping but it’s pointless. You take a seat on the bed and open the pizza box, “Horseface.” You add almost in a whisper. 

Jean visibly shrivels at the name, “No. Not you. Not allowed.”

This small comment was enough to change the subject, and his mild anger at such a stupid name pulls an amused smile out of you. The two of you eat and converse as usual. He tells you about his last final and how Eren left their shared bathroom a mess that he needs to take care of before you leave tomorrow. You talk about how one of your professors just showed a movie during the final period since they are required to hold class despite not actually giving a test. And you feel the stress leave your body, even if just for a moment. 

After a while, Jean looks back over at your desk before grabbing your textbook and the last practice test you took. “This isn’t bad, Y/N, looks like some simple mistakes that you keep making, fix those and you’ll be fine.”

“How can I fix something I don’t know I’m doing wrong?” You ask.

“Because I’m going to help you, idiot.”

Jean proceeds to walk you through your last practice test and showing you the mistakes he was talking about. After helping you do a few more problems, Mr. Kirstein makes you do another practice test that he’s going to grade. While you take the test Jean lays on your bed, scrolling through his phone. He’s trying not to look at you, not wanting to add more pressure to you by feeling watched. 

After you are finished you pass him the paper and watch as he marks up the pages with a red pen. Eventually, he turns to you and gives you back the test, a solid 83%. Not as good as you hoped but you don’t want to discredit Jean’s tutoring. After walking through the test you look at the clock, it's currently 1 A.M. 

“Well Y/N, your test is first thing in the morning and I don’t think stressing yourself out more is going to help you at all.”

“But what am I supposed to do? I need an 85!”

“You need sleep,” Jean says, packing up your study materials.

“One more practice test, then I sleep, I swear.’

“Sleep now. Maybe you can do another in the morning.”

There is no use in arguing with Jean, he always gets his way. Once the study materials were all put away Jean takes your laptop and opens up Netflix, knowing you won’t be able to sleep if you were still worked up. The two of you sit side by side on your bed watching some stupid movie until Jean notices your eyes have closed and your breathing has evened out. As quietly as possible Jean closes the laptop and climbs out of the bed. He puts a blanket over your sleeping form and turns off the light before closing the door to your room. 

The next morning you wake up with a text from Jean. Opening your door you find a fresh coffee and a doughnut waiting on your doorstep. “That idiot.” You mumble to no one, but gratefully pick up the small meal he left for you. After eating you get ready to go and resign to looking over some notes before the exam. Once in the classroom, all the stress from last night comes crashing back. You just have to keep reminding yourself that a C in trig isn’t bad. Your GPA will still be above a 3.0, barely but still. And before you know it your teacher has told you to begin your exam so you log on to your computer and start your test. 

The good thing about the test being on the computer is that you’ll know your results immediately. After going over the answers a second time you finally hit the submit button. You stare at the little blinking cursor as it checks through all your answers, holding your breath. Suddenly your final grade pops up on the screen and you can’t stop the tears that slip from your eyes. You gather your things and head back to your dorm. But you find Jean waiting outside the building, leaning against the car without a care in the world. “JEAN!” You practically scream upon seeing him. He can see the tears on your face, “It’s okay, Y/N. Trig is pointless anyway. You still did great even if you got a C.”

“I did it! Jean, I got a 90%!”

“That’s my girl!” Jean says giving you a high five.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, teach.” You say giving him a big grin.

“Come on, Y/N. I say we get you a celebratory milkshake before we drive home. Jean says opening the door for you. Your eyes follow him as he walks around the car to the driver’s side. You are lucky to have him in your life. Yeah, he can be kind of an ass from time to time, but his heart is always in the right place. 

'Cause I'll be right there (right there) For every minute This time, it's no different Whatever happens you should know 'Cause you're not alone, girl Look over your shoulder You don't have to wonder 'Cause you know, you know, you know You're not alone, girl

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

I feel like Harry doesn’t get enough love and attention in the fandom 🥲 and since it is The Summer of Harry, could we get a small fic or headcanons about being best friends with Harry and getting into shenanigans with him?

xoxo

Omg yesss I love Harry, I agree he does not get enough love!!!

Here’s my unsolicited preamble: I truly adore him. In all honesty he’s the character I relate to most, personality wise. SO I had to do both a few headcanon’s and then a short lil fic that played those out. Not sure if this was exactly what you had in mind but this is what I picture being besties with Welsh would be like :) (p.s. sorry for any typos, I didn't do a lot of re-reading and I'm dyslexic sooo free pass)

- I feel like Welsh would be a very affectionate and physical love kind of friend because he seems really sure in his body language and physical space.

- He would be the kind of bestie you could cuddle with without any sort of apprehension over it being anything more than friendship.

- Welsh is the kind of friend that will lead you straight into trouble but charm your guys’ way right out of it.

- Welsh is the kind of friend to give really good advice but never the kind to pressure you or judge you if you don’t take his advice.

- At the same time he’s a bit of a hot mess himself but in such a confident, surly way that keeps him from becoming a basket case. Which means he’s not an exhausting friend to have. He gives energy to his friends.

There was a good chance that those who didn’t know you and Harry well would assume you had a flirtationship. Everyone knew about Kitty, especially after three months of having Harry as an Easy Company officer. So a judgmental look from an onlooking stranger wasn’t uncommon. But those who knew you well knew things could not be more platonic between you two. You and Harry had bonded from the beginning; like long-lost twins. You filled in each other’s gaps. You met each other note for note in every situation, from teasing Winters to sobering conversations about core values. Most dangerously, you fed off of each other’s mischief (much to Winters’ chagrin). That night wasn’t much different from the many you shared with Harry. The difference was that it was preceded by a particularly terrible day.

You were exhausted by the day's work. You had had the privilege of being singled out by Sobel who had berated you at length without real cause. You had very little energy to do anything except take a shower and go to bed. But it was a Friday, and Harry wasn’t about to let you get away with that.

“Good evening!” Harry skipped through the doorway of your barrack. He was cleaned up and dressed neatly in his khaki uniform.

“Hi Harry,” you said unenthusiastically from where you were stretched out.

“What’s up, cookie?” he kicked the side of your cot, trying to elicit a jolt of action from you.

“Crappy day.”

“Well come out and we’ll at least make sure it ends well.”

“Not in the mood.”

“Aw come on,” Harry whined, “I want to go have fun.”

“I’m in a bad mood, Harry,” you protested.

“Who put the bee in your bonnet?” he sat down beside you.

You wriggled slightly out of the way to make room for him. “Sobel.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “the guy’s a yuck, don’t let him ruin your night.

“Too late.” You knew you were just being a brat at this point. But Harry knew he was going to win you over.

“Come on, you’re getting up and we’re gonna have a great night. Dick’s coming out for an hour or so, you can’t miss that.”

“Is he drinking?” you sat up in shock.

Harry huffed, “pff, no, of course not. Still, it’ll be good to chat with him. Come on, get up.”

The pub was full of soldiers from all of the Airborne companies. Harry was leading you to the bar when you spotted him, Sobel.

“The hell is he doing here?” You asked.

Harry followed your eye line. “Gross,” he muttered, “come on.” He pushed forward.

“Harry,” you said reluctantly.

“Trust me,” he grinned mischievously. You recognised that glint in his eye and you couldn’t help but smile in excitement.

“Captain,” Harry addressed Sobel formally as he approached. The haughty officer barely acknowledged them with a nod but Harry began to spin his web.

“So rowdy in here,” he leaned on the bar conspiratorially, “so much reckless drinking.” He paused to make sure you were in on the conversation. “We were just discussing how drinking should only be done in fine taste, with quality liquor.” Sobel seemed to be listening despite his silence.

“We were,” you jumped in, “the ability to appreciate quality is a mark of superiority.” You matched Harry’s buttery tone, careful not to appear too direct with Sobel.

“That’s why Colonel Sink has all those beautifully decanted scotches in his office! Have you seen those?” Harry directed to you, across Sobel.

“Beautiful!” you enthused.

You two let those words hang there. Sobel had obviously taken in your words, you wanted them to settle.

“Anyways,” Harry said cheerfully, “can I buy you a drink, Captain?”

“Oh uh-,” Sobel stumbled, “I uh-,”

“I’m gonna get your strongest scotch, neat please,” Harry grinned charmingly at the bartender. Then he turned to Sobel, “should I make that two?” There was a challenging look in your friend's eye. You suppressed a grin but relished in the situation.

“Sure,” Sobel said curtly, then as an afterthought he turned to you, “are you getting one?” Had it been anyone else it would’ve considered him thoughtful.

“Oh no,” you said you said nonchalantly, “can’t stand the stuff. It’s wicked strong.” You swelled with sadistic delight as you watched Sobel’s eyes widen in fear.

“Cheers!” Harry handed the officer the dark brown drink with a mischievous smile.

To Sobel’s credit, he did take a generous sip of the liquor with only the slightest of flinches.

The two of you posted up at a table with Winters, Nixon, and a few of the other officers who had distanced themselves from the enlisted men. You sat chatting and drinking and generally having a good time. After a drink or two, you spotted Joe Liebgott in the crowd. He smiled over his drink at you and you couldn’t help but smile coyly back. He always seemed to catch your eye on nights out. Though nothing ever came from it you enjoyed the attention from the handsome man.

Welsh caught the exchange between you and Joe. “That boy is trouble.”

“What? I thought you liked Joe!”

“I do, great soldier.”

“But trouble?” you asked jokingly.

“Yeah, part of why I like him. Why don’t you go for someone sweet?” Harry scanned the crowd, “like Carwood?”

“Lipton’s married, Harry.”

“Oh right, Shifty then!”

You sighed, “you know I adore Shifty but..”

“You’re right, he’s too sweet for you. Better stick with, Joe.”

You and Harry stared at each other until you both broke into laughs.

“Thanks for the romantic advice,” you teased.

“Anytime,” Harry laughed into his drink.

The night progressed. Winters left early and eventually, Nixon retired as well. Soon enough, you and Harry were left alone at a table playing tiddlywinks with coins. Between the alcohol and the company, you were feeling good. The pains of the day had melted away.

Smokey Gordon, with the assistance of George Luz, began to lead the crowd of soldiers in song. It was a darkly humoured Irish ballad that Harry seemed to know well. From beside you at your table he belted out the words off-pitch, a cigarette burning away between his fingers, momentarily forgotten.

“You’re shit!” you laughed over the music, “you’re a terrible singer!”

Harry paused quickly to say, “shut up, I’m singing,” before launching his voice back into the chorus.

You laughed as the Easy Company men wrapped up their song in cheers. You smiled to yourself, grateful to be a part of such a great group of men.

You were feeling intoxicated late into the evening but nowhere near as intoxicated as Harry. He had had a fair amount to drink but luckily he held his alcohol well. He wasn’t a sloppy, sick or angry drunk. The alcohol only exacerbated his most questionable traits; characteristics you had grown to appreciate.

“You hungry?” you asked him as he polished off another beer.

“I can always eat,” he responded.

“Do you think they’ll serve us something here?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, “I bet they’ve closed the kitchen. Probably hours ago!”

You eyed the bar. Things had died down slightly. Many people had gone home and the patrons who hadn’t were losing their energy. Conversational groups furnished with half drunk pints peppered the pub. “I bet we can make them serve us something. Surely something!” you said.

Harry looked deep in thought before saying, “you know, you’re right.”

“What’s the harm in asking?” you said with an alcohol-induced sense of confidence.

“You’re right! Let’s go!” Harry pulled you up from the table and the two of you made for the bar.

Harry leaned across the wood counter. “Can we get anything to eat? One of those pies maybe?” he asked the bartender.

“Ooh or eggs and bacon!” You interject. The thought of breakfast made your stomach rumble.

“Oh yeah, that sounds really good! Good call,” Harry turned his attention back to the exasperated bartender, “can we can some eggs and bacon please?”

“You think I got bacon?” The bartender asked dryly. “It’s midnight…during a war,” he explained like he was talking to idiots, which he kind of was.

“Mm good point,” you were quickly defeated in your inebriated state.

“Ah come on, Fred,” Harry said, “I know you have food! Please, for one of your most loyal patrons.”

It was true, Harry was a loyal customer. He had quickly become a regular at this pub. You had dragged him off a barstool more than a few times when he was meant to be elsewhere.

The bartender Fred eyed the grinning, gap-toothed man. “Fine, but you gotta eat it in the back. I don’t want everyone seeing I’m serving food or they’ll all want some.”

“Ah thank you Fred!” You thanked him exuberantly. He shot you both a stern look as you scrambled around the bar.

You two of you waited patiently perched upon apple crates in the back kitchen as Fred fried you up a couple of eggs and slices of ham. It wasn’t exactly bacon but it hit the spot. You had never tasted anything so good in your life.

“I could eat this for the rest of my life,” Harry said through a mouthful of food.

“Mm s’good,” you responded with equal impropriety. You swallowed, “thanks for forcing me out Harry.”

“Aw,” Harry wrapped an arm around your neck and gave you a sloppy kiss on the forehead, “anytime, cookie.”

[untamedficrecs]

hello! do you know if there are any fic abt jin ling's one month birthday where wwx turns up in koi tower like a fairy godmother or smth instead of being stopped on the way? or any like... politics heavy fic? idk why but I have a craving lol thank you for the hard work!

Hi! Wanna say sorry this took me so long to get too, I was planning on answering this sooner but some things came up. I tried my best to find something close to what you were looking for but I apologize in advance if they are not exactly it! I haven’t read all of these fics personally, so some of them might not have personal comments (and they might not actually be what you’re looking for ;;~;;), but here we go!! (sorry for how long this is gonna be!) 

 cradle by dragonesque

Rating: Teen & up | Canon Divergence | Status: Ongoing | Chapters: 32 | Word Count: 195979 Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian

☆ warning: graphic depictions of violence

Author’s Summary: After barely surviving the assassination attempt at QiongQi Path, Wei WuXian and the Wen Sect remnants are left to figure out how to protect themselves and their new lives. Meanwhile, the Jiang siblings and an unharmed Jin ZiXuan try to figure out who's bright idea was that stupid ambush. In Gusu, Lan Wangji panics at the idea of Wei WuXian's near death and tries to figure out whether to insist to stay by the Yiling Patriarch's side or hang back in the Cloud Recesses.

And Wei WuXian struggles with the idea of whether becoming a teacher, teaching demonic cultivation and setting up his own sect might not be a bad idea after all...

☆ personal comments: this is honestly one of my favorite fics...while it doesnt fit exactly the first thing you’re looking for (with him showing up/not being stopped...i mean he does show up...but he’s gotta plan some things out and recover before he shows up at koi tower); anyways there is definitely a lot of politics involved in this fic (from trying to form a new sect and an investigation going on with the wen remnants). i think you would enjoy it (or at least hope you will). I hope the author updates soon cause it has been a while, but its def long and will give you something to work through! 

birthday party by waffles_4_breakfast

Rating: Explicit | Canon Divergence | Status: Ongoing | Chapters: 8 | Word Count: 25857 Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian

☆ warning: graphic depictions of violence

Author’s Summary: What if Jin Zixun didn't attack Wei Wuxian at Qiongqi Path and waited until the party to attack?

A fix-it fic where Wei Wuxian gets to attend the party and an entirely different cascade of events follow.

☆ personal comments: I definitely think this fic has a lot of potential with how it’s going. It’s pretty good so far, not really heavy on politics...I would say just a lot of sect drama almost?? (maybe that could still count as politics...but ya know) anyways def would recommend! 

can you read the signs? by quiet_crash

Rating: Teen & up | Canon Divergence | One Shot | Status: Complete | Word Count: 5890 Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian

Author’s Summary: At Qiongqi Path, Wei Wuxian loses his patience. What he doesn't lose is Jin Ling's present. After all, he's going to meet his little nephew and no force in the world or beyond is going to stop him.

☆ personal comments: hmmm this one is probably the closest to the first part of your ask!! wwx does in fact show up to koi tower having not been attacked (or well he was attacked but it was de-escalated before bad things could happen!). its set up in kinda like little snapshots of his life almost so yeah, its pretty good! 

after a thousand crisis, you still remain innocent by lil_apple (sugafree_agustd)

Rating: General | Canon Divergence | Status: Complete | Chapters: 3 | Word Count: 10583 Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian 

Author’s Summary: Every tale has a start. Whether it was for better or worse. 

Lan WangJi saved Wei WuXian from Qiongqi path, resulting Jin ZiXuan being alive and the cultivation world being aware of Jin Guangshan's lies. Wei WuXian witnessed Lan WangJi's punishment and went into seclusion with him.

This is the start of great redemption.

☆ personal comments: i really enjoy this fic...its more...hurt/comfort almost than anything else with sweet moments doused in there. politics are there but its not super heavy...but i figured i would recommend it just in case. 

confessions of a drunkard by wei_ying

Rating: General | Canon Divergence | One Shot | Status: Complete | Word Count: 736 Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian   

Author’s Summary: the yiling laozu is very drunk at a-ling's one month celebration. hilarity ensues.

☆ personal comments: this is just a super short cracky fic i feel like...it’s not really what you’re looking for but I figured I would drop it in here just cause. c: 

twelve moons and a fortnight by stiltonbasket

Rating: General | Post Canon | Status: Ongoing | Chapters: 40 | Word Count:  207079 Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian 

Author’s Summary: "Let me get this straight. You really want me to stand in for you while you help Jin Ling settle in at Koi Tower?"

"Who else do I have?" Jiang Cheng snaps, ears turning scarlet as Jin Ling tries to pretend he isn't listening. "Father trained you to serve as my deputy, didn't he? And don't say you don't remember, or I'll break your legs."

"Well, yes," Wei Wuxian manages. "Uh. I'll just let Lan Zhan know I'll be at Lotus Pier until you're back at home, then."

In which Wei Wuxian spends the year before his wedding as Yunmeng Jiang's acting sect leader, and the cultivation world's greatest love story finds its happy ending with the help of three juniors, a teenage romance, and one very involved (and exasperated) younger brother.

☆ comments: i haven’t read this fic yet, but i’m recommending it due to the tags...it’s not going to fit into your first category but i feel like it should fit into the politics heavy category...maybe...anyways this is on my own list to read so yeah 

end of the bridge by shinocchi

Rating: Mature | Canon Divergence | Status: Ongoing | Chapters: 22 | Word Count: 170542 Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian 

Author’s Summary: Wei Wuxian was ready to walk his dark single-planked bridge all by himself until when that very resolution was shattered by Lan Wangji, who found out he'd lost his core, when they were in the midst of Sunshot Campaign.

