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jammatown919 · 5 months ago

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Hello, My Old Heart

Julia had a hard time forcing herself to accept the fact that she was likely never going to speak with Carmen again.

For two years, she'd been in the same boat as Zack and Ivy, knowing only that Carmen needed time away to recover and should not be contacted until she was ready. But then she'd seen her, standing on that rooftop, looking down at the people who'd spent so long waiting, and thought for sure that her friend would be paying her a visit in the near future.

A month went by. That was fine; Carmen probably had other people to catch up with. Surely Julia was somewhere on the list, so what did it matter if she had to wait a bit?

Another month. No sightings, no visit, no anything. It was starting to bother her, if she was being perfectly honest. Two months was plenty of time to at least check in, if Julia was anything close to a priority.

Another month. Nothing. Julia didn't know whether to worry about her friend or simply feel abandoned. Some days, she settled for both.

One more month, and finally there was something. Not from Carmen herself, but from Zack, who let it slip, seemingly by accident, that Carmen was not, in fact, still missing in action as Julia had thought. Instead, she'd moved back in with her old crew at some undisclosed location. Four goddamn months ago.

Not only had Carmen decided not to visit, but apparently she'd asked two of Julia's closest work friends to keep her a secret, if Ivy's immediate change of topic was anything to go by. That hurt more than anything; the fact that Carmen appeared to be hiding from her, like she wanted to cut ties as quietly as possible.

Well, fine then. They wouldn't talk. They wouldn't get closure, or rebuild their relationship, because Carmen wanted none of it. Fine.

Julia would mourn the friendship, probably be angry a good long while, and then she would get over it. She would, because as much as she might want Carmen Sandiego, she didn't need her. The wound would close, even if it took its sweet time in doing so.

Which, apparently, it would be doing, because Carmen decided to rip it right back open three days later.

She showed up early in the evening, standing outside Julia's apartment with what had to be the most awkward demeanor she'd ever displayed. Even her knock had been weird; like she was only half-sure she wanted to do it and had just barely convinced herself.

"Hey, Jules," she said lamely, with a nearly nonexistent smile. It pissed Julia off astronomically.

"Oh, get inside," she hissed and, for the purpose of not making a scene in the doorway, grabbed Carmen's forearm and dragged her inside.

Carmen, though startled, didn't protest or seem to mind anything other Julia's tone, at which she visibly winced. Good.

"'Hey, Jules'?" Julia snapped the second they were in private. "You disappear for two years, hide from me for four months and have my friends lie to me about it, and then you show up out of nowhere and you give me 'Hey, Jules'?"

Carmen seemed to shrink in that moment; shoulders hunched, leaning slightly backward, chin tilted low. It was enough to distract Julia from her anger and introduce a bit of concern to the mix. She had never seen Carmen so small and nervous before. Frankly, she didn't care for it one bit.

"Guess I deserved that," Carmen murmured. She took a breath, as if to steel herself, and said, "I owe you an apology. And an explanation, if you want it."

"Neither would be unwelcome." As much as Julia wanted to continue being upset, she found it nearly impossible to look at that face, one that she'd been dying to see for years and that was so full of anxiety, and hold a grudge of any kind. She didn't think she could let Carmen off the hook quite yet, but she would give her a chance to explain herself.

"I'm sorry," Carmen began. "I'm sorry for the way I hurt you when I wasn't myself-"

"You think I'm upset about that?" Julia demanded. "I know that wasn't your fault. Like you just said, you weren't yourself."

"Please, let me finish," Carmen went on. "I'm sorry for ghosting you once I came back to my senses. I'm not sure how much the others told you, but I kind of ghosted just about everyone for a while. After everything that happened, I couldn't stand to be around anyone or anything that reminded me. I went to Argentina, met my mom, stayed with her for a while. I really needed that time away."

"I knew you were taking time to recover," Julia said. "I was alright with that. What I don't understand is why you didn't tell me when you were ready to come back. Why Zack and Ivy didn't tell me they knew you were alright these past few months."

"I'm sorry for that too." Carmen paused briefly, seeming to struggle for the right words. "I should have said something to you, but... it was different with Zack and Ivy. We talked before I left. I knew there were no hard feelings about what I did to them. With you and Devineaux, the last time I saw you, I was trying to kill you. I didn't know how you felt about that or if you wanted to see me again. But I should have left that up to you instead of just disappearing."

"So... you stayed away not because you wanted to, but because you thought I would want you to?" It felt like a remarkably Carmen Sandiego thing to do. Always acting in the best interest of others. Usually, though, she was a bit more correct in her deductions. "Well, you're right about one thing. You should have left it up to me, because if you had, you would have known I didn't hold anything against you. I wanted to see you again."

"And... now?"

Julia let out a sigh. "Now, I can't say I'm not frustrated with you, but I appreciate at least knowing what you were thinking. And I still want to see you."

"Really?" The anxiety in Carmen's voice stirred up something uncomfortable within Julia. She'd always admired Carmen's confidence more than anything, and to see her without it was like only getting part of her back.

