#EDIT: another hack (for me) is to drink coffee

[satorusugurugurl]

Brat tamer and daddy kink with geto, gojo and toji please 🙏🔥

Brat Tamer’s

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro, FAB!R

Word count: 4,982 (I got really into it)

Warning: unprotected sex, degrading, overstimulating, public sex, dirty talk!

A/N: I literally loved this, I got so excited. I stayed up late editing it when I need to be up in four and a half hours! Please enjoy!

Summary: JJK men and how they fuck the bratty attitude out of you! 🥵

Gojo Satoru:

Rage boiled in the pit of your stomach as your leg bounced. The foul mood you were in wasn't because you woke up early on a Saturday or due to you sleeping on the couch. No, your sour mood is sponsored by your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.

The bastard had been the biggest twat tease the previous day. All Friday long, he sent you the most provocative, smutty, thirsty texts the world had ever seen. Sexting, who the hell even sexted anymore?

Gojo Satoru did.

SATORU: damn, I'm thirsty. 😩

YOU: Buy a drink then? 🤨

SATORU: but they don't have what I want. .🥲

YOU: How could the vending machine be out of Cola?

SATORU: I don't want soda. I want that dripping pussy in my face. I wanna lap my tongue up and down, swirl it around your clit, and fuck you with my tongue until you cum on my mouth. Then I'll do it again, this time flattening my tongue over your cunt, encouraging you to use me how you want. In whatever way, Y/N, 🥵 I need you to sit on my face. I promise you the second you get home; I'm going to live between your thighs for the night. 😏❤️🌶

The conversation progressively got hotter and hotter until you found yourself clenching your thighs together to stop the insistent throbbing. God, it was so erotic. You loved reading his nasty words and were disappointed when they abruptly stopped. Maybe he’d taken pity on you, giving you a break to enjoy your dinner with Shoko and Utahime.

You were stripping the second you got home, kicking your shoes off, tossing your keys in the bowl by the door. If you knew how to teleport like Gojo, you would have been in the bedroom instantly. Alas, you had to run for it, sliding inside, hoping to find a naked Satoru with a rose between his teeth. Instead, you saw him snoring, drooling all over his pillow.

He had teased you all day, ruined a perfectly good pair of panties, to end up passing out on you!?

Sure, he was the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer of the modern age, and he needed to get all the rest he could. It didn’t help that he had been on a long mission two days beforehand. But he could have rested after he fulfilled his nasty promises. But no, the bastard fell asleep on you.

“Morning Sweetheart.” Gojo walked into the kitchen with a yawn, oblivious to your rage. “Man, I slept like a baby.” He glanced around, searching for you, as he scratched at his stomach.

“Aw,” he stiffened at the tone of your voice, “did my old man sleep well?” Gojo watched as you lifted your coffee cup to your mouth, taking a long sip and glaring daggers at him.

“The fuck did you just call me?”

“Old man.” You snapped before taking another sip.

Gojo scoffed, grabbing his mug from the cabinet and filling it with hot coffee, fixing it with five cubes of sugar and sweet vanilla creamer. “Why the hell are you calling me that for?” There was only a two-year difference between you two. So he assumed that you woke up in a bad mood or you were being a brat at eight in the morning.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” Sarcasm laced your voice, “I assumed you turned into an old man last night. Seeing that you passed out at nine o'clock last night. After you were a twat tease all day! You know, promising to eat my pussy in Ultra 4K HD.”

Oooh, that's why you were so pissed off.

“First off, relax; I was so tired when I got home. I just intended to nap, but it turned into an eleven-hour nap. And, you know I'll make it up to you, princess.”

“No, you won't.”

Your blatant defiance had Satoru choking on his coffee. He sputtered and hacked into his elbow as tears flooded his eyes. The entire time he was fighting for his life, you watched with a smirk. Knowing you were the cause of that reaction.

“I'm sorry, I must have misheard you.” Gojo took a deep breath, clearing his throat. “It sounded a lot like you just told me no. As in, you don’t want me to eat your pussy.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pressing your breasts together. “You heard correctly.”

“Ha,” Satoru shook his head, leaning forward as he rested both hands on the kitchen counter. “Good one brat. You and I both know you’re lying. Keep it up. See what happens.”

“What.” You said, tilting your head. Assuming you hadn't heard him, Satoru opened his mouth to repeat himself. “Ever.” You finish with a smirk.

Now, that was annoying. Satoru’s blood was boiling as he realized you woke up and chose violence because he didn’t eat you out last night. Annoying as it was, he’d be lying if he said your attitude had his cock twitching inside his pajamas. Two could play in this game. He'd give you one last chance to behave before he taught you a lesson you would never forget.

“You’re going to listen to me carefully, baby.” You whined as he grabbed your face in his right hand, squeezing your cheeks gently, forcing a pout to form. “You’re going to be a good girl, and stop being a brat.”

Releasing his grip on your face, Satoru grinned, pleased with the pout that remained despite not forcing It. Now that you had been properly scolded, he could enjoy his coffee without choking to death. But before he could sip the sugary goodness, your pot twisted into a sly grin.

“Make me.”

Satoru’s eyes darkened before gently placing his cup down. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as he walked around the counter, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. He dragged you across the floor, which was easy, thanks to his curse technique. He whistled a cheerful tune as he entered your bedroom.

Which is where you had been for the last hour.

“S-Satoru!” You cried out, eyes wide as your back arched off the bed.

Satoru pushed your trembling thighs further apart. His tongue gently flickered at your abused and throbbing clit as his fingers curled inside of you. His cerulean eyes never once broke contact with your face in the hour he's been nestled between your thighs. Satoru was a man on a mission. A specific mission that was going to involve you crying from overstimulation by the time he was through with you.

“Too much!” You squeaked as his lips sealed around your clit, sucking on it. “Satoru! Satoru, please!”

He ignored you, promptly sucking harder as his fingers fastened their pace, curling against the spongy spot inside you. With a strangled yelp, you threw your head back, trembling hands reaching for his soft, snowy locks. You yanked him back. Away from your pussy with all the strength you could muster.

Satoru could have easily swatted you away, but he decided to be nice, allowing you to pull him away from your dripping sex. God, he looked as feral as you felt. Eyes narrowed, mouth dripping with your slick, pale cheeks flushed red.

“Oh, sorry, did you say something?” His talented tongue darted out, cleaning your slick off his lips. “Sorry, I’m an ‘old man,’ so I didn't hear you.” His tongue went back to work, swirling slowly around your clit as if it were his favorite candy.

“Mnnngh!” you yelled, gripping his hair tighter, “Toru!” He still paid you no mind, focused solely on making you cum for the sixth, seventh, eighth time? You'd lost count after four. “Toru!” Your legs trembled under his relentless attack. Satoru hummed, knowing you were close. He sped his fingers up, tongue flicking madly over your clit.

“Fuck! Fuck! Ahh!” You cried out as you squirted all over his face. But the man didn't stop; he kept the same speed going. Determined to make you cry from immense pleasure.

It was getting too much to handle. Spots were forming in your vision as you convulsed under him. There might be only one way to stop this never-ending orgasm loop. One that would most likely result in you getting fucked into the mattress, but at least that way, he would leave your poor clit alone for the time being.

“D-Daddy,” you whimpered, “Daddy, please.”

Just like you knew he would, Satoru lifted his head like a puppy being called for dinner. The damn bastard had a shit-eating grin plastered over his cum drenched face. “Oh, you called baby girl?~” His head rested against your thigh while slowly keeping his fingers moving inside of you.

“Nngh, oh fuck, I’m sorry, Daddy, please, I need your cock.” You cried out in relief, relaxing as he sat up, leaning back on the heels of his feet. “Daddy~ daddy, please.”

You knew he couldn’t take much more of this of the endless foreplay himself. His cock was straining against his pajama pants, a small wet spot forming against the gray fabric. Indeed, he was done punishing you. It had been a long, amazing, but still exhausting hour.

“Please, what? Use your words, beautiful.”

“Please fuck me.”

Tilting his head, Gojo rubbed at his slick chin, pondering thought. “Fuck you? You want your sweet daddy to fuck you?”

His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, making you jerk slightly. “Yes! Please, Daddy, I'm so sorry.” Satoru hummed in satisfaction before leaning down and kissing you deeply. You moaned, and he used the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. The taste of you flooded your mouth. He always kissed you like this before he fucked you.

Finally, the torture could stop.

He hooked his arms under your thighs, lifting your hips to rest over his own. But much to your horror, he pulled back, smirking as he lifted you high and higher until your legs were over his shoulders, and his lips trailed over your inner thighs with nips and hickeys.

“T-Toru! Wait, let's be reasonable!” A pitiful squeak escaped you as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. “I-I said I was sorry, Daddy!!” Terror plastered over your face as he dropped to his knees on the ground.

“Baby girl, I am being reasonable.” He pulled your hips closer to his mouth, his hot breath fanning over your cunt. “You were so hurt and distraught over me breaking my promise last night. So I have to make it up to you. I plan to fuck you all day.” Blue eyes glimmered, half-lidded, as he stuck his tongue out, dragging it slowly over your entrance. “With my tongue.”

Before you could utter another rushed, heartfelt apology, Satoru’s mouth sealed over you again, sucking you like you were his favorite treat. At this rate, he was going to suck the soul out of your body.

Geto Suguru:

“Sorry! Sorry!” You hummed out before stopping right in front of Suguru. You made it a point to bend over, your ass brushing against his crotch. “My shoe is untied!”

Suguru cleared his throat as you pretended to tie your non-existent shoelace. “No worries.” His throat was dry, and you looked over your shoulder to find him staring directly at your ass. This was going exactly as planned!

Last weekend Gojo had asked Suguru if he was a tit or ass man. Usually, your sweet boyfriend would say something along the lines that you as a whole, was his type. But between the shots of sake and the three beers he'd chugged, he eyes you carefully in thought. His dark gaze moved from your chest before he leaned back in his chair, trying to examine the ass you were sitting on. The whole scene had your friends whistling and clapping at the way he practically undressed you in front of them.

“Ya’ know, I was a tit guy in high school.” Suguru downed another shot before he draped his arm around you, pulling you firmly against his side. “But since Y/N and I started dating, I can confidently say that I am an ass man, Satoru.”

This discovery had your curiosity peaked. So there was only one logical thing for you to do. You needed to put his statement to the test. For science, of course. Nothing more than science.

Your first experiment was to see how he responded to you flashing him. When he had just gotten home from the gym, you welcomed him back by lifting your shirt showing him your breasts. In all of his sweaty glory, Suguru didn’t miss a beat. He dropped his gym bag, tossed you over his shoulder, and carried you to the bedroom, where he got his cool-down workout in.

That was the typical when he saw your boobs. Suguru loved your breasts. He loved to caress them, hold them, and bury his face in them after a long and stressful mission. In all of your previous relationships, no one enjoyed playing with your breasts as much attention as Suguru did. So to hear him say, with his own words, was a bit far-fetched.

Thus began your experiment to find out what he really was!

Throughout the day, you purposely dropped your pen, bent down to pick up your keys, and, of course, leaned over his desk in order to retrieve a paper that had mistakenly fallen into the ground. Each and every time you glanced back to look at him, to see an almost distant expression on his face as his eyes were glued to your ass.

His staring was hardly a reaction compared to you flashing him. Either he had been drunk when he answered Satoru, or you weren't putting in the effort needed to truly test him. He left you no choice but to step your antics up.

“Y/L/N-Sensei!” Itadori beamed as you carried a stack of papers into the classroom. “Do you need help with that?”

“No, I got it, Itadori!” You neatly placed the papers on the desk, grinning at Suguru, who was talking to Megumi about his stance in the earlier training. “I do need to borrow Geto, though. Sorry, guys.”

Hearing you call his name, your boyfriend turned, a soft smile gracing his gorgeous face. “Okay, class is dismissed for today. I'll see you all tomorrow.” The three first years left the opposite way that you led Suguru down.

“I needed to grab the box of paper talisman paper out of storage.” You opened the door to the storage closet. “But I can reach it.”

“So you're just using me for my height?” Suguru gasped dramatically. “Has our whole relationship been a lie, Y/N?”

With a giggle from you, Suguru stepped inside, reaching for the box on the highest shelf. Now was the perfect chance to see how he reacted to your ass. You stepped inside the closet with him. Your darling boyfriend is oblivious to your mischievous intentions.

“Oh!” Suguru turned to watch as you shut the door. He didn't get to ask what you were doing when he suddenly stiffened as you squeezed between him and the shelves. “I was wondering where they kept the extra pens!” You stood on your tiptoes, rubbing your ass on his crotch. Suguru hissed, and you could feel his cock twitch in his pants.

“Sorry! I just!” Standing on your tiptoes, you barely reached for the box of pens before dropping down. You repeated this action several times, practically dry-humping against him while attempting to maintain your innocence. “They're just so far away!”

When you reached your fingers again, grazing the box, Suguru’s hand clamped down on your wrist, squeezing it. His labored breathing hit the back of your neck as his cock throbbed hard against your ass. The air inside the closet was suddenly ten times hotter and stuffier than it had been seconds ago.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” Suguru snarled, his lips pressing against the back of your neck as her hands grabbed the hem of your pants. “You’ve been bending over in front of me all day on purpose. Are you seriously trying to test me?”

You were suddenly pushed against the shelves with one of his hands as the other yanked your pants and panties down, pooling them at your knees. “What are you talking about?” You attempt to come off as confused, but hearing the zip to his uniform being dragged down had you shivering.

“Oh, don't play dumb. You were testing to see if I was an ass man or not, weren't you?” He ends his question with a smack against your ass. “That's why you kept bending over, you know, like a brat.”

“Still don't know what you mean.” Your act is slipping up as you hear Suguru spit behind you. A second later, his hot, spit-slicked cock grinds perfectly over your ass. “Oh shit~”

Sugar kneads at your ass, thrusting his cock between your cheeks. “You can keep playing the innocent act, but we both know you're a terrible liar, Y/N.” He adjusts himself, allowing his cock to move further down, his tip teasing the entrance to your pussy.

“I am? Man, what gave me away?”

“Your shoes don't have laces.” With a sudden and sharp thrust, Suguru slams inside of you, his hand clamping down over your mouth, muffling your scream of pleasure. “Silly little brat, you wanted this as much as me, Your pussy is soaking wet for me, and I didn't even get a chance to touch your pretty cunt.”

You scream into his palm as he starts thrusting into you, the shelves shaking, dust flying around the two of you. As boxes and papers fall to the ground, Suguru picks up his pace. Your pussy is so tight and wet. It feels so good to be buried deep inside of you.

“Fuck~ fuck your pussy is the best,” Suguru whispers slowly in your ear, his dark hair falling over your shoulder as he leans fully against you. “This is like my own personal treat for being good and not fucking you in front of the entire school.”

His words, the tone of his gravely voice, and the mere force he was fucking you at. It had you hurdling to the edge so fast you felt like a teenager again. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you convulsed around his cock, cumming so hard you thought you might pass out. And Geto, he wasn't better off. You'd been rubbing up his cock off and on all day, the ultimate edging.

His teeth dug into your shoulder to silence his moans and whimpers as his cock throbbed inside of you, filling you with his seed. You breathed heavily against his palm, gasping for air as he dropped his hand from your mouth to your chin. He turned you to face him, kissing you ever so gently as he slowly pulled out of you.

“We need to go home.” With shaking hands, you tried to pull your clothes back up. “I’m going to fuck you for each time you ground that sweet ass against me today.” Suguru kindly decided to help you with your pants, pulling them up and fastening them secure. “Hope you're ready for a long night, Princess.” His hand slapped your ass as you both headed out of the closet. “Cause that ass is mine.”

In conclusion, you discovered the truth: Geto Suguru was, in fact, an ass man.

Toji Fushiguro:

“We’re having dinner with a potential client tonight. Make sure you wear something nice. Not like your usual t-shirts and shit.”

His words rang through your ears repeatedly as you eyed yourself in the bathroom mirror. You'd show him something nice. The asshole dared to tell you to wear something nice?! Mr. Sweatpants himself? What a dickhead!

After he took off for work, you made it your life's sole mission to get dolled up to a t. If he wanted to impress your potential client, you'd make their fucking jaws drop. You'd be so hot; they'd take the two of you on as clients just in the hopes of seeing you in all your fuckin’ glory!

“I assure you, my partner and I can immediately get the job done for you,” Toji said, sipping on the red wine his potential client so graciously bought.

“You both came highly recommended; I look for— my God.” the elderly man perked up. “What a stunning woman.”

Toji scoffed into his glass; he didn't care to look at other women. You were the only one he had eyes for. You were the only woman that mattered. He did, however, pay attention to the older man’s eyes. They were following whatever poor woman was walking about. Watching the man in his eighties undress them with their beady eyes was a sickening sight.

“Oh!” The man in front of Toji perked up, straightening his tie. “She's coming this way, Fushiguro.”

The sound of high- heels clicking against the tile didn't have Toji intrigued in the slightest. But the smell of your perfume and the sudden silence had him whirling around in his chair. “So sorry to keep you both waiting.” You stood there behind Toji’s chair.

Your makeup was done, and your Y/H/C hair was styled expertly. Toji had seen you dolled up countless times before. That wasn’t new. What was new was the super short red dress you were wearing. It clung to your curves, leaving hardly anything to the imagination. Your breasts bounced, threatening to pop out as you bowed at the elderly client. When you straightened your back, Toji felt the vein in his forehead throb as your dress, which went up to your mid-thigh, rode up slightly, showing off more of your smooth skin.

While you looked absolutely delicious, this was not what he had meant when he told you to dress nice.

“Please don't apologize, darling.” The soon-to-be-dead client motioned to the chair next to Toji. “Please sit. What would you like to drink?”

“Wine, please.” Toji gritted his teeth, eyes constantly darting from you to the client.

Throughout appetizers and drinks, you made sure to lean over, stretch, and emphasize your body in every way you could. In doing so, you caught the attention of passing patrons, the disgusting man in front of you, and your boyfriend, who was fuming with anger. Okay, yes, this was partially his fault. He put himself directly in this situation. Next time, he’ll know better than to tell you what to do.

When they brought out the main dishes, the elderly man licked his lips, holding a fork out to you, noodles expertly wrapped around it. “Have you ever tried the pesto pasta here? It's my absolute favorite. Give it a try, Y/N!~” Fighting back a grimace of disgust, you put on a smile. You leaned over the table, opening your mouth wide as you took the food directly off his fork.

While the act of being fed by a perverted old man was disgusting, the delicious flavor of chicken, pesto, and garlic made up for it. It was so decadent that you moaned as you swallowed the bite. Hearing a sound that was for his ears only made Toji stand up, his chair falling back from the speed of his actions. His face focused on you before he grabbed your wrist.

“Y/N! Pesto has pine nuts in it!” There was a tone of faux worry in his voice.

“Huh?” Cocking an eyebrow, you were about to tell him you knew that. When he scooped you up into his arms.

“You idiot! You're allergic to nuts!”

The clanking of silverware caught your attention, and your eyes peered back at the table. The pervert looks pale, terror painting his face. “I'm so sorry! Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“No! I have an Epi-pen in my car. I’m sorry, but we need to leave right now.”

“N-No! Please don’t; we can reschedule for another day.”

The old man watched as Toji hurriedly carried you out of the dining area of the restaurant, not once hearing the “Not a damn chance we’re doing this again.” From your very pissed-off boyfriend.

Toji suddenly turned and carried you down a hall before B-lining it into a family restroom. He plopped you down on the counter before locking the door behind him. His worried expression melted away, replaced with a darkened, more devious, rageful stare. The sheer power of his stare had you tugging your dress down in an attempt to cover your thighs. Something you had refused to do throughout the dinner.

“Oh no, you don't,” Toji’s large hand smacked yours away, “you’re the one that dressed like a slut, you might as well embrace the look.”

A shuddering breath escaped you as his fingers slipped under the skin-tight fabric, pushing it up to rest above your hips. The whole time his fingers grazed over your skin, you could see the anger in his eyes turning from a simmer to a boil in real-time. You were suddenly regretting your choices.

“Toji, we’re in a family restroom. Someone could hear us.”

“Oh? Suddenly, you're taking note of people noticing you? You didn't seem to mind when that dirtbag was eyefucking you all night. You left very little to his imagination.”

“Well, you told me to wear something nice, so I did.”

“The only place this slutty outfit is good for is in my bed.” He forced your thighs open wide, his fingers curling under the lacey hem of your panties.

His fingers were warm and oh so close to your throbbing sex. “Toji, they’ll hear us.” You scolded in a hushed tone, eyes darting towards the door leading out to a full restaurant of people.

Toji hummed and ripped the flimsy fabric of your underwear in half, causing you to gasp. “Then I guess you’ll be needing a gag.” Grabbing the back of your neck, Toji slammed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

God, he tasted like rich wine as his tongue slid into your mouth. You followed his lead, massing your tongue against his as he worked at his belt and pants. He deepened the kiss before pulling you closer to the edge of the counter, the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your dripping sex, coating your slick all over his shaft.

“Toji~” You hummed happily as the tip of his cock popped into you. Your hum slowly grew into a whine that worked its way up the back of your throat.

“I don't think so.” Your boyfriend pushed further into you. Using his free hand, Toji squeezed your cheeks in his hand, forcing your mouth open. “You were just saying someone could hear us.” He shoved your ruined panties in your mouth. “So shut the fuck up slut.”

Tasting yourself, combined with his cock slowly thrusting into you, made you cry out around your panties. Your hands shot up, gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. The sting of pain urged Toji on as he slammed into you harder.

“I know I told you to dress nice, but I take that back.” His fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you closer, pushing his dick firmly against your cervix. “You flaunting your body like that tonight made me realize I don't want anyone lookin’ at ya’ like that” His thrusts turned harder and fast, his cock pressing into your cervix over and over again. “You only dress like that for me, Y/N; you’re my slut.”

Rolling your eyes back, you mumbled some unintelligible response back to him. Hearing the lack of words coming from you had Toji smirking against your neck as he nipped and sucked at your sensitive skin. Bite marks and hickey’s littered your skin, marking you as his. If you even dared to wear something so revealing again, anyone who would dare look at you would know you were taken.

Taken and thoroughly fucked.

Being marked, having Toji fuck you into place. God, it was too much, way too much for you to handle. Your pussy started throbbing, clamping around his cock, as drool seeped out of the corner of your mouth. Wincing at the sting from your nails, Toji released himself from your neck. Tilting his head to the side, he chuckled.