☆ comments: ^^ same comments as the one above 

magical marriage ribbons by starandrea

Series: 8 works | Word Count: 293,578 | Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian 

Description: Wei Ying and Lan Zhan somehow find time to be student sweethearts at Cloud Recesses, and it changes the course of the war. Mashup of novel, donghua, and drama, with a little manhua as a treat. Anything that wasn’t AU before Cloud Recesses is certainly AU after.

Happy fix-it with a little plot and a lot of Lan Zhan and Wei Ying being super cute together. Also some babies and animal transformation as the series goes on.

☆ personal comments: i haven’t read all of these works but there are some works in there that have a focus on politics (not heavily focused). they’re really fun to read so i figure i would recommend them anyways. 

aftermath by kouriarashi

Rating: Teen & up | Canon Divergence | Status: Complete | Chapters: 12 | Word Count: 57682 Pairing(s): Jiang Yanli x Jin Zixuan, Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen x Meng Yao

Author’s Summary: Jiang Yanli lifted her eyes up to Madam Jin and said, calmly, as if from a hundred miles away, “I am a daughter of the Yu sect. Did he think my mother only taught me how to pour tea?”

Or: the AU in which Jin Guangshan targets Jiang Yanli and she kills him before he can ruin everything.

☆ comments: sooo this is another fic on my list to read...i read the first chapter tho...and it looks pretty good...again like the other 2 fics that i haven’t read personally i’m recommending this purely on the tags and hoping that it will fit what you want! i figured i would throw in something that wasn’t just wangxian focused...i mean a yanli focused fic seems pretty interesting so i’m excited to read it! 

leave no hatred behind by joythea

Rating: Teen & up | Fix-it fic | Status: Complete | Chapters: 23 | Word Count: 121459

Author’s Summary: Jiang Yanli knows she was raised to be a wife and a good mother. But she knew she didn't need her cultivation to find and stop the man responsible for her precious disciple brother’s death and robbing her son of a father.

☆ comments: ^^ same comments as above

[deathonyourtongue]

Resurrection | 3

Summary: A ragtag team of Spec-Ops operators are brought out of retirement for all the wrong reasons. When the dust settles, only the best will be left standing. Pairing: Pablo Schreiber x OFC, Henry Cavill x OFC (listen, she gets with the whole team, okay? Don’t lie, you would too.) Word Count: 3K Warnings: Violence. Lots of it. Smut. Angst. The usual. A/N : I’m reposting this for a few reasons. Mainly ‘cause I’m done having my fics in two places, wanted to re-work the cover, and most importantly wanted those of you who weren’t following me back when these chapters were originally posted to be able to take it in from scratch. I’ve also cleaned up a lot of the text as far as grammar, etc. goes, so it’s more polished. Enjoy! Like what I do? Buy me a coffee (or a commission)!

1 | 2 |

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“It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a shootout…” Jake sings, sipping his coffee and ignoring the looks he’s getting from those around us. 

“How exactly are you planning on finishing that song, Pooh?” I ask, shaking my head, my gaze focused past his head, watching across the street as Dom speaks to our contact. 

“I haven’t figured that out yet, but it has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Somewhere, Mr. Rogers is rolling in his grave.” I mutter, shaking my head, my focus on the conversation across the street and not on Jake’s bastardization of a childhood classic.

To the untrained eye, Dom and our contact are simply two businessmen having a conversation. Both in suits, they stick out only to pickpockets and petty thieves in the bustling, open-air market; one of a handful of men with money who pick populated places to hold their meetings. For our part, we’re dressed like tourists, doing our best to blend in under the hot desert sun. Under our civvies, we’ve all got vests on, and with our gear nearby; it’s only a matter of a short sprint if things go sideways. 

“Every time you sing or talk about shootouts, we end up in one so...Could you fucking not?” Benji grumbles, voicing an opinion we’ve all had at one time or another, but have always kept to ourselves, mainly because listening to Jake’s comedy is one of the few highlights of our work. 

“Sorry, Benji-poo, just being realistic about our chances of walking our lily-white asses out of here without getting caught.” Jake grins, throwing a small rib bone at him, picked clean from our lunch.

“Speak for yourself, white boy. All I gotta do is smile and bat my lashes and I’m home free,” I tease, Jake’s smile matching mine. 

“Yeah, just to get sold into slavery for your--” Flip squeezes the air in front of his chest, whistling, and this time it’s his face that gets pegged with a rib bone. “What? I’m just sayin’. I’d buy you.” 

“I thought Vikings were more for just taking what wasn’t theirs,” Rick smirks, finishing his coffee, his eyes scanning the area behind me and allowing me to see what he sees by proxy as it reflects off the lenses of his sunglasses.

We catch the man at the same time. A flash of chrome amidst all the terracotta is more out of place than Dom in his suit and instantly, we both sit up straight. 

“Ghost, we have potential contact, your six. Be ready to move,” I whisper into my mic, hidden artfully beneath my shirt. I see Dom’s back straighten seconds later, all of us bracing for the inevitable. 

The first shot rings out and silences the market momentarily before screaming and the sounds of chaos follow. Keeping my eye on Dom, I duck down beneath the table Max and Benji had flipped, letting them ascertain the direction of the shooter. It takes only a moment for Flip to fire the first shot back, his volley returned with automatic fire. 

“Get to the gear. NOW!” Rick calls, and we move as one, each covering not only ourselves, but Dom until he and our contact are out of sight. 

“Ghost, we’re moving to the backup point. Meet us there!” I instruct as I run, slamming against a wall and covering Benji as he sprints the same open strip of market. Bullets whiz past him, but he makes it to us unscathed. 

We make quick work of heading into the building we’d cleared out earlier, shedding our civilian disguises in favor of plain t-shirts, vests, and thigh holsters. I tie my hair up as we head to the top floor where our heavy artillery has been stashed for the better part of two hours. I’m glad to see everything where we left it, and quickly grab my gun, posting up at the door in case the shooter’s on our heels. 

“Loba, I need your eyes, we’ve got contact on the roof!” Rick barks, and immediately Jake and I switch places. It takes a few moments and a fair amount of cover fire for me to set up the sniper rifle, but once I’m ready, it takes only a second to lock on my target. The idiot is in plain sight, not bothering to hide his head or his weapon. He loses both with one shot, and another round of screams can be heard as his body falls off the building, face splayed open like an exploded watermelon. 

“Hey, that training course at DeVry really paid off!” Jake muses moments before taking his own target, a man sprinting up the stairs towards us. Jake’s shot sets off the grenade in the man’s hand and for a few seconds, we’re all left with ringing ears. 

“I’m good!” He calls, knowing the protocol and saving us all from having to call out for him. “Gonna need hearing aids when I’m forty, but I’m good!” 

“Pooh, focus!” Flip growls, his eyes trained on the market below, another round of shots fired at a seemingly-growing number of men who are all descending on our location. 

“We’ve gotta move. Ghost, meet us at the exfil, it’s too hot to stay.” I instruct, all the guys packing up our gear, ready to plow our way out with as many bullets as necessary. 

We bound tactically, using the market for cover and managing to get halfway to the exfil point without any injuries to our team. The truck we’re using to get out of town is in plain view, but in our way is an open strip of road with absolutely no cover. 

“Fuck. For once, I’d love it if command gave us something that went over 10 miles an hour.” Jake growls, hitting two more men as he speaks. 

“That thing is older than the queen.” Beef agrees, providing cover fire for Dom as he comes careening around the corner, his own gun empty of bullets. 

“We’ll take it up with command when we get back. Grump, go!” I call, pushing Dom in front of me, so that I’m the last in line. With Dom technically being head of our team, and me running as his second-in-command, it doesn’t bode well to have both of us open to fire. 

I watch as all of them make a break for the truck, each man dodging bullets and making it to the armoured vehicle safely. Each provides cover fire for the man after him, and by the time it’s my turn, I have six guys ready to kill any motherfucker who has the balls to let a shot off. 

“Loba, you’re a go!” Flip calls over the comms, and with one last look behind me, I start to sprint. 

Getting shot doesn’t register the way they show it in the movies. The pain doesn’t come right away, but rather, it feels like you’ve been burned by the edge of a frying pan. The warm wet sensation follows, making you wonder if you’ve got a sweating problem that could use some botox to remedy. It’s not until you slow down that your mind has time to catch up. I make it to the truck before I even notice the blood on my white shirt. 

“She’s hit!” Flip calls out, Rick gunning the vehicle in the opposite direction from the market, bullets pinging off the armour plating as we head further into the desert and, with any luck, back behind the wire. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I mutter, adrenaline keeping the pain away and letting Benji and Max do their initial triage of my wound. 

“Step on it Rick, it’s a Kubrick movie back here.” Benji calls out, his pressure on the hole in my stomach coming off only long enough to let Max cut my shirt away. 

“Let me see, Scowl.” Max says sternly as I feel Jake position himself so that he can elevate my legs, everyone doing their part to help keep me alive. 

“Hey, look at me, Carmen. Sweetheart, listen, you’re gonna be okay, okay?” Dom says, and I see the fear in his eyes despite his smile down at me. His hands are warm as they card through my hair, unintentionally doing the opposite of what he wants me to do and making me want to fall asleep. 

I feel my body get lighter as more of my blood comes pouring out of my entrance wound and when Max and Benji roll me over to check for an exit hole, it’s as though I’ve been pushed out of the truck entirely. 

“Hey, Max. Promise me something?” I ask, smiling even though I can taste copper. 

“Anything you need, love.” He answers without hesitation, wincing as he digs a gloved finger into my stomach, trying to take hold of the artery that was nicked. With forceps held between his teeth, he struggles to find the bleed point, knowing he has only a few moments to clamp it off before I bleed out. 

“When we get out of here, you’ll meet a nice girl and let her take your virginity.” Though they’re all panicked, my request makes the boys laugh, and eases the tension in the truck, if only for a moment. 

“I promise.” I think I catch a look between him and Dom, but as things begin to darken around the edges of my vision, I chalk it up to a hallucination from lack of blood flow. 

“Stay with us, babe. Come, stay awake,” Jake’s voice shakes as he jostles my legs, he and Dom wearing  the same look, one I know means they’re barely holding it together. 

“I’m gonna be…” 

Screams of ‘NO!’ are the last thing I hear before I can’t help but close my eyes. 

When I open them again, I’m met with late afternoon sun, plywood walls, and a weirdly sheer curtain that--as my eyes adjust--turns out to be mosquito netting. My head hurts, but as I move to bring my hands up to my face, I realize both of them are being held by much bigger ones. 

“Hey, bub.” I murmur, speaking as much to Dom as I am to Jake, both men so caught up in their own thoughts and tears that it takes them a moment to realize the voice they hear is mine. 

There’s a rush of joy that shoots through the room, hitting everyone and lifting their spirits. Everyone except Max, who stays in his seat, curled up by the window, tears silently streaming down his face. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to know that I scared the hell out of them, and that I probably flatlined. It’s rare for the boys to cry; rarer still for them to look as shell-shocked and pale as they all do. 

I’m engulfed in careful hugs and kisses, all the boys taking their turn to show just how elated they are that I’m alive, and as they file out of the room, my attention once again goes to Beef. 

“Hey. C’mere.” I murmur, reaching out my hands, wanting a hug. What I get instead is a stuttered sob, a keen wail, and Max looking surprisingly hurt. 

“Don’t ever do that again, do you understand? Don’t--don’t make me w-watch you d-die.” His anger dissolves into fear and anguish, and my own vision blurs as he finally stands up and rushes to me, Max careful to avoid my injury, but still bear hugging me, his face buried in the crook of my neck. 

“I’m sorry, Beef. I’m sorry,” I murmur, stroking his hair and the nape of his neck. Just as with adrenaline, the shock and fear he’s feeling needs time to wear off, and crying is the best way to distill a good portion of it. Staying close and making sure I’m getting better over the next couple of days will take care of the rest. 

Kissing his cheek tenderly, I hold him until his tears subside and he pulls back to wipe them away. He gives me a wet smile, one that nearly starts my own waterworks, and sits down, taking my hand. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” He asks, kissing each of my knuckles gently. 

“Making you promise to get laid.” I answer bluntly, the look on his face enough to nearly make me rip my stitches with laughter. 

We spend the rest of the afternoon celebrating the lives of our friends the way a military funeral would never permit; food, booze, and music. By the time the sun starts to set, we’re all a little toasted, both from the booze and the cloudless skies. I make my way into the shower to cool off and wash off the saltwater from Rick’s pool, smiling when I feel Dom’s presence behind me. Having spent the afternoon teasing me, it’s no surprise that he’s making good on his promise of bunking up together. 

Untying my bikini as I walk into the see-through shower, I can’t help but laugh when Dom turns on music that’s only good for making fantasies come true. With a heavy bass line, and rhythms that remind me of Carnival, it’s clear what he’s silently asking for, and I’ve never been one to deny Dom anything. Getting good and soaked under the spray, I shake my hair out and begin to dance, rolling my hips and shaking my ass in time with the beat. It’s not the first time I’ve given Dom a show, but it’s the first time we’ve been in a position where he can reciprocate at the same time, and much to my excitement, I watch as he slowly takes off his board shorts and lays down on the bed, showing off in a way he knows will drive me mad. With every muscle outlined by the vivid hues of the sunset, he looks like Apollo and my body responds instantly the moment his hand goes to his already-hardening shaft. Dom strokes lazily, in no rush to cum despite the show in front of him, and I groan, knowing I’m in for a long, amazing night. 

The song switches over and I continue, making good use of the fog-proof glass to make sure Dom sees exactly what he’s doing to me. Nipples hard, and skin goosebumped, I slowly bend over, smiling when I realize just how quickly he’s gotten to me. There’s no mistaking the wetness between my legs for water, and Dom sits up slightly the moment he notices, his cock jumping in his hand. Keeping my legs spread, I slowly roll my hips, allowing him one last look before I shut off the water and step out, dripping head to toe. A quick towel off only so I don’t soak the bed is the only respite Dom gets before I’m crawling over the bed and bending down to take his cock into my mouth. His sigh of appreciation makes me preen and I don’t hesitate in making his cock disappear in my mouth, smiling around his length when I hear the sound of surprise follow quickly after. 

Sex between us is never neat and tidy, and there’s a solid chance we’ll have to launder the sheets in the morning as I continue licking and sucking, making a mess in the process. Dom’s hand slides through my wet strands and I brace myself for the inevitable push down, relaxing my throat and focusing on the weight of his cock on my tongue. 

“Jesus fuck, Carmen!” Dom growls out, his eyes catching mine as I pull away from his length with a gasp for air, a mess of his precum and my spit still connecting us. I squeal when Dom yanks me up for a passionate kiss before immediately throwing me down in his previous spot. My hips are in the air before I know it, and I cry out when I feel his warm lips devouring mine, his beard tickling my inner thighs in a way that sends sparks all the way up my spine. 

My feet slide down his powerful back as he eats me out with a voracious hunger, Dom making toe-curling noises as he does so. There’s no denying we enjoy each other’s bodies as much as we enjoy a five-star meal, and it’s all I can do not to cum when I see the look of utter hunger in Dom’s eyes. 

“Get inside me, please!” I beg him when I feel myself nearing the edge, wanting him to pull out all the stops and take me like the wild animal I know hides just beneath the surface. A wink is all the response I get before I’m once again weightless, Dom putting me on my stomach and pulling my ass up high before standing into a squat on the bed. There’s no need for a warm up thrust with how wet we both are, and I scream in absolute delight as he slides in hard. 

“Oh, Dom!” I mewl, giving myself over completely as he starts an intense rhythm, his cock coming nearly all the way out before slamming back inside until his hips are flush with my ass. Neither of us are particularly quiet, but as I feel his heavy sac slap against my clit on every push of his hips, I can’t keep quiet even if I tried. 

Dom knows exactly how to work his hips to hit all the sweet spots inside me, and before long, I’ve gone non-verbal, only able to squeak and moan as I clutch the sheets like my life depends on it. Catching a glimpse of us in the mirror only serves to make my eyes roll back, as the contrast of his power against my curves only makes things hotter.

He pulls me up higher, and before I know it, I’m in the pile-driver position, looking up at his tall frame as he jackhammers into me with reckless abandon. Mouth open in a silent scream, all I can do is watch my body stretch to accomodate his girth, each stroke making me wetter and wetter, ever closer to the edge. 

With a change in angle, Dom’s thrusts start hitting my g-spot with bullseye-like precision, and I lose all control. Trembling head to toe, I try to beg him to make me cum, but all that comes out are whimpers and moans. He understands though, picking up the pace and fucking into me harder than before, wanting me to go first, as always. 

I lose all control and see stars for a moment as I squirt all over his cock and lower abs, Dom continuing to fuck me through every wave of pleasure. When he stills, I focus my attention on him, watching as he begins to empty himself inside me, the heat from his cum radiating with every shot that fills my pussy. 

“Carmen!” Dom barks out as his own body goes through a series of shivers in time with each pulse of his cock. Finally, when the haze of cumming has cleared a bit, Dom moves me one last time until we’re laying spooned together, his cock still lodged deep inside me. 

“That never gets old,” he chuckles, one hand slipping down between my legs to play, Dom knowing full well I’m gonna need a few more rounds before I’m anywhere near ready to fall asleep.

[easyobsession]

Somewhere Only We Know

“You’re gonna get pissed.” He warns.

“Seriously, Justin, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine,” He pauses again, this time so long Kat is about to lose it, when he finally blurts, “We could get married.”

A Spinning Out fic.

A/N: A few things to get straight: what little knowledge I have about the Olympics, the Village, and ice skating in general is very limited and based solely on what I can find online. Please go easy on me; I’m new to this world. Most of my research for Beijing’s Games is speculation based on past Winter Olympics combined with me also making some of it up.

Also, as we know, we only got one season of this amazing show. While I have done my fair share of research (aka watched every Katstin scene an embarrassing amount of times), if you don’t remember some of the smaller details I mention it’s quite possibly because I made them up. Bare with me and go with it. I’m doing my best.

-

She’s been staring at the ceiling for nearly two hours. She knows this because in those two hours, Kat Baker has looked at the clock more times than she can count. But she’s done her best to stay still and focus on sleep, because if ever a good reason to need a solid night’s rest, this is it. Plus, she isn’t alone.

But it’s been nearly two hours. And after feeling her bedmate shift for the third time in less than ten minutes, she can’t help herself.

“Are you awake?” she speaks softly in case she’s wrong.