"Of course," she said. "If you don't mind me saying, I've always thought you were amazing. Captivating at first, and then just a truly wonderful person. I now consider you a friend, but if you're going to be my friend, I need you to be forthcoming with me. And I need you to trust that I care about you enough to not be angry with you for things that aren't your fault."

A certain warmth entered Carmen's expression; one that reminded Julia that her description was really only the half of it. Of course she'd been captivated by The Scarlet Superthief and impressed by the quality of Carmen Sandiego's character, but it was more than that. From the very beginning, she'd seen a beauty in Carmen, both inside and out, that had allowed the woman to occupy a space in Julia's heart and mind for so long. She more than admired her. She absolutely adored her.

"Thank you, Jules." Carmen's tone became a lot less anxious and a lot more sincere. "I promise not to pull any more disappearing acts on you."

"And not to ask my friends to hide things from me again?" Julia prompted.

"That too," Carmen replied, a little sheepishly. "From now on, you're in the loop. Here."

She reached into the pocket of her hoodie and produced a small slip of paper, which she held out to Julia. Taking and unfolding it, Julia found that a sequence of numbers had been neatly written on the inside.

"Could this be the elusive Carmen Sandiego's own phone number?" she asked, a grin slightly visible on her face and extremely audible in her voice.

"No more waiting on me to contact you," Carmen said. "You have the freedom to call me whenever. I'll answer."

Julia couldn't help but feel a little giddy, knowing Carmen must have prepared this slip of paper in advance. She'd come in hoping things would go well and they'd be able to reconnect.

"I'll also be staying in Poitiers for a few days, if you want to catch up," Carmen added.

"Oh?" Julia raised her brow slightly. "Plotting a caper nearby? I'm sure ACME could be of some help, if you're willing to share your intel."

"No capers," Carmen replied with a small shake of her head. "For once, I'm traveling for pleasure instead of business."

"I couldn't possibly flatter myself by thinking you're staying just for me."

Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, but Julia could have sworn for a second that Carmen's face took on a slight reddish tinge. "After two years, I think I owe you that much."

It was almost funny, how Carmen could get Julia's heartrate up so easily. "Do you have a place to stay? My apartment is a bit small, but I'm sure I could-"

"I couldn't intrude like that," Carmen interrupted gently. "I have a hotel."

Julia tried not to dwell on whether she was disappointed to hear that. "Well, then, perhaps we could meet for breakfast tomorrow. I know a lovely café nearby."

"That sounds great, Jules." Carmen gave her one of those small yet captivating smiles. The ones that Julia could always tell were genuine. "I'll let you get some sleep. Text me the details?"

"Of course," Julia replied. "And I expect you'll be on time tomorrow?"

"No more keeping you waiting. I promise," Carmen said as she turned toward the door, glancing over her shoulder to speak.

"Then, Ms. Sandiego, I expect to see you at precisely 9 o'clock tomorrow morning."

Carmen chuckled slightly at Julia's mildly bossy tone, which very nearly made Julia laugh as well. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Jules."

------ If you enjoy my work, please consider reblogging to share it with others!

#carmen sandiego netflix #carmen sandiego #julia argent #carulia #julethief #my writing

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yuukei-yikes · 1 year ago

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care for my kagepro au inspired by phineas and ferb across the 2nd dimension where they hang out in a dark undisclosed location and they all have knives

this is extremely over the top and supposed to be funny btw. ayano's plot hole plan that makes no sense doesn't work but from another angle. she gets spit back from the daze in the same way it doesn't make sense for her to stay in there and she's still in THE AIR FROM JUMPING so erm she shatters a leg and maybe her spine too. fun times. she walks with a limp now

ayano in the daze's like. but i wanted this -> i deserved this -> im guilty i got what i wanted though -> i deserve punishment -> this IS punishment -> but i wanted this (restart) SO in this scenario where she survived she's still struggling with guilt because she DARED try to take the easy way out when she knew her siblings needed her. so now she's edgelord I must protect my siblings i dont deserve my cape (edgily puts scarf away) also the eyepatch is for extra edgelord vibes but i think it'd be cool if she can't control favoring because she's so all over the place so it's always active, and since she feels so much regret she can only project that one memory of her jumping to ppl. sad. so she covers it for the sake of everyone.

because of ayano's survival it's evident kenjirou is posessed so ayano+mekatrio move out immediately and are in actual hiding from him. that's why they're at undisclosed location. seto brings mary with them. so ayano's like ok, saeru wants all the snakes together, they're all gonna gather anyway it's better to have them all in one place and have eyes on them. so she starts the gathering process herself. in this saeru is extremely just Out There cartoonishly taking over the city style i told you this is based on phineas and ferb. i told you. btw the joke is that it's insanely over the top. i just find it episodic and joyful.

also ayano's cold to shintaro because she can't afford to have her feelings for him distract her, she has no right to normal teenage girl feelings like a CRUSH. but shintaro still believes kano as ayano saying IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT was the real ayano which matches with her new behaviour towards him so he's extremely pathetic about it. he's with her through her entire recovery and becomes her right hand man which the trio HAAATE bc ayano doesn't let them do anything but shintaro can always come<3 their missions go from buying groceries to saving haruka and takane from the evil lab to kidnapping hibiya and hiyori. shit like that.