“Awww~ is my little slut going to cum?~” Nodding your head, Toji licked his lips. “You gonna cum all over Daddy’s fat cock slut?” Another nod, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. “Then what the fuck are ya waitin’ for?” Snarling next to your ear Toji fucked you as hard as he could.

That sent you over the edge. You screamed around your panties cumming all over his perfect fat cock. “That’s it, that's a good fucking girl~ cum on my fat cock.” He hissed through clenched teeth. “Cum on my cock, cum on my cock. That's it~! Gonna fill you up, take it, take it slut.” Toji’s head tilted back as he roared, pumping rope after rope of hot cum into you.

He remained like that, holding you on the counter, buried inside of you. Once his cock softened, Toji pulled out of you. You dug your panties out of your mouth. You were holding the spit-coated fabric in your hands. You looked between them and your boyfriend, who was stuffing his dick back into his pants.

“Who knew me dressing up like this would end with mind-blowing sex?”

“End?” Your panties were snatched out of your palm. “Baby girl, we're just getting started.” he wadded up the fabric before sliding his hand between your legs. “So I'm just gonna—” you gasped as he pushed your panties inside your pussy, “keep you plugged up until I get you home.”

[cabinboy100]

1899: Season 1: Theory: There has never been a Kerberos before…

Beware: Season 1 spoilers! If you have not watched all eight episodes of 1899 season 1, get thee to your streaming device and watch! Then come back for some boring rambling and probably way too many occurrences of the words “sim” and “simulation”. =)

FATHER: Using the Prometheus to regain access was a smart move. Nevertheless, you’ve failed. Again.

That's Father addressing Daniel, giving him credit for hacking the sim so that the previous loop's Prometheus is not archived before the beginning of the next (current) loop. I believe that the presence of two ships in the loop, a previous loop's Prometheus and the new Prometheus of the current loop (renamed), is the cause of certain 1899 simulation malfunctions we see in season 1.

In order to maintain the integrity of the loop's world, the new Prometheus is renamed the Kerberos and a cover story about the Prometheus being lost at sea for four months is added to the world's recent history and the memories of key travelers. I'm unclear/undecided on whether Father has anything to do with this improvisation or if it is an adaptation automatically made by the sim's basecode. We learn that Father and his henches refer to this loop as "Project Kerberos", but there's no way to know if that is a name he has assigned to it, having designed/edited it to his satisfaction, or one generated by the simulation automatically on launch. In the rambling that follows, I will refer to the "sim" or "simulation" sometimes as being responsible for modifications made to this loop, but I am not certain if or how much such changes may have been executed by Father vs. the simulation's baseline programming algorithms/AI.

Wherever Ciaran is, he is aware of the adaptation of the sim world in this loop and modifies it further by adding his mysterious envelopes of news clippings, notes, and photos to the inventories of select travelers, building on the four-months-lost Prometheus story. He even includes the exit key in the envelope for Henry/Maura. These moves indicate to me that Ciaran ultimately wants Maura to escape the sim. He just cannot make it easy for Father to keyjack her and escape instead. I believe Ciaran counts on Daniel and Elliot to unwittingly help him in this, thanks to their love for and loyalty to his seeker sister—natural or programmed. =)

With all of these modifications made, the loop begins. The travelers wake from their fitful slumbers aboard the Kerberos and begin their second days at sea (their firsts are skipped, because departure and arrival are not part of the loop — for more on how the 1899 sim was designed to operate, give this a read). Everything seems to run as it normally would, or at least, what passes for normally in recent iterations of the sim. Right up to the moment when it doesn't—when in the dining hall, every passenger except Maura takes a drink of their tea at the same time (should really be kicking-in-before-your-reality-does coffee, tho, right?) and Ling Yi's right arm visibly glitches. And not only does this oddsmaker-upsetting event actually happen, but no one on board, Maura included, appears to take notice of its uncanniness. I believe this is the first sign that the simulation has been tasked with more than it can process.

Almost immediately after the glitch, Krester enters and makes his plea for a doctor to help for his pregnant sister. Maura follows him down to third class to help Tove. Afterward, when Ada touches Maura's belly and asks if she has children, Maura experiences her first waking flash to a backstory—Alfred Beetle in Elliot's palm. When Krester presents his crucifix to her as a thank you, Maura experiences another flash to her backstory—Father in shadow in the hospital corridor. Then more flashes on the stairs up to the deck—the "1011" hospital room number, her wrists restrained in the chair, the empty chair itself, the memory restoring and erasing hypos, the memory eraser injection, sexytimes with Daniel, the obsidian tetrahedron in Elliot's(?) hand.

I believe that these waking flashes have not occurred in previous loops and are the glitchy result of the destabilization of the simulation. Certain of these flashes are notable for not being part of what we see of Maura's backstory in the Kerberos, which is focused on her Father forcibly removing her memories in room 1011 of his hospital after she challenges him to answer for shady activites she's uncovered.

Alfred Beetle appears in Elliot's backstory.

Sexytimes with Maura belong to Daniel's backstory.

The black tetrahedron isn't part of anyone's backstory (that we've seen). We only ever see it appear "live" in the sim, usually in Elliot's possession. 

How and why do these moments that are not part of Maura's programmed 1899 life appear to her mind's eye? Perhaps…

In past loops, the beetle and sexytimes were part of a backstory or backstories shared with Maura. Sim glitching is enabling such moments from past loops to bleed through.

Flashing to the POV of an NPC version of herself in someone else's backstory (Elliot's, Daniel's) is another manifestation and level of simulation bugginess.

Her mind can access Elliot and Daniel's backstories because she helped create them. (More on this in a post to come.)

The black tet, a device that allows its wielder to affect the sim, could logically only be part of a memory of a previous loop. Sim glitching is enabling such memories from past loops to bleed through.

Once Maura is on deck, the good captain finds her and inquires about her whereabouts. They exchange some words about the rules regarding the separation of first and third classes and who they benefit. Classic hot and heavy banter. Alas, their dance is interrupted when the First Mate and not-Adam Driver arrive with a transcript of a repeating message they've received for the last 20 minutes—the coordinates of the Prometheus. 

When the captain chooses to change course and tow the Prometheus back to Europe, the simulation is strained even further as the ships enter never before traveled virtual waters. In an attempt to nudge its subjects back on scripted track, the simulation intervenes by generating unnavigable fog, forcing the ships to stop, as well as giving its procedural sea and sky renderers and bird bots a break.

As this Kerberos loop progresses, more travelers experience waking backstory flashes, and not just images, but fully immersive visits. They find themselves transported into their backstory worlds to relive their painful memories in pieces. These are different from their scheduled nighttime "dream" visits—in which they play their parts in their backstory cutscenes exactly as they (are meant to) remember them—because they are awake and aware of the strangeness of the events unfolding around them even as they question and resist them. I believe these are all unintended glitches in the loop simulation, caused by the sim computers having been pushed beyond their capabilities in order to maintain a Prometheus and a Kerberos, over 1600 travelers, and decisions and consequences never made in any previous loop.

Yeah, so…that. =)

Wake up 🜃

Keep on keepin' on~

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Got stuffffff to do today... I don't want to

[spencers-renaissance]

This Gravitational Pull

Summary: Penelope Garcia sets her two best friends Derek & Spencer up on a blind first date. Even with the best intentions and highest expectations, no-one could've predicted it would go quite this well.

Tags: fluff, first date, au: diff first meeting, shy spencer, insecurity, anxiety, flirting, cuddling, protective derek, silly amounts of affection

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

I started writing this and then realised that I'd set their date in a pub's beer garden? I googled it and apparently they are a thing in America so I kept it in. I don't know how common they are, but I hope it's all good and you can picture the setting just fine.

Spencer really wishes he hadn’t agreed to this blind date.

Not because he doesn’t trust Penelope — he does, he trusts her implicitly and entirely — but because it's a blisteringly hot day in late July and the heat compounded by his shaking nerves is making for a rather unpleasant sweating situation.

A bumblebee buzzes quietly around the table he’s sat at, briefly interested in the iced coffee he’s got his hands wrapped around, and Spencer watches it with a gentle sort of intrigue, able to briefly take his mind off the impending date. He knows that Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan is physically attractive, Penelope had made that more than clear with both her copious photos of him and the way she’s sung his praises since she started working at the FBI, but if anything, that just makes him more nervous. If Derek wasn’t his type, then he wouldn’t have as much to lose.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair as he heaves a small sigh. Worst case scenario, he can run home to his apartment, order Indian food, bury himself in the early edition of War and Peace he just won in an auction and forget that this date ever happened.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?”

A surprisingly deep and sexy voice has him looking up from the watch face he’s been staring at perhaps a little too intensely, and he’s instantly taken aback by the Greek God standing in front of him. He’d known Derek was attractive, he'd seen pictures of him, but no camera could ever hope to do someone so beautiful any semblance of justice.

“Uh, y-yes, um, yeah. That’s me.” He shakes his head to try and recover his awkward word stumbling before discreetly wiping his sweaty palm on his trousers and standing up to shake Derek’s hand. “You’re Derek?”

“The one and only,” Derek says cheekily, shooting Spencer a grin that already has his stomach churning with a mix of excitement and crippling nerves. “Penelope told me you were gorgeous, but let me tell you, she really undersold it, pretty boy.”

His cheeks instantly flush red as he fights to maintain eye contact, blinking owlishly at the other man. Did he really just say that?

“I was going to say the same thing.”

Derek’s grin only widens. “Well, it looks like Penelope matched us well, then.”

This time Spencer allows himself to briefly duck his head as a baffling mix of pleasure and mortification swim around his chest. He puts it down to inexperience. Any other explanation will only compound his embarrassment.

“She did,” he agrees, smiling over at Derek and hoping desperately that he’s managing to stay cooler on the outside than he is on the inside. “Do you want something to drink?”

Derek nods. “I’ll go and order a beer at the bar. Do you want anything or are you okay with that coffee?”

“Oh no, I’m fine, thank you,” Spencer says, and mentally he praises himself for finally getting out a coherent sentence that doesn’t sound hopelessly mangled and flustered.

He watches Derek as he strides into the pub, looking as cool and confident as his looks and personality allow, and he realises that he really does just have a way about him. The bar is relatively crowded due to the blinding heat on a Saturday afternoon, but the bartender serves him instantly, all the girls eyeing him interestedly and the guys knocking his shoulder and joking about with him as though they’re all easy, long-time friends.

It’s nice, Spencer thinks, to be the focus of someone like that’s attention. Derek could have his pick of most people drinking here, but he only has eyes for Spencer as he comes back out, holding a tall pint and wearing a happy, focused expression as he sits back down.

“Do you not drink?” Derek asks curiously and without judgement, gesturing to his coffee.

“I go out with my friends sometimes,” Spencer says, blushing again, “but I’m a bit of a lightweight, and that’s not the best state of mind to be in on any first date, let alone a blind one.”

Derek chuckles warmly at that, and the sound is a pleasant rumble reminiscent of a distant thunderstorm. Spencer wants to melt into it.

“I think I’d like to see you all messy on a night out, pretty boy,” Derek says wryly, still grinning shamelessly, and Spencer gets the distinct impression that this ‘pretty boy’ business is going to be a Thing between them.

Spencer cocks his head and takes a sip of his coffee through the long metal straw. “Maybe you’ll have to join us some time.”

“Does that mean we’re going on another date?” Derek asks, but before Spencer can panic that he’s said the wrong thing, he’s smoothly continuing. “Because I’m more than down for that.”

“You are?”

“Pretty boy, you ever looked in the mirror?” Derek demands playfully. “Add that to this cute little nerdy bashful doctor thing you got going on and you’re the whole package. Of course I want another date with you, and we’ve barely even started this one.”

Spencer flushes bright pink at that, and decides to move the conversation on before he melts into a literal puddle in the middle of this beer garden. “So you know Penelope through work?”

Derek gets the hint. “I was part of the group that arrested her, actually,” he chuckles, “and I thought she was gonna be a nightmare to work with when we gave her the option of working for the FBI instead of going to prison. But then she showed up on her first day decked out from head to toe in pink and yellow, her hair dyed back to her natural blonde, and the way she smiled when I called her baby girl… well, it was smooth sailing from then on. Did you know her back in her Black Queen days?”

“I was her one phone call,” Spencer answers, his face splitting into an easy grin as they discuss his favourite person on planet earth. “I was terrified she was going to jail and I’d lose her forever, so I was over the moon when you guys offered her that deal. We went to get our hair done together the very next day.”

“Oh yeah? And what did Pretty Boy have done to his hair, hm?”

Spencer blushes. “Let’s just say she wasn’t the only one who had a rebellious phase?”

“Now that I have got to know more about.”

“Save it for date number two, SSA Morgan,” Spencer shoots back, relaxing into the easy banter between them.

“Alright, alright, baby, I can do that,” he says, winking again. Thankfully, Spencer manages not to do an embarrassing impression of a traffic light this time. “How did you and Penelope meet?”

“Back in college actually,” Spencer nods. “She was sort of going off the rails after her parents’ death, but I think finding a scared 12 year old in her Geography elective helped her rein it in a bit. We’ve been glued at the hip pretty much since we met. Even when I went to MIT for a bit to complete my Engineering PhD, she came with me. Since her job back then was mostly hacking and some supplemental side jobs, it didn’t really matter where she was based, she was just hellbent on protecting me like she has ever since that first Geography class.”

“Wow,” Derek says, looking genuinely shocked as he leans back a little bit, eyeing Spencer with curious eyes. “You went to college when you were twelve? I’m glad you had Penelope because that could’ve been a disaster.”

“It kind of was,” Spencer nods, laughing a little. “But it meant that I had five degrees including three doctorates by the time I was twenty-one so I wasn’t too mad about it.”

Derek stares at him consideringly, the soft smile on his face making Spencer’s stomach fill with butterflies. “You’re quite the genius aren’t you?”

“Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Derek just stares at him.

“So, yeah, I guess I’m a genius?” he says bashfully.

Derek laughs, shaking his head. “Definitely a genius. I mean, Penelope told me you were clever, but this is like… insane. Are you sure you’re okay to go out with a mere mortal like me or should I see myself out?”

“Yeah actually, Derek, sorry, it’s not going to work out,” Spencer says, feigning seriousness. “I can’t be with anybody who’s not within twenty IQ points of me or doesn’t have at least two PhDs.”

“A good actor, too? What don’t you have going for you, pretty boy?” He laughs in that wild and free kind of way Spencer always wishes he could, and he wonders whether Derek could teach him how.

Derek watches him like there’s something special about Spencer as the sound of their laughter mingles, looks at him like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be but right here, right now, and the warm intensity of it has a buzz going in Spencer’s chest, a pleasant feeling he can’t imagine anything dousing, and he never wants Derek to take his eyes off him again. Not if this is how it’s always going to make him feel.

The hours of the afternoon fly by and all of a sudden the sun is setting and they’re feeling distinctly hungry.

“How do you feel about getting some street food and taking a wander down to the beach?” Derek suggests hopefully, and Spencer can’t help the wide grin that splits his cheeks at the idea.

“Let’s do it.”

The beach is slightly cooler than the garden now the sun is setting and a soft, salty breeze is floating in from the ocean, so they sit close together in the sand, sharing their servings of nachos and fries between them.

“What’s your family like?” Spencer asks, a little daringly after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence.

Derek smiles. “They’re amazing. It’s been just me, my mom, and my two sisters since I was ten years old, but I think losing my dad only brought us closer together, y’know? We had to learn from a young age how to rely on each other, and we were also taught the very valuable lesson of just how important family is and how nothing in life is guaranteed, so we’ve made every effort to be as close to one another as possible.”

Spencer watches with quiet admiration as Derek gushes about his family, and takes another bite of their nachos. “Do they live locally?”

“No, they’re all still back in Chicago,” Derek says. “It’s sad sometimes, being so far away from them, but they would have killed me if I’d stuck around back home just for them and hadn’t chased my dream of climbing the ladder of the FBI.”

Spencer nods, chuckling along with Derek as they stare out at the quiet, tumbling waves of the ocean.

“What about you?” Derek asks. “Are you close with your family?”

Shit. He hadn’t exactly considered that asking Derek about his family would lead to reverse questioning about his own. I mean, call him a genius all you want, but social interaction is not his area of expertise.

“Uh, it’s just me and my mom. She lives back in Vegas,” he explains, clearing his throat awkwardly as he hopes that’s enough to appease his date.

Truthfully, it probably would have been, but Derek doesn’t say anything immediately, and the silence feels like it’s choking him into admitting the truth, however much it makes his chest tighten and his stomach flip with anxiety. What if this is it? What if Derek doesn’t want to start something with someone who has a family history as fucked up as his? What if he reads between the lines and sees that Spencer could be just like his mom in the future, and thinks that starting a relationship is just too risky?

“She has paranoid schizophrenia,” he blurts out, the words rolling off his tongue without his express permission, and instead of shutting up, they just keep coming. “When my dad left when I was ten, I had to be her sole carer until I left for college at twelve, but even then she refused professional help and medication, so I was taking the train from Pasadena to Las Vegas every weekend to try and help her out, and it got messy a lot of the time. It was only when I turned eighteen that things got a little bit easier, and that was only because I betrayed her trust and had her sectioned into a Sanitorium.

“They’re amazing, they take really good care of her and I did my research obviously, but I think a part of her still resents me for doing that.”

He stares out at the ocean for a couple of seconds before he suddenly realises where he is and what he’s just done.

“Oh my god,” he says as horror and dread fill him from the bottom up, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have just dumped all that on you, I’m sorry, just—”

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says gently, placing a reassuring hand on his back to get his attention. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m just happy you felt comfortable enough to tell me all of that, and besides, I asked the question, and I meant it. I wanted to know the answer.”

Spencer feels some of the panic recede a little, and he looks up at Derek to try and gauge whether he’s telling the truth. “Really?”

Derek’s expression only softens further. “Really.”

He relaxes a little further and leans into Derek’s side, smiling to himself when Derek wraps his arm fully around his waist, resting his head on top of Spencer’s.

“I feel like I’ve known you way longer than just four hours and fifty six minutes,” Spencer says eventually.

Derek chuckles, and this time Spencer can feel the low rumble against his cheek as well as hear it. “It might be the biggest cliche in the book, but I feel exactly the same, baby.”

“I think sharing street food on the beach while staring out at a sunset as romantic and beautiful as that one has cemented the cliches in this date enough already,” Spencer points out, laughing a little.

“That is very true,” Derek agrees, squeezing his hand against Spencer’s waist. “We could round all the cliches off with a kiss, if you’d like.”

Spencer sits upright, blushing again as he eyes Derek’s flirtatious but serious expression. “I’d like that a lot.”

Derek wastes no time in taking Spencer’s jaw in his hand and leaning in slowly to place a long, sensuous kiss to his lips. Spencer kisses back with as much control as is possible when your experience is next to none and you have one of the most beautiful men in the world turning your stomach inside out with his attention, but it seems to be enough for Derek because as soon as they pull away, he’s grinning widely.

“You’re quite the kisser, pretty boy.”

Spencer fights the blush but it comes anyway. “I like that.”

Derek’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “The kiss?”

“No, the pet names.”

Derek’s expression smooths out and he smiles again, a little more tenderly than his usual cheeky grin. “Well, that’s good, because I have plenty more up my sleeve, sweetheart.”

Spencer flushes with pleasure this time and settles back against Derek’s side, observing the blue sea as they settle into silence once more.

“I’m not very used to all of this, by the way,” he says after a while, the sky slowly darkening.

“Used to what?”

“This. Kissing. Dating. Pet names.”

Derek looks down at Spencer to try and get a better look at his face. “Really? You could’ve fooled me.”

“I’ve only ever had one boyfriend before, and this is only the second date I’ve ever been on.”

“Any girlfriends?”

“Not really my area.”

“And this other date, was that with boyfriend number one?”

Spencer shakes his head against Derek’s shoulder. “No, I never went on a date with him. I met him in college and we were friends first, so we never really dated, just fell into a relationship.”

“Ah.” A brief silence settles over them again, but Derek doesn’t let it hang long. “You know I’m not bothered by any of that, right? You could have never dated anyone ever before or have screwed your way round half of California and DC and it wouldn’t matter a single bit. Not if you were here with me, right now.”

He laughs softly as Derek lightens the mood, and something in Spencer’s chest feels like it falls into place at that, like his last anxious reservation has been washed away and he can really move forward, forge onward with this scarily exciting endeavour.

“You’re a good man, Derek Morgan. You know that, right?”

Derek kisses the top of his head. “I do,” he says, “but I’m not sure it’s ever sounded quite as special falling from anyone else’s lips as it does falling from yours.”

Further down the beach, another wave crashes against the shore, and the colours of the sunset fade away slowly. People pack up their picnic baskets and head home, and seagulls attack their leftovers, but none of that matters, because right now, Spencer’s world is Derek Morgan.

Penelope Garcia deserves a medal.

(Yes, I've used that "yeah I guess I'm a genius" sequence in way too many fics, leave me ALONE. )

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds @wifeyprentiss @cmily @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @hotchscotchh (add yourself to my taglist here!)

[baubuttercup]

Mini Garcia pt2 /Spencer Reid

Summary: It’s been 2 months since reader started her job at the BAU alongside Garcia. Will a certain someone finally ask her out on a date? 

Spencer x Reader

Warning: Fluff/none

A/N: I haven’t fully edited it but hope you enjoy it :)

Y/N POV

Its been about 2 months since i started interning at the BAU alongside Penelope as her Junior Tech Analyst. I absolutely love every moment of this job and everyone here had become my family. From our first encounter Spencer and I hit it off really well, we came to find out that we had so much in common from the genius writing of Edgar Allan Poe to the newest episode of Dr Who it was like we were the same person. I have to admit i do have a slight...okay maybe large crush on him but i mean who wouldn't the man is a genius, kind hearted and very easy on the eyes. I was patiently waiting for Penelope to come into work, it was currently 9am and i still hadn't heard or seen here anywhere. Usually she is the first one here around 8-8:30am. I make my way out of the bat cave and up towards Hotch's office to see if he has heard anything from her. I knock on the door seeing him looking intensely at a case file, he looks up at me with a welcoming smile to come in. "Hi Sir, i was just wondering if you had heard or seen Garcia today, it doesn't seem like she's here" he closes the case file standing up "Garcia is feeling under the weather so she is going to take some time off, have you by any chance taken a look at the LA case file" I slowly begin to walk out with Hotch going towards the conference room "Yes, me and Penelope researched that file last Friday" he hands me a case file "Good because you are going to be our full time Tech Analyst whilst Garcia is sick, your first task is to brief the team" my stomach drops at the words he just said, i can't do this, i'm completely incapable of doing this without Penelope. Just as I entered the conference room I receive a text

Queen Penelope: "Hi my beautiful little Einstein, as Hotch probably filled you in i am sick and wont be coming in for a couple of day, so you are going to have to be Super Y/L and do what i know you do best. I believe in you, just remember everything i told you and you will do perfectly fine. Message me if you need anything my little sweet sugar plum. Queen Oracle Out!