“Yes.” Justin’s voice comes so instantaneously it’s obvious he has been for a while. He rolls over onto his side to face her, clearly fed up with the charade. “I know we’re supposed to be too excited to sleep or whatever, but I figured jet lag and exhaustion would kick in eventually.”

Kat sighs. “I don’t think I can lay here anymore.”

“Screw it. Let’s go walk around or something. Get some food. I don’t know,” He shrugs, “Everything is open 24/7 here. Might as well take advantage of it.”

Kat bites at her lip. They have practice tomorrow at 9am sharp and Dasha will kill them if they’re stumbling around exhausted, but she’s so stir crazy right now she can’t bring herself to care.

“Alright, let’s go.”

They both dress quickly and head for the door, remembering to grab their ID badges from the nightstand and doing their best to remain silent as they slip through the common room. Their hands find each other in the elevator as they depart from the ninth floor, and they both give a courteous nod to security as they exit the dorm.

February in Beijing is beautiful, and despite being nothing more than a glorified college campus, the Olympic Village somehow still manages to blow both Kat and Justin’s minds. With a large handful of sky-high dormitories divided up by country, the Village is filled with basic amenities like a post office, bank, laundry facility, a convenience store, several gyms, and a huge cafeteria containing cuisine from around the world at every hour of the day.

Kat and Justin have been here for eight days so far. The first two days were spent getting settled with the other Team USA skaters and personnel, the third day they participated in the Opening Ceremony, and the remaining time has been spent using their allotted practice sessions, hitting the gym for light workouts, and enjoying the experience. They’ve also seen a few events, which is a highlight, and done a couple interviews (Dasha promises there are more to come- super) and some press work.

Mostly though, they’ve been staying close and trying to remain in a good headspace. Their competition begins in three days and their families arrive tomorrow, so for the most part they’re taking Dasha’s advice and focusing on each other.

“This is yours to lose,” she’d said. “Don’t over-think anything. Just stick together and enjoy it.”

This probably isn’t what she meant, but whatever.

After leaving the dorms behind, the duo makes the short walk into the heart of the Village, the nightlife scene far more alive than some might expect. The Village is open 24 hours a day for a reason. Some athletes prefer to train in the later hours, jetlag affecting a large amount, and some seem to need an escape to rid themselves of the jitters. One thing is clear though: everyone is tense. It’s like a university during finals- the pressure is on and everyone is feeling it.

“We should probably skip the caffeine, but how ‘bout hot chocolate?” Justin proposes, their linked hands swaying between them as they approach the commissary.

Kat nods. As much as a huge cup of coffee sounds appealing right now, he’s right. With any luck they’ll hopefully be able to manage at least a few hours of shuteye after this little excursion and a latte screams bad call.

After getting two steaming cups of cocoa (caramel in hers- she’d agreed to forgo the caffeine, not the sugar) they find an empty bench just far enough off the main pathway for a bit of privacy. So far it’s been a blast meeting and getting to know the other athletes from around the world, including several of Kat and Justin’s personal idols, but two AM just isn’t the hour preferred for socializing.

For a while they sit in silence, enjoying the peace and tranquility and the rare chance to people-watch the night owls between sips from their respective biodegradable cups.

“Feeling any sleepier?” Justin questions finally, causing the brunette under his arm to sigh.

“Will you judge me if I say that I’m even more awake than before?”

Justin lets out a curse. “I was hoping it was just me.”

“Gotta love Olympic life,” she ruses, “Well, I’m not going to the gym.”

“Fuck that,” he agrees. They’ve been practicing nonstop as it is. Neither of them is in the mood to ruin what little free time they do have, especially since Dasha never shuts up about the importance of not overdoing it.

“I don’t know. Nothing sounds appealing.” Kat continues, “But I don’t want to just sit here all night.”

For a moment silence falls again until Justin begins to fidget, shifting in his seat and catching her attention.

“What?” she demands, the look in his eye giving him away just like always.

“Nothing.” He quickly dismisses, shaking his head. “Never mind. I’m an idiot. Forget it.”

Kat rolls her eyes. “I know you’re an idiot,” she teases, “You’re my idiot though, which means I’m privy to all of your idiocy.”

“Seriously Kat, drop it. It was a dumbass thought. Let it go.”

“Hey,” the change of tone in his voice causes her to pull back, finding his eyes. Clearly he’s getting upset about something. “Talk to me.”

Justin stares at her for a minute. “You’re gonna get pissed.” He warns.

“Seriously, Justin, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine,” He pauses again, this time so long Kat is about to lose it, when he finally blurts, “We could get married.”

Silence.

“What?” It takes all of Kat’s strength not to screech the word. “Are you- what?”

“I said it was dumb!”

“It’s the middle of the night.” she sputters. “Our families aren’t here. We’ve only been together-”

“What feels like forever sometimes,”

Kat gives him a dirty look. “Really? You’re choosing now to fuck around?”

He raises his hands in defense.

“Look, it was just something that popped in my head.”

“Of all the possibilities, this was the random thought you had?”

Justin glances toward the ground, causing her eyes to go wide.

“This isn’t the first time?” Kat pauses, her voice finally falling back down to its regular decibel. “You’ve thought about this before?”

“Have I thought about marrying you?” Justin snorts, giving up on his hesitance as the insanity of the situation triggers brutal honesty. “I’m 25, Kat, and I’ve been in love with you longer than the two years we’ve been together. Yes, I’ve thought about it.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says quickly. “I don’t have a binder filled with details or anything. It’s just something I’ve thought about, that’s all.”

This seems to catch her attention.

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You probably don’t want something too big or flashy. Which is awesome, because while my dad will lose his shit and it’ll drive Mandy nuts, I’m actually on board with small and simple. And I know you’ll kill me if I spend too much on the ring, which is the one thing I already have covered-”

“You have it covered?” she interrupts. “Like what, you’ve already bought it?”

He pauses for a minute, staring at her before letting out a sigh.

“I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Justin, seriously, I swear to fucking god-”

“Fine!” he holds up his hands in surrender. “Just give me ten minutes. Stay here.”

“Stay here? Where are you going?” she wants to hit him when he rises from the bench. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Stay here!” He repeats.

“Fuck off!” she cries, yet for some reason her ass remains glued to her seat.

The following ten minutes pass in a slow blur, because what the actual fuck? Ironically it isn’t their relationship, but the fact that they’re skating for Olympic medals in three days that assures her he wouldn’t just leave her sitting in the middle of the Village like a moron, when Justin returns with his hands in his pockets, looking even more nervous than when he left. (Which is understandable, because there’s at least a 50% chance this could lead to his death.)

He lets out a breath as he sits back down next to her, finally revealing his hands and holding up a respectably sized (but not too gaudy) ruby in a band of gold. He places the ring in the palm of her hand, giving a small shrug.

“It was my mom’s.” he explains quietly. “I’ve had it since she died. Dad said she planned on giving it to me eventually.”

“Justin-”

“Look, it was a dumb idea. And I didn’t mean to freak you out, especially when literally the biggest event of our lives is in three days, but… I don’t know.” He shrugs again. “I just started talking and you didn’t stop me. So here we are.”

“So what, you just carry this with you everywhere you go?”

“Fuck you. It’s called being prepared, Baker.”

Kat goes quiet for a minute, her eyes falling from his understandably stressed face to the ring still perched in her palm. This is quite literally the last thing she ever would’ve expected, and yet for some reason the idea of turning him down isn’t her gut reaction. It’s crazy, yeah, but she does love him and they’ve been together for a while. Hell, practically everyone and their brother has brought it up, so it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it, and at the end of the day she could think of a lot worse ways to live her life than spending it with Justin.

“Your mom must’ve had small hands too. Although… I guess we won’t really know if it fits unless you put it on me.” She murmurs finally, causing his head to snap up.

“What?”

“I mean, I won’t be able to wear it on the ice, obviously,” she continues, “And we should probably wait until after the Games to tell anyone, because it’ll only be more pressure if we’re labeled the American Newlywed team. Plus, our families are no question going to kill us- Dasha at the front of the line. We’ll probably have to have some sort of party to make it up to them. Especially Mandy.”

“Are you saying yes?” he asks breathlessly, still unsure if he’s in a daze or acquired brain damage from the cold.

A small grin breaks out on Kat’s face. “I must be crazier than we thought.”

“You’re saying yes!” he surges forward to kiss her, hoping all of his joy can be transmitted through the pressure of his lips. “Holy shit.”

“Does it count if you never put the ring on me?” she questions through a giggle, causing him to let out a laugh of his own as he takes the ring and slides it onto her finger with shaking hands.

“Perfect fit.” He observes, part of him not even surprised because fate is just on their side tonight apparently, before leaning in to kiss her again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She grins. “Mr. Baker,”

Justin laughs. “You joke, but I really could not care less.” He pauses for a second. “Hey, look, I’m sorry this isn’t something better. I mean, I wasn’t planning on renting out the Eiffel Tower or anything, but I wanted to at least make a speech or something. Most of all I know it’s something I planned to talk to you about beforehand.”

Kat shrugs. “Might as well have this be just as weird and dysfunctional as everything else about our lives, right?” She says with a dry laugh. “Besides, you can save the speech for your vows.”

Justin stares at her for a second. “You seriously want to get married at 3AM in a foreign country, in secret, three days before the biggest competition of our careers?”

“Are you getting cold feet already?”

He laughs. “I’m just making sure I’m not dreaming.” He says honestly.

“Oh, you’re awake. And it’s too late to back out now, Davis.” She holds up her left hand where the ring sparkles, looking, Justin can’t help but notice, like it’s always belonged there. “I’ve already got the hardware.”

Justin grins. “Guess I’m stuck then.”

“Looks like it.”

“Huh.” He stands up from the bench and offers her his hand. “Then let’s go get married.”

-

Part 2 Coming Soon. ;)

[master-sass-blast]

The Christmas Decorating Fic.

Hello, yes, this is the proper time of year to post a Christmas themed fic.

Summary: You and Piotr decorate your home for Christmas for the very first time.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: G.

Warning(s): A very minor, mild mention of/allusion to childhood trauma.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @super-darkcloudstudent, @leo-writer, @dandyqueen

“Orn-a-ments, lights, and ginger-bread cookies! Tinsel and more lights and… what else rhymes with cookies? Glitter and glitter and glitter some more! Gonna have glitter all over the floor!”

“Pozhaluysta, nyet. We will be vacuuming for thousand years, at least.”

“I make no promises.” You grin impishly at your long-suffering husband, then belt out, “When the dog bites! When the bee stings! When I’m feeling sad… I simply throw glitter up in the air, and then I don’t feel… so bad!”

It’s officially the winter holiday season –meaning snow, seasonal music, red and green everything, and consuming more cookies than you probably should in one sitting.

It’s also midterm season at Xavier’s for all the high school students, meaning your husband has been hard at work prepping exams, holding review sessions, making study guides, and generally doing everything he can to see that his pupils succeed.

Which is nice –but it also means that you were left with the task to purchase all the Christmas and seasonal décor.

You probably went overboard (not that you’re admitting that to anybody).

Piotr stares at the sea of bags and boxes that completely cover the living room floor and spill into the kitchen. He rubs his temples and sighs. “Moya lyubov’… why?”

“I just…” You smile sheepishly and duck your head. “It’s pretty! And colorful! And it’s so white and bland outside, so I thought we could use extra color in here! And, like, we can share whatever we don’t use with the residents so they can decorate their rooms, but…” You let your voice trail off, sheepish smile growing. “I liked all of it. Okay, look –all of the candles smelled amazing! How was I supposed to pick one type?” You pull a random candle out of a bag that holds many, many, many more candles –this one’s peppermint hot chocolate scented—and take off the lid before holding it out to your husband. “Smell this. It’s fucking delicious.”

“Smells very nice,” Piotr agrees after a cursory sniff. “Just… what will we do with all this?”

“Decorate, baby. It’s our first Christmas that we have our own place. We gotta go all out!”

“I do not disagree. Just… how much did all this cost?”

“I used my own money,” you defend yourself. “Which is technically crime money from Wade and dad and my uncle, which I know you don’t like, but it’s also supporting a capitalist death machine, which you also don’t like, so I feel like that should cancel each other out—” You sigh when Piotr crosses arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at you. “I got excited,” you admit. “I’ve never… I’ve never really been able to go all out for Christmas before, especially not in a home of my own. I can… I can take some of it back, if you want.”

“Nyet, nyet,” Piotr says gently. He draws you into his arms and kisses the top of your head. “That will not be necessary.” He kisses the top of your head, then surveys the sea of bags once more. “Well, at least we will never need to buy decorations again.”

“That’s the spirit!” you chirp, patting his chest before skipping away. “I need you to put up the tree, and also help me hang tinsel because…” You pick up one of your sketchpads and show him a few designs you’d made with an impish grin. “I drew up some layouts.”

“Did you now,” Piotr chuckles as he studies your sketches.

“I have a vision.”

He chuckles again, then kisses your cheek. “Then let’s make vision come true.”

 ***

 “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire… Jack Frost nipping at your nose…”

The smooth tones of Nat King Cole croon through the speakers. Snow flutters down from the thick, dark gray blanket of clouds high above, batting against the windowpanes before accumulating in drifts over the earth. A fire crackles in the fireplace, hissing and snapping as the flames eat away at the logs your husband had placed in the hearth.

You smile, hovering in the air as you tack up a strand of tinsel.

It’s like the spirit of Christmas has swept through your house. You got Piotr to wrestle the Christmas tree into an upright position ��he’s still shaping and fluffing it now—while you focused on draping strands of tinsel and lights over every conceivable surface (within reason on the lights, of course, because Piotr drew a line at blowing the breaker every time one of you flipped a switch). There’s little clusters of figurines throughout the main floor –there’s a trio of wooden snowmen on the table next to the front door, a scene of those porcelain house and figures on a swath of batting on the side table in the dining room, several little penguins in festive hats scattered throughout the kitchen—

It’s almost addictive. Every new addition to your home leaves you giddy, giggling like a child on a sugar high. You dart all over the place, finessing and adjusting which decorations go where until it’s all just right.

Maybe it comes from never decorating for anything during your childhood. Your parents were stridently against any sort of frivolity, citing “hedonism” and “blasphemy” and “not following in the path of Christ” any of the few times you dared to ask.

Woe to thee, Pharisees and Sadducees, you think as you finish hanging a strand of red, holographic tinsel. Your upper lip curls in derision as you float back down to the floor.

Piotr looks over at you when you let out a ragged sigh. “Everything alright, myshka?”

“Yeah.” You sigh again. “Just… thinking about my parents.”

Piotr leaves the tree –which is looking far less bedraggled than it did first coming out of the box. He crosses the room and puts his arms around you once he’s by your side. “It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

“I know, I know. I just get mad at them sometimes.”

“As you have every right to be.” He kisses the top of your head. “I am so sorry, myshka.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You tip your head back so you can kiss him properly. “You want to light one of the candles I got?”

“Sure. You pick.”

“In that case, I’m lighting all of them.”

Piotr laughs as he ambles back over to the tree. “Please, no.”

You start pulling candles out of a paper bag and line them up on the kitchen counter. “We’ve got ‘Peppermint Hot Chocolate,’ ‘Sugar Cookie,’ ‘Frosted Holly,’ ‘Sugar and Spice,’ ‘Fresh Pine,’ ‘Cranberry Orange Zest,’ ‘Gingerbread Dreams,’ ‘Minty Mocha,--’”

“Bozhe ty moi,” Piotr guffaws, shoulders shaking as he laughs. He presses a hand against his stomach and shakes his head. “How many did you get?”

“As many as I wanted!” You stick your tongue out at him when he continues laughing and keep lining up candles on the counter. “Shut up! I’ve never gotten to have shit like this before.”

Piotr sobers abruptly. He stares at you, forehead creasing with sorrow. “I am sorry, myshka. I did not consider this.”

“No, no, no.” You leave your plethora of candles at the counter and go over to him. “It’s okay, honey,” you assure him as you wrap your arms around his waist. “I was poking fun back at you, sweetheart. I wasn’t offended, I swear.”

“That is good to know.” Piotr strokes your hair with one hand. “But… it hurts me. I remember that you had so little, and were treated so cruelly, and—”

You hold him tighter when his voice breaks. “It’s okay, Piotr. I’m okay. I’ve got you now. And all the candles I could ever want!”

He laughs, even if it’s wet and shaky. “Da, very true.” He wipes a few stray tears off his cheeks. “Pick candle you like best, myshka. Anything is fine with me.”

“So, I can light all of them at once—”

“Nyet. Tochno net.”

“But—”

“Nyet.”

“But it—”

“Nyet.”

“You’re not even letting me explain myself!”

“Correct.” Piotr grins when you scrunch your face up at him, then kisses your forehead. “One candle, myshka. Please.”

You sigh dramatically, heaving your shoulders and rolling your eyes. “Fine. I guess I just have to smell each one until I can decide which one’s the best.”

“You will give yourself headache.”

“No, I won’t! I’m invincible!”

Piotr shakes his head as you skip back over to the counter. “Whatever you say, moya lyubov’.”

 ***

  You don’t give yourself a headache –but you do switch between smelling candles so fast that you lose your sense of smell.

“I’m wounded!” you scream as you inhale into your shirt to try and clear your nose. “Forever disabled! I’m gonna die!”

“I warned you,” Piotr says, smiling all the same. He carefully sniffs a few candles, then takes a lighter and lights ‘Gingerbread Dreams.’ “This one is best.”

“How dare you mock me!”

“My sincerest apologies.” He sets the candle on the center of the counter, then faces you. “Are you ready to decorate tree?”

“Sure. You want to start on lights while I pick which ornaments to use?”

Piotr shoots you a dubious glance. His gaze flicks between you and the sea of plastic bags still covering the floor. “Myshka… why would you need to pick?”

“Well…” You shift from foot to foot as your voice trails off. “I wasn’t sure… what color scheme we’d go with…”

He sighs like the longsuffering saint he is. “How many did you get?”

“Uh…” You rifle through the bags, pulling out box after box of shimmery, shiny baubles. “Enough?”

Piotr’s eyes bug out of his head. “Y/N—”

“We can donate the ones we don’t use.”

“Yes, yes we will.” Piotr runs a hand over his face, shaking his head. He sighs heavily, then grabs a strand of lights and starts weaving it between the tree branches. “Thank goodness for extra spending money.”

***

 The two of you settle on a white, gold, and red theme for the tree, since there’s plenty of green in the rest of the house. Between the tree, finishing the other decorations, and the tidying up –at Piotr’s insistence—it’s late evening before the two of you finish up.