they get hibiya and hiyori and it's their BIGGEST PRIORITY to protect them because they're saeru's next target and if they can avoid having all snakes out it's by making sure these 2 stay alive. erm they don't wanna be there though. it's dark in here and you're all weird as hell. momo is tasked with babysitting them. she's not happy about it.

momo never gets her money controlled, dropped out from school since day 1 and the fame got to her head so she's kinda awful. she's the only one allowed out of wherever the fuck they are because of work she's literally the one paying 4 everything. toxic yuri situation with kido who has one side of their head shaved. you know how it goes. also kido acts rly tough like they're out there killing thugs and goons but mostly they just make food

takane is the medic in the same way barbers used to be surgeons in the middle age which means everyone tries really hard not to get hurt so they don't have to go to her. also saeru's whole Experiments on haruka and takane thing is a lot more evil and ermmm she has one less leg and she's permanently connected to a reactor thing of sorts so she's also the team's tech! woohoo!! it's unknown whether she got opening eyes or not because she has no idea how to activate it which makes ayano rly frustrated. same goes for haruka who has not woken up since aug 15. which is the main reason takane started watching youtube tutorials on medicine. get you a girl who will take care of you if you're in a coma and there is no access to a hospital.

seto and mary wield weapons for one reason or another. kano is extremely guilty about shintaro's guilt but also hates him more than ever bc ayano won't trust him anymore and now shintaro's the one knowing everything. probably some doomed yaoi in there somewhere. this is my evil kagepro au

#kagepro #kagerou project #my art

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hxdrostorm · 2 years ago

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KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. ( REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !

○ name: Vani

○ pronouns: Undisclosed

○ preference of communication: DMs whether on Tumblr or Discord

○ name of muse(s):

Star wars: Captain Rex, Plo Koon, Commander Fox, Shaak ti, Commander Appo, Sergeant Hound. And I have MANY others that are for friends only. Pokemon: Gym leader Morty, Rival Barry, Gym leader Juan, E4 Drake and Professor Rowan. Lance is a friends only muse. Castlevania: Richter Belmont

○ platforms you’ve used: Skype, Tumblr and Discord

○ best experience: There are so many talented and wonderful writers that I have met, throughout all of my years across several rpcs as well. I love themmm, thank you all so much for the opportunity to be able to write with you guys!

○ rp pet peeves / deal breakers: Unkindly reminder that you must read people's informations, before following or even attempting to interact with them. If you don't do that then, guess what? You've lost any and all resemblance of right to complain about it, should you come across some type of content that could be triggering to you. Furthermore, you could be breaching that person's boundaries. It's not the blogger's fault for posting stuff, you may not enjoy. It's on your inability to read crucial information. Your excitment and hype, are NOT excuses to skip it.

○ fluff, angst, or smut: I'm always open for writing any of them TBH. I guess lately I've been writing way more smut, but most of it is on Discord.

○ plots or memes: Plots, always. Memes are great to break the ice between muns, but if we wish to truly have something going on between our muses. Then plotting to any degree, will be necessary.

○ best time to write: I prefer doing it at night.

○ are you like your muse(s): Not at all, I also don't relate to any fictional character.

tagged: Stolen

tagging: Feel free to do it and say I tagged you!

#; dash games #ooc /

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omgokiguess · 9 months ago

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My husband is like that guy that can always do a million push-ups with his wife sitting on his back no matter what her weight is, but he's going to get unreasonably mad at his wife if he does less whether it's her fault or not. Like I could be 117 lbs (insanely underweight for 5'9 and my body type) instead of my undisclosed current weight and he'd still be mad at me. ANYWAY

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bottoms-movie · 4 years ago

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SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

#marvel #sam wilson #bucky barnes #tfatws #sambucky #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fic recs #fic recs #usermarcy #usersof #tusernini #tusersammy #usersmile #usersamanne #usercross #sambucky fanfic #my fic recs

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rumblelibrary · 3 years ago

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Have you ever thought about writing a continuation to Unofficial Meeting? I'm dying to know whether Laszlo earns the reader's forgiveness and if she accepts his proposal or not. Have a good day! 😚

Undisclosed Meeting [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Fem!Reader]

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Laszlo self deprecating himself hard

A/N: how could I give up a chance to make my boy Laszlo happy? Thank you so much for requesting it, it really made me happy to have an old story requested. Here is the original story

“Are you even listening to me?”

Violet inquired as you blinked surprised and taken aback. She invited you over for an afternoon tea, but your mind kept wondering off to what happened between you and Laszlo. You haven’t seen him in over a month and to be honest you missed him. The first few days you were firm on your choice, he upset you and your family, he crossed your boundaries mindlessly.

But then you realised how he meant to ask your hand to your father, how he never meant for you to be hurting, he just wanted to make it official.

Your grandmother tried to talk you out of your anger but she didn’t managed to, it was over anyway. You upset each other, you closed that chapter.