  Receiving that text from Garcia did surprisingly calm my nerves. I open the case file to to refresh my memory as walked up to the plasma screen while everyone else was gathering in "Y/N will be filling in for Garcia as she is sick so all information is to be run through her on this case" Hotch looked up at me "Whenever your ready" I look over to see Spencer staring at me then mouthed "you got this" while sticking his thumbs up. The reassurance from him and Garcia sure did the trick cause my nerves were practically gone.  I grab the remote displaying the images of the victims while handing out the case files to the agents" Okay, latest victim is Tara Farris, 20, she is the third victim in two weeks all found in a freeway off-ramp by commuters, there were  no signs of sexual assault on any of the victims, but all the victims were severely hypovolemic, Tara had less than a pint of blood in her..."  

-- After briefing the team on the LA vampire case, i came back to the bat cave to make sure all the systems were working fine and ready to go. I began researching into the victimology to see if i could find any connection between them. a sudden knock on the door made me spine my chair around "Hey I just wanted to say you done great in there and thought you might need a little 'pick me up' so here is a coffee and bagel" I stare straight ahead at the pretty boy placing the drink and food on my table, my heart melted at how cute that little gesture was "Reid thats so sweet, thank you, i did need this, so you just made my morning"  i couldn't contain the smile on my face, i was just so taken back at how adorable he was "u-m i actually wanted to ask you u-m, ah u-m by any chance um...do you have an extra copy of the victims forensic report, i didn't seem to get one in my case file" I was a little disappointed as i genuinely thought he was about to ask me out, guess i really am in over my head. "Yeah sure no worries, here, Garcia and i always make extra copies of all the reports" he was about to say something before Morgan stormed in "Reid lets go, Hotch wants us on the plane" Reid looks at me and smiles waving goodbye. I turn back to the computer refocusing my attention on the victimology.

--

REID'S POV I was so close, all i had to do was say 6 words, 6 words and i might have a chance "Will you go out with me" but no i'm such a coward "Reid its been two months already, are you ever planning on asking her out" I turn back to her office to make sure she didn't hear what Morgan just said as we were only a few feet away "lower your voice she could hear you, and what makes you think i like her" Derek looked at the clueless boy with an ‘are you serious expression’ "Reid you can't go five minutes without talking about here, god damn when we are on a case you don't shut up about the things she does, then when you are in her presence you stutter and continuously stare at her. Reid you just bought her coffee and a bagel for christ sake. If i were you i would swoop in before another guy comes along and take your shot" the last sentence made my blood boil. Knowing she isn't mine and she can very well be with anyone else hurts me "Morgan even if i did like her, i'm me , Reid remember, boy genius who doesn't shut up about statistics, what makes you think a girl like that would go for someone like me" Morgan stops in his tracks to confront him about what he just said "Reid i'd be damned if that girl in there doesn't like you. You two talk constantly, she blushes whenever she is in your presence and for your information Garcia might have slipped and told me that Y/N thinks your cute" she what, there is no way, me, the person who's hair is too long, tie always perpetually crooked and not to mention the darkened circles under my eyes from lack of sleep. She thinks i'm cute.  

Y/N POV "Y/N you in yet" JJ said over video call, i was currently trying to hack into Tara's computer. I think to myself, if i was a vampire lover what would i put my password as, then it hits me "that was fast Y/N" i smile to myself "Password was Cullen" I see Reid enter next to JJ staring at the computer screen "Colon?" i laugh a little too loud at his question "No Reid, Cullen, the vampire family from Twilight" He looks at me with confusion "Whats Twilight?" I am taken back by how clueless he "Reid you do realise i'm going to force you to watch all the movies now right" Reid looked a bit scared but chuckled a little -- The case went for two day and let me tell you those were the most tiring two days ever. I mentally make note to appreciate Garcia more cause this job is not easy at all. The team had just arrived back so i decided to go greet them at the elevator as Garcia usually does. The elevator doors open and the first person i see is Reid, his eyes were on the the floor and when he looked up they met mine. An instant smile appeared on his face as he came over an hugged me. I was a little shocked as this was our first hug encounter. He was so soft and gentle, i could have stay like that forever "Hey Y/N, i told you you would do great, how did you find it without Garcia" I looked into his chocolate brown eyes completely entranced "It was an experience and a very educational one, but i do prefer her with me, adds to the excitement" Morgan walked past smiling at me telling me i had done a good job. Just as he was about to leave i saw him nudge Reid and whisper "do it now pretty boy" Reid blushed a little noticing that i had noticed their encounter. "U-m, Y/L, i mean Y/N, I was ah wondering if ah- " i smirk to myself excited about where this is headed "what is it Reid, do you need another copy of the forensic report" i giggle winking at him, he laughed and continue "ha no um i'm sorry about that, what i wanted to ask you was if you would like to go to this Edgar Allan Poe reading at Georgetown, you know like a date...with me" I couldn't contain my smile at all, his attempt at asking me out was so cute i couldn't hold it back "Of course i will Reid, i'd love to go on a date with you" we both smile at each other before parting. i go back to the bat cave to gather my things and as i walking out i saw from the corner of my eye an excited Reid telling Morgan that i said yes to go on a date with him. Here i was thinking he couldn't get any cute. 

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch52: Chicken Soup And Baseball Gloves

Intro: The original Avengers are re-united and along with Rhodey, Rocket, Nebula and Scott Lang, they run the first test on their Time Machine. 

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: Holler @angrybirdcr​ does the biz with the edits again

Chapter 51

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“Any news on Natasha?” Katie asked, her voice thick, as Steve walked into the kitchen.

“Not yet.” He shook his head, as she reached over, adding bread to the toaster. “She was still working on a lead. How are you feeling?”

“Ok.” She lied. Behind her, Steve rolled his eyes.  

“I can hear you wheezing from here. Go back to bed.”

“I don’t want to lie in bed.” She shrugged and he took a deep breath, crossing the room to stand behind her. It wasn’t often she got sick, but when she did she was a terrible patient.

“Sweetheart.” His arms circled her waist. “You’re burnt out and ill, and you certainly can’t go to the compound like this.”

He was right, Katie couldn’t actually remember the last time she felt so bad. She’d requested they leave the compound early last night as the group sat around discussing Tony’s plans to build their bigger Quantum Tunnel. She’d had a headache that she thought was a migraine, but had woken herself and Steve with a particularly nasty coughing fit in the early hours of the morning, whereby he’d gone to fetch her a glass of water and laid with her, rubbing her back until she fell asleep again.

“My plan was to actually lay on the sofa all day watching trash.” She shrugged, coughing a little.

“Ok, if that’s what you want.” he nodded, gently moving her so she was facing him. “Go, I’ll fix the kids breakfast. Do you want anything to eat?”

She shook her head, before letting rip with another hacking cough, her hand flying to her mouth as she turned away from him.

“C'mon,” he sighed, “c'mere.”

Katie practically fell into him when he wrapped his arms around her and she snuggled her head into his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist. “I’m fine,”

“You look like crap.”

“You’re mean.” She croaked out. He chuckled as he brought his hand up and pressed it against her forehead and she closed her eyes, he felt so cool.

“You have a fever. Did you take anything?”

She nodded “Tylenol and cough syrup.”

“Well go lay down until it kicks in.”

“Okay,” she finally relented, and Steve watched as she stepped out of his embrace and headed into the living room. The last time Steve had anything like a cold was pre the serum. He felt the odd sore throat and sniffle every now and then but as fast as they arrived they went thanks to his healing qualities. Jamie seemed to be the same. As a baby he picked up a few bugs but he was back to normal in a maximum of a day. There was one time a few months ago he had picked up a nasty cold that had lasted longer, making him even more of a mamma’s boy, clingy and grouchy. But after thirty-six hours he was back to his normal self, the half of him that held the super soldier serum clearly winning out. And Steve was glad, if the half of Jamie that was his father meant he rarely get sick, he’d passed something good onto his son. Emmy, on the other hand, was like Katie. No serum, so when she got sick she felt it more. And Katie was always on hand to look after her kids, even when she felt crappy herself. So when it fell to Steve to look after her, he was more than happy to do so.

“Is Mama sick?” Jamie asked, from where he was sat at the table, his face creased into a frown.

“Yeah she is, buddy.” Steve nodded, grabbing the toast as it popped up from the toaster, buttering it and cutting it into squares for his son. He placed it down in front of Jamie and then popped more in for himself. “Just a cold though, she’ll be fine.”

Steve left the kitchen for a moment, shouting up the stairs for Emmy to get a move on before returning and pouring himself a coffee and one into a Thermos mug for Emmy to take with her.  Apparently the ‘in thing’ now was to take her breakfast to eat on the way. Steve had no idea why, but whatever. When did he ever have a clue about anything that was on trend?

She bustled in, rucksack on her back and grabbed the toast he was holding out in a paper napkin and her mug.

“Thanks Dad.” She smiled, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Your Mom’s in the lounge, she’s not feeling too good.” He looked at her. “So I know you wanted Brooke to come over tonight but it might be better to give it a miss.”

“Okay.” She nodded, “I can go to hers instead. Will you be here to give me a lift later if I come home and get some stuff?”

“Sure.” He nodded. She ruffled Jamie’s hair on her way past and then disappeared up the hall, and he was pleased to see she popped her head into the lounge to tell Katie to get better soon.

“Are we going to the compound?” Jamie asked as Steve sat down, his own breakfast now in front of him.

“You’re going to Day Care.” Steve looked at him. “You haven’t been in a while.”

“I don’t wanna.” Jamie pouted

“Well, suck it up.” Steve replied. It was important to him and Katie that their son interacted with kids his own age as much as possible, so even whilst Katie wasn’t going to work today, Jamie was going to nursery. “I’m staying home today. We can go to the compound at weekend. If your momma’s better maybe we can stay over.”

Jamie pondered this for a moment. “Okay.”

Steve chuckled and ruffled his son’s hair as the two of them ate their breakfast. Jamie requested a bowl of cereal once his toast was finished, and to be fair Steve was still hungry too so he made them both a helping of Cheerios before he cleaned Jamie down and got him dressed. Once that was done he popped his head into the lounge and saw Katie was asleep under one of the throws.

“You got everything?” He looked at Jamie, quickly checking him over. He had his small rucksack in his hands, his jumper was on and he was clean. Looked good to Steve.

“Yep!” Jamie nodded enthusiastically.

“Alright, come on then.” Steve held out his hand, and Jamie slipped his little palm into his Dad’s as he opened the door and they made their way to the car.

*****

“Why is it so cold?” Katie groaned, pulling the comforter round her as she shuffled into the kitchen.

“It’s not cold, you’re just sick.” Steve pulled the orange juice out of the fridge, pouring her a giant glass. He handed it to her, raising his hand to her forehead. “You’re still warm.”

“No, I told you, I’m freezing.”

Steve was about to say something when they heard the security system telling them Tony had arrived.

“Why is Tone here?” Katie asked, coughing again.

“Dunno.” Steve shrugged. “I told him I wasn’t going to the compound today as you were sick so maybe he’s come to see how you are.”

“Bit out of his way.” Katie pondered, as the front door opened.

“Knock knock.” Her brother’s voice called up the hallway.

“Kitchen Tony.” Steve called back.

“Just thought I’d see how the patient was,” Tony’s voice rang out down the hallways and Katie rolled her eyes, “so far so good, I see no red cross on the door telling everyone to stay away or any one walking outside chanting bring out your dead…”

At that point he walked into the kitchen and nodded to Steve before he turned to Katie. “Huh, maybe there should be. You look like shit.”

She was pale, her hair was pulled into a messy pony tail and her nose was bright red. She opened her mouth to shoot some comment back about being pissed off with people telling her she looked terrible but was cut off by a fit of hacking coughs.

“I’m dying.” She groaned.

“From a cold?”  Tony rolled his eyes.

“I feel like it.” She mumbled.

Steve chuckled and stirred the soup in the pan.

“Smells good, Spangles!” Tony looked round him to glance down. “What is it.”

“Chicken soup, my Ma’s own recipe. Plenty if you want some.” Steve offered.

“No, it’s mine and I don’t like people taking my stuff.” Katie pouted, childishly. “That soup makes everything better.”

“Don’t be a brat.” Steve shot her a look.

“I’m ill, don’t shout at me.” She shot back, coughing again. Steve pointed to the orange juice that she had set down on the side and the Tylenol next to it.

“Drink that, and take that.” He instructed. “And then back to the couch.”

“You’re not my dad.” She glared at him, sullenly. Steve took a deep breath and bristled, Jesus she was obstinate.

“No, but I am, well, by default.” Tony eyed her. “Do as you’re told.”

She gave Tony a look that was positively mutinous, staring directly into his brown eyes before she reached over, took two pills from the packet, tossed them down with a swallow of juice and flipped him off.

“I guess I’ll be on the couch.” She grumbled, retreating out of the kitchen.

“Thanks.” Steve sighed once she was gone, and Tony chuckled.

“She was a nightmare as a kid when she got sick.” He mused, leaning back against the counter.

“She still is. Insists on trying to keep going instead of resting.”

“You know, when she was ten she got a nasty bout of tonsillitis.” Tony stepped over to grab the coffee from the cupboard. “It turned into something called Quinsy and she ended up hospitalised as one of them burst and she needed them removing under emergency surgery. They were worried about blood poisoning.” Tony paused to top the machine up with coffee and he grabbed the glass jug from underneath. “She demanded to come home the next day even though she was on some heavy duty IV anti-biotics, full scale tantrum when she was told she had to stay in for four days.”

Steve snorted as Tony filled the machine with water and turned it on.

“So trying to carry on when she has a cold is nothing.” Tony looked at him. “Just tell her whose boss.”

The men exchanged a look, both of them fully understanding that Steve was most definitely not the boss before they laughed and Tony clapped him on the shoulder, moving to make the coffee.

“So, Pepper is coming to the compound for the rest of the week” Tony poured himself a drink before he did the same and handed it to Steve. “I was wondering if you wanted me to take Jamie off your hands for the evening, Morgan will be pleased to see him.”

Steve hesitated for a second, as he took a sip of his coffee. He was still torn as to whether the compound really was the best place for the kids. But, the living area was far enough away from any of the equipment, and Emmy had lived there before…

“Don’t worry, I won’t turn him into a teenager.” Tony spotted the flicker of doubt that flashed across Steve’s face.

“No, it’s not that, I trust you Tony, I-” Steve began, feeling that he needed to explain but Tony waved him away.

“I know, and believe me I wasn’t sure I wanted Morgan there but I haven’t seen her since Monday.”

“You know, you don’t have to be at the Compound permanently.” Steve turned the heat down on the stove.

“I know but it’s just easier.” Tony shrugged. “Especially whilst we’re still building the stuff.”

Steve nodded and began to pull three bowls out of the cupboard “Okay, well yeah I’m sure Jamie would like that.”

“Great, I can get him on the way back, I’m assuming he’s at the tower?”

Steve glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only half two but there was no time limits on when he could be collected from Nursery. “Yeah he is, I’ll call ahead, let them know you’re picking him up.”

Tony clapped his hands together. “Great.”

“Let me get this to the patient and then you can fill me in on what’s been going on.” Steve said, picking up a bowl of the soup and a spoon.

****

Katie’s cold lasted three full days. On the fourth night, she had another restless sleep. Not wanting her constant tossing and turning to wake Steve, she headed down stairs, took another dose of Tylenol and turned on the TV, snuggling under the blanket on the sofa. She felt like crap. Luckily the medicine kicked in about fifteen minutes later and she managed to fall asleep, Lucky curled around her legs, keeping her feet warm. When she woke later that morning, she was pleased to find she felt a lot clearer headed and she didn’t ache when she moved which was a bonus.

“You look better.” Steve smiled as she wandered into the kitchen. He’d left her asleep on the couch when he’d seen her earlier that morning, the kids were still in bed seeing as it was weekend.

“I feel it.” she nodded, running her hands through her hair “I’m starving.”

Her appetite being back was a good thing.

“Want me to fix you anything?” Steve asked.

“Eggs and bacon.” she said enthusiastically “I’m gonna grab a shower.”

“Good I can smell you from here.” he teased, laughing as she raised a middle finger which she held up over her shoulder as she walked out of the kitchen. The shower made her feel even better, and once she was dressed in actual clothes and not Pyjamas she felt human again.

She devoured her breakfast, drank another large glass of orange juice and Steve filled her in on what was going on at the Compound. Natasha was still tracking Clint, the Quantum Tunnel Machine was well under construction, Thor, well, Thor seemed to still be a little distracted but he was engaging as much as could be expected and they’d started designs on suits that would help them navigate the Quantum Realm.

“Has anyone given any thought to how we actually get the stones?” Katie asked, a small cough escaping her.

“I’ve been thinking about it a bit.” Steve nodded. “There are a number of possibilities. But trying to get them individually instead of all at once is likely going to be the best bet.”

“How’s that going to work?” She pondered and Steve shrugged.

“To be honest, I haven’t got that far.” He sighed, and Katie dropped the subject.

They headed over to the compound in the late morning, and immediately Katie and Steve spotted the Quinjet was back. They shared a glance, knowing that could only mean one thing and, as quickly as they could, they got the kids out of the car and headed inside. As they made their way towards the main lounge, Katie heard a familiar voice and she felt her chest tighten. Letting go of Steve’s hand, she broke into a run and burst into the room. Everyone in there turned to face her as she stood, stock still, staring at her one time Senior Officer.

“Clint…” She whispered, before she threw herself at him, hugging him tight.

“Hey, Katie.” he croaked as she buried her face into his neck, his arms wrapping around her, squeezing her into a strong hug. 

“Hey yourself.” She sniffled slightly as she stepped back, before she grinned and ran her hand over the shorn sides of his hair. “Nice Mohawk.”

He chuckled and then his attention turned to Steve “Hey, Cap.”

“Hey Clint.” Steve smiled, stepping forward to embrace his friend. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” Clint smiled, before he glanced down to Steve’s right where Jamie was now tugging on his hand. 

“Daddy, who’s this?” He asked as Steve picked him up. 

“Jamie, this is Clint. A friend of mine and your mom’s.” Steve smiled.

“And this is Emmy.” Katie said from behind him. Emmy gave him a smile that was a little shyer than Jamie’s as Clint nodded to her.

“Pleased to meet you both. I heard a lot about you from Natasha.”

“Auntie Nat-Nat gives me chocolate.” Jamie grinned. “But I’m not upposed to tell anyone where she keeps it.”

“She used to give my kids chocolate.” Clint smiled, sadly.  “Even when I told her not to.”

Silence fell across the room, no one really knowing what to say to that. Clint took a deep breath and looked down at his feet, until Katie spoke, breaking the tension.

“Shall I fix lunch?” She offered and the team all made noises of agreement and started to move around. Clint smiled at her, and then looked at the boy in Steve’s arms. .

“He looks like you, Cap.” He nodded. Steve smiled and looked at Jamie.

“Apparently so.”

“I think it’s great you guys, you know, that you’re parents.” Clint smiled at Katie. She returned the grin.

“Yeah, it has its moments.” She watched as Steve set Jamie down and he wandered over to Natasha, who beamed at him as he clambered into her lap.  

“Especially when dealing with stroppy teenagers.” Steve quipped looking at Emmy who rolled her eyes.

“Change the record, Dad.”

“Note she said record, not CD old man.” Tony shot.

“It’s just a figure of speech.” Steve rolled his eyes “And for the record, I wish you’d change yours too.”

Clint looked around and caught Katie’s eye, a fond, nostalgic look on his face. And she knew why. It was almost as if nothing had changed. The banter was familiar, each person taking up their role they had held in the Avengers easily, as if the last seven years hadn’t happened. But then, looking around the room was enough to make you remember that they had. They looked different, felt different. They’d split, gone their separate ways and then the Snap had ripped everything from under them, and none of them had lost as much as Clint. 

Katie smiled. “Wanna come help with lunch?” She asked softly, as he hastily wiped a tear from his face.

“Yeah,” he nodded. The pair of them made for the door and she turned to Steve who shot her a smile, before she led Clint towards the kitchen.

“Thanks.” He muttered as they left the room. They walked silently until they reached the kitchen and Katie shut the door as she walked to the fridge pulling out various ingredients to make a huge pan of stuff for fajitas.

“So,” she turned to Clint, handing him a knife, “you chop veg, I’ll do the chicken.”

He smiled softly. “You sound like Laura.”

“Clint, I’m so sorry.” Katie sighed. “I’ve no words that can even pretend to offer a comfort. I can’t begin to imagine-”

“Natasha told me about your baby.” Clint cut her off as he looked at her. She looked down at the chopping board before meeting his eyes. “You lost too.”

“Yeah, we did.” She sighed “We all lost someone.”

“Bet you didn’t go on a killing spree because of it.” Clint sighed, taking a deep breath.

“Clint,” Katie took a deep breath. “Yeah, what you did wasn’t…great, but you can’t let it define you.”

Clint stayed silent for a moment before Katie spoke again. “Steve killed someone you know. In cold blood. One of the HYDRA guys that kept me captive and, well, you know what they did.”

Clint let out a growl. “I don’t blame him, I’d have put an arrow in his head if it had been Laura.”

“That’s my point.” Katie shrugged. “Something like that tipped Captain America, the sentinel of justice and truth-” she framed her words with her fingers making quotation marks and Clint snorted “-over the edge. Someone as morally correct as Steve snapped because of something someone did to me. He didn’t do it to protect me, he did it for out and out revenge.”

“That’s not the same-”

“Maybe not.” Katie shrugged. “But the point I’m trying to make, albeit very badly, is that people react to trauma in different ways.”

“It was anger.” Cling spoke after a moment. “Anger and bitterness that they died and all these assholes didn’t. I wanted to even the scales a little myself. Why did they get to live and my family didn’t?”

“Exactly. You went through the most awful thing ever.” Katie laid a hand on Clint’s arm. “It might not make it right, but it makes it a little more understandable. Certainly from my point of view.” At that she returned to her chopping, with a little shake of her head. “If anything happened to either of my kids, I’d lose it too.”