You nestle against Piotr’s side. The two of you are on the couch, resting and admiring your handiwork in the light of the fire and the thousands of string lights. “It looks pretty.”

“Da.” Piotr drapes a thick, burly arm around your shoulders. “You chose well.”

You snort. “Hard to go wrong when you buy half the store.”

“You chose well,” he repeats, voice soft and loving. He kisses your temple. “Our home looks wonderful, moya solntse.”

You beam and lay your head against his chest. “Yeah. It does.”

[elexica]

Always Tomorrow

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433880

A gift from a while back to @alectoperdita​; part of my AU-Gust 2020 Project; and it’s about time I cross posted it to Tumblr. Summary:  Joey is a tattoo artist who specializes in Duel Monsters and scar coverage. Kaiba is a walk-in client. Tags and Trigger Warnings:  Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, AU-gust 2020, ygocollablove, Scars, lot of talking about scars, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, BUT only about the scars, Pre-Slash, but there is SO much yearning, Hurt/Comfort, but honestly mostly comfort, oops all comfort Full fic under the cut:

. . .

“Tell me something. You ever felt this way? The burdens of this life, they've really got a way of dragging you real far down to the ground.”

-          “Master of My Own Mind” by Best Coast

. . .

“We don’t take walk-ins,” Joey said.  His shirt was rolled up to the elbow, revealing intricate tattoo sleeves.  A Red-Eyes Black Dragon screamed around his forearm, moving back and forth as he handled the cash register system.  Kaiba’s eyes lingered on the smooth lines of the wings paired with the sharp forms of the scales.  And that wasn’t the only eye-catching ink that Joey was sporting—Kaiba was entranced by a series of watercolor scapegoats and kanji trailed down his neck and disappeared into the plain black shirt that read “Eat, Sleep, Duel Monsters.”  

Kaiba’s eyes widened. “But this is a tattoo parlor.  And I saw your picture on the website, you’re Joey Wheeler.  I like your work.  Is there anything that would prevent you from completing a tattoo at this time?”

“Company policy,” Joey shrugged, revealing the tip of Flame Swordsman’s flaming sword, poking out from under his collar.  “We can’t just drop everything for everyone who wanders in.  There’s a system.” It must be a very large piece, Kaiba reasoned, given the size of the flame.  He wanted desperately to see more of it.

“Name the price.  I can pay upfront.”

Joey shrugged again. “I’ve got a schedule, man.”

Kaiba removed his credit card, placing the heavy material on the glass countertop.  The glossy black card opened many doors for him.  An assortment of rings for various piercings were posed in black velvet in the case beneath.

“You are clearly not busy.”  

Joey looked offended and went back to logging inventory.

Kaiba was not a man who was skillful in pleading—but he was more than capable at negotiation.  The card clicked threateningly on the counter as Kaiba impatiently tapped it.  

“Fine.  Are you available for a consultation?”

Joey smiled warmly, recognizing his own victory.  “Now we’re talkin’, c’mon back.”

Kaiba followed obediently, gawking over the large sigil of the millennium eye that all but glowed at the nape of his neck.  The longer blond strands of his hair brushed against the icon’s upper eyelid.  

The hallway turned into an actual, honest-to-god office, which was the last thing Kaiba expected. Joey pulled out a sketchbook as he leaned against his black desk.  Joey waved one hand for Kaiba to sit, a swirling monochrome haze behind the image of the cartoon time wizard with his little scepter.

“So, what are you thinking? You’re tall as hell, so there’s plenty of canvas!” Joey laughed, all sunshine and shiny white teeth.  

Kaiba’s cheeks burned as he drummed up the will to answer the question.  “In my research, you have something of a specialty in scar cover-ups.” Kaiba was not a man who would cower in his own shame.  But the thought of baring himself completely, his secrets and those eternal marks of his loss, for this stranger… it stung at his dignity.  He needed to do something today, or he would lose the will.

Joey’s smile dimmed compassionately.  This was not going to be a routine intake appointment.  He prided himself on careful and clever scar coverage, but those appointments usually took on a different tenor.  Few people have scars from positive experiences, and the raw intensity of Joey’s client gave the clear impression that it would hardly be a routine appointment.

“I do,” Joey swallowed, “So, what are we working with?”

It was such a simple question.  Kaiba adjusted the cufflinks on his wrists nervously.  He had promised himself he wouldn’t be ashamed.  There was nothing that he had done wrong.

He wished Mokuba had come with him.  It was his idea in the first place.

Joey was suddenly very close, just inches away.  “Hey, it’s alright.  Take a breath.”

Kaiba did not want to obey his command, but he couldn’t resist a sharp intake of breath.  He released it slowly, as if to prove a point. He wasn’t freaking out.  

“For a lotta people, tattoos that cover scars transform a person’s relationship to their body, and to what happened to ‘em.  It can be part of the healing process,” Joey said, slowly.  The sheer volume of his empathy weighed down his words and made them linger in Kaiba’s mind.

Transform.  Happened. Healing.

Kaiba continued to take long, intentional breaths.  The scars burned at the back of his neck and across his back.

Joey reached out a hand towards Kaiba’s face before thinking better of making contact.  The hand froze there, suspended close to his cheekbone. It was then that Kaiba realized his eyes were leaking tears.  Joey had moved to wipe them away.

This whole event was too humiliating, Kaiba thought.  And he couldn���t do it.  

“This was a bad idea,” Kaiba said, sucking in enough air to straighten his back.  He bore a hole in the wall with his eyes, trying to absorb any collateral moisture.  

“Hey, for a lotta people, it’s a part of reclaiming your body, after something hard,” Joey curled his fingers around the hem of his shirt and revealed a gnarly scar just above his right hip.  It was composed of a lot of smaller cuts, webbed together in a semi-circle. The raised skin had been left exposed, with dashes of black woven in to create the swirl at the center of the “Polymerization” card.  The only colors were those of the orange dragons swimming around the vortex in their own lazy waves.  “It was for me.  My friend Yugi did this one.”

Joey reached out, and slowly took Kaiba’s hand.  

“It doesn’t have to cover the whole thing, if you don’t want it too.  See!”

He drew Kaiba’s hand in, softly bringing Kaiba’s fingertips to his skin.  Kaiba’s arm was entirely tense, and he could have pulled back at any time.  But he couldn’t resist—the curiosity bubbled within him.  The pads of his fingers skimmed over the scar tissue in its randomness, and the disciplined smooth black stripes emanating from the twisted center.  Kaiba was almost shocked at how warm Joey’s skin was.  He wanted desperately to touch more, but when Joey dropped his hand, Kaiba withdrew it.  

“Alright, I showed you mine.  You feelin’ up to showing me yours?”  Joey’s grin was so painfully warm.

Kaiba couldn’t help but nod. He began to unbutton his shirt. Button by button, Kaiba kept his breathing steady by force of will.  The rise and fall of his chest felt especially vulnerable with his buttons undone. He moved to his cufflinks.

“Ah, shirt’s fine, but ya gotta warn me if the pants are comin’ off too!” Joey said with a gentle laugh. Joey’s eyes were undeniably glued to Kaiba’s abs, which made Kaiba’s breathing even more fragile.

Kaiba paused, fingers fumbling with the cufflink on his right hand.  “It… just my shirt.”  Kaiba spent his life speaking in eloquent sentences that drove investors to throw money at any idea that so must as sparked in his mind.  He gave talks at industry conventions that brought the consumer electronics world to its knees.  And he couldn’t force out a full sentence in front of this man.

“It’s okay,” Joey reassured. It didn’t feel practiced or put on. It almost felt like talking to a therapist.

Kaiba tugged off his shirt in one smooth move.  

Finally, it was Joey’s turn to have the wind knocked out of him.  

Kaiba braced for the inevitable questions.  Those long, deep, even lines across his back scorched under the other man’s stare. And the little lines at the nape of his neck seared.  The best lie that Kaiba had brainstormed on his way over was that it was a very bizarre car accident.  Kaiba stressed internally that perhaps Joey thought Kaiba had done this on purpose, though the mechanics would have been infeasible.

But, like a professional, Joey didn’t ask any questions.  He didn’t gasp.  He didn’t even gawk for a significant amount of time.

“Alright!” Joey said, perhaps a touch too upbeat.  “So, what’re we talkin’?”

Kaiba inhaled very slowly and began to replace his light blue Oxford shirt.  “You, clearly, appreciate Duel Monsters.”

“Ha!  Appreciate is a diplomatic way ta put it!  I’m one a’ the greatest duelists that Domino has eva seen!” Joey’s smile was back to beaming at full wattage, like he hadn’t just witnessed Kaiba’s secret torture.

Kaiba was determined not to highlight his position in Kaiba Corp.  The last thing he needed was this man to know everything—or make any educated guesses.  He was already trying to slough off the sensation of being pitied.  Still, he’d have to put this amateur in his place.  “I have been called the Prince of Cards, and was National Champion, but now is hardly the time—”

Joey put down the Duel Disk he had grabbed from a drawer in his desk.  “Yeah, not the time.”

Kaiba failed to suppress a smirk.  It was jarring how quickly this man could bring him back to himself.  “Anyway, I thought I could cover the… damage on the back with the Blue Eyes Ultimate Dragon.”

Joey nodded.  “That sounds super sick!! But that is going to take a lot of planning.  And you want—”

“Nothing to show through. I was sort of imagining it in the style of a Yakuza boss.  Just very powerful.”

Joey looked up, imagining it in his mind’s eye.  “Alright, I can take down the information and draw up some sketches.  That would be a very expensive piece, and pretty time consuming for both of us.”

“Money is no object,” Kaiba stated, ice cold and prideful.

“Is there anything else you’re thinking of?” Joey asked.

Kaiba’s hand flew to the back of his neck.  “A very small piece of code.  I’ll write it down.”  

The pad was heavier than Kaiba had anticipated, and Kaiba almost trembled as he wrote out the phrase: “pid_t pid = fork();”.

“I have never done a tattoo like that!” Joey remarked. “This won’t fully cover the scar.”

Kaiba nodded sternly. “That’s fine.  It actually should go between the lines.  It’s a very specific piece of code: it’s the basic invocation of a ‘fork,’ which is how a program splits itself and spawns new programs. It’s critical to the function of any Linux system, anywhere.  One process starts when you boot up, and then it’s all forks from there.”

“Uh, ok.  And what does that have to do with you, exactly?” Joey raised an eyebrow, affecting a serious “thinking” face.

“I don’t believe in fate. I make my choices and I live with them. For me, it means that I am always at a new decision point, and I build my life on these decision points.  No one else builds it for me,” Kaiba looked directly into Joey’s attentive caramel eyes.  “And my past does not define me.  I am one fork away from a new program.  The next challenge.  A new life.”  

The explanation spread a smile across Joey’s face. “That would take me maybe, thirty minutes?  I could do it now, if you’d like.  In that spot, it would hurt like a bitch, but something tells me—”

“Pain is no object.”

“Yeah, right, so, if you’re still determined to walk out of here with a tatt, we can do that,” Joey said.

Kaiba smiled, just a tiny bit.  “I’d like that.”

 FIN

 . . .

“For me there's always tomorrow, even when I'm drowning in my sorrows. I gotta focus, gotta rewind, gotta stay the master of my own mind.”

-          Best Coast “Master of My Own Mind”

  The whole fic is really inspired by a difficult time in my life, and this really great Best Coast song, “Master of My Own Mind,” which everyone should listen to, because it’s very compelling.

Credit to my irl boy Jack for the coding tattoo idea that I don’t *think* has been done before! Without him, this would be “hello world” lol!

Like the boys with tattoos? You'd love Alecto's work, "A Fool's Puzzle" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23464288).

Image credit:  Photo by Sebastian Voortman from Pexels Edits by me.  

[smallplaceinthecosmos]

No Roman is an Island

If you’ll excuse the title pun, it popped into my head while I was writing and I couldn’t not use it. I’ve been in the fandom for a few months now, but I think this is my first real contribution to it; the fic was inspired by this post by @coconut-cluster, which is funny because it wasn’t technically a Sanders Sides post but far be it from me to pass up some inspiration, especially since I haven’t really written anything since before I got into Sanders Sides, and I was very excited to get involved. It was originally going to be mainly prinxiety but it ended up involving all the core four Sides pretty much equally, and I think I like it better this way, tbh. I wanted to involve Deceit and Remus too, but it didn’t happen naturally and I didn’t want to shoehorn them in.

Summary: Virgil was no stranger to feeling uncomfortable, and in fact he rather considered it his default state, but new things were still new things, and they had taken some getting used to. By now, Virgil thinks he's a fair bit more comfortable with the other Sides than he had been in the past.

That said, whatever is going on with Roman right now is a new kind of weird, and Virgil isn't sure what to think of it.

Pairings: platonic LAMP/CALM (can be romantic if you want, but it’s pretty ambiguous)

Warnings: description of injury, minor character death(possibly? Not sure if it counts but I’ll include it just in case), low self-esteem (and please let me know if I’m missing anything!)

Genre: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3826

AO3 Link

It hasn't ever been a bad change, learning to live with the Light Sides, Virgil thinks. He's gotten used to a lot of unusual things the Sides did, since they've accepted him (and if he’s entirely honest, to some extent before that). It wasn't anything bad, necessarily, that the Light Sides did; they were just...weird, sometimes.

That wasn't to say Virgil thought he and the other Dark Sides weren't strange in their own ways, of course - obviously, Remus couldn't by any stretch of the imagination be called "normal" compared to the other Sides, and Deceit and Virgil had their own eccentricities - but at least that had been weirdness he was used to. 

When Patton had said things, sometimes, that for just a moment made Virgil raise an eyebrow and wonder what was actually going on in his head, or when Roman was feeling particularly dramatic and saw some need to drag Virgil and the others into some fantastical scheme, or when Logan put his signature jam on the most unusual of foods...Virgil was no stranger to feeling uncomfortable, and in fact he rather considered it his default state, but new things were still new things, and they had taken some getting used to. By now, Virgil thinks he's a fair bit more comfortable with the other Sides than he had been in the past.

That said, whatever is going on with Roman right now is a new kind of weird, and Virgil isn't sure what to think of it. He watches over his phone screen from his seat on the couch as Roman dashes in and out of the common room, looking considerably more disheveled than Virgil thinks is normal. Whenever he comes through, he seems distracted - in all the times he's passed through, Virgil's not sure that Roman has noticed him on the couch, and it's been a couple of hours at this point - and more than a little disconcerted, which in turn makes Virgil a lot disconcerted. 

The more Virgil watches, the more he feels a need to say something. Say what, though? "Hey, Princey, you look like you were personally threatened by an eldritch horror, what's up?"

But during one fifteen minute period of waiting for Roman to reappear, Virgil sighs quietly and decides he should probably at least make some show of concern, instead of sitting on it and not helping either of them. So when Roman pops back in, before Virgil can lose his nerve, he calls, “Hey, Princey, what’s got your sash in a twist?”

It comes out harsher than Virgil meant for it to, and Roman jumps, clearly caught off guard. This, in turn, catches Virgil off guard, and they stand staring at each other for a long moment before Virgil clears his throat and adds, “I’ve been here all morning and you haven’t even tried to insult me once.”

Roman blinks once, twice at Virgil, and then replies, “Well ex-cuse you, tall, dark, and emo; I’m a very busy prince.” His faux-offended tone and the hint of a grin on his face ease Virgil’s worry somewhat, but Roman adds, “I’m working on something. I’ll talk to you later,” and turns to leave as suddenly as he’d arrived.

“Roman, hold on - “ Virgil begins, but Roman pretends not to hear him as he leaves, and Virgil is left alone again. He figures Roman will probably tell him when he’s ready, anyway, and decides to leave it alone for now.

“For now,” it seems, lasts until lunch, which Roman doesn’t show up for. When Patton expresses his concern, Virgil decides he should probably tell them what he’d noticed - maybe they would have a better idea of what’s going on than he does.

As it turns out, they don’t. “He’s clearly hiding something from us,” Logan says when Virgil explains. 

“We don’t know that,” Patton says, but it sounds more like a question than an argument. “Maybe nothing’s going on at all. Maybe it’s something good! Some kind of surprise, or a cool idea to show Thomas.”

“Well, whatever it is, he shouldn’t be running himself ragged doing it,” Virgil tells Patton. “That’s enough reason for me to want to say something. But if he won’t explain himself...”

“We could try to talk to him together,” Patton suggests. “Maybe if he knows we’re all worried about him…?”

“If he wasn’t willing to talk to Virgil by himself, I don’t think he would be more willing to talk with all three of us cornering him,” Logan responds with a shake of his head.

“If he would be willing to talk to any of us, though, it’d be you, Pat,” Virgil adds. “Maybe you can try to talk to him on your own?”

“I can try,” Patton agrees.

Patton doesn’t fare much better, though - it takes him hours to even catch sight of Roman long enough to stop him and try to question him, and from what Patton tells Virgil and Logan, Roman brushed him off just as easily as he’d brushed off Virgil, leaving them with no answers and several more questions.

Patton protests when Logan suggests they take somewhat more drastic measures. “We can’t just go sneaking after him,” he argues with a displeased frown. “Isn’t that kind of a breach of trust? What if he has a reason for not saying anything?”

They’re in Logan’s room this time, because it’s easier to deal with than Virgil’s or Patton’s rooms, but out of the common room where Roman might overhear. Patton had already expressed that he was feeling a bit underhanded, meeting somewhere out of the way just to avoid Roman. Virgil had to admit, he almost felt the same way.

“Pat does have a point, Lo,” Virgil sighs from his typical spot on the stairs. “If we’re wrong, and it isn’t a big deal, or if it is a big deal, and we make things worse…”

“Do you think we’re wrong?” Logan asks. Virgil blinks at him, not having expected the question, and Logan elaborates, “Roman has given us plenty of reason to believe that he’s struggling with something, and he refuses to share what it is with us. What we don’t know is why he’s hiding it - but I’m willing to take a chance on the fact that this is something that needs to be brought to light for Roman’s sake. There’s more harm to be done if we ignore it.”

“So it’s between Roman possibly being mad at us...or Roman possibly getting hurt,” Virgil says. “Sounds dumb to argue if you think about it that way.”

“I guess it’s a little more obvious when you say it like that,” Patton agrees, though he still sounds somewhat resigned on the subject.

They discuss a plan for following Roman for a little while longer before they’re satisfied with it. It’s late by then, and Logan insists they go to bed - not that Virgil sleeps much anyway. The next morning, Roman doesn’t show up to breakfast (which is less strange than not appearing for lunch, and sometimes happens for more benign reasons, though they suspect in this case it isn’t), so they loiter in the common room until Roman shows up again.