If you have feelings for him that chapter is not closed, your grandmother told you but you tried to ignore it. You haven’t seen him in so long, not even at some event or where you’d usually expect him to be. He kept sending you flowers to you until the end of the previous month. That silly man, always hating to leave things halfway done.

“I am, I am just a bit tired” you said as she waved her hand

“nonsense ” she said offering you to try some sweets while she stood up to call her maid and gather what she meant to show you “I’ll show you now the latest Paris fashion and you’ll have to wake up”

She was your friend, she was sweet and she knew you were on a rough patch now and she did all in her power t keep you distracted.

“Charles stop it”

John’s voice rang through you ears as you stood up to see what was going on from the window facing the luscious back garden of the Moore residence. Little Charles was the spit image of his parents and an adventurer at heart, you could tell from the way he kept his father busy running after him.

You smiled as John gave up opening his arms in defeat.

“What I have to do?” He groaned making you chuckle as for a moment it looked like he was asking to God, but when you noticed that he was in fact talking to Dr Kreizler who was sitting on a bench. You codlin’t help but rest your eyes on him, he looked pale, tired like he wasn’t sleeping. He was like this during investigations but as far as you knew there was no one at the moment.

“Wat you have to do John? Let the boy be” he said as a tired smile crept onto his lips.

“Yes, he will break his skull in a second”

Laszlo shook his head looking at him “If you prevent him from doing anything he won’t never learn” he said as he spoke matter of factly but that tiredness in his voice was evident. You wondered what kept him up.

You wondered if t was your fault.

But then you saw the sweet look he had for the child as he picked a ball that was hiding behind his back to give it to him to play with.

He was so good with kids, it was incredible.

You knew it was his job, but the tenderness he showed with them was something you felt on your own skin as you used to be allowed to be part of that special round of people that got to see him being sweet.

You moved away from the window just in time for Violet to come back, her maids holding onto over twenty new items of clothing.

“V” you said to her as the use of that little nickname sparked already her attention “I have to ask you a favour”

It was dead in the evening when Laszlo got asked from Violet to meet a friend of hers with a child with various problems.

The symptoms she described didn’t really add up, they should be excluding each other. But no matter what he decided to go there.

He usually was very firm about his privacy and the times he could meet or not patients, even though the secrecy of the hour would be typical of a wealthy family trying to hide some kind of a problem they judge as shameful, he also came to a point where work was all he got.

He missed you, everything reminded him of you. He hoped to see, he would be a liar if he didn’t admit to have handed a dollar or two to your maid to at least know how are you.

He didn’t mean to stalk you, he just wanted you happy and once more he was acting behind your back. But your maid told him you were fine and doing your business, so he stopped inquiring. He didn’t deserve you in the first place anyway, but how things ended really pained him, he really thought to be doing right and he really wanted to have a future with you, to have many what John has.

But what nonsense thinking about it now that it is all gone and by his own hand, he had nobody to blame but himself.

As he arrived to the building he got inside surprised not to find anyone at service but only an open door.

The instinct would have told him to go away, but he was reckless by now, he already lost what he cared the most.

Walking inside the candlelit hallway he was surprised to get to a large living room only to find you there.

The truth was that he stopped on his track to admire you. You were amazing, he adored you in any possible shape and form, everything from your clothing to your composure screamed for his eyes to be fixated onto you.

He took that moment to look at you, take in your image, last time you two spoke you were so upset and he didn’t want that to be the last image he had of you.

“I am more discreet than you when I have to do things in secret” you said and he smiled lightly

“You’re”

His admission, the tiredness of his look just paining you.

“Is this a house of your family?”

“Yes, it is my aunt’s but she is on some cruise with her husband”

He nodded quietly as he looked around moving closer to you, the candles around you making him feel like the moment was set in another time.

“You didn’t have to make an appointment to meet me”

“Well, I asked a friend for a favour, I could have paid Stevie to drive you here anyway” you answered, basically hinting him that your maid didn’t keep his little inquiring a secret between the two of you.

He nodded gulping down, he felt like he was naked in front of you, defenceless and anything you could attack him with would really hurt.

“I though that after our last conversation we needed to speak alone and in a neutral ground, I attacked you and I know I moved past my means”

“Just like I did inquiring about your life without permission” he concluded for you, he kept thinking about that day over and over, he couldn’t take it out of his mind and he even thought it would be easy only because so many people hated him already, button you. He wished you’d never be one of them.

“Miss Y/L/N” the fact he used your last name showing how he was trying to prove you some respect, not using your first name like you’re somehow close, mostly because he doubts you’d wish him close at any time.

“All I have ever wanted was to be worth of you”

His words trembling, like snakes sliding onto your skin.

He opened his mouth to say something and he closed it as he stared somewhere away from you, he shook his head slowly. The pain visible through him.