“That implies you had it to lose in the first place.” Clint quipped, cheekily. She looked up and she was pleased to see the mischievous Barton glint had returned to his eyes.

****

As Tony reminded them all, whilst they had a working Quantum Tunnel, building that into something bigger to do what they needed to do was going to take time. Everyone understood, even if it was frustrating, but as Katie kept pointing out, they’d waited five years for this, what was a couple of months more?

Those months Katie and Steve spent flitting between the Compound, Stark Tower, their home in Brooklyn and Tony’s lake house, trying to manage the time between Emmy’s exams, ensuring the kids were looked after during the school vacation, keeping a business going and maintaining as normal a life for Emmy and Jamie as possible.  

But then, one Wednesday morning in late September, Tony let out a triumphant yell. They were ready.

With Emmy and Jamie both safely out of the way- Emmy back at school, and Jamie in Day Care- they decided on taking their test that same afternoon. The goal was simple, go back in time for a minute or so, pick something up, see if it could be brought back. Katie and Steve followed Tony through the hangar as he was dragging the metal pipe which contained the power cables they had just helped him arrange into the mains which would fire up the machine. In front of them, Thor was walking, drinking a beer as usual, dressed in a scruffy pair of grey sweats and a red hooded top.

“Drifting left!” Tony warned the God. “On the side there, Lebowski”

Katie snorted at the reference. “Makes a change from Point Break.” she said, and Steve grinned.

 “Ratchet, how’s it going?”  Tony called.

 Rocket looked up from where he had been working on something underneath the glass platform “It’s Rocket. Take it easy. You’re only a genius on Earth, pal”

Tony stopped and grinned, catching Katie’s eye, passing the cable to Rocket and giving the raccoon instructions on where to plug each wire.

 “Okay so where’s Lang?” Steve asked, looking around.

“In the chamber having his suit calibrated.” Nat looked up from the tablet she was poking around on. The machine lit up, and Tony stepped back and looked at her. “So far the fluctuation levels are holding.” She nodded and Tony grinned.

 “You say it like you’re surprised, Red.” He shot back. She merely smirked to herself, tapping again.

 “I’ll go see if they’re ready.” Katie nodded.

 “Hey, hey, hey! Easy, easy!” She could hear Scott’s voice as she approached the side chamber in the lab.

 “I’m being very careful” Banner replied

 “No, you’re being very Hulky”

 “I’m being careful.”

She reached the doorway where Clint was leaning against the frame, and looked at him. He shot her a smirk as she turned her attention to Lang who was holding up a small, red glass tube.

“These are Pym Particles, alright? And ever since Hank Pym got snapped out of existence, this is it. This is what we have. We’re not making any more.” 

“Scott, calm down.” Rhodey soothed, looking at him.

 “Sorry.” Scott said, “But we’ve only got enough for one round trip each. That’s it. No do-overs. Plus two test runs.”

 At that, with a yell, he shrank and then grew again back to his normal size after accidentally pressing a button. Katie let out a groan as she looked at Clint.

 “One test run.” she shot, turning to Lang.

“All right. I’m not ready for this.” Scott shook his head and Katie noticed the slightly panicked look in his face. Before she could say anything else, however, Clint spoke softly.

“I’m game.” He nodded as everyone turned to him. “I’ll do it.

There was a moment’s pause before Katie grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “Suit up then, Hawkeye.”

Clint and Lang switched places, and Bruce handed him one of the GPS controllers. Instantly the same suit Lang was wearing formed round Clint as Lang deactivated his, grabbing his baseball cap from the floor.

“Wai-wait a second, let me ask you something.” Rhodey spoke, his tone making it clear this was something he had been thinking about for a while. “If we can do this, you know, go back in time, why don’t we just find baby Thanos, you know, and…” He made a hand gesture suggesting he was strangling something.

“First of all that’s horrible.” Bruce spoke in a disgusted voice.

“It’s Thanos.” Rhodey shrugged, simply and Katie had to agree. If that as a plan would work, she had no problems in going back and being the one to choke the life out of him. Infant or no infant.

“And secondly, time doesn’t work that way. Changing the past doesn’t change the future.” Bruce continued.

“Look.” Scott nodded.  “We go back, we get the stones before Thanos gets them, Thanos doesn’t have the stones. Problem solved.”

“Bingo.” Clint agreed.

“That’s not how it works.” Katie shook her head.

“She’s right.” Nebula added. “It’s not.”

“Well, that’s what I heard.” Clint shrugged.

“What? By who? Who told you that?” Bruce sighed.

Rhodey held up his hand, counting with his fingers as he spoke. “Star Trek, Terminator, TimeCop, Time After Time…”

“A Wrinkle in Time, Somewhere in Time.” Rhodey continued.

“Hot Tub Time Machine” Scott added.

“Hot Tub Time Machine. Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Basically, any movie that deals with time travel.” Rhodey looked around.

“Die Hard?” Scott asked, before he frowned. “No, that’s not one.”

“This is known.” Rhodey finished.

“I don’t know why everyone believes that, but that isn’t true.” Banner said, earnestly “Think about it: If you travel to the past, that past becomes your future. And your former present becomes the past. Which can’t now be changed by your new future.”

“Exactly.” Nebula added.

“So ‘Back To The Future’ is a bunch of bullshit?” Scott asked, with the air of a small child whom someone had just told Santa didn’t exist.

“Afraid so.” Katie looked at him. “Furthermore, there’s a theory that Tony alluded to when he mentioned the Deutsch proposition. If you alter an event in the past you create an alternate universe and timeline as a result. You don’t change yours.”

“Which is why I think we’re gonna have to put the stones back when we’re done.” Bruce mused. “But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” He tapped a final button and then stood up. “Okay, that’s it.”

“Ready?” Katie looked at Clint. 

He nodded “Let’s get this show on the road.”

*****

“Lang had an attack of nerves when he accidentally used up one lot of Pym Particles” Katie explained as Steve looked at Clint, confused as to why he was the one in the Quantum Suit on the platform in the middle of the hangar.

“Wait, he used them?” Steve frowned.

“Yeah, so now we only have one test run. But Clint says he’s up for it.” She looked at Tony who opened his mouth to say something, and shook her head. He took a deep breath, simply shrugging as Steve turned to Clint.

“All good?” He asked, and Clint gave him the thumbs up.

“Alright, Clint.” Banner looked at him. “We’re going in three… two… one!”

The helmet sprang forth onto Clint’s head from his suit and he was sucked down through the platform into the Quantum Realm.

“Returning in five…four…three…two…one!”   

The portal opened again and Clint re-materialised on the glass platform, breathing heavily.  

Natasha was first up the steps, taking his face in her hands “Hey, hey, look at me. You okay?”

He waved off her concern, but that wasn’t what Steve was looking at. It was the baseball glove in his hands. Clint tossed it to Tony who caught it, slapping it slightly into his hand, a look of victory on his face.

It worked.

“Cap?” Tony turned to Steve and he realised that everyone was looking to him for directions.

“We need to plan carefully where we go.” He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “I suggest we start first thing in the morning.”

****

“Em,” Steve spoke as the family sat down to dinner later that evening. “You know we’ve been doing a lot of work at the compound?”

He looked at Emmy, who nodded. After swearing her to secrecy, they’d explained everything to her when they had first started, both of them believing she was old enough to know the truth, and they respected her too much to keep anything from her. 

“Has it worked? Did Tony build it?”

“Yeah, and we think that we should probably move to the compound, just until this is all over. We’ll still make sure you get to school and stuff, we don’t want any of this to impact anything for either of you.” He looked at her. She took a deep breath, but it wasn’t her who spoke next, It was Jamie.

“Can I bring my toys? And Lucky?”

“I think Clint would really like to see him again.” Katie smiled. Clint’s reunion with the dog a few weeks ago would have melted even the coldest of hearts. Lucky had been overjoyed to see his old master, and Clint had buried his face into the animal’s fur, sobbing quietly. Jamie had been indignant that the dog was paying more attention to Clint than him, but that had all changed when Jamie had called his name and Lucky had run back to his side, licking him furiously. Katie had explained to Clint that the two had a very strong bond and Clint had smiled, stating that the animal had loved Nathaniel as well. He was simply happy someone had taken care of him. 

“He’s my dog.” Jamie pouted and Steve snorted, shooting Katie a look.

“Someone else doesn’t like people touching their stuff.” he muttered, grimacing as Katie kicked him in the shin “Ow!”

*****

“You know, we’re gonna have problems if Clint wants to take that dog back.” Steve said as they lay in bed later that night.

“I’m hoping he won’t” Katie sighed. “I mean he’s twelve this year, I’m sure Clint will be happy to let stay seeing as he’s older now.”

“Oh is that how it works?” Steve asked, his hand moving through her hair. “The older you are, the more people want to keep you settled?”

“Why else do you think I kept you around for so long?” Katie shrugged.

“That’s just rude, Mrs Rogers.” Steve looked at her and she grinned as she pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Suppose you have other uses.” She smirked against his lips.

“Really, what might they be?” He asked, in between kisses as she straddled him, his hands creeping up the t-shirt she was wearing and resting on her hips.

“Not sure now you come to mention it?” She wrinkled her nose, wriggling slightly against his crotch, making him grunt. “You might need to remind me.”

Steve simply pushed his hips upwards and Katie groaned softly as his arousal pressed up against her spot. Steve’s hand moved from her hip up to the back of her neck, pulling her down into a deep kiss that had the pair of them wanting far more. Steve hungrily pulled her top over her head, sitting up, running his nose up and down her sternum in between the lines of her breasts. Katie’s head fell back slightly as she bit her lip, relishing the feeling of his skin on hers as his lips traced a path from her jaw line to her neck.

“Remembered yet?” He muttered, breath hot on her ear as she let out another soft whimper.

“Not quite.” She teased. In a flash he had her on her back, and was kissing down the length of her body, nose skimming the waist band of her underwear before he hooked a finger into each side and pulled the garment down her legs. Hands on her knees he gently moved he legs further apart and grinned at the sight of her arousal.

“Liar.” He mumbled, setting his mouth to her. 

Her soft, breathy moans soon filled their room as his tongue worked her over, his right hand placed over her stomach to anchor her into place. He would never get tired of this, hearing her, feeling her as she came undone, her back arching off the bed, knees gripping at the side of his head. He snuck a glance upwards and had to chuckle slightly as she had a pillow pressed over her face to muffle her noises. As she flattened back down, he dispensed of his boxers, crawling back over her, gently removing the item from her face.

“You okay?” He asked with a trace of amusement. She glanced up at him, smiling and laughed as she drew her breath.

“You know, one other thing about going back to the compound,” she chuckled as he pressed against her, giving her another kiss, “the walls to our room are soundproof so there’s no-“

He cut her off as he pushed into her harshly, causing her eyes to close and her breath to catch. He continued to thrust, slowly, powerfully. Watching her face as he did so.

“Eyes on me, Doll.” He managed a low growl and she bit down on her lip, before her jaw slacked slightly and he saw her brow crease just as it always did when she was about to tip over that precipice, riding that fine line between pain and pleasure.

“Come on, Kitten.” He panted, his hips continuing. “Let go…”

And she did, she came hard as her hands wrapped around his biceps, nails digging into his skin as Steve chased his own end furiously, coming with a violent final thrust, his head buried in the crook of her shoulder.

They lay in silence for a while, Katie falling asleep way before Steve. The Soldiers brain was running on overdrive analysing the day. Their machine worked, the test run had been a success, but he knew the hard work was only just beginning. They had to suss out when and where to go to get the stones, and then there was actually doing it. That was going to be the hardest part of all. Then, they faced even more engineering to develop something to harness them, and, maybe the biggest question of all, deciding who was going to snap their fingers.

He glanced down at his wife, her long eyelashes laying against her cheek as she slept. She looked so peaceful.  With a soft sigh he kissed the top of her head and lay back, eyes closed, the warmth of her body soothing him slightly as he felt the tendrils of tiredness pulling him under.

**** Chapter 53

 **Original Posting**

[avlillustrations]

Last but not least here's my redesign of Yandere-Chan herself! (quick note: Maybe It's just the way the character artist draws faces but doesn't Ayano and Taro look like they could be siblings?) So anyway, For now I tried not to stray too far away from the store bought model because let's face it, her character model is no longer just a placeholder and Yandere-dev is most likely going to continue using it throughout production of this game even though it's not an original design and he really should at least let the character artist make an original design for her. Sigh. Anyway for the redesign, besides changing the uniform to the one I designed, I've altered her ponytail slightly and added a ribbon into her hair. I also changed her eye color from that boring black color (also probably one of the reasons she looks like she could be related to Taro) to a reddish brown color. I thought it would be a fun little detail if the more the player eliminated rivals via violent means that her eyes would become more and more red as the game goes on.

But like Taro, the problems with Ayano isn't really her design but her personality. Or lack thereof. But unlike Senpai whose lack of personality comes from minimal character development. Ayano's not really given a chance to shine because another character is the one driving the narrative: Info-chan. Think about it. While we as players may play as Ayano throughout the game it's Info-chan who moves the plot forward. In fact the game wouldn't even happen if Info-chan hadn't of set it in motion. Which doesn't make sense to me? I thought Ayano was the main character not  Info-chan. Of course, part of this is that Yandere-dev keeps taking game-play features and idea's from that Hitman game instead of trying to be creative and original. I don't think Info-chan belongs in this game. She's a detriment to gameplay(meaning she's too op) and to Ayano's character in general. You probably could make her work in the narrative if she was more like an actual student and not some omnipresent figure. Like, what if she was Ayano's childhood friend? No, seriously I have an idea for this. It's not what I'm actually gonna go for in a rewrite of the game I'm currently working on but I really want to get this idea out of my head.

So Ayano is hollow and emotionless and she's probably been taught from an early age to hide all this. She's been explicitly told the importance of "fitting in" with society and to make herself seem as normal as possible. So when she first goes to school her mother encourages making friends because that's what "normal" kids do. She's not very good at it at first, but luckily the other kids haven't really built up their own social skills and don't notice. Except for one: Info-chan(and I'm tired of calling her that. I'll be calling her Ai from now on.) Ai sees right through Ayano but still befriends her. Ai doesn't really care that Ayano isn't "normal" and so Ayano has someone she can be herself around and still blend in well enough. Their friendship carries all the way to high school when Ayano meets Taro for the first time and finally starts to feel something. She literally can't stop talking about him and Ai listens to her as she gushes and raves about a boy she really doesn't know too well. But Ai is just happy her friend is happy. And this could be how Ayano finds out about Osana. Like, maybe during weekends and school vacations Ayano and Ai meet up at say, a local café or something. Maybe Ai is the who insists on this as it's what "normal" friends do. Anyway the girls are sitting at their favorite table drinking their tea, or coffee, or whatever. Ayano's gushing about Senpai that she had been stalking all day and Ai just blurts out, "I heard that Osana girls got a crush on him too. Rumor has it she's gonna ask him out on a Friday. You know like that stupid rumor."

That's it. No ulterior motives, she doesn't care about Osana, or have some vendetta against her. Just a blunt statement of a rumor she heard. Ai had no idea of how Ayano would take that statement. No clue of what she's now caused to happen. Ayano insists she help her put a stop to Osana's confession and Ai just goes Ok (like in the Saitama meme). When it comes to gameplay Ai is just a normal student. Neutral school reputation, goes to all her classes, most likely has the top grades in school, is probably harassed by the smart kid clubs that are trying to get her to join but she's not interested at all. But she does like helping Ayano. She'll do things like copy the answer sheet so Ayano can frame Osana for cheating, and hacking the school system, and editing footage. No more of that panty-shot crap or bugging the school, no schemes or item drops. Just a friend helping Ayano because she cares about her. Maybe has a bit of a crush? Maybe she really loves Ayano but as long as she's happy Ai is willing to do whatever it takes even if it means giving Ayano to someone else. Sorry this devolved into making Info-chan a better character than Ayano. But I really do believe Ayano could be a much better Character if she's the one to set things in motion herself and not just because someone else told her to. Which is kinda what Info-chan does in this game. Anyway tell me what you think and a I guess keep a lookout for the rewrite I'm working on?

[ikenbar]

Mr Love: Ike’s Choice CH 5 PT 1

Author’s Note:

Chapter five baby!! This is gonna be a fun one!! It is chock-full of fluff, angst, adventure, and thickening plot!! Only the best for Ikamara’s story B) I plan on taking lines straight from the game in this story. Normally I would make annotations but, after rereading the parts I have done that with, I have noticed that they can distract from the story. And because I have a lot of lines from the game in the coming chapters, I am just going to put the reference to the stages in the warning. If you have a problem with this, send me a message! Though I do write Ikamara’s story for myself, I also want to make the experience as pleasurable for any one reading as possible.

Thank you so much for the love and support for my story! Please read the author’s note (and the beginning of the story) on chapter one part one if you’re new here and would like to be familiar with the story!! :D

Enjoy Chapter Five!! :D

- Ike ‘n Bar Productions

Warnings: Words taken directly from Stage 8-1 from the game Mr. Love: A Queen’s Choice, there is also FLUFF!!!, sad children, ~✨🌈Gayness🌈✨~, and plot development that makes you  beg for more but are sadly left on yet aNOTHER cliffhanger :D

Prologue:

>>

The man in the white lab coat walked behind Marie as they made their way back down that familiarly dank hallway. They were quiet but that didn’t mean Marie would have it any other way. From all the medical talk and strange languages they spoke, silence seemed like the only thing she could understand anymore. 

They came to a stop in front of a door. He opened it and gestured for Marie to go in. She timidly did so, allowing him to close it shut behind her and lock it. It was a simple room with two beds. Not much there but it was enough. 

In one of the beds sat Marie’s roommate, and best friend. Normally the girl would be smiling and greet Marie with open arms, but today, she was just sitting on the bed, crying. Immediately, Marie ran to her side.

“What’s wrong?” Marie’s squeaky voice made the girl jump. She hurriedly wiped her eyes.

“Nothing.” The girl mumbled.

“Oh come on.” Marie jumped onto the bed and next to the girl, “You can’t say that right after wiping away tears.”

“...it’s just that.” The girl slowly began, “...I’m tired of the testing. I’d just wish they’d stop pricking us with those needles. You’re so lucky. Your skin is so thick, you don’t need needles.”

“Nah, I still get the needles.” Marie kicked her feet over the bed and kept her eyes on the ground, “I just have a special kind that's bigger.” The girl sighed and leaned on her shoulder.

“I just feel so…” The girl started, gesturing her hands uselessly, “... not safe.” Marie tensed slightly.

“You shouldn’t.” She said, making the girl look up at her, “You’ve got me! I will always protect you.” The girl smiled weakly.

“You promise?” She asked. Marie nodded seriously as she drew an ‘x’ on over her heart.

“Cross my heart.” She smiled. The girl sat up and threw her arms around Marie. Marie reciprocated the hug, making the girl laugh. The girls held their hug, indulging in the security of it.

“When we get out,” The girl said softly, “and we are no longer in danger, will you still protect me?" Marie held the little girl closer to her.

“Youri,” Marie said the girl’s name seriously, “There won’t be a moment where I will leave your side.”

>>

Chapter five:

Part one:

>>

I waited anxiously in my seat, tapping the mug of coffee in my hand. Youran and I had spent the past week talking and getting to know each other. In fact, there wasn't a day that had passed that we didn't talk. It surprised me how easy it was to talk with her. It was like we had clicked, becoming friends almost instantly. Almost as if we had already been friends before.

 I had even told Youran about my family. Though I addressed them as my biological family instead of my foster family. I didn’t want her asking questions about my life as a foster child. Not because I didn’t want to answer them but because I knew that, if she asked, I would tell her everything.

 It was strange to me. Never in my life had I been so open to anyone like that. It was almost suspicious. But every time I spoke to Youran, the suspicions left my mind. I would get this immense calm all over my body. It was something I had never experienced before. Something only she could give me.

But the suspicions and doubts were back. I met this woman while I'm being targeted and I just trusted her?! Just like that?! Plus, wasn't it weird that I feel so strange around her? Not to mention I had dreams about her right before meeting her! Could she have been someone from my past? Someone that wants me dead? One thing was for sure, waiting for her was a dumb idea. Especially if it meant potentially getting hurt. I still hadn't healed fully from Montu's attack last week. Waiting there like a sitting duck was a terrible way to get killed.

As I moved to stand from my seat, a chime came from the front door, making me look up. Youran pushed through the door, clearly in distress. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail that fell just above a vibrant sundress that brought out her light brown eyes. She seemed to have put on some light makeup as well, my eyes being drawn to her flushed cheeks and glossy lips.

 Panting slightly, Youran scanned the café until her eyes landed on mine. She smiled brightly. And, just like that, my suspicions vanished once again as that calm hit me like a truck. She came running over to me. "Ike!" Youran threw her arms around me, nearly toppling me over, "I hope you weren’t waiting long! I am so sorry I'm late. I slept through my alarm."

“It’s no problem.” I patted her head gently, “It happens. Besides, I... just got here. So you’re fine.”

“Great!” Youran jumped back and clapped her hands together, “Give me one second to order a drink then we can start hanging out!” I smiled and nodded. Hanging out? What are we, teenagers… she sure made me feel that way. 

Youran smile brightened in return. She turned on her heel and hurried to the front counter. I watched her as she left. She looked cute with her hair up like-

I shook my head and dropped that stupid absent minded smile. What am I doing? Wasn’t I about to leave?! I cursed under my breath and held a hand up to my mouth. She did it to me again! How does she just change me like that? There has got to be a malice reason behind it…

After a moment’s hesitation, I stole another glance at Youran. She was looking at the menu intently, tapping her chin with her finger thoughtfully.

… Well... since I'm already here…

I took my seat again, sighing as I picked up my now cold, and nearly empty, cup of coffee. After waiting a minute longer, Youran came running back to the table. “Ok!” She said, taking a seat in front of me, “How are you?”

She seems so happy to see me...

“I’m good.” I smiled, “How are you?”

“I’m great!” She giggled, “Having coffee together was such a great idea! I feel like we only know each other through a phone screen.” I hummed in agreement as a barista walked over to us.

“Refill, mam?” She asked me politely. I looked at Youran.

“... Yeah.” I sighed, lifting my cup to her, “Fill ‘er up.” The barista complied. Once she had left, I sparked a conversation, "How’s the company, Youran?”

“Excellent thanks to your help.” Youran sighed, “Victor had little to nothing to correct from the report, all thanks to your edits. Of course, he guessed almost immediately that you had been the reason behind it.”

“Yeah, Victor’s smart like that.” I sighed, spinning my newly filled cup of coffee absentmindedly.