He doesn’t acknowledge them if he notices them, but in this case, it works to their advantage - the less noticeable they are, the easier they can follow him. Virgil takes the lead to make sure they keep a safe distance without losing him.

Virgil is somewhat confused as he peeks around a corner and watches Roman slip into the Imagination.

He’s not sure why he finds it strange - Roman is Creativity, or at least one part of it, so he spends plenty of time in the Imagination. This isn’t strange. Perhaps that’s why it seems strange, though, because Roman was acting out of the ordinary, so Virgil was expecting him to be doing something out of the ordinary.

Either way, they go up to the door, and Logan cracks it open to peek inside.

The Imagination can look like almost anything, by virtue of its very nature, but right now it’s an endless stretch of land: a vast meadow to the left, and a dense oak forest to their right. Roman is nowhere in sight.

Logan lets the door swing open, and the three Sides step into the Imagination. The door swings closed behind them on its own and disappears, though any of them can summon it to exit whenever they wish. Roman had probably entered somewhere different than they had, as he’d likely had more idea where he was going than they did. He can’t be far, though, Virgil knows.

“He’s gotta be somewhere around here,” Virgil tells the other two.

Logan nods and says, “At least we can see clearly that he’s not - ” he pauses to gesture out at the tall grasses that stretch out into the distance, “anywhere in that direction. Which means he must be in the forest.”

“It’ll take ages to find him in there,” Virgil grumbles. They head into the forest anyway, and, thankfully, quickly find a clear trodden path to follow instead of having to push through the brush and get stuck with thorns and smacked with low-hanging branches. There’s no sign of Roman, though, until a few minutes later, when Patton suddenly stops and hushes them. 

Virgil and Logan stop, surprised, as Patton listens for a moment before he says, “Do you guys hear that?”

He doesn’t wait for a response before taking off in the direction of whatever he’d heard, and Virgil and Logan have no choice but to follow him. As they get closer, though, they hear something that sounds like fighting - and when they catch up to Patton, crouched behind some bushes and peeking between the leaves, they see what caught his attention:

There are dozens of them - small, green-skinned...gremlins, Virgil’s mind supplies, that might be just below waist height to him, wielding rudimentary weapons of clubs and spears and the like. They don’t look like Roman’s usual style, Virgil thinks - they’re nearly identical to each other, and there’s no intelligence in their eyes, only malice. Virgil wonders if Remus thought them up.

At the center of it all is Roman, brandishing his sword almost desperately, slicing through enemies that disappear in a puff of smoke as they “die” (are they even properly alive? Virgil isn’t sure). Is this what he’d been worried about? What’s so special about these things? And most importantly, what’s the need in hiding it?

As one of the small creatures charges Roman,he turns to face it, and another comes at him from the side directly opposite from where the other Sides are watching. As they watch Roman deal with them, leaving a pair of  Logan’s eyes widen and he jolts upright from his crouched position at some realization Virgil isn’t privy to.

Logan wastes no time letting them wonder, though, and hisses to the others under his breath, “They’re actually injuring him.”

Upon closer inspection, Virgil realizes that Logan is right - minor cuts and bruises litter Roman’s forearms, and one lucky hit had left a more serious wound along his ribs. Had he been this injured yesterday? How hadn’t Virgil noticed?

More importantly, how was Roman injured at all? Not a lot of things in the mindscape could actually leave a lasting mark on one of the Sides, not even another Side - Remus’s antics were generally unpleasant, but they didn’t typically last. The only things that had ever really hurt any of them had been outside circumstances, reflected in Thomas’s psyche. None of Roman or even Remus’s creations should be able to do this sort of thing.

Most of the gremlin creatures are defeated by now. “Roman?” Patton calls suddenly. He sounds concerned; uncertain as he stands so Roman can see him. Logan and then Virgil quickly follow. Roman whips around with a startled look, and in his momentary distraction his guard slips enough for one of the smaller goblin-like creatures to get in a hit with a long-reaching, fire-hardened wooden spear. “What are you guys doing here?!” Roman growls as he turns his attention back to the remaining monsters. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he shakes his head and says, “Never mind, just...go, I’ll handle this, it’s fine!”

The others definitely do not go, and Virgil lays into Roman, who’s a bit distracted fighting for his life at the time. As the last waist-height goblin is dispatched, he turns around to face the others.

“What do you mean it’s fine?! This doesn’t look like fine, Princey!” Virgil is saying. “What’s going on, why are you acting so...weird?!”

“Virgil is right, Roman,” Logan chimes in. “You know if something is going on you can tell us.”

“Nothing is going on,” Roman insists. “I can handle it. I’ve been handling it, really, it’s okay, you guys can go back to,” Roman makes a vague hand gesture, “whatever you were doing. It’s cool.” “You’ve been handling what?” Virgil asks.

Before Roman can come up with an excuse, something else appears where the gremlins had stood. It doesn’t come from anywhere - it simply materializes from a cloud of smoke like the gremlins had disappeared into, large and singular and intimidating where a horde of goblins had pushed and crowded. Three big canine heads come into existence snapping and snarling on a huge four-legged body. He towers over the Sides, and Logan, Virgil, and Patton stumble back at the sight of the creature.

Roman looks between three slavering maws and three pairs of wide eyes, and then his own eyes meet Virgil’s, and - 

“Don’t even fucking think about it - “ Virgil manages to get out before the sudden feeling of falling hits him, and the Imagination falls away around him. When he comes back up, he’s disoriented for a moment before Patton cries out wordlessly and is suddenly pounding on the door to the Imagination...from the outside. Roman kicked them out of the Imagination.

“Shit,” Virgil mutters before trying the handle.

It’s locked, of course, so Virgil alternates between joining Patton in banging on the door and trying the handle again. Logan watches with equal concern, but doesn’t join them - they all know it’s probably useless anyway, but it makes Virgil feel like he’s at least trying, so he doesn’t stop. This goes on for several minutes before, all of a sudden, the door opens on its own. Patton rushes in immediately.

Virgil and Logan don’t waste any time following him.

Roman wakes up with a nasty headache.

And an everything else-ache, for that matter.

He lets out a little pained noise and hears someone shifting nearby. When he manages  to crack his eyelids open, Logan is standing over him with an unreadable expression.

Roman realizes he’s in the common room, laid out on the couch propped up with pillows and a blanket tucked under him.

“What - ” Roman begins, and realizes even talking hurts right now.

But it’s fine because Logan already knows what he was going to ask, and tells him, “You tried to fight a ten foot tall, three-headed hellbeast on your own. While already injured,” he stresses.

“Sorry,” Roman mutters, and neither he nor Logan is sure exactly what he’s apologizing for.

“Do you...need some water, or anything?” Logan asks awkwardly.

Roman opens his mouth to respond before thinking better of it and just nodding instead.

While Logan is in the kitchen, there’s nothing to distract Roman from how much everything hurts. He thinks, bitterly, if the others just weren’t so nosy -

But that’s not fair to them, Roman knows. He should have been more careful and then they wouldn’t have found out in the first place, and then they wouldn’t have been there at all.God, Patton and Virgil were probably worried sick.

Then Logan is back with his water, and helps Roman sit up to drink it as Roman takes stock of the bandages on his own extremities, feels the aching wounds on his torso, reaches up to gingerly touch the gauze wrapped around his head...the gravity of the situation sinks in a little further.

When Roman sinks back into the couch, still wrapped in the blanket but opting not to lay back down, Logan detaches himself from Roman and stands as he says, “I’m going to tell Patton and Virgil that you’re awake.” Logan’s brow furrows into a faintly concerned expression as he adds, “They were worried about you.” Maybe it’s Roman’s imagination, but Logan sounds a little softer than he did before, as Roman avoids his eyes. It still feels like an accusation, even though Roman knows Logan didn’t mean it that way. 

He doesn’t hear the unspoken “So was I” in Logan’s tone.

Roman is only left alone for a few moments before all three of the others rejoin him, Patton bounding into the room with a relieved exclamation of “Roman!”

Even as Roman flinches at his volume, he sees tears brimming Patton’s eyes and feels the guilt worm its way into the marrow of his bones.

Virgil sees Roman wince and taps Patton on the shoulder to get his attention, putting a finger to his lips wordlessly. Patton looks from Virgil back to Roman, and says in a more mollified tone, “Sorry, kiddo.” He sits next to Roman on the couch, taking Roman’s unbandaged left hand in his own and rubbing his thumb in circles over the back of Roman’s hand. Virgil sits on Roman’s other side, slightly further away than Patton, not touching Roman. Logan joins them on Virgil’s right.

“Sorry I worried you guys,” Roman says hoarsely.

“Damn right you are,” Virgil growls. “You could’ve died! What would’ve happened if we hadn’t noticed that something was wrong? What if something worse had shown up? What if you hadn’t beaten it?” Virgil runs an unsteady hand through his hair, and Roman avoids looking at the other Side’s stricken expression.

“But I did beat it. It’s fine, Virgil,” Roman tries to reassure him. It’s a testament to how not fine it is, though, that Roman can’t even come up with a good nickname to ease the tension, and in the moment of silence that follows, Roman chooses instead to focus on how his ribs ache. 

“Stop saying that,” Virgil hisses, smacking his hands on his knees in frustration.

"If I may,” Logan interrupts, placing a hand on Virgil’s arm for a moment, as though it were a way to ask permission. “Roman, what were those things that attacked you? What makes you think you have to deal with them alone?”

Roman hesitates for a moment before he answers. “Back when Thomas was a kid, whenever he was...dealing with something, it was my job to keep his spirits up. Through my art, yes; that was a lot of what I did. But sometimes those issues manifested a little more physically. Or as physical as things in the mindscape can be anyway - ”

“Like those little gremlin things?” Patton interrupts, and Roman nods. “I think they’re like...the way Thomas processes emotional, uh, distress or something?” Roman continues. “They always show up after something happens that make Thomas upset. Like a bad grade on a test in high school would be an evil sorcerer, or...or feeling bad about doing something wrong would be a bloodthirsty dire wolf, or - ” Roman cuts off, evidently deciding against saying whatever he’d been about to say.  “...Yeah. They’re different monsters depending on whatever thing Thomas is dealing with. And I help him deal with them.”

“So you’ve been doing this for all those years by yourself?” Virgil asks, voice still sounding somewhat strained.

“I’m Creativity, I’m the one who’s supposed to be able to get rid of that stuff,” Roman replies lamely.

Virgil scoffs. “And look how well that’s working out for you.”

“I can handle it!” Roman insists, but as he sits up straight to make his point, a shock of pain runs through his side and he inhales sharply, leaning back against the couch gingerly, feeling as though that’s less true than it’s ever been.

“But you shouldn’t have to,” Patton insists, and he’s still holding Roman’s good hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Not by yourself. We want to help you, Roman, all you have to do is let us.”

“It doesn’t need to be your problem,” Roman mumbles, and he doesn’t know if the others hear him, but clearly they get the gist, because Logan speaks up next.

“Roman, we’re not here out of obligation,” he begins, catching Roman’s eye as he leans forward to look at the other Side properly. “As I said before, if you have a problem, you can come to us with it. If things get to be too much, there’s no shame in asking for help. Stepping back and reevaluating the situation can be more helpful in the long run than rushing in to deal with things head on - and the worst thing you can do is push away the people who care about you.”

After taking a moment to process Logan’s words, Roman tears his gaze away from Logan’s and laughs dryly. There are a few long moments of silence, and then Patton says, "Can you just...promise me you won't get in trouble like that again without saying something? I don't - we don't want you to get hurt."

Patton's looking up at Roman, and he looks so earnest, Roman knows he's not escaping without giving a real answer.

"Okay," Roman replies. "Okay, I can do that, Padre." He leans into the other's side, and the smile he gets in response alleviates some of the pressure Roman feels weighing on him. He manages a small smile back.

"Hey, we mean it, Princey, if you get so much as a scratch and we don't find out about it you're never hearing the end of it," Virgil threatens, but there's more fondness in his voice than there had been.

“But for now…” Patton releases Roman’s hand, and Roman is disappointed for a moment before Patton claps his hands together and says, smiling, “Since we’re all out here, why don’t we have a movie night?”

The other three agree without any cajoling, and Roman is more enthusiastic than is probably strictly necessary, but that’s not unusual normally, and particularly not when Roman feels has so much to make up to them.

Patton gets up to pick out a movie, and asks, “How do you feel about Mary Poppins, Roman?”

“I think that Julie Andrews is a goddess and that sounds,” Roman pauses dramatically, “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!”

Logan goes to get snacks, and in the meantime Roman badgers Virgil into being his pillow. When Logan returns to see Roman sprawled dramatically across Virgil and Patton’s laps, he raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

And if a few minutes into the movie, Roman falls asleep with his face buried in Virgil’s hoodie, snoring gently...well, Virgil doesn’t say anything about that, either.

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 2: Chapter 8

Louis in NYC: June 2016

Word count: 2.5k

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

The song Louis and Rori write in this chapter is Leave a Light On by Tom Walker. I decided really early on in this fic that this song was going to be one of Aurora’s and I just think it’s beautiful

>Instagram posts

The night after Niall left, Aurora woke with a start, sweat beading across her forehead and her left arm aching. She laid still in the darkness, staring up towards the ceiling as her chest heaved with every laboured breath. After a while she began to calm but after looking at the clock and seeing that it was around 4 in the morning she groaned, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. She grabbed her phone off the bedside table and opened WhatsApp.

◊Aurora: Are you free?

◊Harry: I am. What are you doing up so early?

Instead of replying, she hit the call button at the top of the screen, waiting as the dial tone rang for a brief moment.

“What’s wrong love?” Harry asked.

“Sorry,” Aurora murmured. “Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Not at all. We’re just broke for an early lunch,” Harry said. “Now tell me what’s got awake at 4am?”

Aurora sighed heavily, her heart already settling back into its normal rhythm, soothed by the familiar cadence of Harry’s voice. “Nightmare’s again.”

“Thought you said they were getting better?” he asked, concern thick in his voice and she could picture the way his brows would be lowered over his eyes.

“They were,” she sighed. “I think having Niall around all the time helped.”

“He went home yesterday?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Saw you two went out on the town,” he chuckled. “Looked like fun.”

“It was. Felt like old times.”

“I’m glad you had fun…” his voice trailed off, struggling to keep up the light-hearted mood in the wake of his concern for her.

“I’ll be alright H. Just missing you.”

“I’ll be home before you know it,” he promised and she smiled softly, happy to hear him referring to the tower as home.

“Enough about me,” she said. “Tell me all about being a big movie star.”

He chuckled but told her all about being on set and how he was getting along with his co-stars. “Baby, I gotta get back to work,” he said after a while. “You gonna be able to sleep now?”

“Probably not,” she sighed. “Might just go downstairs and paint for a while.”

“Ok. I love you.”

“And I love you Harry.”

xXx

Aurora was in the kitchen a few days after her early morning talk with Harry. She was making a cup of tea, her back to the rest of the room where the open plan kitchen looked out across the large living room. She heard the elevator doors slide open over in the far corner of the room, paying it no mind, assuming it was one of the towers residence coming or going as they often did. She added a splash of milk to her mug and returned the carton to the fridge, almost dropping the bottle when a familiar voice yelled out. “Oi Oi!”

She spun around, her face already lighting up with a grin the moment her eyes landed on him. “Louis!” she screamed, running across the room to throw herself into his arms. “What are you doing here?” she asked as he spun her around, his bags forgotten at his feet.

“Missed you love,” he replied. “Got jealous that you spent 3 weeks straight with Irish and I had to come get my own quality time with ya.”

“Harry called, didn’t he?” she asked.

“He was just worried about you getting a bit lonely without him,” Louis explained, finally putting her back on her feet. “Don’t be mad at him.”

“I’m not mad,” Aurora argued. Louis laughed as she followed him into the living room, sitting down next to her on the sofa, folding his leg underneath him to turn and face her completely. “I’m not. I just wish everything would go back to normal. It’s not like I can be angry at him or my parents treating me like I’m broken. They’re not wrong.”

“You’re fine,” Louis scoffed. “There’s nothing wrong with needing to have people around you who care about you. H didn’t ask me to be here with you because he thinks you’ll fall apart on your own, he wanted me here because he feels guilty that he left right after the surgery.”

“I know he feels guilty not being here,” she said. “I think I worried him when I called him the night after Niall left.”

“Why’s that?” Louis asked, his hand resting on her knee.

“I have nightmares when I’m alone at night,” she explained. “Most nights that Niall was here I ended up crashing in his room because I didn’t want to be on my own.”

“Sounds like we’re gonna have plenty of sleepovers then,” Louis joked.

“I really am glad that you’re here, but I’m surprised you’re not out in California with Freddie.”

“I was,” he replied, “but my little sister needed me.”

“Thanks Lou.”

“Anytime, love.”

“He’s beautiful by the way,” Aurora added, happy to change the subject to something happier.

“Wanna see some more photos?” Louis asked, already pulling out his phone.

“Of course,” Rori laughed, leaning in to see Louis and the little baby on his screen. They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about Louis son and what the first few months of fatherhood had been like for him. Steve and Tony were both happy to find the pair in the living room when they arrived home in the early evening, having noticed the change in Rori’s mood since Niall had left the previous week.  They had JARVIS order pizza and the rest of the crew made their way up to the penthouse for dinner. Aurora really was glad to have Louis there and was grateful that Harry had called him. Over the years Louis had taken on the roll of older brother in her life and she had missed him in the months since the band had gone their separate ways.

Eventually it started to get late and slowly everyone excused themselves, heading off to bed one by one. Louis didn’t even pretend that he would be staying in one of the many guest rooms, and instead headed straight for Aurora’s room and dropped his bag at the end of the bed. Rori took her pyjamas into the bathroom to change and by the time she came back out, Louis had changed and was lying on Harry’s side of the bed. She climbed in next to him, a respectful distance between them which caused Louis to laugh.

“Get over here and give us a cuddle,” he said, opening his arms out as he turned on his side to face her. “You know Harold won’t mind.”

She let out her own chuckle, remembering how many times the two of them had fallen asleep on the tour bus or on green room couches together. Harry had of course never had a problem with it, knowing that there was nothing romantic about it and that they were just comfortable around each other. She scooted over towards the centre of the bed, letting Louis wrap his arms around her and she snuggled in against his chest. She fell asleep quickly, sleeping better than she had in weeks.

xXx

As was always the case when the two of them were together, Aurora and Louis spent more time goofing around and having fun than they did actually working. Even so they still managed to pull together a couple of songs they were happy with.