“I am a despicable failure as a human being, I know it” he said as he rose his hand to invite your silence “I have spent my life trying to find a common language to get through people, studying them ,making sure to be able to read human behaviour to allow myself the freedom of interaction. I am not a natural like John, I can’t just go on a group and charm my way through it and I knew, I knew from the moment you allowed me to be close to you that I would ruin it because I am such social wreck, because I can’t control myself or I can’t not follow the rules that I have been told are the right path to follow”

He let out a shaky breath as he looked down and then up at you, he was trying to hold back tears but the truth was that he cried for losing you, He cried for nights and days.

“I apologise once more, I wanted to do you right and I just overstepped you. I always admired you for your being independent and clever and I reduced you to an object with my insensitive behaviour. I always make myself strong from talking my way through people and I blindsided you when words were the most needed”

You looked at him as maybe for the first time he really throw away the mask, he really let himself speak up.

“I valued what you did for me” you blinked at him surprised, your head slightly falling on side to observe him.

He was going down the self deprecating himself hill, you could almost count how much time there was between him going down onto his arm topic. You know that was always his undisclosed weakness, how he hated it and saw himself as unlovable because imperfect.

“It is yes”

He looked at you with a frown not seeing what you mean.

“My answer for your question”

He frowned even more, what question? You could hear it resonate into his mind as he didn’t ask you anything, he came to you to apologise and…

And then he got it.

His eyes widened as he opened his mouth only to close it again.

No, he was probably misunderstanding, once more reading badly the situation.

You picked your left glove slowly taking it off to show him you were wearing his ring on your hand.

He stared at you, his hand hesitantly moving to pick yours bringing it up to his lips and resting a kiss over it, his hand holding yours as he stared up at you.

His wet eyes now unmistakable from cha closeness, the signs of his lack of sleep visible.

“In a marriage there shouldn’t be secrets, I tried to avoid something shameful for me when you allowed me to see every part of you” you admitted as you weren’t free from blame, you referred to pretend something wasn’t there rather than facing it.

He stared at you with shaky breath, as he licked his lips trying to find words.

“I love you Laszlo, I really want to be your wife”

His jaw trembled as the happiness rushed over him like electricity, his hand bringing yours over his heart beating so fast and hard that he felt it could explode.

“I love you Y/N” he whispered as you caressed his cheek with your right hand as he leaned down, still not daring to believe what was happening.

So you just did it, you leaned in closing the space between the two of you with a kiss.

The times were changed.

Women could accept wedding proposals without their father’s approval, men could cry for love and love words were made of truths and exposed weaknesses and not by the words of dusty poets. And with such strong ideals you could only imagine your life as set up for a greater kind of happiness with him.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog

#dr kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler x you #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler fanfiction #laszlo kriezler x reader #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x y/n #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler headcanons

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deliquescentnightmare · 3 years ago

Text

Character Introduction

Hello! my first little character sheet so you all can meet Delila, the main protagonist of my still untitled story. Most- if not all- of my characters are blatant self-inserts, and Delila is no exception. I identify as GF so she's kind of the embodiment of my very fem moments, and my soft cottagecore side. Anyways, here's all you need to know about her! I'll post newer versions of her character sheet later on as certain events happen in the story so I don't give you guys spoilers.

Name: Delila Amelie Lestrade

Age: 24

Hometown: Born in Atlanta GA, moved around a lot as a child.

Occupation: Forensic Psychologist. FBI agent.

Sexuality: Asexual, questioning.

Talents/Skills: Writing. Playing Uke. Can't cook at all. Great skill of falling down or bumping into things. Hands are steady in times of crisis and is very levelheaded.

Siblings (describe relationship): Theodore 'Theo' Grayson Markham. 35, older half brother. Second son of Alana Markham(nee Ramses) and Fredrick Markham. Lives in NY. Jameson Albert Markham, 36, oldest half brother, and firstborn son of Alana Markham and Frederick Markham. Lives in rural North Carolina with his wife and kids. Gwendolyn 'Gwen' Beatrice Markham (deceased). Born 1980, died at 26) Killed in a car accident in St Louis in 2006. Very close to Delila and Jameson. Entire family mourned after she passed, and Alana became very different emotionally.

Mother (describe relationship): Alana Elizabeth Markham (nee Ramses). 54, lives in Ojai, California with Frederick Markham. They talk intermittently, but Alana isn't very responsible and Delila refuses to interact with her too much because it's emotionally draining. Alana refuses to acknowledge Gwen even existed.

Father (describe relationship): Gregory 'Greg' Lestrade. 49. Their relationship is close, and Greg would often visit Delila, or fly her out to see him during school holidays when she was a child. They call often (when he actually picks up or calls her back) and email back and forth. She loves him more than life itself even if he often forgets to call her because he's busy.

Significant Others (describe relationship): Struggles to remain relationships due to lack of intimacy, but had a long-term relationship for 2 years that recently ended for undisclosed reasons.

Pets: none yet. had a childhood snake named Jonathan.

Friends: Li Huang (will be introduced in the next chapter or the one after), John Watson, Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes (tentative), Theo, Mycroft Holmes(eventually).

Height: 5'2" or 157.5 cm

Weight: 135 lbs. or about 61 kg

Race: Caucasian, British-American

Eye Color: Blue in Original Fictions. In this AU, however her right one is Purple. her left is Pink. (I like pink and purple very much)

Hair Color: Naturally brown, dyed pastel orange.