“What about you?” Youran leaned on the table and looked at me expectantly, “How’s Ike ‘n Bar Productions?”

“Not bad. We actually start filming a new tv show today. Bart’s already heading over now to scope it out.”

“Ooo! Nice! Who’s the cast?” Youran egged.

“Nope.” I deadpanned, “Not revealing anything until it airs.” I looked up from my cup and caught Youran glaring at me. She had her cheeks puffed out and her bottom lip over lapping the top one. I smirked. She was so cute when she was angry. “Alright, alright. You can come to the viewing party.”

“Really??” Youran beamed, making the pout I saw a distant memory.

“Yeah.” I sighed,  “Why not?” Youran cheered and clapped her hands, sending a warm feeling in my chest.

“Oh! But watch out! You may not be able to get through the production so easily!” Youran’s voice sounded like she was telling a ghost story. She added her fingers waving in the air for extra spooky flavor. I arched my eyebrow.

“What makes you say that?” I asked, amused by her childish behavior. Youran leaned forward slightly and spoke in a harsh whisper, “Did you hear about that hacker that has been attacking the web?” My brows furrowed slightly. A widespread internet paralysis broke out in Loveland that week. It affected all websites in the city. On every homepage there was a signature by a hacker named ‘Key.’ “Apparently, there was word of the hacker affecting cell phones as well.” Youran continued, “Hacking into your phone and stealing emails and personal information.” I rolled my eyes.

“Hogwash.” I sighed, “It’s just people speculating and stirring up a commotion. Don’t think about it too much.” Youran nodded and took a sip from her drink. Though she agreed with me, I could still see worry knitted in her eyebrows. I instinctively reached out and brushed them. Youran looked at me surprised. I felt my face flush as I quickly retracted my hand. 

“Sorry.” I stammered, covering my face with my hand, “You just… You have nothing to worry about. So you shouldn’t hold your face like that.”

“I don’t?” Youran asked, innocently.

“Of course not.” I said simply, avoiding eye contact and looking back into my cup, “Like I said, this is all speculation. This ‘Key’ is probably trying to make a name for himself. Pushing however hard he can to get people to notice him. You’ll be ok.”

“...And ...If I’m not?” Youran asked sheepishly.

“I’ll protect you.”

 I froze. Those words fell from my mouth without me realizing it. They came so easily to me. As if I had said it a million times to her before...

Youran placed a hand on top of mine. I looked up at her. She was smiling sweetly at me.

“Thank you.” She said, softly. Her eyes sparkled, showing me she meant her thanks. I looked down. Her hands are so cold… I twisted my hand to hold Youran’s. “... Did you get your nails done?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah!” Youran shone brightly as she leaned forward, “I had them draw little pandas on them! Aren’t they cute??”

“Adorable.” I ran my thumb over her nails gently, a soft smile settling on my face, “Adri has been wanting to get her nails done. You’ll have to tell me the name of the place you went to.”

“Oh! How is Adri doing?” Youran asked, pulling her hand away to clap her hands together, “Wasn’t today her first day at her new highschool?” I opened my mouth but was cut off by a buzzing that came from my blazer pocket. I pulled out my phone and looked at the collar ID. Ho boy. “ Speak of the devil.” I looked up to Youran, “Do you mind?” She shook her head and smiled politely. I thanked her and stood up.. after making sure I was out of earshot, I answered the call.

“Speaking.” I said resoundly.

“Hello?” The principal of Loveland Lake High, Mr. Olson answered seriously. He still sounded the same as he did when I attended that school, if not a little more warily, “Is this Ike?”

“What did Sam do now?” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

Mr. Olson chuckled, “Ah, about that. It isn’t Sam I’m calling for this time. It’s Adrienne.” I froze.

“What happened?”

“Our new student was called to my office for cursing at her teacher and starting a riot in the classroom.” I groaned, “She has been suspended starting immediately. I tried calling Maria and Bart but neither of them picked up.”

“Maria is at a doctor’s appointment for Lola and Bart is at a shoot that I have to meet him at in less than an hour.” I checked my watch. “Are you sure Adri has to start today? Can’t she just sit in the corner and think about what she has done?”

“I’m afraid not.” Mr. Olson chuckled. I sighed and held my face in my hand.

“...fine. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Ike. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. Adri on the other hand will be receiving a solid talking to that may make her into a saint…. I’ll see you soon. Goodbye.” I hung up the phone and growled to myself as I walked back into the cafe. “I’m afraid I’ll have to go.” I said as I approached Youran, “I have to go pick up my sister early from school.”

“Oh no.” Youran’s smile fell into a look of worry, “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah.” I grumbled, stretching my jaw to stop it from clenching, “My sister is just a jerk to the underpaid.” I sighed, “The school is fifteen minutes away. By the time I pick her up and take her home, I’ll have to go to a shoot. I’m really sorry.” Youran shook her head and smiled at me.

“It’s nothing you couldn’t help. I understand.” She said this with a sweet smile but there was no denying the disappointment behind her eyes. I clenched my hands into fists inside my pockets. It felt as if I had a string attached to my chest that prevented me from just leaving Youran there, making it nearly impossible to leave her side.

“... Do you have plans for dinner tonight?” Youran looked shocked by my sudden question.

“No!” She answered quickly.

“Good. Don’t make any. We can finish chatting then. And it’ll be on me. To make up for bailing today.”

“But I was late!” Youran quickly jumped to stop me, “I’ll pay!”

“I really didn’t care that you were late. I can-”

“But I do!” Youran puffed out her cheeks stubbornly. Though normally, the stubbornness of others angered me, she still somehow pulled a smile out of me.

 “Fine. You can give me a ride there to make up for your tardiness. How does that sound?” I asked, lightly arching my brows. Youran nodded, her smile returning. “Good. I’ll text you the location of the shoot and you can pick me up from there.”

“Right!” Youran said, determinately. 

“See you tonight then.” I said. I hesitated a moment, then gave her a quick pat on the head. Youran giggled, bringing a sharp blush to my cheeks. Not willing to let her see it, I quickly started walking to the door.

“See you!” She said, waving to me as I left. I waved back as I pushed through the door, making the chimes tinkle melodiously. I felt a warm smile spread across my cheeks as I walked to the car. Youran was so sweet and caring to me. It was a kind of warmth I hadn’t felt since... My smile fell slightly. 

… I have never felt that kind of sweetness before... 

Why did it seem so familiar?

(Next)

[pcprminibigbang]

PCPR Mini Big Bang Fic Claiming Time!

Today’s the daaaaay!

Under the cut, you will find the summaries of the fanfics our Writers have been working on. They have been posted anonymously, labeled only by number.

Artists, go through the summaries carefully and figure out which ones you’d like to work on the most! Please pick three choices and then hop on over to your email to send your fic claiming email to pcprminibigbang@gmail.com! If you are confused as to how this process goes, please check your email inbox for emails Mod has sent concerning the full details on how to claim a fic.

For those not participating in this event, please feel free to read through the summaries as well to get a sneak peek of what our Writers have been working on!

Okay, that’s enough talking from Mod. Here are this event’s fics!!!

FIC #1 : CLAIMED!!!

He shuffles to the door, reaching for his gun just in case before he pulls it open, startling the short man who was waiting on the other side.

"Goddammit, Burger!" Vang0 hisses, leaning a little closer, eyes darting to the sides. "Can I come in?" He asks bluntly, as if they had been talking just a couple minutes ago and this wasn't their first chat in about a week. We're not that codependent.

"Wh- why are you out this late? And with a bag?" He frowns when he sees the uncharacteristic plain green duffle bag hanging from Vang0's shoulder, completely contrasting with the man's clothes, even if this time he went for more subdued colors.

"Let me in and I'll tell you," the blonde retorts as he puts a foot in the corner, ready to push himself inside as soon as Burger gives him room for it.

And Burger can't say no, has never been able to say no to Vang0, so he just rolls to the side and lets Vang0 in before slamming the door closed again.

"Why are you here? Not that I don't appreciate ya visiting, just... it's late and yer carrying a bag," he points out, tilting his head a little. "Y’know you can talk to me, Vang0, right?"

"Y-yeah, that's why I'm here, I-" he pauses, taking a deep breath "I got in trouble, I hacked into something I shouldn't have and I need to lay low for a while"

-

Vang0 Bang0 messed up, big time, he needs help to get off the radar for a while, and of course that his best friend Burger Chainz would help him, and a road trip seems to be the best way to make him drop from the face of earth until things have quieted down. But the empty roads bring nostalgia and an unearths feelings both of them thought deeply buried. They say that road trips change you, why should that be different in the cyberpunk future?

-

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, getting together fic, Teen rating, no ao3 warnings needed, maybe some minor canon violence. It's a slightly introspective fic, more focused on how Burger realizes some stuff and how he deals with it.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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

FIC #2 : CLAIMED!!!

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:15 PM …… did u just ping me to ask if i wore heals

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:16 PM *heels yes i did and do you?

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:17 PM not usually?? ill wear em if its like a big thing or w e i guess (Edited) i mean i havnet really had the oprotuntiy to wear em

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:19 PM are you intentionally misspelling words to make yourself seem cooler to me?? Vang0 I watched you lick a stranger’s nose

-

Vang0 doesn't remember his birthday. Or his age. Or his interests, his likes, his dislikes, the password to his CollegeBoard account.

(Well, one of those is less important than the others.)

That being said, Burger wants to throw him a birthday party. Dasha is interested, despite herself. A series of assumptions are made, some feelings are hurt, and some lessons are learned.

-

Ships: Vang0/Dasha/Burger if you squint but pretty much a gen fic

Rating: Probably G, bordering maybe on T for swearing

Sensitive content: Canon-typical amnesia, a little bit of angst, some oblique canon-typical gun mentions, maybe a panic attack later in the fic- I haven't quite decided if that's gonna happen or not yet?

Other info: It's a pretty lighthearted fic focusing on the relationship between the three of them! No AU, pretty much just comedy and fun all the way through. I haven't ironed out all the details of what's going to happen yet, but that's gonna stay pretty consistent- there'll be some angstier/less funny bits here and there, of course, though.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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

FIC #3 : CLAIMED!!!

Vang0 chewed his lip, feeling uneasy.

“What’s up, friend? You’ve got a big ol’ frown on your face.”

Vang0 blushed. “I’m not- I’m just- thinking. I mean, Joltik usually travel with their mother Galvantula, and it’s unusual for them to be seen without one, so these ones might have been separated from their mother.”

Burger frowned. “Well, that ain’t good.”

Vang0 nodded. “And Galvantula can get very angry when separated from their young.”

Burger opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by someone yelling loudly.

“BURGER! Burger, where the fuck are you!?”

Vang0 watched as Burger spun around and started towards the basement door.

“Burger!? Are you down here? There’s a huge fucking-”

“No, don’t come down-”

Burger was cut off as the door flew open, and someone catapulted into the basement.

Vang0 stared, eyes wide.

“Burger,” he said, “why the hell is Dapper Dasha in your house?”

-

Seven months ago, Vang0 woke up in a half-destroyed laboratory with no memories of his life before that. He's made something of a life for himself fixing people's technology, because he somehow knows how to do that really well.

And Burger Chainz is just another one of his clients. That is, until it turns out Burger's hiding ex-Pokemon Contest star Dapper Dasha in his house - who hasn't been seen in two years and just so happens to be Vang0's role model.

Vang0 definitely isn't freaking the fuck out. And he definitely isn't falling in love with Burger, either.

-

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. A Pokémon AU where Burger owns a farm, Dasha is an ex-contest star in hiding, and Vang0 has no clue what's going on. Rating: Teen. Warnings: mentions of blood and violence, nothing explicit

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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

FIC #4 : CLAIMED!!!

clink!

clink!

clink!

Vang0 Bang0 jumped in his seat as the van hit a bump in the road, speeding upon the old, graying highway. The trinkets they had collected over their various traveled crashed and banged, one almost hitting the window. The loud trinkets and music blaring from the car stereo didn’t phase Vang0. They weren’t sure where he was going, but it sure wasn’t home.

Vang0 wasn’t focused on the road, he was focused on something...else. It wasn’t the other cars; there weren’t any. Most people stayed in Night City, so the roads weren’t full a lot, he knew that. But this road doesn't have anything, anything that would ever prove that anyone had ever existed near here. Not even a bottle.

-    

After an eventful drive, Vang0 Bang0 finds themself on a beach with no discernable exits. No stairs, no ladders, not even a boat. Confused, Vang0 comes to terms with what he’s found in Night City, and what they’ve lost along the way. (Also they/he pronoun Vang0 rights)

-

There are no ships in this fic. I am likely to rate it Teen and Up audiences, since while there is no explicit or intentionally upsetting content, it might get a little sad at times. I’m not 100% sure about the exact direction my fic is going to go, there might be a car crash (not to graphically described, Vang0 is not hurt very badly, since this is [spoilers] a dream or metaphor about Vang0 coming to terms with memory loss). And since it is a dream sequence with no clear exit, this may be an unreality situation.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only minor Artists can claim this fic.

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

FIC # 5 : CLAIMED!!!

Upon Burger barging into Dasha’s bedroom and announcing that he got tick- stop screaming Vang0, it’s just me, got tickets to a film festival tonight, are you guys in, Vang0 informed him that they had “a job tonight, Burger, did you even check the zoogle calendar, we’ll go tomorrow or something,” and no, of course Burger hadn’t checked the calendar, that’s Dasha’s job, and sure we can get tickets for tomorrow too but the Winston Rider film is only showing tonight and I thought you guys might be interested -- “Winst- do you mean Winona Ryder?” -- and after about five minutes of schedule comparisons Dasha simply shoved Vang0 out of the bed and declared that she was going to the movie with Burger, Vang0 was finishing their job, and Burger was going to make her some coffee because “it’s too fucking early for this” even though personally, Burger thought 11:00am was a perfectly reasonable time to be awake -- he was probably missing something, or maybe Dasha had just been up late, Vang0 was definitely a blanket hog and Burger knew from experience that sharing a bed with them would be more likely to result in a semi-conscious tug of war than a decent night’s sleep -- so Vang0 got up to do their job and Burger went and made some coffee and Dasha relocated to the couch, where she downed the coffee and some eggs and promptly fell back asleep for another three hours.

-

Burger loved Dasha, of course he did, he loved spending time with her and he thought she was beautiful and the idea that they might be dating -- might have been dating for a while -- sat warm and comfortable in his chest, but, except, it just was that, he hadn’t realized that how they interacted might be how two people that were dating behaved, he was just hanging out with his friend, he did stuff like this with Vang0 all the ti- -- now wait, wait a second, now hang on just a second --

a.k.a. 5 times Burger missed the point +1 time he caught a clue

-

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, Rating: Teen, content warnings for implied violence, drinking, implied sexual content

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

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

FIC # 6 : CLAIMED!!!

“What is this? What’s going on? Why am I dressed like I’m straight?” Vang0 hisses, gesturing to everything around him and the wrongness of it all.

“Seriously?” Candella rolls her eyes, unimpressed. “You couldn’t have scheduled your existential work breakdown until after our shift? You don’t see my lesbian ass complaining while I’m on the clock, do you?”

“I—What? Am I speaking another fucking language? You answered none of my questions!”

“Yeah because it’s 9am and the morning rush just ended so I do not have enough energy to indulge just,” Candella gestures at all of Vang0. “whatever is going on with you right now.”

“What’s going on with me right now is that I’ve found myself in a bougie caffeine establishment fever dream that just so happens to have the shittiest store playlist in the history of ever.” Vang0 says, bordering on manic as he looks up at the ancient speaker up in the corner of the shop. “Seriously, what is this terrible song?”

“Hey, Soul Sister by Train.” Candella still, amazingly, does not look alarmed or worried.

-

Or the one where Vang0 is a barista at Zero and One’s Cafe...except he’s not.

This isn’t his fucking job, this isn’t his fucking life, and it takes a quick look around the horrifyingly low tech coffee shop he’s in and the fact that he’s missing a USB port on his neck to be painfully aware that this isn’t his fucking universe. This is a 2010s over idealistic portrayal of adult mundanity that he and his friends are stuck in and Vang0 has to get them all out of this nightmare before he commits customer service acts of violence.

Bring it on, Coffee Shop AU. Bring. It. On

-

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. An absurd existential romantic comedy where the trio somehow get transported into a Coffee Shop AU against their wills. Rating: Teen. Content warnings for slight absurd horror and canon typical violence.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 7 : CLAIMED!!!

“That guy in my english class,” Dasha could hear through the speakers the distinct sound of combat boots stepping on cement. What was Vang0 doing outside at this time, alone? “The one I told you about! Burger-” “The one you’ve been crushing on for months and you’re too much of a coward to ask out?” Dasha already knew everything about this guy, Vang0 saw him on the first day of senior year in his english class and he hadn’t shut up about him ever since. 5’10, large and muscular shoulders, nice to everyone and just dense enough that everytime he said something you would automatically think “wow… thank fuck you’re attractive,” but not in an irritating way, you know? Vang0 exhaled, which Dasha interpreted as a yes. “Well I couldn’t ask him out even if i wanted to,” “Huh?” Dasha could hear the cogs in her own brain turning, trying to process what was being said to her. “Because he’s dating a blonde g-” she heard Vang0 stop on his steps and his tone becoming more dry, “are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Dasha yawned audibly and tried sitting up again. This time she succeeded, “yeah, yeah, I’m listenin’. How did you find out about this and why did you decide to call me at nearly 2 am instead of just waiting until tomorrow?” “I followed them and I saw them talking.” “You’ve lost it.” - Dasha received a call from Vang0 at 1:47 am one saturday night, and everything went downhill from there. They were not friends, she couldn’t understand why Vang0 acted like they were, but they weren’t, because Dasha didn’t have any friends. Except that, when she sees Vang0 struggling, for the first time in 18 years of life she decides that maybe this one idiot is worth getting soft over. And so she helps him bleach his hair over a cup of coffee and a can of Spunky Monkey. Because why the fuck not. - Main pairing is platonic Vang0/Dasha, background ship is Vang0/Burger. The whole story is from Dasha’s POV. Genre is just a very typical teen romance story except that it’s focused more on platonic bonding rather than the actual romance. Vang0 calls Dasha late at night, tells her he wants to bleach his long dark curly hair and cut his bangs after seeing Burger with a blonde girl, and he goes to her place. She helps him do the deed in her bathroom (she’s still elite) as they realize how much they care about each other. Initially inspired by that one scene in Scott Pilgrim where Knives Chau dyes her hair. Rating: general audiences, content warnings: lots of swearing, implied addiction/addiction enabling, shoplifting mention. CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 8 : CLAIMED!!!

vang0 officially disappears on march 23rd, 2040. exact time unknown, but whatever conspires that morning takes place before burger wakes up.

if he’s being honest with himself; he’s seen it coming for a little while now. vang0 isn’t the routine type, he’s young and whip smart and drinks so much redbull that the stuff must pump through his veins.

burger’s an old dog. older than vang0 by at least 2 years, he’s sure. he doesn’t have much, and god doesn’t that sound cliche, but he’s stupid and optimistic- and really. he must’ve known somewhere that the kid wouldn’t stay. he’s got a nasty drug habit that burger cant support and a look in his eyes like he wants the world- burger cant even buy him a fake ID.

this happens sometimes, the coming and going. vang0’ll disappear for a week if he’s lucky, a month if he’s not, but never longer than that.

no use crying over spilled milk.

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vang0 goes missing, burger velmently pretends nothing is wrong until he doesnt, and dasha has to pick up the pieces.

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missing person fic, burger/dasha/vang0 implied, but nothing explicitly mentioned or talked about, drug use mentioned, mature, canon typical violence, kidnapping, and other canon typical shit- it is night city after all lmao, kind of introspective, alot of burger just thinking back on his relationship w vang0 and shit, but there is some plot as well ig

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 9: CLAIMED!!!

“Anyway, dude, what’s up? Or did you just come over for a cola because you ran out of your own?”

“Oh, right,” Vang0 says. He is still thinking about the man, and Dasha, and Dasha and that man, and Dasha’s long fingers and Dasha’s hair falling over her face as she purses her lips and blows upwards, her breath scattering strands of brown hair around her sharp cheekbones. “Um, there was something on the forum, I think - I think there’s a thing. For us. Should we call Burger?”

“Oh, Burger’s here,” Dasha says. “Somewhere. Burger!” she yells.

“Burger - but he spent the night?” Vang0 says, brain processing too slow somehow.

Dasha doesn’t respond.

“Did you -”

“Have a threesome?” Dasha asks, in her usual blunt way. Her face is pretty expressionless, eyes severe under the liner and blinking less than a person should, but Vang0 knows her pretty well, he can see the corners of her mouth turning up. That means she thinks something is funny. “I don’t think so. Burg!” she calls over her shoulder. “Did we?”

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When Vang0 sees a JumpTrash post about vandalism at a club down town, he figures it will be an easy job for the trio - find out who did it, have Burger intimidate them, done. But things are more complicated than they seem, and the gang ends up drawn into a complex scheme involving the Brotherhood of the Screaming Abyss, conspiracies and hit men, and people from their past they thought were long gone. Along the way, they'll have to decide what they want out of this job - and what they want from each other....

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This is basically an elaborate CAPER, with a bunch of feelings and shit thrown in. It's a job and then it's a crime story! Its kind of a noir? Can I write a noir? WE"LL FIND OUT. It's gonna be fairly long assuming I can get my act together and put in all i want to put in. Like every good story, it's got plot and whatnot but the plot is just a fulcrum around which to wrap some found family polyamory shit, baby. It's Vang0/Dasha/Burger, duh and it takes them a minute to get there but they'll get there! Its gonna have canon-typical violence, basically - none of the trio die or anything, but other people do, and there's blood. There's gonna be a sex scene because I'm not an AMATEUR. Drug use, too, but mostly in happy fun ways. I haven't fully sussed out some of the flashbacks, but probably some oblique references to past traumas, probably Vang0. Nothing explicit, no reliving events or anything. Also i'm 1000 years old, be warned!

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

[sugar-kisser]

Diamonds & Suits - Kim Hongjoong

warning: violence, cussing, blood, mafia affiliated acts

“You know most people don’t go out of their way if they want to talk to me,” the deep blue almost black-haired man calmly states his hands lazily raised in the air as seven other men surround him, gun barrels facing him.

“Well Mr. Kim Hongjoong you aren’t just any other guy,” you smile devilishly at him, “lower your weapons boys. Wait outside for me.” You wave the other seven men off and they follow your orders.