“Wanna take another pass at that house on the hill song we were messing with the other day?” Louis asked.

“Yeah sure thing,” Rori smiled back. “Take it from the second verse?”

Louis nodded and began strumming away on the guitar, Aurora joining in with her lyrics a few beats later.

Tell me what's been happening, what's been on your mind Lately, you've been searching for a darker place to hide That's alright But if you carry on spiralling, they'll be robbed from us I refuse to lose another friend to guns Just come home, don't let go

If you look into the distance, there's a house upon the hill Guidin' like a lighthouse To a place where you'll be safe to feel our grace 'Cause we've all made mistakes If you've lost your way

I will leave the light on

If you look into the distance, there's a house upon the hill Guidin' like a lighthouse It's a place where you'll be safe to feel our grace And if you've lost your way, if you've lost your way I will leave the light on And I know you're down and out now, but I need you to be brave Hidin' from the truth ain't gonna make this all okay I see your pain If you don't feel our grace and you've lost your way

I will leave the light on

“I’m thinking we should add a piano track,” Aurora suggested when she finished singing. She moved over to the upright piano and started putting together the right hand of the melody.

“Maybe go up here in the bridge,” Louis suggested. He nodded when Aurora tried it. “Yeah that’s better, kinda cuts through the melody nicely.”

“I like it,” Aurora agreed.

“Think you want to keep this one?” he asked when they finished.

“Nah, I still don’t really see myself doing the whole solo thing. You want it?”

“No thanks love,” Louis replied. “Don’t think it’s the direction I wanna head in.”

“Any idea what that is?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he sighed. “I know the others are chomping at it to get out there on their own, but I think I wanna ease it into.”

“I get that,” Rori said.

“Think you’re probably the only one that does get it. Everyone else is on my ass about writing and getting a solo album out as quick as possible.”

“Tell ‘em to fuck off, Lou.”

Louis let out a loud peel of laughter in response, rolling backwards where he was sitting on the floor. “Jesus I really did miss hanging out with you,” he finally said when he pulled himself together.

xXx

They were up on the roof one night, the hot summer air still hanging over the city even though the sun had set hours ago and they both lay on their backs staring up at the sky. Aurora’s head was cushioned on Louis chest, and she toed off her shoes, the hem of her dress covering her thighs.

“Hey Rors?” Louis asked, breaking the stillness of the evening. The sound of traffic below them floated up but given how high they were above the streets it was more of a soft background noise than it would have been down below.

“Yeah?” she replied, turning her head to the side, only able to see the underside of his chin as he continued looking up at the hint of stars above them.

“I never really asked you about the shooting because I didn’t want to upset you, but I was wondering if you ever wanted to talk about it?”

“For a while I kept trying to pretend it never happened,” she said, turning back to look at the darkness spread out above them. “I know that probably sounds ridiculous given that my hand was held together by metal plates and my shoulder was in pieces, but I couldn’t think about it at first. Then I started talking to Sam and it helped, so I started talking to Harry. I’m not ready to talk to the press or anything, but I think it helps to talk with the people around me.”

“What was it like?” Louis asked.

“Terrifying.” His hand lifted to comb through her hair while she spoke. “I was confused at first, but then once we all realised what was happening, we got under the tables and I had JARVIS send out an S.O.S.” She paused for a moment, thinking back to that day in the library. “I remember the bullets feeling hot, like a hot iron poker. I think I went into shock pretty quick and my head was spinning. I remember Pops lifting me up. His face is what I see in my nightmares most nights. The fear in his eyes was what made me realise I was dying. By the time I got to the hospital I’d lost consciousness, but they said I lost so much blood that it was close. And then I woke up and I couldn’t really believe I was alive, but my dads were there and so was Harry.”

“I hate that that happened to you,” Louis whispered. “When we found out what happened and they were trying to get Harry on a plane and cancel the show, we saw that photo of you in Steve’s arms and I kept thinking; what are we gonna do if you die?”

“I’m sorry, Lou. I forget that it wasn’t just me that went through hell that day.”

“Don’t ever apologise,” he told her. “I’m just glad you’re still here.”

“Me too.”

They both let the conversation drop, the silence wrapping back around them as they lay out in the summer night. Over the past few months, Aurora had found herself resenting how much Harry, Steve and Tony were hovering over her. She’d hated the way they watched her constantly as if afraid that the moment they turned away she would fall apart. She’d thought they saw her as weak and resented their pity. It was only now, lying in the darkness with Louis that she realised that everything they’d done was just their way of loving her and trying to protect her. So much focus was on her injuries, both physical and mental, that she often forgot how traumatising the shooting had been on all of them. How could she possibly blame them for being overprotective of her when they had so very nearly lost her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t able to look after herself, it was more that they wanted to help her in any way they could. She felt stupid for not realising any of this sooner considering how painfully obvious it now seemed.

“I can hear you thinking,” Louis muttered. “Care to share with the class?”

“Just thinking about how much you all love me,” Rori replied. “You’d really do anything to make sure I’m ok.”

“You best believe it,” he said, his hand resting on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “So, stop complaining and just let us help you.”

“I love you Lou,” she murmured, sitting up to look at him in the soft light. “Growing up I always wanted a brother and I’m so grateful I got the best one.”

“Love you too Rors.” He also sat up, pulling her into a tight hug. “I think we all blame ourselves for not being able to protect you. I know it’s not rational because how could anyone of us have stopped what happened, but seeing you hurting kills us. Please don’t feel like you need to put on a brave face around any of us, because we would walk through fire for you.”

Aurora didn’t say anything, still clinging to Louis and he let the silence once again fall around them, glad that he’d finally said everything that had been gnawing away at him for months and happy that she finally understood why her family was hovering over her.

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

[smolbeandrabbles]

Director’s Cut 1: Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody

“I find it difficult to find any redeeming qualities in this character. He is a person with spot on DSM antisocial personality disorder, with sociopathic traits and without the charming facade. But the mental health professional in me also sees him as neurodiverse, on the spectrum. At any rate, I can’t find any allure or menacing sexuality in him. How did you find redeeming qualities within Pope? And how the heck did you come up with a female OC who can interpret his cues and find warmth and attraction from him? I enjoy your fics about him, others I’ve read have basically torture porn.”

Wow, okay, Andrew. You’ve picked a really interesting one here. So, lets start with some background... Which I will try to condense as much as possible.

Also, for ease of talking, I’m going to give our Reader back her OC name and therefore when I refer to ‘Elaiyna’ that’s your reader character! 😁 Background I was never meant to write for Andrew Cody from the movie. My first watch of the movie left me cold and, to be honest I still find it very difficult to watch even now. (The movie is great for sure, but it’s not one I rewatch often.) Without a long explanation as to ‘why’, I watched the movie so that I could watch the US TV show version of Animal Kingdom. Which I highly recommend!

Where as Movie!Andrew I couldn’t get into at all, Show!Andrew I fell in love with. It took me one episode to come up with my OC and a decent story line.  Although I never actually wrote it out I had many plot points saved on a document for how Andrew/Elaiyna’s relationship would play out. So really, you have Shawn Hatosy to thank-! 

Who, super side note, deserves an Emmy for this. And also can someone please get him and Ben in an interview to talk about Andrew - I will beg! 

When I decided to start writing and posting for Andrew here (considering I had the plot points and we were taking the Mendos as far as we could) - I essentially wrote a mix of Show!Andrew and Movie!Andrew. Honestly tipped in favour of the show. But very recently I’ve tried to write much more for Movie!Andrew as I’m 99.9% sure that’s who everyone reading my work is reading for anyway!

How did you find redeeming qualities within Pope? 

The only real answer is Show!Andrew. I love him so much, and they explore a lot with his character - as they of course have time to, that a 1hr30 movie doesn’t - so it’s very easy to find redeeming qualities in a character that’s at a very different stage to his movie counterpart (and yet is still the same character and recognisable as the same character... Show!Andrew is the build up to the man we get in the movie, if you will.). Show!Andrew has that same... creepy/awkward vibe, but also has a lot of sweet, decent human being moments that give you his more redeeming qualities (without spoiling anything major his relationship with Lena, Baz’s daughter, is a good example). 

But also I view Andrew in the movie very differently to the way that I believe most people do. Movie Andrew doesn’t scare me. Sure, he does scary things, but to me he just comes across as very awkward. Like, he knows what a situation calls for and kinda adapts to that - or he says things because he’s like “That’s what people say in this situation right?” at least that’s how I interpret him. No matter how incorrect that is.  Like there’s no social queues in his character, he doesn’t really fit into those kinds of situations (or function well!) but he observes everything. So he knows that “If X happens, say/do Y. Because that’s what people do.” regardless of his own “feelings” etc. I don’t think he has emotional intelligence and there’s a definite disconnect between think and feel and... I guess instinct? That ‘primal brain’ thing. 

I mean I know it’s interpretation but that scene where he carries Nicky to bed and then like strokes her hair back and then tells Jay “She’s beautiful.” Doesn’t give me any other vibe other than Andrew having observed this and his brain going ‘Oh, yeah, Andrew - then compliment her to her boyfriend. That’s a thing people do.’ Just the way my brain works I guess.

The obvious follow up question would be “Okay, so you love him in the show. But you write for him in the movie. So... you gotta have something redeeming there right? Now you’re leaving Show!Andrew on a shelf? Correct - I kinda feel like Andrew has at least some ‘relationships’ to which he actually feels something. Which is why I’m reluctant to place the “Psychopath” tag on him. Look at his relationship with Baz for instance (honestly, that supermarket scene is my very favourite.) - I just get this “friends” vibe. Like real friends, maybe even best friends. Andrew cares enough about him to want vengeance (I’m not down for thinking this is just him wanting to be a criminal I genuinely think this is a reaction to losing his best friend - and arguably his stability.) And I mean, he cares about his family. Even if not in the traditional ‘sense’ of caring. 

I also want to give a quick shout out to @mandy23b​​ - as Andrew is her favourite, and conversations with her on how she views him really help me shape Andrew in my head. For example she has a lot of headcanons about how he grew up (eg: potential physical abuse) that I am happy to adopt. So, my own personal headcanons / adopted head canons about him also help to make him redeemable. 

And how the heck did you come up with a female OC who can interpret his cues and find warmth and attraction from him? 

Oh my gosh, Elaiyna. Okay, well aside from again her starting with Show!Andrew and me basically lifting their entire relationship and giving it to Movie!Andrew there’s a lot about her that I guess ‘prepares’ her for him.

First - they meet because the Cody’s case her car (...Ready For It?), assume she has a lot of money and try to rob her. She knows who he is before they form a relationship - the barrier of “oh by the way I’m a career criminal” is broken instantly.  Second - Although she’s an only child her parents have fostered a lot of children over the years (More details in ‘Flaws’) and so she’s used to a lot of siblings and the bonds between siblings. Added to this it’s not hard to imagine that some of these foster children might have had neurodivergancies of their own and therefore she’s also used to people that act like Andrew does. Third - David ( ‘Flaws’ and ‘Last Habit’) her eldest foster sibling is a Police officer, and they have a close relationship. Figure she could learn a lot from him. Both on crime/criminals and then maybe neurodivergant criminals too. He’s bound to have at least some stories that might help her. Fourth - Not to make some kind of robot comparison for our Boi here but, she works in IT. She’s the CIO for her firm. Draw your own conclusions on relationships with something/one with basically zero emotional output.

I find your comments on other fics you’ve read very interesting. Because to me Andrew just isn’t sexual. (I might be in the minority, because other fic writers I’ve talked to tend to put him in ‘physical only’ / highly sexually charged relationships) He’s never read that way to me. ‘4 In the Morning’ is the first time I’ve thought to write something that is sexy for him. Although I have alluded to sexual elements of their relationship in other fics.  Their relationship to me has always been on a quiet understanding level. He observes and learns about her and is fairly quiet about it. Elaiyna is more extroverted, but also observes and learns about him very quickly. So instead of PDA and verbal “I love you’s” they have this non-verbal communication that isn’t always physical either. Although touch sometimes plays into it.  Because that just the kind of relationship that I see him in - sex is rare, and when it happens it’s not because of this big “I love you” romantic build up - it’s spontaneous. That part of his primal brain is kicked in and it’s like “Okay. We’re doing this now.” For his character I understand the “draw” to write something like that (even though, like I say, I don’t see him being interested.) but I’m just very much a romantic... 😅 So I want to write something Romantic even for a Mendo who you wouldn’t necessarily fit into a romantic role. Their story still has “romantic” tenancies. Like it’s a loving relationship it’s just a different kind of love. I don’t feel like he would necessarily know that he loves her, or even comprehend what ‘love’ is. But he knows he feels something for her that’s very different to how he feels about other people. Which is why when Elaiyna does say ‘I love you’ it’s not reciprocated with words - and rarely with actions. She knows he loves her, even if he doesn’t know it. Their relationship is very ‘quiet’ but she knows that’s just how he is - and he will show “affection” as he deems fit and appropriate to show it. Even if - again - it’s not a “typical” way of showing it. And when he wants affection himself it’s more, “I am hugging you now on MY terms. But in 5 seconds I will walk away as if nothing happened.” He is more often enough the one to initiate anything PDA and Elaiyna will wait for him to come to her. If her read on him is *just* right then she’ll initiate, but then there’s the consequences of getting it wrong and Andrew pushing her away... I definitely base a lot of the beginning of their relationship on them just finding each other fascinating. He’s completely different to any other man she’s ever met, and he’s never met someone so interested in him that doesn’t try to change him and/or however he treats her is met more with understanding than conflict. 

I say I love all my OCs, of course I do. But Elaiyna is one I really had to think about building because of Andrew’s own personality. It had to make sense for her to be with someone like him - their relationship had to make sense and keep him (mostly) in character. So she needed to be able to interpret his cues, as you so nicely put it 😊 But I think I gave her the right tools to do this, and, with Show!Andrew she got the right base to jump from. 

I know this is super long, but I hope it helps in your understanding of how I’ve built Andrew’s relationship with his S/O! 🙏 And more importantly answers the questions you have! 

---

Thank you SO much for asking! If anyone else wants a Fanfic directors cut for any of my fics please ask! I would love to answer any questions! ���😘

[crackimagines]

For the Child!Blyth AU that you're doing, how would the class and possibly the staff react to Blyth doing something unexpectedly and extremely adorable?

EDIT: Child!Byleth Post Masterlist here!

—–

I can imagine that anyone finding what little Byleth did ‘Cute’ would be met with a face like this from him:

Regardless, I love this prompt!

Thanks for the ask,  merciful-chaos, I hope you enjoy!

—–

Sweet Hearts (FE: Three Houses Short Fic)

Child!Byleth Professor AU

It is revealed that the Tiny Professor has never had sweets, or anything similar despite that being a necessity for a child. It’s up to Flayn, Mercedes and Annette to help Byleth with this tragedy.

—–

Byleth didn’t know what to do with freedays. He was so used to working as a mercenary 24/7 and barely had any time for relaxation. Even if it did happen, it was only during the dead of night.

Now as a Professor, he was now able to roam freely on Sunday’s to his heart’s content.

Part of him wanted to grab his stuffed bird (Reference to this post!) and walk around the school for comfort, but he knew as soon as he did, he’d get everyone ‘aww’ing over him.

Plus, some of the students would look down on him for it. Considering he was a professor now, he wouldn’t be allowed the same luxury as before. He had to appear strong, although his height and age did not help at all in that regard.

All the while, Sothis was watching his internal conflict.

(Sothis) “You know, you’re making quite a big deal about carrying that toy. Why not do it? Your age permits it, does it not?”

(Byleth) “No. That would lead to complications with the students.” He replied, albeit he seemed reluctant to leave the comfort of his stuffed bird behind.

Uncharacteristically, he let out a sigh and left the bird on his pillow.

He began walking towards the door and opened it. It was surprisingly quiet, so he decided to go on a stroll.

Byleth made small talk with the house leaders as he passed by and as expected, made sure to bring up the topic of being a tiny professor into the conversations. He tried his best to be respectful, but that didn’t seem to get him anywhere.

So, he decided to visit the dorms and see if there was anyone in this damned academy that would talk to him normally like Jeralt or the mercs did.

Fortunately for him, he just came across Flayn.

(Flayn) “Oh, Byleth-er no sorry, Professor!”

(Byleth) “Byleth is alright on free days like this, Flayn.”

(Flayn) “Well alright then, Byleth! Would you like to accompany me to the dining hall? It’s the lunch hour, so everyone’s heading in.”

He silently nodded and followed Flayn. She talked to him, well more accurately AT him. He was far more focused on the fact everyone began chatting that the two kids being together was adorable.

it’s a shame too, he really did like Flayn, but had no idea how to actually talk to her, leading to the impression the tiny professor had a crush. Which wasn’t true. Probably.

When Byleth and Flayn grabbed their plates, they sat down near an empty table and began to eat.

(Byleth) “…Your plate just has fish.” He said aloud, quite confused.

(Flayn) “Yes, it’s a personal favorite of mine, I can’t have enough of it! Just like sweets!”

His plate consisted of the bare minimum, a bit of meat and veggies, though it’d be more akin to a snack.

He was used to the mindset of sticking by mercenary traditions so if the worst case scenario happened, he wouldn’t be reliant on the ways the monastery changed him.

It was then that he heard Mercedes and Annette behind him.

(Mercedes) “Ah, hello! Is it okay if we can sit here, Professor? There don’t seem to be other seats.”

That was a lie. As he and Flayn walked in, Byleth counted about 4 different tables that were open. 

He probably guessed it was so they can speak more with their ‘little professor’.

Byleth was very thankful that he didn’t quite understand emotions, because he’d be making the biggest pouting face imaginable, which would’ve made the situation worse.

Regardless, he did like the two students. They worked hard and took it seriously, making sure their teammates were okay was the cherry on top. 

He wouldn’t mind having to not deal with their coddling, however.

Before Byleth could say anything, Flayn nodded and motioned them in.

(Flayn) “Go ahead!”

Mercedes and Annette smiled and sat down. 

They also placed a giant plate of steak next to him.

(Annette) “As we were getting our food, we noticed you were eyeing that piece for a liiiitle bit too long! I bet you thought it’d be childish if you went for it!”

Byleth was sure that his inner child didn’t show up like the bird situation. Obviously, that had failed. Because they were completely right.

He hesitated going for the plate, but Mercedes saw it and pushed it closer.