Distinguishing features: Constantly has scrapes and bruises, often topped off with band-aids on her fingers and cheeks. Her wild orange hair and round gold-rimmed glasses. (they're bigger than Harry Potter's, before you ask). She wears a black pea-coat often, and it's worn from years of use. (it was her sister's)

How does he/she dress? Black pea-coat when it's colder. Likes to wear slightly-too-large clothing. Often wears stolen shirts, sweaters and button ups. Flowy, flowery dresses and skirts and occasionally ripped jeans. She did go through an Emo phase and dyed her hair white in her late teens/early 20's, and has some clothing left over from that phase that she occasionally wears.

Hobbies: Writing romance fiction and crime. Reading, often James Patterson or fantasy. Playing ukulele, and singing. She likes to dance but isn't very good at it, so she often does it when she's alone or it's dark (or both). She likes to go for walks with John in the park, and used to go for walks with Theo.

Greatest flaws: She cares too much too fast, and becomes attached to people within a day or so of meeting them. She can be slightly needy and clingy if she doesn't have a lot of friends, because she thrives off of physical affection. She's very stubborn, and will do things even when she's been given explicit instruction not to because she thinks she may know a better way. (sometimes she does, but other times she just is too strong headed to stop). She can either be unabashedly arrogant or filled with crippling self-doubt dependent on the situation as she's experienced a lot of respect and praise for her intellect. She also puts a lot of pressure on herself to succeed and it can lead to devastating burnouts.

Best qualities: Very loving and openhearted. She will put others' needs above her own nearly every time. She will make sure her friends and those she cares about are taken care of, and are taking good care of themselves. She is extremely intelligent and knows an array of weird and sometimes useful facts, and has a large span of knowledge thanks to her time at uni. She also has a way of making friends wherever she goes, which leads to a large web of connections and sources whenever she needs them.

Introvert or Extrovert? Ambivert, it's dependent on the situation. For example, if she's forced to be in isolation then she's going to be more extroverted when she's around people again. She enjoys talking to people, but after a certain amount, she can become worn out and need alone time. I think it would be good to note she is much more socially adept than Sherlock, though he is better at other things socially. (she has Asperger's and therefore he picks up on certain cues or details she may miss)

How does the character deal with anger? Delila can either run hot or run cold in terms of temperament. When she runs hot, she is often so overcome with emotion that she 'loses' words, struggles to speak and gets really flustered. (not in a good way) she never really says anything unkind when she's like this but she will be very dismissive and tell people to leave her alone. She is prone to shouting or crying to voice her frustrations and get out her emotions. The best way to calm her down is to let her rant about it, and she often calls Theo- who lets her rant. When she runs cold, she is eerily calm. She becomes sharp-tongued, cold and calculating. She will destroy whoever has angered her in this way and feel no shame. Sometimes she will spend days like this, and will be snippy and distant to anyone who tries to talk to her. She is vengeful and fully of unabashedly cruel remarks. It takes a lot or something particularly bad to get her this way.

With sadness? Delila tends to cry when she's sad, and is most comforted by physical affection. She listens to sad music, curls up under a blanket, and will write, whether it be in a journal or creatively. She will occasionally vent, but usually keeps it to herself as to not burden people around her with her issues or emotions.

With conflict? Delila can be rather argumentative and stubborn, but if she cares about the person she will do her best to listen to their side of the argument or disagreement, even if she feels as though they are wrong. When it comes to other peoples' conflicts, she will try and take the side she feels is most correct, or try and be an unbiased judge. She will defend her friends if there is a conflict in which they are being attacked in some way.

With change? Delila isn't a big fan of change but she will try her best to adapt and overcome by setting goals and new routines.

With loss? Delila will self-isolate. She will spend a lot of time re-consuming media that reminds her of what she has lost, and will go through a period of denial. Eventually, though she will come to honour the memory and move on.

What does the character want out of life? Fulfillment. Delila has spent a lot of her short life searching for something she is truly passionate about, but once she finds things that make her happy she becomes hesitant to follow them. She longs for fulfillment in ways other than reproducing and relationships, but one day she wouldn't mind having a family.

What would the character like to change in his/her life? Delila wishes she'd spent less time worried about how her mother perceived her and hoe those around her viewed her and her achievements. She is quite successful now and has learnt better but she wishes she hadn't let her doubts hinder her in the past.

What motivates this character? Delila doesn't excel because she longs for success, but because she fears failure. She refuses to be a burden, and will be independent almost to a fault.

What frightens this character? Delila is terrified of her family being hurt in any way, or losing someone she loves again. She also despises spiders and rejection.

What makes this character happy? Music. Her family, her friends. The rain. Tea. she loves to dance, but she only does it when she's alone.

Is the character judgmental of others? Delila's job required her to profile people, and because of that it has become her nature to psychoanalyse or even try to make assumptions about people from the get-go. She will often alter this perception of people later on depending on how she sees them interact with their environment, and people around them.