“So why does the all-not-so-mighty Y/N Y/L/N want to talk to me?” Hongjoong asks lowering his hands and reaching for his now cold cup of coffee.

“I’m here to offer you something you can’t refuse,” you explain, “cliche to say, I know. But I want to be sure I can trust you and that you’re ready to give 100% to this idea I have.”

“Why should I even bother to help you? You’ll just throw me back out on to the street again when the job is done,” Hongjoong sneers as he eyes you from the corner of his eye.

“We both know that wasn’t my call to make,” you angrily respond.

“And it’s now suddenly your call?” Hongjoong asks, face scowling, and he quickly approaches you. His face inches away from yours, and his eyes stare you down.

“It is,” you answer, eyes meeting him in the same deadly stare, “I no longer associate myself with that man. I broke things off a long time ago.”

“A year doesn’t seem very long,” Hongjoong counters.

“It is when you’re busy building a new team and climbing the ranks at the same time,” you tell him, “and you’re the last piece I need.” You poke his chest and slightly push him away.

“If you don’t want apart of stealing the one thing the two of us stole in the first place. Then fine by me. I’ll go find another petty theft,” you growl.

“You’re going to steal the diamond?” Hongjoong asks, his attitude and anger instantly dropping.

“Yeah that’s the plan,” you annoyingly remark as you turn around to leave, “I was hoping to get someone who knows the place so I don’t have to teach it, but clearly you want no part.” You continue to make your way to the door and Hongjoong contemplates with himself over the opportunity, but what might happen afterwards slightly holds him back.

“Wait!” Hongjoong calls out an your turn your head to face him, “if I help you. What’s in it for me?”

“You help me,” you say as you turn around to face him completely, “you’ll have a permanent spot on my team and you’ll have a more stable place to live. You won’t have to worry about anything other than risking your life when we have things to get done.” Hongjoong stares at you for a minute and chews on his inner bottom lip.

“Deal,” Hongjoong states and walks up to you and holds out his hand for you to shake to agree, “but if you break thi-”

“You know I never break deals,” you tell him and he stares at you for a second as he relives back to when you two worked together although it was a brief time, and he nods his head.

“Before we doing anything or leave,” Hongjoong speaks up pulling his hand away from hers, “why did you throw me out. You knew I was good. We worked well- in more ways than one.”

“My father didn’t want you near me anymore. You were becoming a distraction,” you tell him before looking away, “when I found out my father had plans to kill you I had to get you out and far away as possible. You know I wouldn’t do it willingly, but you’re life was on the line.” Hongjoong stares in disbelief at you, his face dropping, and a wave of guilt floods him momentarily.

“I’m sorry I could never tell you. I was afraid that if I tried to even contact you they would find you,” you tell him meeting his eyes again, “I couldn’t risk it. I’m sorry.” Hongjoong swallows the build up in his throat and nods his head understandingly.

“But anyway,” you change the topic and smile at the completion to your team, “welcome to the A TEAM.”

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Four weeks is all it takes for Hongjoong to adjust into his new team and home. Everyday is hell as they train and plan accordingly to steal the diamond. You and Hongjoong remade the original plan that you two had to steal the diamond from the original owner. You two then made edits and changes accordingly to the new home of the diamond.

You see... most kids in the mafia usually kill or overthrow their parents and take over their mafia to show power and to scare others away. But you? You’re a little bit different. You know how the game works and you’d rather piss someone off and take them out little by little while rising in the ranks rather than hit all at once. You know you’re team is just made up of rookies, but their the best rookies you’ll ever find. You also know that if you were to charge in and take over your father’s mafia group you would be slaughtered easily and you’re not about to risk the lives of your eight boys for something that can bee done over a period of time.

After a straight week of playing out your plan and teaching the rest of your team what they have to do you’re finally ready to put everything into place, and just in time for your father’s annual ball.

You watch from the back of the hallway over the banister at the group of eight boys dressed in red velvet suits with their layers of gold necklaces, chatting amongst themselves. You push off the banister rails and walk down the staircase, the small train of your dress following you down a step behind.

“Well now one of us is gonna have to change,” Seonghwa jokingly grumbles when you reach the end of the stair case. Everyone laughs but quickly calms down to do a final round of checks.

“Everyone has their ear pieces?” You ask making sure the disguised matching earring everyone has is hanging from their ear, “now for the invitations?” You look at each member in a quick swift motion then back to San who pulls out the  pristine white envelope.

“Do we also have our facial recognition put in there?” You ask turning to Wooyoung, the hacking specialist. He nods his head and you break into a joker smile.

“Well let’s get going then,” You call out to the boys who all cheer and run out the front door towards the limo waiting at the end of the driveway.

“You ready to go steal something for a second time?” Hongjoong hold out his arm for you to take.

“When am I not?” you challenge sweetly. The two of you are the last to enter the car and you hand over the directions to your fathers address.

“Everyone knows our cover story, yes?” You ask one final time looking over the boys and just as Mingi opens his mouth you’re quick to stop him, “Mingi if I even hear about the invention you want to talk about tonight I swear you will not have chicken for a week.” Mingi closes his mouth and the rest of the boys bite on their lips to stop themselves from laughing.

Everyone exits the car once the limo makes its way to the top of the driveway. Hongjoong exits before you and hold out his hand for you to take. You step out of the car and your arm wraps around Hongjoong’s and the two of you lead the rest of the team up to the security at the door.

You all pass the dumbfound photographers who question how such a young group of entrepreneurs could be attending such a formal events with other world class famous business men and women.

You hand your invitation over to one of the men waiting by the front door and you let all your boys go through facial recognition before you. They wait for you to lead them in to the large ballroom.

“Okay. You know what to do. Everybody knows your teams and where to go. Good luck my boys,” you smile over your shoulder to your boys. You meet eyes with Hongjoong for a minute before he and Wooyoung go off to complete their part of this mission. Yeosang quickly joins your side handing you a glass of champagne.

“Why thank you dear,” You smile immediately playing into your role. You look around the room and quickly spot your father starring your way, his friends around him laughing over something probably stupid. You lead Yeosang and cut straight across the room earning everyone’s attention. You’re red velvet lightly hugging floor length dress almost shimmers under the light cascading several different shades of red. The three layers of gold necklaces hang around your neck at different lengths and glimmer slightly under the light. You even looked better as Yeosang matches you entirely in a red velvet suit, making the two of your look like a hell of a power couple.

“Father,” you force a sugar sweet smile upon your lips as you approach the man and his group. His group silences as you approached and dare not to make eye contact with you.

“I don’t remember putting you on the guest lists,” you father states, the tone in his voice rather low and threatening.

“Looks like you did. How else would I have gotten in here?” You ask rather sarcastically. You mentally begin to prepare yourself to keep your cool during your father’s rage fit, which will be the signal to finally grab the diamond and bail out of this place.

“But enough chitchat. My husband and I have people to meet, allies to make, and champagne to drink,” you tell your father before turning around to walk the way you came, “three two one,” you whisper.

“You’re what?” Your father voice booms silencing the room. The two of your stop and you take a deep breath before letting go of Yeosang and turning around to face your father.

“Do you have a problem with that?” You ask calmly.

“Do I have a proble- hell yeah I have a problem! You are set to marry another man!” You father hollers at you. You stand facing him unfazed, facial expression flatter than paper, but your heartbeat picks up.

“Go wait in the car,” you tell Yeosang. The last part of the mission has finally be set in place and the diamond should be out of the mansion within the next minute. Yeosang walks past the crowd of people and out the door and you face your father once more.

“I was never going to marry that low-shit man you picked out for me,” you growl, “I’m tired being used a doll to your advantages. I have been for a long time. I just can’t wait to watch you fall.” Your fathers face scowls even further and you pretend to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, but instead place your ear piece into your ear to hear how the rest of your team is doing.

“I think you underestimate me daughter,” you father growls walking towards you.

“No,” you back back even louder, “I think you underestimate me. I’ve got more power and more brains than you and your top team.”

“We have the diamond. You have about ten seconds before the alarm goes off,” Wooyoung speaks into his coms which relays to everyone. You take a deep breath before staring at your father. Just as your father goes to open his mouth the alarms go off and he looks around and then at you who breaks into a joker smile. Everyone else in the room begins to panic and you blend yourself in with the crown and make your way outside successfully. You pull your hair out of its high ponytail and manage to tie up the long dress to hang at the knees for you to be able to run faster. You pull off your heels and hand them randomly to someone telling her she could keep them. 

You hurry through the yard and as you turn around to see if anyone has followed you, you bump into someone. They manage to grab you before you fall and you turn to face Hongjoong.

“Hey,” you smile as you catch your breath, “did we get it?”

“Wooyoung and San are already in route back to the house,” Hongjoong smiles as he helps you stand straight up, his arm still wrapped around the lower of your back and your right arm holding onto his bicep.

“We really did it, didn’t we?” You ask looking at him.

“Yeah. We did. Pulled it off twice,” Hongjoong says, “best partners. Best thieves in the game.” You two slightly chuckle before Hongjoong inches closer to you as you inch closer to him. You hear a gun shot and then Hongjoong falls on top of you onto the grass. He cries out in pain as he tumbles over onto his back. You notice blood seeping through his red vest as the color gets darker. The bullet enter through the back shoulder blade and just under his right collar bone. You quickly grab the blade that strapped to your ankle and throw it at the shooter who falls over, the blade piercing the side of his neck.

“Come on. We gotta get up,” you tell Hongjoong and help him up. You two some how quickly hurry off through the tall bushes and to the dark alley way and into the car Mingi drives.

“What happened?” Jongho asks as he closes the door behind you two.

“Hongjoong got shot. It doesn’t look good. Mingi step on it!” You yell. Mingi floors the car and quickly gets onto the highway and weaves in and out of cars.  Hongjoong groans with the constant movement of the car.

“Give me your jacket,” You ask Jongho. He quickly pulls it off and hands it over to you.

“This is gonna hurt,” you tell Hongjoong and quickly place the jacket over his wound and apply pressure to it. He cries out in pain and you try to hush him.

“Eden’s already waiting on us for him,” Jongho gets off the phone with someone from the team. You nod your head and watch over Hongjoong. You can feel the blood seeping through the jacket so you fix it and reapply the heavy pressure causing his to cry out in pain again.

You guys quickly arrive home and Jongho helps you take him out of the car and Eden takes your spot and the two boys help carry Hongjoong in and to the infirmary. You stand practically numb next to the remaining members of your team. You start to feel your legs give out under you but San is quick to grab you and pick you up. He carries you inside and to your room.

“He’s going to be okay,” he tells you as he ties your hair up into a messy bun and begins to take your make-up. You stare ahead at the wall, mind spacing out but it doesn’t bother San. You two are like siblings, he was the first person you recruited to your team and you two had a bond like no other. He finishes taking off your make up and pulls out clothes for you to change into and leaves your room.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, you don’t realize till they are half way down your cheeks but you’re crying. You haven’t cried in a long time.... actually the last time you cried was when you had to get rid of Hongjoong for his safety. You didn’t want to leave him, and he sure as hell expressed that he didn’t want to leave you. 

You pull off your dress and change into the large hoodie and sweats San picked out and you lay on your bed, but choosing to not fall asleep. A quiet knock at your door gets you attention and you lift your head up as Eden pops his head in.

“He’s going to be okay. He’s stable and resting now,” he explains as you quickly get out of bed, “you can go see him. I’ll be down in the morning to check on him.”

“Thank you,” you tell him hurrying past him and to the other side of the warehouse. You quickly open the door and walk down the steps into the basement and you see Hongjoong peacefully sleeping on one of the three beds in the room. You quietly grab a chair and set it down next to his bed. You take a seat and just look over him. A large hoodie is covering his bandages and he’s under a few blanket due to how cold the room is- even you’re shivering.

You eventually fall asleep, your head resting on a small part of his bed and your hand lightly holding his. The two of you sleep soundly next to each other for a little while before Hongjoong wakes up. When he see’s you sleeping peacefully in the chair with your head resting on his bed he smiles softly.

He lightly shakes you awake without moving too much incase it hurts him.

“You’re awake,” you sit up and rub your eyes.

“Yeah. It’s cold in here,” Hongjoong tells you quietly.

“Eden likes it cold for some reason. Even when he’s not here,” you laugh but stop and look over at Hongjoong, “how are you feeling?”

“Pretty damn sore if I’m honest,” Hongjoong answers shifting around a little to get comfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, “the only person that should of gotten hurt tonight was me.”

“Hey stop,” Hongjoong grabs your hand to get your attention, “things happen. We were both in a moment that should of waited. We can’t blame anyone.”

“But I’m the leader of this team. I feel like I need to be at blame. I can’t be putting you at risk like this over some feelings,” you tell him.

“Wow you’re going to give me a cold heart again. We really gotta start over from square one?” Hongjoong sassily remarks causing you to try not to break into a smile when you’re wanting to have a serious conversation.

 “Y/N, I’m going to be fine. We don’t need to worry about what happened,” Hongjoong tells you. You look over him with sad eyes and he pulls your hand and lightly kissing your knuckles. You break into a little smile and you shiver after his warm touch leaves you. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he shuffles over in his bed and pulls the blankets open.

“Come on. You’re cold,” Hongjoong tells you and pats the spot next to him.

“No. You need the room. I don’t want to take it,” You quickly decline. Hongjoong groans in annoyance and grabs your wrist and tugs at you. 

“Fine, fine,” you give in. You climb onto the bed and under the covers and pull them over your shoulders. You lay on your side and face Hongjoong as he lays on his back and turns his head to the side to look at you.

“Now go to sleep,” you tell him.

“I will once you go to sleep,” Hongjoong counters.

“No, no, no. Not how it works,” you tell him.

“That’s always how its worked,” Hongjoong reminds you and you bite back a small smile.

“Just get some sleep,” you tell him. You close your eyes and almost immediately fall asleep and when Hongjoong hears the all familiar soft snores he smiles and looks over your sleeping face.

“So beautiful,” Hongjoong whispers, “but so fucking dangerous.”

[spaztronautwriter]

@eloquence-of-felicities said: Either Oliver or Felicity finding a lost cellphone leading to a chance encounter. :)

Felicity took a long sip of her, admittedly, too sweet, sugary latte as she plopped her bag down on the empty table, claiming it for herself and Curtis. He followed a moment later, two pastries and his own black coffee in his hands.

It had been a long week and they were both enjoying a quiet breakfast date at their favorite coffee shop. The two of them had been best friends since their time at MIT, but with their busy jobs at Queen Consolidated and Palmer Tech—not to mention Curtis recently getting married!—they just hadn’t had the time to hang out like they used to. Hence, Curtis declaring Saturday morning’s date night, so to speak.

He handed her her cinnamon roll and sat down in his chair, before jumping slightly. “Ow!”

Felicity put her breakfast down, taking a seat herself as Curtis reached beneath him to pull out a sleek, black cellphone—sans case. She was just pulling in a breath to start in on a lecture—because why wouldn’t someone put a case on their phone? It was a delicate piece of technology that needed protection!—when she noticed the strange look Curtis was giving it.

“Guess someone lost it,” he said with a shrug, placing it on the table.

Felicity took another sip of her drink before reaching over to give the phone a look. It was the latest Q-phone and, despite working for the company that made it, she was a little in awe at actually be holding one in her hands. They were crazy expensive, far outside her budget, but the technology that Queen Consolidated had included in this edition had almost tempted her to splurge.

She tapped the screen with her finger, lighting up the display. There was no personalized background photo, just the blue gradient that came stock. She was about to take it up to the counter to turn it in to lost and found when it buzzed, a green text bubble popping up on screen.

Where are you?

Then another, Ollie this isn’t funny! I’m going to kill you!

She tapped the bubble, a message popping up prompting her for a password.

Ethically, she knew she should just turn the phone in at the counter, finish her breakfast date with Curtis, and go about her Saturday. But, curiosity always had gotten the best of her and today was no different, so, working her magic—she was a computer genius, after all—she hacked into the phone.

The text message app was open to a one sided string of increasingly aggravated text messages from someone named Thea, who apparently had been trying to get in touch with the phone’s owner for the last half an hour. Felicity felt a little bad for the guy, since he’d clearly lost his phone and wasn’t just ignoring this girl. She closed out of the app and tapped the settings icon, hoping the owner had entered all of his contact information. See? She wasn’t just being nosy. She just wanted to make sure the owner got his phone back. Hacking was just the simplest way to do that.

But, the moment the app opened, prominently displaying the name of said owner, Felicity realized just what a bad idea that was.

“That’s Oliver Queen’s phone,” she said, nearly tossing it back on the table.

“What?!” Curtis reached over, grabbing it up and tapping excitedly on the screen.

“Curtis, no!”

“Oh, come on, Felicity.” He grinned at the screen. “How often does an opportunity to snoop on an actual billionaire present itself?”

“And my boss,” she added, trying to grab the phone away.

He ignored her, pulling it out of her reach. “He’ll never know we looked.”

Just then the phone vibrated again, causing Curtis to flinch so hard he almost sent it flying. Felicity swore she saw her life flashing before her eyes.

“It’s from his sister,” Curtis whispered, wide eyes flashing across the screen. “She’s really angry with him.” Then Curtis jolted and looked up. “It’s her wedding. He’s late for her wedding!”

“What?” Felicity was having a really hard time following along, what with the panic attack she could feel coming on. All she wanted to do was get the phone back from Curtis and take it over to the staff at the counter. Or better yet, Queen Consolidated. The guys at the front desk there would get it back to Mr. Queen and she wouldn’t get fired for hacking her boss’s phone.

She glanced up to see Curtis’s fingers flying across the phone screen. Typing. Curtis was typing.

On Oliver Queen’s phone.

She grabbed for the phone, this time successfully, and pulled it into her chest. “What are you doing?!”

“Just letting her know her brother isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere,” Curtis said, like it was obvious. “It’s her wedding day, she shouldn’t have to worry.”

“How do you know it’s her wedding?”

“How do you not?” Curtis countered. “It’s been all over the gossip sites for weeks.”

Heaving a sigh, Felicity looked down at the phone to see what Curtis had sent.

Hi. I just found this phone at Jitters and wanted to know who I could return it to?

Okay. That wasn’t so bad. Forget the fact that he shouldn’t have even been able to open the phone without the password, much less reply to a text.

She placed the phone back on the table and breathed deeply.

“It’s fine, Felicity. We’re just returning the phone.”

She nodded, and tried to concentrate on ripping a piece off of her cinnamon roll. She wasn’t sure she could eat it, what with the somersaults her stomach was doing, but it gave her something to do with her hands as they awaited a reply.

“Why are you getting so freaked out over this?” Curtis asked, taking a sip of his coffee and looking way too nonchalant. “Is this about your crush?”

“This is about me just inadvertently hacking my boss’s phone,” she hissed. “That’s, like, gotta be a fireable offense. And I do not have a crush!”

Curtis snorted. “Really?”

She narrowed her eyes. “One: you have to know someone to have a crush on them, and two—

The phone vibrated again and Felicity’s heart jumped into her throat.

Curtis casually pulled the phone closer so he could read the screen, then smirked up at her. “Well, here’s your chance to get to know him.”

He spun the phone towards her so she could see the text for herself.

Can you meet at St. Mark’s Cathedral downtown? 20 min? Please?

###

“I cannot believe I let myself be talked into this.”

Felicity grabbed the phone from Curtis’s hand as he pulled up to the curb in front of a large cathedral. It was beautiful, but imposing and she felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach.

Curtis wanted her to go in there. Alone.

“Why can’t we just park the car and go in together?”

“Because I’ll never find a spot. Just run in real quick. Thea asked you to come.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You might want to hurry though, before the actual wedding starts.”

She cringed, and glanced down at her outfit. She’d put on a floral dress that morning. It was cute, but in no way passable as wedding attire.

“Okay, fine.” She clenched the phone tightly, then popped the door open and climbed out.

She took the stairs up into the cathedral and slipped inside the slightly open door. She could hear strums of music echoing through the vestibule and snuck a peek into the church. There were loads of guests moving to take their seats, but she didn’t see Thea or Oliver Queen anywhere. A man, maybe thirty, with dark hair and an overly charming smile spotted her and she suddenly felt like a deer in the headlights.

Tommy Merlyn.

She recognized him from paparazzi photos with Oliver Queen. Not that she spent much time looking at paparazzi photos of her boss. She didn’t. It was just… sometimes when she was perusing the internet during lunch, she’d stumble across a gossip blog or two. It wasn’t her fault Oliver Queen and his friends frequently made headlines.

“Why, hello,” Tommy Merlyn purred as he approached her. He stepped out of the church and into the vestibule, forcing her to take a quick step back. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Tommy.”

“Felicity,” she said, clutching the phone tighter. “Smoak.”

“Do you need a seatmate, Felicity Smoak?” He shot her another too charming smile, eyes drifting down as he took her in. “Because, not to toot my own horn, but I’ve been told I make an excellent seatmate at these things.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of wrapped candies. “I bring mints.”

Despite the heavy flirting, something about that gesture put her at ease and she smiled. “No, I’m actually just here to drop off this phone I found.”

She waved it around for him to see and recognition spread across his face.

“You found Ollie’s phone!” He grinned, conspiratorially. “He’s been freaking out about it since he showed up. Wait here, I’ll get him for you.”

“Oh, no, you can just—“

But he was already gone.

Her stomach fluttered nervously and she stepped back until her bare shoulders came into contact with the smooth stone wall of the vestibule. She was about to meet Oliver Queen. Oliver Queen, who, yes okay, she’d had the silliest crush on since she was a teenager and he’d made headlines just for being the attractive son of rich, tech moguls.

It was stupid to be nervous. Felicity felt stupid. She closed her eyes, pulling in a steadying breath to try and calm herself.

“Hi.”

Her eyes shot wide and there he was, standing in front of her, looking like something out of a movie. His tuxedo was tailored perfectly and pulled taut across his shoulders in a way Felicity would have loved to admire had he not been standing right there, clearly waiting for her to respond.

“Hi!” she blurted way too cheerfully in order to hide her nerves. She didn’t think she accomplished it. “I think you were looking for this.”

She held up his cellphone and he smiled, stepping closer.

“Thank you so much.”

He took the phone, their fingers brushing as he did, and Felicity pulled her hand back quickly, ignoring the spark that coursed through her.

“Of course,” she said, feeling a babble coming on, but completely helpless to stop it. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if I ever lost my phone. Well, no, I actually have an app that will ping its location if it’s ever lost so I’d just go back and get it, but…”

Noticing his wide-eyed stare in the face of her malfunctioning brain to mouth filter, she slammed her eyes shut and counted backwards from three in her head before looking back at him.