(Mercedes) “Please, do not worry about it! The food here is quite good, and it’d be a crime if the staff didn’t even eat anything that they’d enjoy!”

She had a point. Besides, if Jeralt said if these kinds of actions was acceptable, then why not? Perhaps he was being a bit too cautious for nothing. He nodded in thanks and added it to his plate. Though his face didn’t move, everyone could tell he was quite satisfied.

Once he was finished, he politely put the silverware onto the table and looked at Flayn.

(Byleth) “Thank you very much for inviting me to lunch.”

(Flayn) “Huh? You’re not getting dessert?”

Dessert. Now that was a term he was barely familiar with. He didn’t really have the luxury of sweets as a mercenary, even during his birthdays that wasn’t exactly an ‘always’ thing.

He couldn’t remember the last time he tasted a candy.

(Byleth) “There’s…sweets?”

(Annette) “Jeez, the way you’re talking you sound like you’ve never had them, professor!”

(Byleth) “Actually I…I never-”

All three of them gasped before he could finish his sentence.

He was about to say ‘I never got too many chances to eat sweets’, but of course, Mercedes added fuel to a fire.

(Mercedes) “You’ve never had sweets, professor?!”

All the students from the Black Eagles, Blue Lions, AND Golden Deer turned to face their direction. He could hear the voices now.

“What kinda kid doesn’t have sweets?” “The poor thing!” “I feel kinda bad…”

Byleth honestly considered slamming his head against the table to knock himself out. She had just screamed that out, although he could tell she didn’t mean to. Though…WHY did she have to scream that?

Instead of Byleth slamming his head, Flayn slammed her hands on the table.

(Flayn) “We’re fixing this mistake right away then! Mercedes, Annette! Please fetch the Professor one of your best baked treats!”

(Mercedes) “Right away!”

(Annette) “Got it, let’s go, Mercie!”

They both got up to presumably go to their dorms. Flayn looked at him with the most serious face he had ever seen her have. Though, this was the completely WRONG reason to have it.

(Byleth) “F-Flayn, you don’t have to make a big deal out of it-”

(Flayn) “Yes I do! Even YOU deserve to enjoy yourself time to time!”

(Edelgard’s voice) “It’s true you know.”

Byleth saw Edelgard walk over while smiling.

(Edelgard) “You don’t know what you’re missing, Professor. Sweets can really make your day.”

(Claude) “How about that? Our Professor’s so gone off the deep end, he never got to enjoy things like candy!”

(Dimitri) “Hah, I can’t say I’m surprised to be honest. You should enjoy your youth, professor! When you get to our age, those things become scarce!”

WHY IS EVERYONE HERE!? He shouted to himself.

(Flayn) “Don’t worry, Byleth! Mercedes and Annette are the best bakers here, they’ll fix you up in no time.”

Everyone began to laugh, though Byleth wasn’t. Once again, his stone face prevailed over the embarrassment that was surging forth internally.

(Mercedes) “We have it!”

(Annette) “Here, take it professor!”

It was some odd brown-blackish square treat. It was soft, yet hard at the same time. What the hell was this thing?

(Flayn) “Ah yes, this one is a personal favorite! It’s called a ‘brownie’. It’s made of chocolate!”

(Dimitri) “My my, you two are bringing out the big guns!”

(Claude) “Hey, gotta have the first time be memorable, right?”

(Edelgard) “Well professor, dig in!”

Byleth knew if he refused, they’d force it down his throat. So he swallowed his pride and took a bite of the brownie.

His eyes sparkled upon tasting the brownie. It was the most delicious thing he ever had.

After the first bite, he quickly devoured the brownie. Making everyone’s smile even bigger.

(Claude) “Hey, I think he liked it!”

(Annette) “Oh, thank goodness! My heart was about to stop!”

(Mercedes) “This was our best treat we made, I’m so happy he liked it!”

(Dimitri) “What a relief. Honestly I would’ve said that the professor wasn’t human if he didn’t like it!”

(Edelgard) “Hah, how was it, professor?”

Everyone leaned in for his response, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

(Byleth) “G-Great…”

That brownie had made him lose all senses, and couldn’t really process anything else than wanting another one.

He began to blush a little as he looked down, speaking quietly.

(Byleth) “May…May I have another brownie, please?”

Everyone’s heart melted.

(Mercedes) “Of course! Come Annette, let’s get cooking!”

(Annette) “Right, we’ll be right back, professor!”

(Flayn) “We have now steered you off this dark path! Welcome to the light of sweets!”

Some of the students began clapping while others laughed and went back to their meal.

Claude chuckled and went back to his table while Edelgard and Dimitri did the same.

Flayn stayed with Byleth, and the two began discussing at length about how great sweets were, and of course, were treated to brownies.

Later that night…

Once the high of the brownies wore off, it was then Byleth realized what he had done to his reputation that he worked hard to maintain.

He fell onto his bed, clutching his bird in embarrassment as Sothis floated near him, a smirk growing.

(Sothis) “Oh, how mighty your maturity is, falling to your knees to a mere treat!”

She began laughing as he groaned into the fur of the bird.

Claude, Dimitri, and Edelgard would no doubt spread word to the students. He wasn’t going to live this down anytime soon.

He began to regret everything he did during lunch today. 

Except eating the brownies. 

…Damn it, now Mercedes and Annette have even more of a reason to think of themselves as his ‘Big Sisters’.

He wanted to curse yet thank Flayn for introducing him to sweets now.

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 63: Final Exam part 5: Final Essay

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!   Please note, this chapter may undergo more extensive editing before it gets posted to AO3/FF.net, as there’s a lot of fight scenes that may need clarity editing.

Earlier chapters can be found here

At the last moment, before Kamuy had launched her shockwave, some instinct had prompted Izumi to throw up an ice shield.  Desperately, faster than she ever had before, she’d leached heat from the air, forming a protective wall in front of her, reinforcing it even against the shockwave that had followed.   She regretted immediately that she was unable to extend her protections to Chihiro or to any of her other classmates.

When the ringing in her head cleared and she was able to see again, a moment of fear touched her heart, an icy stab into the heat she had absorbed and that suffused her body. Chihiro, Ojiro, Aoyama, and Asuka were all on the ground, alive, but very clearly knocked out.  As skilled and powerful as her classmates were, against such overwhelming force, they had no defense.  She had hoped that Asuka’s Frog-Shadow might have been able to protect her, armoring her as she had during the Sports Festival, but such, it seemed, was not to be.

And all Izumi had done was protect herself.  Her teachers, as well as Katsumi, would say that insuring her own safety had meant she could continue to act and protect others.  But it did nothing to ease the guilt she felt.

Kamuy, it seemed, was still standing, admiring her handiwork.  She’d lost a bit of mass from expelling her accumulated energy, but still remained a large and imposing foe.  That she seemed to be able to hold onto the energy she absorbed until she needed it was enviable.  The bands of Izumi’s regulator rig were screaming an angry red, a sign she needed expel heat and expel it quickly.  

“Still standing?” Kamuy taunted.  “Pretty impressive.  I wouldn’t think a little twig like you would last this long.”

With some amount of satisfaction, Izumi realized that Kamuy was a very big target indeed.

“But a twig, properly propelled,” she said, bringing her hands up, “can pierce even the mighty oak.”

Izumi reached inside herself and found the heat she had been storing, like a crimson hot core inside her. But instead of changing it into fire, she put to use the training that Uncle Denki had helped her with, expelling the heat directly.  The very air in front of her turned wavy and shimmery, refracting from all the heat she was putting out into it.

“Hey…” growled Kamuy, “what’re you doing…?”  Already the big woman was sweating so hard it was pouring off of her and soaking through her clothes. Her breaths coming in ragged gasps, each one clearly a struggle. She swayed, unsteady on her feet, as though a stiff breeze might soon blow her over.

“Whatever you’re doing… cut it… out…”  Kamuy took a few ineffective swings as thin air, as though that might stop the heat assault.  But as addled as she was, they were clumsy, weak, and ineffective, with no power behind them.  Izumi knew she was threading a careful line.  Too much heat could kill a person easily and she had no desire to be a murderer, especially given that this was only an exam.  But nor did she wish to give Kamuy a chance to recover and possibly hurt her or her friends.

Kamuy began glowing and steaming again, losing mass as she poured her energy into resisting Izumi’s attack.  Step by step, she pushed her way forward, even as the concrete beneath her feet began to soften from the heat she was enduring.  That was unfortunate.  Processing this much heat as once, pushing her Quirk as far as it would go, Izumi could feel the strain upon herself and she did not know how long she could maintain this level of exertion.  Her knees were starting to feel weak and even keeping her arms up to keep pointing at Kamuy was beginning to become a strain.  Her arms traced small circles in the air as she failed to hold them straight.

And still, Kamuy came closer.  The Villain took step after step after step, her face twisted in a grimace as she fought for every inch.   But Izumi would make her fight for that, even if it cost her dearly, even if she collapsed.  Because every second this woman spent fighting her was one that gave her classmates and friends time to overcome the other Villains.

They were counting on her. Everyone was counting on her.  She could not, would not, be the reason that they failed!

And still Kamuy came onward, trailing steam like some ancient and slow moving train.  “You… gotta… be… just… about… out… kid,” she hissed. “Those damn… blinky lights… are a dead… giveaway.”

Damnation, she was right! Izumi was just about out of heat to throw at her, the crimson hot core she’d been drawing on depleted, the bands of her regulator rig showing a green that would have, in any other circumstances, been reassuring.  

Now, it was a little terrifying.

The wave of heat stopped abruptly, as she exhausted her last reserve.  The change in the air was immediate and Kamuy instantly stood a little taller, a little stronger, though it was clear surviving the assault had cost her dearly.  Her own reserves must have been nearly as depleted as Izumi’s were.   Though that still left her a large and muscular foe. She could still overpower Izumi. She was a fit girl, especially for one with her chronic health issues, but there was no comparison.

So she had to end this now.

Kamuy rushed her, fist draw back to strike, and Izumi acted on instinct, her body and Quirk moving before she even had a chance to think.  Thick ice shot up around Kamuy, covering her body and lifting her off the ground in an instant.  On her regulator rig, the bands changed from a safe green to cautionary orange without ever even passing through the alerting yellow.  The temperature around her had dropped by several degrees, enough that, for a moment, Izumi could see her breath on the air.

But when it was done, Kamuy was entombed in a pillar of ice, only her head and fingertips poking out. She hadn’t frozen her solid, so there was probably minimal risk of cell death.  But she had beaten her.  She had won.

And still she remained standing.  Izumi had pushed her Quirk and pushed it hard.  But she had not given in to her weakness, had not fallen.

But she could not celebrate her accomplishments, not now.  Not when the others were still battling.

She would celebrate when they won, but the personal victory would lend her strength to continue the fight.

***

Things, Katsumi thought, had pretty much gone to shit.  The Villain called Jawbreaker had grown to monstrous size and mass, towering over all of them by more than a meter.  More than that in her case; height was not her friend.  Now made of metal, rock, and concrete, he was shrugging off everything they could throw at him.  She still ached from where he had hit her, with a fist that was nearly as big as she was tall.

But she’d be damned if she was going to go down without a fight, even if she was completely out of ammo for her disk-launchers.  She hadn’t backed down in the face of a damned Nomu, she wasn’t about to back down in the face of some Villain Aiazwa had gotten from somewhere to play rent-a-goon. Some part of her was afraid though. Not for herself, but for Izzy. She knew she shouldn’t be, knew that Izzy had more than proven she was capable of taking care of herself, but the thought still remained.  She pushed it down, channeling it into something she could use.  The sooner she clobbered this guy, the sooner she could check on her.

Jawbreaker let out a laugh, his punch connecting solidly with Toshi.  Toshi had amped up his gravity enough that he was starting to sink into the ground, but the blow was still enough to push him back, gouging deep troughs in the street.  A second blow hit even harder, sending Toshi smashing into the side of a building again. Above Jawbreaker, the Iida twins swooped down again and again, ineffectively striking against him.  The Villain—though faster than he looked—was still not fast enough to catch them.  Both broke off the attack.  Sora to check on Toshi, Tensei to get space to think through his next move.

“Okay, you two,” she told Shinso and Haimawari. “I’ll knock him off his feet, you know him down. You’ll know it when you see it. Jetset!  Give me a distraction!”

Haimawari nodded. “Got it.  Bring the boom.”

Shinso nodded rapidly, head bobbing like it was on a spring.  “Got it!” he said.  “Going to have to hit him *really* hard though!  He’s tough!”

A grin spread across Katsumi’s face.  “Ain’t nothing tougher than me.”  She cracked her knuckles.  “And Newb? Only I get to bring the boom.”

“Arms!  Rocky!” she shouted.  “Clear the way!  Big boom coming through!”

At her shout, Shoji and Koda backed off from their assaults on Jawbreaker.  Koda had fast grown a thick redwood tree and Shoji had used his incredible strength to turn it into an improvised club.  It hadn’t done any good.  Jawbreaker had ever taken a big bite out of it, added hard wood to his make-up as well.

Tensei Iida swooped down from the sky, smashing both fists into Jawbreaker’s skull.  There was a metal on metal clang, but Jawbreaker wasn’t hurt in the slightest.  He swung wildly at Iida again, and this time he Iida was just a little too slow.  Jawbreaker’s fingers closed around his legs and he slammed Iida into the ground again and again.  With a grunt, he tossed the boy over his shoulder.  There. She hadn’t meant for that to happen… but that was her opening.

Katsumi slapped a palm on the ground, extending her explosive power through it, triggering a series of increasingly large explosions in a rapid-fire, firecracker line that lead straight to Jawbreaker.  She concentrated, putting as much power as she could into the last one.

KABOOM!

For just a moment, the explosion caught Jawbreaker off-balance, sending him teetering on his feet. “What the hell…?!”  the Villain cried out, arms swinging wildly.

“Now!” Katsumi bellowed.

For all the times they’ve bugged the hell out of her, Shinso and Haimawari are good at following orders. And more importantly, they can hit hard. Shinso sucked in a breath and unleashed another blast of sonic force, her own proximity to it making Katsumi wince from the noise, while Haimawari braced himself and unleashed another blue-white blast.  Both attacks struck Jawbreaker dead on, with enough force to land him smack on his back. It made a sound somewhere between a building collapsing, an avalanche, and a trash can rolling down the stairs.

“Rocky!” Katsumi shouted again.  “Tie him up!”

“I am on it, Bombshell,” Koda said, tossing more seeds.  They began growing instantly, ensnaring Jawbreaker with thick, thorny vines, weaving all around his body and limbs.

Jawbreaker was already struggling against them, even as Koda tried to keep the pace, growing them as vast as they were destroyed.  Dammit. Koda’s vines alone weren’t going to be enough.  Time for what was usually her Plan A:  Overwhelming Force.  “We hit him,” she said.  “Hard. Now.  Everything we’ve got.”

It was already too late. Jawbreaker let out a laugh.  “It takes more than that to keep me down,” he said. He was already getting back on his feet. Vines snapped like twine.   “We’re in the home stretch too.   That means the kid gloves come off!”

He lashed out and despite having seen it several times over, she still couldn’t believe how someone that big could move that fast.   Koda and Shoji, the closest, paid the price for her few seconds of hesitation.  Shoji threw himself in front of Koda, using all six of his arms to block Jawbreaker’s strike, but jawbreaker brought his other arm around and slammed it into Shoji from the side.  He went flying and when he landed, he did not get up.

Koda lasted only a moment longer, trying reaching into her pouches for more seeds.  She fast-grew a circle of trees around Jawbreaker, briefly trapping him, until he simply punched his way through and took her down with another swipe of his massive, multi-element fists.

It had all happened so fast, she hadn’t even had time to move.  But now, she was spurred into action.   “Get that fucker!” she shouted, rushing forward.

Behind her, she could hear the sounds of Shinso and Haimawari firing again, their blasts sailing past her to strike Jawbreaker.  She had to trust that they were going to do their jobs, because the bad guy in front of her was all that she could see.

Fortunately, Koda’s failed attempts at containment had provided her with plenty of ammunition. She quickly grabbed shards of the felled trees and tossed them at Jawbreaker, peppering him with small explosions.  Even putting everything she had into them… it wasn’t enough.  Nothing left to make a big enough boom with.

“Hey, ugly!” she shouted, grabbing a handful of splintery pieces of wood in each hand.  When he turned to look at her she tossed them all at his face, letting them explode like little firecrackers.

Here, he actually screamed, one hand going to cover his face, the other swinging wildly and easy to dodge.  As his hand swung by, she slapped it with her own.  The material of her gloves now let her channel her explosive power through them directly, and the explosion she created charred his transformed flesh.  

“Yeah!” Shinso cried out. “We’ve got him now!”  He hit Jawbreaker with another sonic scream.

“”Blast now, brag later, Shinso!” Haimawari called out.  He was zipping around Jawbreaker’s other side, his feet and one hand on the ground, his other hand in the air and unleashing a barrage of low-powered blasts. They weren’t strong enough to do much—if any—damage, but they served as yet another distraction.

“Katsumi!”  a voice—Toshi’s—cried out.  “Give me an opening!”

She grinned again, slapping both hands on the ground again and setting off a powerful explosion. This close to it, the explosion left even her ears ringing, but it did the job, further throwing Jawbreaker off balance from already having been temporarily blinded.

She heard the roar of Sora Iida’s engines before she saw the two of them, zooming towards Jawbreaker and Sora carrying Toshi by the wrists.  At the last second, she released him and judging by how big of a clang the impact of Toshi’s body made with Jawbreaker’s, he must have gone about as far up on his gravity as he could.  He pushed off the Villain’s body and landed next to her.  The blow managed to stagger the giant for a moment, at least.

“About time you stopped loafing around,” Katsumi said.  

“Give me a break,” Toshi replied.  “I’ve been hit a lot today.”

Jawbreaker reared up and was ready to strike again.  Some guys just took a lot of hitting, it seemed.

***

Before Jawbreaker could strike again, a blast of fire hit him square on, setting fire to parts of his body that were made of wood.   He let out a cry of alarm and smarted smacking at the burns, trying to smother them. Thick ice walls followed, briefly blocking him off.  Toshi risked turning his head to find the source of the blast and was greeted with the sight of Izumi propelling herself along an ice slide to meet them.  

“Glad you could join us, Iz,” Katsumi said.  

“Well, someone clearly has to keep you out of trouble,” Izumi replied.  “As always.”

“Was that a joke?  You pick now to start telling jokes?”