Is the character generous or stingy? She can be overly generous when it comes to those she loves, but also hesitant to share other things. It all depends on the item or person's emotional and sentimental value to her.

Is the character generally polite or rude? Unless given good reason to be rude, Delila is generally kind.

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imagine-loki · 4 years ago

Text

Atlas: Space, Sun

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 1/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album.

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

As far as warnings go, some language, terrible writing, and just general awkwardness because I love it. Warnings will be chapter by chapter basis.

Chapter 1: Sun

Summary: Tony begs Rebecca to come with the team on mission and Loki is a surprisingly thoughtful mission companion.

“For the sake of all of us, I need you to suit up.”

That was the climax of her morning, she would say. Or, at least, the turning point of her day… her life… and the reason why she, a weapons development technician with bare minimum battle training ended up, smack dab in the middle of a firefight.

With golden string

Our universe was clothed in light

Pulling at the seams

Our once barren world now brims with life

It was a morning same as any other. The weapons lab was calm and quiet, save for the white noise hum of robots moving and instrumentation chugging along without supervision. Crisp, white sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, negating the need for any of the harsh fluorescents overhead to be turned on. This was how she had fallen in love with the lab–in the early hours before anyone turned on the tinting of the windows and blasted Black Sabbath for no reason other than to drown their own thoughts. Essentially, any time before Tony started his insane experiments was wonderful and full of meditative peace.

Despite the fact that it was only seven in the morning, Rebecca Brun had already put in four hours of work. One of the side-effects of working in Stark industries was that she often forgot what hours normal people usually kept. A lot of missions were at night, and she needed to be awake to outfit the team before it was time for wheel’s up on the Quinjet. More recently, her shift in schedule was mostly attributed to Loki’s inability to maintain normal hours, as well. And he dared say he had nothing in common with Tony. You know, besides the fact that the two of them had somehow roped her into friendship (though in Loki’s case, she would admit it was her fault).

Her zen moment of peace was about to be shattered as she watched her boss stride into the lab. Tony looked pensive, which was never a good sign. Their conversation had been a blur–something about needing a technician on hand to sustain any on-field repairs and how that would ensure that they could bring everyone home alive. Another comment about her being the very best, second only to himself. More importantly, there was the voice in her head that spoke of purpose. She always knew her work made a difference, but she would have never dreamed that she could make a difference. She could be a hero in her own right. She could keep them safe.

“Fine. I’m in.”

–

I guess space and time

takes violent things, angry things

and makes them kind.

Loki watched from the shadows as Stark rounded up everyone who was to go on mission that day. There were nearly two dozen, in total, between heroes and agents. And Becca. Who was shaking like a leaf in her tactical gear, matching the rest of the crew. The gear suited her, he thought wryly, gaze skimming the curves of her hips and thighs as she shifted her weight from one leg to another. He then felt a little disappointed in himself, scolding his primitive thoughts when his friend was in clear distress. He hated admitting it, but he was fond of the mortal. She was clever, quiet, and quick-witted–all things he… liked? Admired? Suffice to say, he didn’t wish her dead.

He moved like death, silent and furtive, until he sidled up to her. She didn’t seem surprised when she glanced up and gave him a smile that looked a little closer to a wince. He returned a small one of his own before fidgeting with his armor. Becca made a noise like a whine and with a chuckle, he placed his hand on her shoulder and gave a quick squeeze. He meant to reassure her, but his brain also whispered guiltily that it was giving him an excuse for contact. They were firmly just friends, but every now and then the baser part of his brain longed for a lingering touch or, heavens forbid, a hug.

“We are the dust of dust”

“We are the apple of God’s eye”

“We are infinite as the Universe we hold inside”

“Folks, listen,” Stark started, standing on a box of ammunition to look over the crowd. “This is the big one and I’m sure that your team leaders have driven home the importance of getting in, doing our job, and getting out. I know that for some of you, this is your first mission. Others don’t even want to be here. I appreciate all of you coming aboard, anyway. Because, whether we like it or not, we are the only thing between the world and those who intend to destroy it. You’re all heroes. Let’s go show them who they’re dealing with.”

Becca squeezed her eyes shut, trying to quell the feeling of nausea rising through her. They had gotten into the jet and were flying to some undisclosed location where bullets were already flying, courtesy of the advanced guard. She had fitted everyone in their armor and left instructions on how and when to double back for assistance. One of the agents had then offered her the handle of a gun and more than a handful of cartridges of bullets before exiting the Quinjet and into a very noisy battlefield. It was then that she realized she would be on her own from there on out. That didn’t sit in her stomach very well, either.

“Hey.” Becca looked up rather anxiously. Loki was stood in full armor, golden horns and all. He looked just south of fidgety and was eager to jump into the fray. The only reason he deigned to stop and check in was the annoying sinking feeling he got when he noticed her take the clip out of her gun and count bullets for a sixth time in as many minutes. “Well, you’ve taken to battle rather well,” he teased, nudging her foot with his.

“Shut it or I’ll throw up on you,” she groused, and the green tinge in her complexion assured him of the truth behind her words.