“Sorry. I should go.”

“Wait!”

He reached out as she turned to leave, brushing his fingers along her wrist, causing another spark to shoot up her arm. This time he must have felt it too, because he pulled back like she’d burned him.

“I… um.” He blinked at her, looking slightly confused, like he’d lost his train of thought. “I’d like to thank you for bringing it by so quickly. My sister is getting married today, as you can probably tell.” He smiled, gesturing behind him. “And she wanted me to give a speech during the ceremony, but I typed it out on my phone, then… lost my phone.”

“You didn’t save it in the cloud? This model should do it automatically.”

Oliver Queen blinked, a slight tint rising in his cheeks. “Oh. I didn’t… I didn’t even think of that.”

Felicity smiled, a little bit charmed by his embarrassment. Guess even sexy, billionaires get embarrassed from time to time.

Suddenly, Oliver’s expression shifted, the bashful quirk of his lips lifting into a flat out smirk.

“Sexy, huh?”

Now it was Felicity’s turn to pink up, or, in her case, turn beet red. Frack her broken brain to mouth filter. Oliver was still smiling, though. He stepped closer, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“I was going to give you a cash reward for bringing it back, but…” His smile turned soft and infectious. She found herself smiling back. “Would you care to get dinner with me instead?”

“Oh.” It was about all Felicity could articulate at the moment.

“Felicity! I actually managed to find a parking spot—Oh!”

Felicity didn’t look away from Oliver long enough to see Curtis, but she could picture his expression. Oliver looked though, his expression falling as he realized Curtis was with her.

Frack.

“Curtis, this is Oliver Queen,” she said, pulling herself back together. “Mr. Queen, this is—“

“Please,” he interrupted, “call me Oliver.”

“Oliver,” she said softly, as if tasting his name on her tongue. She shot him a slow smile, never breaking eye contact. “This is Curtis, my best friend.”

Oliver’s eyes skipped to Curtis for a moment before landing back on her, his smile returning. “It’s nice to meet you both… Felicity, was it?”

“Felicity Smoak.”

He extended his hand and, this time, when the spark shot through them, neither let go.

“So… Dinner?” He shrugged, looking somehow both confident and nervous all at once. “It’s the least I can do.”

Behind her, Curtis made a small sound that she could only imagine would turn into many large sounds as soon as they were back out in the car, but for now Felicity only had eyes for Oliver.

“Dinner sounds great.”

Send me a trope!

[tibbinswrites]

Suptober Day 1 - Autumn

If asked, Dean would say that summer was his favourite season. He liked the heat of it, the light. Fewer opportunities for something to sneak up on him when the dry grass crunched underfoot and the hours of darkness were few. Hunts were easier in summer, he’d say; everything was just a little bit lethargic, a little less careful, a little more prone to mistakes; of course, they were too, but that just increased the thrill.

He also felt like doing more outside of hunting when the weather was consistently good. He’d drag Sam and Cas out on picnics and plan barbecues, inviting everyone in his contacts list that he actually enjoyed socialising with to spend the day enjoying good food, beer, and each other’s company.

He liked seeing trees full of green, and the strongest flowers that could hack the heat. He liked being dry in a state where it was prone to drizzle. He liked the way large expanses of water glittered in the sun, it reminded him of Cas’ eyes, and he liked the way the sunlight brought the chestnut out of his almost-black hair. He liked going for walks with Cas at dusk and not stopping until past midnight; seeing the stars felt more special in the summer, as though by making the effort to stay up later to see them, they twinkled all the brighter.

Everything felt long in summer, fixed, permanent almost. He liked that, the consistency of it, the slow drag of days full of laughter and experience. They’d take the less direct routes on the way to hunts, stopping off at tourist traps and museums and scenic places that caught their eye on the pretense of needing to stretch their legs.

Summer also meant July 4th, which meant calling a reluctant Rowena to enchant the positive armoury of fireworks he’d accumulated for his annual party.

“I’m not Gandalf,” she’d complain every year, but she never once refused, and always insisted on staying to watch the show and soak up all credit for how spectacular it inevitably was.

He always kept a few fireworks back though, and he’d wake Sam up in the middle of the night a few days later to complete the show. If Cas noticed, then he was gracious enough to not intrude, understanding that this was a tradition for the brothers alone.

Yes. If you asked him, Dean would be adamant that summer was his favourite season.

***

Sam, at the other end of the spectrum, would insist that winter was his favourite. He liked going jogging on crisp winter mornings, feeling the air sharp in his lungs, pushing himself faster, only receiving the warmth he earned by his movement. He liked curling up with a book and too many blankets, a mug of hot chocolate at his side.

He liked coming in to a bowl of his brother’s homemade vegetable soup, which he only made in the winter because “This bitch-ass weather is the only thing that can justify eating something so green.”

He liked the hush that fell over the world in winter; fewer people left their homes unless they had to, especially when it snowed. Sam liked snow; he liked how it made everything fresh and clean, how paths that he’d walked all year suddenly seemed new. Hunting was easier in winter too, he’d say, snow made tracking less difficult and the radius of hunting grounds shrank dramatically as even monsters wanted to stay closer to home.

When they celebrated it, Sam liked Christmas. For Christmas Day itself, Jody would invite them to hers for a good meal, an exchanging of gifts and a gathering of friends. There was no tree, because Cas refused point-blank to top it with a crude imitation of his kin, and no religious aspect at all because they all agreed that it was just too weird to praise Chuck, but that didn’t matter; there would be mulled wine in abundance and Claire poking fun at Cas’ text speak and the swapping of stories and a roaring fire in the grate. Dean and Donna would ‘help’ Jody in the kitchen (by which of course Sam meant that they would try to avoid Jody’s spatula when she caught them sneaking pieces of turkey or mini sausages) and Sam would find himself in an armchair by the fire, talking with Patience and Alex until he was called to help serve.

They celebrated on their own too though, and Sam liked those days just as much. The date changed each year, depending on what time they could get between hunts but it would usually be mid-December if they could manage it. Dean would whip up a special dinner (which always included an apple and cinnamon pie) and they’d drink beer and swap presents between themselves, taking the time to relax and spend time together that didn’t involve an apocalypse or a strange murder or any kind of dire news at all.

Yes. Winter, Sam would say firmly, was most definitely his favourite season.

***

Castiel would say that it was important, therefore, that his favourite season was autumn; though he’d say it with a smile and an insistence that he didn’t need to bridge the gap between the brothers, but that he was glad that he did anyway. It had taken him a long time to accept that his place of belonging as a fixed thing and he always felt it more keenly in autumn. Though autumn wasn’t fixed by any means, it was the season of change, which is what Castiel liked about it best.

The temperature didn’t really affect him, but he knew that Dean was grateful that he no longer had to change his shirt and shower twice a day and that Sam was pleased to not yet need to put on a hat and gloves in addition to his sweater.

He wasn’t convinced that autumn had any particular benefits for hunting either; it was hard to walk quietly with dry leaves and squelching mud and the rain mingled with the adjustment to the darkening days made visibility difficult.

But there was just so much colour.

In the woods outside the bunker, everything was highlighted with gold. Evergreens stubbornly clung to their virescence while the rest changed to varying shades of red, yellow, brown; trembling stems gave way until the ground was carpeted with the same, sinking into the softening ground to provide nutrients for the next generation of flora while the final rays of summer’s warmth covered them all, making Dean’s eyes sparkle and the auburn in his hair more visible and his freckles more prominent. Small animals were out in force, preparing for the winter to come, rabbits grazing, squirrels endlessly planting their nuts, foxes scavenging for what they could find. It was a time of fervent activity, and a time of peace too. Everything had a purpose in autumn, and yet it was peaceful too.

It was the season of transition, and Castiel and transition were old friends.

Castiel liked how the season seemed to act like a glue, bringing the occupants of the bunker together, not that they were distant at other times of the year but while Dean still retained his frenetic energy from the summer and while Sam’s excitement for the holiday season was growing and while Castiel was perfectly content, they made more time for each other; and while Cas enjoyed the larger get-togethers of their extended adopted family, he was even more fond of the simple game and movie nights that were held far more frequently in autumn, just the three of them.

It was in autumn that he had first saved Dean Winchester from Hell, and his unofficial Earth birthday, as termed by Dean, was a day that never passed without acknowledgement.

And then there was Thanksgiving, which had quickly become Castiel’s favourite holiday. In between hunts and visiting friends the three of them would find a day; the morning would be dedicated to a small swapping of gifts and movies, Dean would whip up a special dinner/lunch, complete with pumpkin pie naturally, and after eating (because the brothers were too impatient to wait and there always leftovers for later anyway) they would each recite list of ten things that they were thankful for and the reasons why. It was important that they make a list, without one it was all too easy to fall back on the generic things. Castiel knew that each brother added to and edited their lists throughout the year and he did the same, there was something truly special about bringing back a moment thought forgotten.

Castiel’s first item was always a list of each time that Dean had said he loved him, much to Sam’s glee and Dean’s embarrassment.

What Castiel loved most about the tradition was that they never thanked God for whatever influence He had exerted over them to bring them these things or these moments. No, they thanked each other: for staying together, for overcoming the odds, for apologies accepted, fights resolved, comforts given. They thanked each other for sharing their lives another year.

And regardless of the fact that only one of them would admit it, it was always this day that made every member of Team Free Will certain that autumn was their favourite season of the year.

If you liked this, please consider buying me a coffee.

[salty-donut-collecter]

Why Not?

Part Twenty-Three 

Twenty-Two      {Masterlist}     Twenty-Four

Chapter Word Count: 1638

Trigger Warnings: This is a very dramatic chapter honestly, so uhh

People get hurt, yelling, crying, mentions of neurodiversity 

Please tell me if I need to tag anything else :)

*Also, I’m planning on having this story as a slow burn, so please be prepared :)

Prompts: “Do I look like I give a fuck?”, “I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I’m feeling a lot of  it.”, and “Not to dictate your life, but drop your shitty friends.”

A/N: Okay, so this gets... interesting. I'm not going to tell you how things go in the future, but know that this is a very dramatic turn and I guess I just wanted to warn you a bit before I posted it. I'll answer questions as long as it doesn't spoil anything, so feel free to ask away

Happy reading! (Also, feel free to comment your thoughts! I love reading comments :))

Also, if you’d like to be added to the tags list, please let me know! :D

      _____________________________________________________

You walked down the stairs seeing red, your eyes probably glowing as you couldn't help but hear the numerous amounts of thoughts running through everyone's heads. Complete focus wasn't there. The world blurred, mixed with reds and blacks. Accents of sunlight making everything feel like the Greybeyond from Lord of The Rings after Frodo had put the ring on.

When you get to the living room, you don't stop. The room quiets as everyone starts to stare. Within moments, you have a full room of eyes on you. Their thoughts won't stop, they're clouding your mind like smoke in a strip club.

Through all the noise, you heard Steve speak.

"Y/n, what're you--" his voice was low, like he was talking to an enemy, so you had no moral conflict in interrupting him.

"All of your kids are neurodivergent, and are currently suffering." You practically growled, "And yet you guys are continuing to argue so LOUD without ANY consideration for your children-- the children you chose to adopt and take care of." you spit, your hands balling into fists.

You saw Bucky's face go pale. He glanced at the exit.

A dry chuckle escaped your lips. "You really think they want to see you? After everything they've just listened to?" another sarcastic huff. "Why don't we settle this somewhere they won't hear you?"

Snap.

Your hand was still up when Steve's shield hit your face. Your jaw dislocated-- or maybe it broke. You weren't quite sure. Either way, you took your hand, which was still in its previous position of post-snapping, and used it to relocate your jaw. Seconds later it was healed.

"I'd like to say I'm a very sympathetic person, Steve," You took a breathe, still overwhelmed by the overlapping voices that were composed of everyone's thoughts, "That's why I'm maintaining my composure."

Another breath. You blink.

"However, becoming unhinged and attacking me out of nowhere won't do anyone any good for multiple reasons." you frowned, "I figured, since you'd been the one to teach Maverick that, that you too would understand the concept." your frown deepened, "But I guess being wrong is today's family trend." you sigh.

The place you'd transported everyone wasn't actually real. Technically, they were all still in the living room, passed out. Would you tell them that yet? No, but it helped when you thought about Steve throwing his shield at you thinking it'd actually do anything to you. He had seen you fight, after all.

So yes, instead of actually attempting to teleport them anywhere (which was only something you'd thought you might be able to do), you made it look like you'd teleported them to Château du Guildo, Créhen, France. They were awkwardly standing in the ruins' courtyard during a chill, starry night.

You made things as realistic as possible to evade any suspicion. However, Tony, who was just wearing a tee-shirt, was almost shakey with his arms crossed because you hacked into everyone's hypothalamus (which controls how you feel temperature--Bruce had you learn the known parts of the brain to make your job "easier") so they could feel their surroundings. You used to do things like this for HYDRA as a method of torture, but you tried not to let those types of thoughts enter your mind right now. You didn't need that. You needed to stay focused and concrete.

The more you thought about the way Katie looked at you as you looked

Around at the people your siblings called parents, the more your anger started to boil.

"Now that we have you out of the house," you forced yourself to calm down a little, rubbing the very realistic pain that was still present in your cheek, "What in the fucking UNIVERSE WAS THAT ABOUT?!" You didn't quite scream, but you wanted to--oh how you wanted to.

The so-called Avengers just looked down for a moment.

Then, of course, Steve fucking spoke up.

"Well," he looked around at his teammates, which apparently didn't include you anymore. What a shame. "Some of us don't think you should be... included on the team anymore."

A laugh, one that was so dry and sarcastic, it almost became real, left your lips. "That's rich." You chuckled, wiping a fake tear from your eye.

"Y/n, they're serious." Tony gave you a concerned dad look.

Your semi-forced smile dropped, "I know how serious he is, Tony." You Looked over to Sam, already knowing he was probably on Steve's side. He always was, after all, "They think I'm still controlled by HYDRA. They think I'm a double agent."

Sam stepped up, "HYDRA has nothing to do with this."

Vision chimed in for a moment, "Y/n, we think you're... unstable." he looked at you with a sincerity that no one else seemed capable of, "We only wish to expand your mental stability in order to prevent more outburst that could possibly cause harm towards others. Particularly Katie, and her siblings."

Tony stepped up, now just as angry as he probably was before, "Y/n wouldn't lay a finger on that girl and you know it!" he furiously spat, his hands shaking as he angrily pointed a finger at Vision.

"Tony, we're not saying she'd want to do anything." Steve seemed desperate to make Tony understand, you realized he'd probably been trying all night and getting nowhere. "No one in their right mind would want to hurt that little girl, but--"

"And when was the last time Y/n was in the wrong mindset?" Pietro asked, stepping up to Steve boldly, "When was the last time she did anything without a reason?" he asked, his arms disdainfully swinging at his sides.

Rhodey gave him a pointed look, "What do you call hacking into our locked files and illegally copying them to her laptop?" he asked.

"I call it finding the answers she should've had access to in the first place as a member of the Avengers." Wanda looked at Rhodey like she was reminding him of the fact that she could tear him to pieces in a matter of moments, and that she was definitely thinking about it.

"That's like giving Peter access to all of our files" Natasha rolled her eyes.

"He has access to all of our files," Tony corrected, "He's just too distressingly polite to look through them without our permission." He added.

Peter, who wasn't too far away, nodded. "I feel bad if I don't ask Mr. Stark first, but I do have access to everything, just like Mr. Stark and Steve," he told them. "I thought Y/n had full access too, so I didn't really think anything of it when I heard she hacked us, because what else are you supposed to do when you don't have the password and everyone else is asleep, right?" He nervously chuckled and watched himself shift his feet due to the vast amounts of attention he'd just accidentally earned.

"Besides, what's it to you anyway?" Clint just looked done with everyone, "We're prepared to deal with her if she does lose her shit, which isn't going to happen btw," he paused to take a sip from the coffee pot no one had noticed he had, "and it's not like she's as difficult as Barnes was!" Another sip, "Like, I love the kids as much, if not more, than you do, but she's not a threat to them. They love each other too much." He gave Steve a side look, "Almost like you and Barnes," he commented, proceeding to take a long, loud drink of his coffee as the rest of the world processed what he'd said.

Steve blushed, but didn't let Clint get to him.

"I still think that we just need to make sure--"

"What, exactly?" you snapped, "Because, I don't think there's literally anything for you to be worried about, Steve." You'd slowly become calmer in this atmosphere. It wasn't getting out of hand anymore, and it was more of a debate now. However, hearing Steve had caused your blank expression to fade into a blatantly irritated frown/scowl situation.

"We just want to make sure you're... yourself." Sam tried to reason, "We want to make sure you're well enough to have full control of yourself--"

"So it is about HYDRA?" you interjected, already knowing how the rest of his statement would've sounded.

No one said anything.

You scoffed, "unbelievable." you look up to the heavens you hoped didn't have to see this, "To think I believed you when you told me I was a part of the team. That you thought I was all better and wanted me here because I made a good edition." you threw your hands up as tears started to form in your eyes, "And all that other complete bullshit you were feeding me." You laughed, your voice breaking, "When all you really wanted was another helpless mess that wanted nothing more than to try and make up for all the horrible things they'd done. You wanted someone just trying to change-- because after James, Pietro, Wanda, really everyone here, you just couldn't get enough. You just love a sob story, huh?!" You sniffed, looking down at everyone around. Most everyone just had their heads down in shame.

You smiled, nodding as the tears started to fall. The overlapping voices weren't helping, but you could barely hear them anymore. Not over the quickly developing silence that your brain demanded.

"Not even a word." You continue to nod, not knowing what else to do, "I get it. I see." A sad, sinister smile appears on your face as an idea popped into your head.

"That's alright," You stopped nodding, smiling at the floor and whispering, "that just means you won't mind when I leave."

With that statement, you look up just in time to see everyone's final face of panic before--

Snap.

_____

Taglist: @introvertedsin @galacticalstarcat @acidrain707

[ilovemygaydad]

No One [part 1]

from the friends in dark places au

pairing: toxic roman/oc

summary: someone from school makes an insensitive joke that sends Roman spiraling into some old memories of past trauma

WARNINGS: (none of the sexual elements are explicit, merely mentioned and implied) non-consentual sex, sexual assault, date rape drugs, drug usage, implied underage sex, blackmail (in the form of cp), transphobia, transphobic slurs, forced coming out, misgendering, food mentions, rebellious behavior, insensitive comments, crying, physical assault, PTSD, and possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: jsyk, it’s totally okay to ask for a modified chapter if you need it or if i need to add tags! i get it, and it’s no problem for me to quick edit a chapter or whatever :) also, feel free to send requests or questions that you have!

a/n 2: hey so this story is super dark and shitty, so please read with caution! i’m happy to summarize for anyone who needs it!!!

first of main plot - companions

consider buying me a coffee (please)

-

October 19, 2016

Roman shut the door to the practice room silently. He knew each nook of the choir room, including which doors were particularly loud. His back hit the door with a soft thud, and his tears softly dropped onto the carpeted floor. He slid to the ground and let out a choked sob.

Luke. Luke knew that what he said was terrible and awful.

“You could pat Roman Patrick on the head, and he’d accuse you of sexual assault.”

“Ro? Mrs. Taylor told me that you’re in here… Are you okay?” Patton’s muffled voice asked from the other side of the door.

“I’m fantastic, Patton! I just needed a few minutes of quiet before I tried to traverse the parking lot to grab my costume from Hannah’s car.” Roman tried to insert as much of his normal flare into his speech, but he knew that it fell flat.

“Roman, let me in.”

The crying teen begrudgingly stood up and flung the door open. A worried Patton stood opposite him, and Roman was well aware that his puffy eyes and wet cheeks did nothing but make his friend more upset. He sighed, gesturing for Patton to come inside.

After the door was closed, Patton spoke up again; his voice was very quiet. “Was it Luke?”

“Yeah,” Roman admitted.

“What did he say?”

“‘You could pat Roman Patrick on the head, and he’d accuse you of sexual assault.’”

Patton paced the small room. “That douchebag! Are you fucking kidding me? He can try to ruin my life, sure, but making fun of your abuse in front of you when he knows how easily it triggers you is just too far!”

“Patton, it’s fine—“

“No, it isn’t!” Pat cried, throwing his arms out in fury. “It’s terrible! He knows what happened to you, and he is in no place to be talking about falsely accused sexual assault!”

“It’s in the past…”

---

June, 2014

Roman quietly slid through his cabin’s window into the quiet night. He normally wasn’t one for this level of rule-breaking, but he was in love! He’d do almost anything for Ethan, and that meant a lot.

Two of his fingers were kept over the head of his flashlight as he made his way to the pier, only allowing a small sliver of light to shine out so that he could avoid twigs. Roman was so excited to have found someone who liked him back that he didn’t care about the consequences. He was going to be a freshman, after all, so it would make sense to begin to have relationships, right? Ethan was kind, caring, and funny—everything Roman wanted in a guy.

“Roman! Oh, good. I thought you weren’t going to show up,” Ethan whispered, a smile creeping on his face.

“Of course I’m here! What do you think of me? I’d never leave you hanging, dearest.” Roman gave Ethan a deep kiss. When they pulled apart, Ethan held up a finger to signify for Roman to wait, bringing a tiny thermos from behind his back.

“Salted caramel hot chocolate. I know how much you said you like caramel.” He passed it over, untwisting the lid as he moved. Roman took a huge sip, the cold of outside already sleeping through his pajama pants and shirt.

Ro coughed at the intense salty flavor. “Jeez, E, that’s really fucking salty. Good thing I’m really cold, or this would completely go to waste.”

Ethan smiled brightly, though Roman couldn’t quite place the emotion he got from it. They chatted for about twenty minutes before Roman began to sway on his feet. He was so tired and dizzy. He blinked a few times, shaking his head to try to collect himself.

“I, uh… I think… I think I’m gonna…” Roman mumbled, trying to get the slurred words he was thinking out of his mouth. He couldn’t seem to control his movements, and not a second later, he felt the hard ground hit his side. The last thing that Roman saw was Ethan’s evil smile as he drifted off to sleep.

---

Roman woke up with a foggy mind. What had happened last night? He remembered going to meet Ethan and drinking hot chocolate and then… Nothing. He couldn’t remember a single thing that’d happened.