Izumi’s arrival meant good news and bad news.  It meant they were down to one just one Villain to deal with.  But it also meant…

The sound of fists on the ice wall told him they didn’t have much time.

“The others?” he asked.

Izumu shook her head. “All defeated.”

They were it then.  Six of them against a Villain who just kept taking whatever they had and kept coming back for more.  It was only then that Toshi realized there was a question he’d been reluctant to ask.  He shouldn’t have.  One of Dad’s often told stories was how Grandpa Might and he had first met, when Grandpa Might had smashed the Sludge Villain to pieces…  

It was an extreme solution. One he hadn’t wanted to suggest they try.  

“Shota,” he said quickly, as cracks were appearing in the ice wall.  Maybe just a couple more blows.  “Has Jawbreaker ever been smashed or broken by a Hero?”  

Shota’s purple eyes went wide.  “Oh, a bunch of times!  Sometimes, he just eats more and it grows back, and sometimes he gets so smashed up it makes him change back, but all his people parts are still there!”

“Saying we should go all out, Midoriya?” Haimawari asked. Between his goggles and bandanna, his expression was almost unreadable, but Toshi could hear the doubt in his voice. “That’s a lot to throw at a guy who’s just testing us.”

Toshi nodded.  “The real world’s not a test.  You hold back too much there… Villains like him will kill you.”

“Okay then,” Haimawari said. “I… might have something.”

“Make it quick, Newb,” Katsumi said.

Haimawari told them his idea.  Toshi had to admit, it was a pretty good one.  “Then we’ll do it like that then,” he said.  And then there was no more time.

The ice wall shattered, Jawbreaker breaking free.  “That really hurt, kid,” he growled.  Patches of wood on his body showed deep burn marks, but he seemed just as large and stroke as eve.  “My turn!”

“Hit him!” Toshi yelled. “Everything you’ve got! Izumi—containment!  Everyone else… hit him!”

Izumi was first, unleashing a powerful wave of ice that entrapped Jawbreaker from the waist down, trapping his lower body in a block of ice.   It was already cracking against his great strength.  But Izumi was hardly alone in her attacks and it only needed to give them an opening.

Shota hit him with another sonic blast.  It shattered the rest of the ice, but it hit him hard, kept him off balance.  He must have taken in a pretty big breath beforehand, because the beam was strong and sustained.  Haimawari quickly zipped behind him, then powered up for a focused, intense blast.  He couldn’t sustain a single beam like Shota and required a moment to charge up a stronger shot, but he was bringing everything he had.

Sora hammered him with a series of rocket propelled blows, raising a small series of cracks on Jawbreaker’s body, never standing still for a moment.  With what had happened to her brother, she wasn’t letting up at all. Bombarded already by Shota and Haimawari, he stood little chance of catching her.

Katsumi, freed from any need to hold back, went all out, tossing whatever she could at him, hitting him with explosions big and small.   She kept herself light on her feet, never staying in one place for long, but steadily getting closer. Dodging under one of Jawbreaker’s strikes, she reached up and slapped her hand against his arm.

KABOOM!

Jawbreaker let out a scream as his left arm exploded.  The sight and sound of it was more than enough to give everyone pause.  Even knowing he had asked his friends to go all out, Toshi felt guilty for it.  It looked like it had to hurt.  

It was also the opening he needed.   Toshi forced himself not to think about the harm that he had done and took a couple steps back, canceled his gravity, and jumped, launching himself at Jawbreaker like a missile.

But even in pain, Jawbreaker was ready and swung a massive arm.  He hit Toshi full on, just as Toshi had shifted to full gravity.  There was a satisfying sound of cracking, but so powerful was the blow that Toshi went flying anyway, smashing into and through the building across the street.

As he landed, Toshi heard a rumble and struggled to stand, but couldn’t get his feet under him.  The building creaked…

And came down on him.

***

 “Toshi!” Sora Iida screamed, dropping to the ground with far less grace than usual.  She tapped the side of her helmet.  “Toshi, come in!  Speak to me!”

No response over the comms wasn’t good.  It meant Midoriya was unconscious or hurt or…   No. Isamu instantly pushed that thought aside.  The teachers wouldn’t have allowed that to happen.  They were monitoring them, of course.  Watching them.  If Midoriya were really hurt, they’d have stopped the test, gotten Doctor Izumi out. Hell, his grandfather would probably have already been out here, digging through the rubble.

It didn’t mean Midoriya was going to be rejoining the fight any time soon though.   Which was… not good.  Deprived of one of the strongest Quirks in the class, it left them were a lot fewer options for fighting Jawbreaker.

“Word of advice, kid?” Jawbreaker said.  “Don’t take your eye off the Villain!”   He lashed out with his remaining arm and struck Iida hard, seeming not to notice the spider-web of cracks that spread up his arm from the blow.   The red and silver armored girl went flying and did not get up when she landed.

Jawbreaker dug his fingers into the ground, breaking up the street to shovel more pavement into his mouth. As he did, his left arm started growing back, now being made entirely out of pavement.   Isamu wasn’t sure how much time they had left in the exam… but he was certain having a Villain like this still rampaging about wasn’t going to do their scores any good.

“And you shouldn’t take your eyes off me!”  Kirishima-Bakugo, now behind the Villain, shouted.  She once again placed both hands on the ground and channeled a powerful explosion through it.  The ground around him exploded in a series of bangs that were more flash than flare, momentarily stunning him.  

“I think I have done just about all I can,” Izumi announced.  “Katsumi, gentlemen, if you would?”

“What the hell are you talking about, kid?” Jawbreaker snarled.  “Haven’t you seen yet that none of you are beating me?”

“Yeah, well,” Isamu said. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“We tricked you!” Shinso shouted.  “We tricked you good!”

“What are you…?” Jawbreaker began, and only then did he notice all the spider-web cracks that had appeared all over his body, all the places he had hit and been hit.  At the layer of shining frost that had formed all over his body.

When Shinso had mentioned that Jawbreaker could be shattered and reform without killing him, Isamu’s mind had kicked into overdrive.  Short of Shinso’s disintegrating scream thing or Kirishima-Bakugo pumping out way more explosive power than he’d ever seen her do before, none of them could have possibly done enough damage to him to completely slow him down.  They could blow off limbs, as Kirishima-Bakugo had managed to do, but that was riskier and required more precision targeting.  And as they had seen, he could just consume more to regrow them.

Instead, while the rest of them kept him distracted, Izumi had slowly been leeching heat from the material of his body directly, slowly freezing him up little by little. Midoriya should have been the one to deliver the final blow, but…

As realization dawned on Jawbreaker’s face, they let him have it.  Kirishima-Bakugo unleashed another wave of explosions across the ground, Shinso screamed and unleashed a powerful wave of sonic force, and Isamu put everything he had into his blast, firing his repulsion force outward in one massive shot.

The attacks hit Jawbreaker all at once, exploding the majority of his body into a shower of frozen shards.   His head and shoulders hit the ground with a groan, still very conscious.

“You kids haven’t won yet…” he growled, trying to tilt so he could begin eating the street again.

But then Izumi acted again, shooting a pillar of ice up beneath him that then wrapped around the head, completely encasing it in ice.

There was a long, quiet moment before any of them could even breathe.

“Did we… did we do it?” Shinso asked.

“I, ah, I think we did,” Isamu said, scarcely believing the words out of his own mouth.

“Damn right we did,” Kirhsima-Bakugo said.   “Thanks to Izzy here.”

Izumi bowed her head, then held up a hand.  The bands of her uniform were glowing orange and perspiration covered her face, but she was still standing strong.  He’d been worried that she might have to push herself too far with his plan, but she’d offered herself up for it anyway.  “A group effort.  I am owed no more praise than any other.”

Another quiet moment followed, as the rush of battle began to wear off.  Isamu was already thinking they needed to check on Midoriya and the others who’d been knocked around over the course of the exam.  Which he would do.  Just as soon as his heartrate returned to normal.

“But,” Shinso said, “then why isn’t anyone telling us it’s over.  Shouldn’t there be a bell or alarm or something.”

Damn.  He was right.

“Looking for this, Heroes?” a voice called out.  Across the street, in the shadow of a building, was Shadow-Thief.  And she was holding Recovery Girl.  Or rather… Doctor McGuffin!  “Guess you’re too late!”

She disappeared again, reappearing in the shadows further up.  Isamu had a good eye for distance.  They’d been told they couldn’t allow Doctor McGuffin to get more than 100 meters from the shelter, or they’d lose.  He estimated she’d already made it 50 meters…

“Put me down, you hooligan!” Recovery Girl snapped, smacking her fists against Shadow-Thief’s head and shoulders.  “Kids these days, no respect for their elders!”

“Ow!  Ow!  Stop hitting me, old woman!  You’re supposed to be playing along!” Shadow-Thief vanished again, disappearing and reappearing even further away.

Too far for anyone to blast her, too far for Izumi to trap her with ice, all of which were too risky to begin with.  Too far for anything.

Anything but him.

Isamu threw himself forward and called upon his Quirk.  He thought he’d put everything he had into that last blast again Jawbreaker.  He turned out to be wrong, blasting himself forward with reserves he hadn’t thought he’d had.

It hurt, like a burning sensation in his hands and feet, and he could feel exhaustion threatening to claim him the longer he did it, buildings speeding by as he pushed and pushed and pushed every ounce of repulsive force he had left in his body.

Shadow-Thief was still getting away.   Twenty-five meters until the boundary.   Twenty meters.  Fifteen. Ten.   He was getting closer…  so close….   Five meters…  He just needed one last push!

There were no shadows big enough left, forcing Shadow-Thief to try and run the last five meters. Isamu unleashed every last ounce of energy within him and shot forward like a paperclip from a rubber band.  He smacked into her legs just before she made it the final meter.

Recovery Girl went sailing into the air and he desperately disentangled himself from Shadow Thief, getting under the elderly woman just in time to catch her, sinking to his knees.

Somewhere, an alarm sounded, signaling the end of the three hours of their exam.

It was the last thing Isamu heard before he passed out.

[deniigi]

Could I bother you for any sad or cute foggy/Matt headcannons for any of your verses? I just love them so much ❤️

Hi anon!

You’ve really done it now lol. I don’t have headcanons rn, but I do have some scraps from a couple of different fics that haven’t made the cut for you.

I’ll pick one from each category, I think? It’s gonna be a long post friends! Sorry mobile users ❤

Inimitable: Foggy is homesick.

It was a busy night. A fun night. And when everyone had gone back home, the house felt so quiet and empty that Foggy almost wanted them back.

He pressed the bridge of his nose into Matt’s warm back and breathed through the heartache. Matt caught his hands and squeezed them and then rolled over so that Foggy was pressing his face against the center of his chest.

“I miss home,” Foggy admitted to that chest. Right to Matt’s heart. Where home had always been hiding.

“Me too,” Matt said.

“I miss our families.”

“Me too.”

“I’m not ready to go back yet. I don’t want to lose you again. I always lose you to the city.”

Matt’s chest expanded as he breathed in, and he cupped hand behind Foggy’s head. Pulled him in closer. Impossibly close.

“You are my home,” he said. “And you can’t lose me to the city anymore, ‘cause I have better things to protect than the concrete and glass in ten fucking blocks.”

Foggy was gonna cry.

“I wanna go home,” he hiccuped.

“Two years,” Matt said out of nowhere. “Why don’t we try for two more years? And if we still want to go home, we’ll go home.”

Two years.

“I love you,” he sniffed into Matt’s sternum. “I love you so much. Thank you.”

Matt squirmed down to that he could press his scratchy cheek into Foggy’s. So that they could share some tears.

“Don’t thank me for being selfish,” he said. “This benefits me, after all. Dave’s doing a shit job out there, bless him.”

Foggy laughed.

“You just said—”

“I ain’t promised shit. Just because I got better things to protect don’t mean I got the sense to.”

He couldn’t stop laughing.

This fucking guy.

“Gonna give me an aneurysm.”

“Ehn. I’ll dig out the helmet.”

“Oh god, not the helmet. I thought we moved past the horns.”

“Oh, but they’re so cute. You called them cute—are you telling me you’re a liar, Mr. Nelson?”

“Yeah, 100%.”

“Wow. Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think—”

“We do not need another puppy, Matthew. For fuck’s sake. Alright, moment over. You’ve ruined it. Go to sleep, you fucking asshole.”

Matt’s laugh would fill that hole in his heart for now.

 Earth-65: Murderdock used to self-harm

Matt had scars across his ribs and back in patterns which looked like palm fronds laid over each other. These, Foggy was not allowed to touch.

He was allowed to snake his fingers up Matt’s hips. To skirt them across the mostly smooth skin that stretched from the peak of his hip to the bottom of his ribcage. He was allowed to sink his thumbs into that skin and to press and pull and knead.

He was not allowed to nip or bite any of that expanse.

Teeth were allowed in the juncture of Matt’s thigh and pelvis. They were allowed to graze his collarbones and shoulders. They were most welcome up at the top of his throat, where they could elicit both soft sighs and harsh breathing.

But they and all fingers were to steer clear of the palm fronds.

Foggy asked once where the fronds came from and got nothing.

He asked where the lines across Matt’s belly came from and was given an image in the form of a knife. He asked about the gnarled knot just right of Matt’s navel and learned the caliber of the gun which had fired a bullet into that place. He asked about the row of lines that crawled up Matt’s knee and learned of a fight gone south and a man twice Matt’s size dropping his weight on that twisted kneecap.

He asked of some fronds on Matt’s thighs and his face was brought up, up, up all the way for a kiss.

Matt didn’t say, but he kissed and told.

Those textured gills left a special ache in Foggy’s throat. 

Electric Sheep: Clint thinks Matt’s name is Foggy because that’s all he ever seems to say or want when his processor is compromised.

Foggy wanted his suit and the earpiece back. He did his weird half-breathing thing when Clint put them in a box while on the phone.

He shushed the bot and gave him his hand to hold instead.

This brought on curiosity.

“Foggy?” Foggy asked the hand.

“No, that’s you,” Clint told him, willing Barnes to pick up his damn phone already. “I’m Clint, remember?”

“Pilot.”

“No, Clint.”

“Pilot.”

“No, no. Clint. Can you say ‘lint?’”

“Affirmative.”

“Okay, so say ‘lint.’ But put a ‘c’ on the front of it.”

“Affirmative.”

“No, buddy. Say it.”

“It.”

“Oh my god,” Clint breathed as deeply as he could.

“Not quite,” a voice said in his ear.

“Oh, thank god,” Clint amended. “JB, I fucked up. I need your help.”

In Technicolor: Foggy’s going behind Matt’s back to make friends with Sister Maggie

“Franklin, I’m disappointed in you,” Mom lectured with hands on her hips for the second time in one day.

Foggy gave Brett a look which promised pain and mass embarrassment at the next possible moment.

“You,” he said, “Are a snitch. That’s why the night crew won’t tell you shit, Mahoney.”

“Foggy!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Foggy said to Mom. “Sorry, Bess. It’s cool, me and Sister Maggie are building bridges. We’re like this.”

He showed Mom twisted fingers.

“Does Matthew know you’re talking to her?” Mom demanded.

Foggy scowled.

“Franklin.”

“Yes and no,” Foggy admitted. “But he’s chill with Karen and her talking, so what’s the big deal if it’s me instead of Karen, huh?”

Mom stared his optimism into the dirt.

“It is one thing for women to discuss these things, Franklin, it is another for a man to insert himself into the conversation,” she said.

Foggy scowled harder.

“Okay, so first of all, gender is a construct, so jot that down, and second of all—”

Brett was ending this interaction before Fogs lost all of his dignity in one fell swoop.

“He’s gonna fess up and apologize, Ma,” he said over Foggy’s noise-making. “Aren’t you?” He stared pointedly at the guy.

Foggy grumbled.

“I don’t see why—”

“Aren’t you, Foggy?”

Foggy grumbled harder, then pouted.

“I guess,” he groaned.

And one last one for now. This is actually a tiny piece of an AU I started where Foggy is a grim reaper and Matt becomes one of the spirits he’s supposed to shepherd. Unfortunately, Matt is bad at being shepherded. I dropped it, but I’m kind of charmed by it still, so here, have a preview:

“Hello?” he said.

“Hi,” Foggy responded. “Matt Murdock?”

Matt tipped his head around, searching for the source of the sound.

“That’s me,” he said.

“Glad to hear it. My name’s Franklin Nelson, I’m your reaper. Can you confirm your address for me?” Foggy said.

Matt cocked his head the other way.

“Beg your pardon?” he said.

Foggy berated himself for assuming that Matt would remember anything prior to his ordeal.

“Nelson,” he repeated. “Franklin Nelson. You’ve switched sides, my man. Welcome to the other side of humanity; I’m your reaper—think of me as your case worker. I keep track of you until you’re ready to pass on for good.”

Matt stared past him and blinked.

“I’m not fucking dead,” he decided was the appropriate response to that explanation.

“I noticed,” Foggy said. “Also noticed that I didn’t say ‘dead,’ I said ‘turned.’ We got a different division for reapers for dead folks. You gotta have a certain presence for it, which I have been told I am lacking.”

Matt’s forehead creased as he processed that. Then he finally, finally seemed to hear the insults. He started moving his head all around as though following the echoes.

“Is that Dad?” he asked.

Mmmmmmm.

“We were hoping that you could tell us that,” Brett said. “I’ve got a report here from—”

“Are you a cop?” Matt asked.

Brett took a moment.

“Detective,” he said. “But—”

“There are reaper-cops?” Matt asked Foggy’s way.

“There are reapers of every kind you can imagine,” Foggy said. “It’s far less glamourous than you think.”

Matt furrowed his brow at that and went back to following his father’s voice bouncing around the room. Brett looked pointedly at Foggy in a ‘that’s your client’ type of way.

Foggy sighed.

“Mr. Murdock,” he said. “Your father has been possessed by—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Matt interrupted.

Foggy felt like his tongue was glued to the top of his mouth.

“You know?” he said.

“That’s not my dad,” Matt sighed. He patted at his chest and made a sound of disgust at the clothes he was wearing.

“Where—do you know where your dad is then?” Foggy asked.

Matt tsked.

“He should be trying to deal with our devil,” he said.

There was a pregnant pause.

“I got bad news for you, bud,” Foggy said.

Matt sent a boiling face just past him.

“That’s not our devil,” he said. “It’s a devil. Not a demon. They’re different. Ours has been in the family for ages. I know it and I know Dad. That’s how I know that thing’s not either of them.”

That’s it for now friend! I hope this brings you pain/joy whatever it is you’re looking for!