The teen blinked a few times, trying to make some sense of his surroundings. They were bright, that much was obvious, and he was still wearing his binder. Someone stepped up to him, gently placing a hand on his arm. He flinched back from the touch. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want anyone touching him.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m sorry. It’s Nurse Elizabeth. A few campers found you by the pier drugged to hell in just boxers and a t-shirt, and from the looks of the campsite, I think you were sexually assaulted last night,” said the young woman in front of him, frowning deeply.

Roman wanted to throw up. Ethan had used him. Someone he thought he could trust. Someone he loved. And Ethan probably knew his secret, too. Oh, god.

“Hey! It’ll be okay. Just get some rest. You can answer questions later.” Elizabeth made her way to the door of the infirmary, turning at the door. “Someone’s been waiting to see you since the news got out. Would you like me to let him in?” Roman nodded half-heartedly. He heard a person greet the nurse before heading over. Ro didn’t look up to see who it was, preferring to pick at his fingernails instead.

A rough hand clasped at his face and ripped his gaze up. A muffled scream escaped Roman’s mouth as he locked eyes with Ethan, who had intense fire in his eyes. “You’d better not tell a soul that it was me, or your little secret will be let out, tranny whore!” Roman fought against Ethan’s grasp, but he was still too weak from being drugged. “I hope I’ve made myself clear. If I hear a word about this little exchange, either, I have some pretty outing evidence to show the camp. You’re my bitch now, Patrick.”

Ethan tore his hand away from Roman’s face and stormed out of the infirmary, leaving a panicked Roman in the bed. Oh no. This was worse than he’d thought. He had two options: he could tell everything to Elizabeth and subsequently be outed as trans to everyone in the camp, or he could do whatever Ethan said and keep his gender identity a secret. Neither was good. Roman shoved his face into the thin pillow and cried himself back to sleep. Maybe he could wake up from this nightmare.

---

January, 2008

Roman toyed with his hands a few times before stepping courageously into his parents’ office. He could do this. He swung his ponytail over his shoulder and adjusted his cargo shorts and T-shirt.

His mom was the first to notice his appearance. “Oh, Rosie! What happened to your dress?”

“She’s just changed, honey. She probably didn’t want to wear it anymore,” his father said, typing away at his computer.

“I wanted to talk to you and Mom about something important, Daddy. I… I, uh… Never mind, it’s stupid.” Roman turned back and started out of the office, but his mom stopped him mid-step.

“Rosalina, you can tell us anything; you know that. What’s wrong, honey?” Mrs. Patrick clicked her laptop closed and prompted her husband to do the same. Slowly, Roman turned to them; the sound of his sneakers squeaking on the wood floor was the only noise for a few moments.

“I’m a boy!” Roman blurted out. “I don’t want you to call me a girl anymore. I want to be called Roman, not Rosalina or Rosie. And more importantly,” Roman pulled a pair of kitchen shears from one of his many pockets and raised them, hacking his entire ponytail off and letting it fall to the floor. “I don’t want to look like a girl anymore. I am a prince, not a princess.”

His parents sat with astonished looks on their faces. Oh, Roman had messed up. He had taken his dramatics too far for once. His parents were going to be angry at him, and he’d never be called what he was. He’d be Rosalina forever.

“Alright, Roman. Welcome to the family.” His mother smiled brightly at him. There was no malice in her eyes, nor in his father’s.

“You know, Ro, I’ve always wanted a son. And you’re strong; you’ll be so good in the boy’s gymnastics league.” Mr. Patrick stood and scooped his son into his arms, hugging him tightly.

Thus, Roman Patrick had been born.

---

Roman had been so excited to go in to school on Monday to tell everyone that he was a boy and that his name was Roman. He was practically bouncing out of his seatbelt on the ride there. He ran into the school, barely saying goodbye to his mom, and skidded into his second grade classroom.

“Good morning, Rosie! How are you doing?” Mrs. Zander, the second grade teacher, greeted warmly.

“Actually, my name is Roman now, and I’m a boy!” Roman sat in his normal seat, but taped a piece of paper with “Roman” drawn on it in red crayon over his “Rosie” nameplate. Mrs. Zander looked at him, confused, but nodded. She went to her phone and made a few calls, looking quite serious, before going to everything in the room with “Rosie” on it and replacing them with a “Roman” label.

Students began to file in, many commenting on Ro’s new short haircut, to which he’d always respond, “I’m Roman now ‘cause I’m a boy!”

They looked at him as if he’d grown another head, but moved on without further comment. With each child, Roman’s enthusiasm lessened until he finally just gave up. Mrs. Zander made an announcement about Roman, and the kids just laughed. They got scolded, sure, but that didn’t actually stop them.

“Look at Rosie just wanting to get closer to the boys!”

“Rosie you can’t just decide to be a boy! You’re always gonna be a girl!”

“I don’t want to be friends with you anymore, Rosie. You’re a liar!”

The harmful comments continued for weeks. Finally, Roman couldn’t handle any more, and he begged his parents to take him out of school. Within a few days, they’d transferred him into an elementary school an hour away and moved into a temporary apartment nearby.

Roman walked into his new school nervously, taking his time to get to his new locker. It was nearly five minutes before he finally entered his new classroom.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” a student asked. He wore a black polo and thick-rimmed glasses. It was the textbook nerd look.

“Um, yeah. I’m Roman,” he replied. Then, as if to clarify, he said, “I’m a boy.”

“Alright. My name is Logan, and I am also a boy. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” And then Logan walked off.

(Roman totally had a crush on the nerdy second grader, but he wouldn’t realize it for a long, long time.)

The rest of the day went by smoothly. Correct name and pronoun usage by everyone and new friends left and right. It was amazing! He didn’t get the opportunity to talk to Logan any more that day, and little did he know that he’d become too intimidated by the cute boy to talk to him, but he was still grateful for his first “friend.”

---

Summer, 2014

Roman spent two more months bending to Ethan’s every whim to protect his skin. It didn’t feel much like protection, though. He was disgusted with himself, but he couldn’t go through the rejection and hatred that followed telling people that he’s transgender.

Slowly, he withdrew from most of his camp friends. It started with not allowing them to touch him, and then simply not talking to them. Each time Ethan’s fingers found their way across Roman’s bare skin, he felt like throwing up.

It’s better this way, he told himself.

It wasn’t.

No one found out. No one ever knew. No one felt the pain.

No one except Roman.

part 2

[thelifestyleeditor]

I HEART WORK

Who are you: Chris Tonnesen

What do you do: I’m a photographer.

Where can we find you? Website | Instagram

Describe your work in 5 words? Food, interiors, travel, sweat and tears!

Can you tell us a little about what you do? I work as a freelance photographer and work primarily with food and interior photography. I am based in Copenhagen and most of my clients are from here, but I also work with international clients.

What took you on the road to being a photographer? It wasn’t a straight road - it took me a few years to figure out that photography was where I would find my passion. I recently looked at a 9th grade school paper on what I thought I would study and it said cookery. In high school, I always played around with my Mum's point-and-shoot camera, manipulating the images into obscurity in a hacked version of Photoshop. No one told me photography was something you could study, or in any way, was a desirable career path. So I went on to study in a business college - it lasted a year! That year I only kept my sanity because I bought my first DSLR camera and started photographing concerts on most weekends. At the end of my second semester, a friend of mine said she was moving to Copenhagen to study photography, and that was when it clicked – photography was something you could study, something you could do for a career! No one had ever told me that. So I quit college, packed my bags, and went to study it in Copenhagen. I ended up discovering that within photography there was a magical thing called food photography, this was my second click – I’ve not looked back since!

Where is your office/studio and what is the view out of your window? My studio is on the outskirts of Copenhagen, in the up-and-coming North West area – outside my window is an old factory-like backyard with a mix of mostly mechanics and a few small creative businesses.

What is the first thing you do when you get to work/a shoot? The first thing I do when I get to the office is sit down and meditate for 20 minutes. Spending the time this way helps me sort out the day, my energy, and start off with a clear view. After that I drink coffee, black!

Describe a typical day at work? There is none, which is amazing! I do typically try and get home before 6pm so I can relax and recharge – work/life balance is very important to me. I normally either have clients coming to the studio for a day of photography, or I am going on location. Otherwise, it’s an office day were I edit images from shoots, sort through emails, drink loads of coffee and do all the other work required as a photographer.

What cameras do you like to use? I have always worked with Canon, and for the moment I use the 5DSR with an array of Canon and Sigma Primes. My favorite is the 85mm/1.2L from Canon, it’s a little fiddly and requires some room to manoeuvre – but I love the sharpness and how it pulls everything together nice and tight. For travel I have a Fuji X-T2 which is a little lighter and easier to carry around. You feel a little less intrusive with it because it’s smaller, which can be great when doing travel photography.

What can’t you work without? My huge Gitzo carbon tripod with a gear head. It’s heavy and big, and a pain to drag around – but there is no obstacle it can’t overcome or table it won’t fit over. It can become almost 3m high and I will love it until I die of a broken back!

Why do you love what you do? Mostly because I get to work with the things I love mostly – food and photography. But also because I get to meet so many inspiring people, whether it’s the incredible stylists I work with regularly, the chefs in kitchens who rock their world, or people who are in some way experts within their own craft. In these meetings an incredible synergy can arise, and it’s such an amazing way to work.

One shoot you won’t forget and why? A few years back I went to the Faroe Islands at the end of November to work with Restaurant Koks. It’s the most dramatic place I have ever visited, and the rough nature reflected instantly on the trip – from the highs to the lows! The sun rose at 9.30am and set at 3pm, so there really wasn’t any daylight to work with and that was hard on me because it was early in my career. But those lows were lifted by the amazing highs of the beautiful countryside, the amazing people, both locals and the staff at Koks, and how amazing the photos turned out. It really was a rite of passage and it’s a trip I will never forget.

Who or what inspires you? At this very moment I am deeply inspired by the woods, all the brown and burned colours and tones. I can always find inspiration in nature and I try to connect with it as often as I can, whether by a stroll in a park or by diving into the cold oceans for spearfishing. But sometimes a direct inspiration can also force you to be inspired by the opposite. Mostly, natural light, soft shadows and toned down hues are my go-to, but sometimes I also get so tired of it that I just HAVE to do hard light and strong colours. Yin and yang I suppose!

What is the best advice you have received? It sounds stupid saying it’s the best advice, but my old master Line Klein always said, “Never discriminate the rich, if they want to pay you a lot, let them”! It can be hard to put a price on your own head, but it’s good to sometimes tell yourself that your work can be worth more than you think. Having a few well-paying gigs can free you up a bit to work on more fun and lesser-paid jobs.

One moment in your career you will always remember? The day I started as a freelancer and had to start from scratch, figure everything out and digging out that big green button that said GO. That moment where you realise this is it...that will probably stay with me for a long time.

What is the best part of your job? Getting to eat amazing food and discuss it with the chef right there and then.

And the worst? Answering a load of emails forcing you to look at the screen all day.

What’s your proudest career achievement? The book project ‘On Eating Insects’ with Nordic Food Lab published on Phaidon. A book created with the most talented people and with an approach that is more than consumerism.

Which phrase do you overuse? “We’ll make it work, don’t worry!”

What single thing would improve the quality of your life? Probably an assistant or student to help with the workload. There is always more to do than you are aware of - I always feel just a bit behind.

What have you learned the hard way? Small tripod and big cameras don’t match – they will topple over at some point!

If you could do another job what would you like to do and why? Coming back to that 9th grade paper – I would work with food, no doubt anymore.

What advice would you give to someone wanting to be a photographer? Follow your passion whether it be food or fashion – and work at it hard. Find some people you can work with – my career kick-started by working with a restaurant pop-up group for free for two years.

Can you tell us about any other projects you have in the pipeline? I have just finished shooting a vegetarian cookbook that has turned out amazing, its called Flere Kødfri Dage (More Meatfree Days), and a book on baking with Meyers. I am also doing a big commercial shoot in Oslo with Northern alongside my most favourite and trusted stylist Per Olav Sølvberg. I also plan on doing a lot more with wildlife chef Adam Engel, more food in nature please!

Any favourite Instagram feeds you are enjoying at the moment? I’m trying to cut back on Instagram, so I will have to decline to answer. Alternatively, I’m really enjoying reading the Swedish magazine Fool.

If you could be someone for a day who would it be? I’d be Christopher McCandless (he was featured in the film Into The Wild), just before he over-reached his abilities in Alaska – I think he must have experienced freedom like few do.

How do you spend your downtime? I love hanging out with my girlfriend...she is amazing! Going into nature foraging and cooking. I practice free-diving twice a week to wind down and because it is the most amazing feeling going into the ocean with nothing but a big breath. And late at night I melt my brain with HBO or Netflix!

Can you give us a great tip on how to take better photographs? If you are new to it, then try using indirect natural light which is easy to use and allows you to focus on your composition and technique, instead of a complicated light setting. Read up on composition; rule of thirds, golden ratio, dynamics and suchlike.

What would you like to be doing in five years time? Working as a photographer still...what else?! Maybe living very close to the ocean and forests.

If you had an extra hour each day what would you do with it? I’d spend it with the people I love, the people who inspire me - getting fueled up on the stuff that isn’t work related.

What’s your personal motto? Photography isn’t life and death, we’ll make it work!

How would you like to be remembered? As a guy with a smile on my face, always.

Thank you Chris for talking to The Lifestyle Editor.

[j-k-notrowling]

Untitled

Hi there! Spoilers up front: this is a gratuitously long-winded “thank you,” not an Ask (also I’m 31 and don’t know how to Social Media so apologies if this is the wrong page/tab/link/widget).

--(oh actually it’s a blog post now because of course I can’t send an “Ask” this stupidly long see? wasn’t kidding about that Social Media thing...)--

I started writing my first book in the Fall of 2016. Before that I’d only written songs. One day I got an idea which didn’t fit within the usual rhymes or rhythms. I tried and tried, but kept on hitting a wall. In addition, I was fed up with the whole “business” of music—the fragile egos, the politics of being in a band, all that. One morning I sat down at my HP desktop computer (again...31) and opened up a blank Word document. I stared at it with murderous intent for a long time, but nothing happened. So I grabbed the nearest book off the shelf (Crash by J.G. Ballard), opened it, and began to type out the first paragraph, copying the sentences line by line. I wanted to see what it felt like — my clumsy fingers pecking at the keyboard, observing how the words fell into place with a musical cadence and tempo almost prophetic, as though the ink were destined to dry in this exact form upon the page, the machinery of its tumultuous birth and impeccable design skillfully concealed. I paused and looked out the window. There was a squirrel on the deck, I remember. And then I saw it. Not outside but inside my own head, behind my eyelids. The song, the one I’d been struggling to write, I saw that it could be a story. I saw it had a clear beginning, middle, and end. I saw a world of characters opening doors to other worlds, other stories, other characters. This was life-changing shit. Suddenly I was a little boy at my first baseball game, drinking my first ice-cold Coke, surrounded by old men chain-smoking Marlboro Reds and muttering dirty words I’d never heard before about the [EXPLETIVES DELETED] on the opposing team. I’d discovered a fire fueled by the psychic anarchy of its own discovery, a Moebius-strip of dramatic invention, a repository for all the pop-cultural turds floating around inside the cracked porcelain toilet bowl of my skull. I wrote prose every night after work. I never thought about what I was doing. I never once stopped to check word counts or page counts. I never thought about sticking to an outline, making sure my story adhered to a specific plot structure, none of that. I wrote like a man in love. Delirious, overheated teenage love. Wear-my-ill-fitting-letterman’s-jacket love (is this also A Thing™️ in Canada?). Stupid stupid stupid love, naive and hormonal and precious and retrospectively mortifying. I’d turn off the world, turn on the music, sit back and watch the words sashay straight into my lap. It took 2-3 months before the ruthless scourge known as Self Doubt farted in my private elevator. Am I doing this right? How many words are in a book, anyway? How many pages? How long is this going to take? Is this an effective way to impress women and/or get laid? Am I writing a novel or a novella? The fuck is “flash fiction”? Are you allowed to write actual books in Microsoft Word? Does it matter that my free trial version of Microsoft Word expires in 30 days? They’re bluffing, right? And so on. I compared my own writing with that of authors I admired; subsequently, I couldn’t get out of bed for a week. I watched 40+ hours of “Kitchen Nightmares” reruns (it’s. the. same. fucking. formula. every. single. episode.) and nursed my shame with bowl after bowl of strawberry ice cream. To think — I’d TOLD people about this fool’s errand, and sooner or later I’d have to show them precisely how awful a writer I was... I turned to the Internet for advice. At first, it seemed like a godsend. There was such a litany of knowledge, so many pro-tips and life hacks and proven formulas for success. This was how I stumbled across your channel. I found other channels which offered more straightforward “DO IT LIKE THIS YOU FUCKING IDIOT” instructions, but I still enjoyed yours the most. I lol-ed at your jokes. I remember a few videos where you spoke highly about All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr, which remains among the most achingly beautiful books I’ve ever read. Also you’re Canadian, and you guys just generally Human better than we (Americans) Human. ...and here my troubles began. See, the more I tried to adhere to word count goals, the more I tried to properly organize the scenes on my Scrivener™️ virtual cork board, the less I enjoyed the actual process of writing. So I tried other things, based upon other writers’ suggestions: cut the adverbs, write in the morning, write at night, write during your lunch break, write an outline, stick to the outline, write x amount of pages per day, write x number of hours per day, spend x amount of hours drafting and x amount of hours editing, etc. But nothing I tried made me feel confident in my writing. I started actively hating it, to be honest. I dreaded the cursor and the infinite white void. Then I would watch more writing videos and feel guilty about my lack of ambition, my inability to accomplish simple tasks. It’s only a few thousand words, dude — just get in there and do it. Eventually I would. I’d grumble and feel miserable and stay locked in my little writing dungeon all night, ignoring my friends’ texts and phone calls, and the next day I’d hate everything I wrote, trash it, and start over. Then, when I had no more writing left to hate, I started hating myself. The words in my head turned malignant, putrefied into spongy, black tumors. I’d spend all day at work consumed by thoughts and ideas and goals! goals! goals! for my book, then I’d come home and stare at a blinking cursor and wonder why I was such a worthless failure. I couldn’t write the way these other writers did, no matter what I tried. But I still wanted to write. Needed to, in that yearning, terrible way I suspect you understand. I don’t know why The Internet subconsciously invites us to flay ourselves before total strangers, but it does. So I will. Shit got Dark™️, Shaelin. I gained 50 pounds, started living like a hoarder, stopped hanging out with my friends, stopped leaving the house altogether. I kept the curtains closed so my neighbors wouldn’t see the piles of empty take-out boxes stacked up on the kitchen table. I traded the pleasures and contradictions and beguiling enigmas of women for the 24-hour neon distraction of cheap porno. My cat Maggie, basically the only friend I had during this time, got cancer. I watched her suffer and waste away because I couldn’t bear the thought of putting her to sleep and coming home alone to an empty, filthy house. Eventually she died and I hated myself even more for not being able to save her. I wore the same pair of pants for six months. I’d go to work and sit at my desk all day and do absolutely nothing (I was the accounting manager at a small company, technically my own “boss,” so I got away with this for a shocking, frankly heroic amount of time). Then I simply stopped going to work. And I kept torturing myself with those stupid goals and word counts, never happy with the end result, resigned to feel like a failure every day. I remember watching your “Spill the Tea” video back when it was initially posted. Watching it now is eerie, because you describe exactly what I was going through, what I was feeling. Like, to the “T” (see what I did there? #WordPlay #LitPuns101). I’d never experienced anxiety/depression before, so I didn’t really understand what was happening to me. Not that it mattered, because by that point the damage was done. I couldn’t recognize and isolate the real problem. I’d given up. Even though you said a lot of things in that video I desperately, desperately needed to hear, I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to listen to you, because you were one of Them™️. Your eyes were bright and your voice sounded friendly and encouraging, but your name wasn’t McCarthy or Pynchon or DeLillo or Nabokov. You were just a kid. What could you possibly know that I didn’t? In January of this year I called a local psychiatric hospital and told them I was planning to kill myself. I never harbored any true intentions of doing that, but I figured they’d offer me a nice three-week vacation in a padded cell. Considering the circumstances, it honestly seemed like a relief. I ended up quitting my job, selling my house, and moving back in with my parents 300 miles away. I started seeing a therapist once a week (still do, for the record). So far I’ve lost 30 pounds of the 50 pound surplus I acquired. I kept watching your videos, even though I was no longer in the market for writing advice (#JustHereForTheSnark). You kept me lol-ing through some bad days and weeks and months. I’d listen to you talk about problems with the writing community and nod my head like an old woman in church (#ShaelinSermons™️ #SheTeachesANDShePreaches), but I still hadn’t made the connection with my own issues. I swore off writing completely, went back to playing music. Cover songs in coffee shops and family restaurants. It was fun for awhile. I genuinely felt happier. But my story was still an old pebble poking around in my shoe...calling out, issuing playground taunts, drawing hairy cartoon dicks on my forehead while I slept. About a month ago I stared down another blank page, my first since experiencing that fun-sized nervous breakdown earlier this year. I closed my eyes and heard your voice in my head. “You can do whatever you want.” I had no goals, no arbitrary quotas to meet. I wrote a few lines, stopped, fixed a couple things I wasn’t satisfied with, and then went on with my day. I thought about what I’d written, sure, but I didn’t worry or spend the whole day stressing out. The next morning I read over what I’d done, and I didn’t hate it. I thought it was actually pretty good, funny and off-kilter and a little/lotta fucked up. So I sat down and wrote some more. Took some things out, re-worded stuff, dressed up the bones in silver and pearls. Addition and subtraction. Before I knew it, I’d finished a whole page. Then another. And then the hair on the back of my neck stood up, because I remembered: This is how it felt at the beginning. Back when I was young and love-struck and writing only to catch those moments of pure levitation, that devilish tickle, that rush of blood propelled by my own wild heart. It’s been a rough road, but I finally found what I’d lost. I figured out how to write again and enjoy it. And ultimately, the best writing advice I received didn’t come from McCarthy or Pynchon or DeLillo or Nabokov. It came from a young woman in another country with a camera and a nose ring and a big tapestry and bigger dreams which run parallel to my own. So thank you. Thank you for taking time out of your busy life and braving the Steaming Pile™️ that is The Internet to offer words of empathy and encouragement to complete strangers. Thank you for the wisdom you share. Thank you for being who you are. Know that tonight the stars shine brighter as a result. They do for me, at least. (Also I’m sincerely sorry about the absurd length of this “Ask” wherein no actual questions were posed and nothing substantial was communicated beyond a simple yet torturously delayed “thank you” kthxbye #longlivethenewtapestry 

—Justin)