He laughed boisterously, though there seemed to be no malice in his actions. “Midgardians, scared of a little fight. Precious, really.”

“What part of I’ll throw up on you did you not understand?” Her voice sounded rough, as if she really was fighting the bile from rising up her throat.

“You’re going to be fine.” Loki laughed again, a little less effusively. For a second he hesitated in his movement, before his resolve steeled, reaching up and tugging on a golden horn to slide the helmet from his head. “If I remember correctly, you’re well-acquainted with these. How about you keep them until I circle back, hmm?” They were placed on her head before she had even had time to argue, feeling snug and secure. Long fingers felt cool against her flushed skin as he lifted her chin to look at him. “There. Fit to be a shield maiden.” The heat in her cheeks only intensified. “Stay in the jet. And if you need to barricade the doors, regardless of what side of them we happen to be on, do it.” He stared her down until she nodded.

Before he disappeared out the hold doors, he turned his head and winked at her over his shoulder. Oddly enough, it settled her stomach to see his cocky confidence.

The one thing Becca was not prepared for, ironically, was the wait.

The jet had been empty for several hours and only Bucky had come to get some gravel out of the hydraulic gaps of his metal arm. The rest of the time, she spied outside the one-way glass at the battle ahead. It was a terrible hobby to have when you knew half of the players, but it was like watching a train wreck. You know you shouldn’t watch, but…

A flash of red caught her eye, at once. Peter had just been flung aside by some Hydra agent in a bulky exosuit. In a flash of green, Loki cut in and deliver a blow to protect the kid. Loki would never admit it aloud, but he had a soft spot for the teenager–partly because he was a child, mostly because he would bring Loki chocolate chip cookies every time he went to see him. Regardless of the reason, the maneuver had ended with Loki becoming the new favorite target of all the Hydra personnel around the pair.

She shouldn’t have watched the fight.

And she certainly shouldn’t have opened the hold doors and run straight into its center.

Becca had the advantage that she was swift on her feet from years of track and field. She could outrun nearly everyone, except for Steve and sometimes Bucky. And being a hurdler, she could clear obstacles in her path as easily as breathing. Instantly, the sound of gunfire made her regret leaving her safe, warm little workstation on the jet. It certainly was a bad place to contemplate her mortality, and a stranger place still to pray for the very first time.

Let there be light, let there be light, let me be alright.

With shaky hands, she lifted her pistol and took aim. Tony made everyone take basic gun training and get certified at the gun range–this wasn’t a new experience for her. Having buildings shudder and rumble, screams fill the air, and explosions happen less than thirty meters off–that was a new experience. And it made it a hell of a lot harder to aim at areas that were not covered by a bulletproof vest or part of her friend.

Loki started as the body trying to wrestle him down shuddered and slumped to the floor. He turned round in a neat circle and glared. “I told you to stay in the jet!”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve circled back earlier, then!” She screamed back, flinching her eyes closed with every thundering bullet leaving her gun.

“Tell me you’re not closing your eyes every time you shoot!” He had closed the distance between them and had joined his back to hers.

“Fine. I won’t tell you.”

“You could’ve shot me in the head!”

“You should have taken your damn helmet, then!” Her voice was near a shriek, another three bullets ringing through the air before she realized she had to change the clip.

Except she forgot them.

On the jet.

Did she mention she had no real battle experience?

“Loki,” her voice trembled, barely audible over the scuffle even to her own ears, “do you have bullets on you?”

He snorted. “Do I look like I have a gun, Rebecca?” He glanced over his shoulder at her and did a double-take before the information clicked. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t!” She didn’t answer, instead drawing a knife sheathed in a strap on her thigh and holding it in front of her. It shuddered in time with the tremors in her hand. She couldn’t stay here and she couldn’t make it back on her own. And for some reason, after over a millenium, his conscience decided this was the day to make an appearance. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He growled. “If I die getting you back to safety, I’m going to be so damn cross!”

Before she could offer a retort, he grabbed the back of her suit, pulling her away from incoming threats. Every now and again, they’d stop, fight hand to hand, or rather, Loki fought while constantly pushing her behind him. Becca felt like a ragdoll, though she never thought she was being flung carelessly or without any sort of poise. It was a carefully calculated and perfectly executed dance of which she was a participant with no say on the steps.

The Quinjet doors were just a few meters away. They were almost there. Another three Hydra agents had closed in on them, trying to cut off their escape. The next minute was hazy in her mind. She could remember, as clearly as if she were seeing it right then, as a gun barrel aimed for her head and the rumble of gunpowder deafened her a second later. And then there was darkness.

With golden string

Our universe was brought to life

That we may fall in love

Every time we open up our eyes

“Becca.” The voice was soft, as were the thumbs brushing her cheekbones, though the pounding in her head was certainly not. She blinked her eyes open to find two blue orbs of concern watching her. “Oh, thank the gods. You’re alright.”

“My head is killing me.” She winced at the echo of her own voice.

“Yeah. A bullet to the skull will do that,” he said, smirking. He had yet to let her head go.

They were on the floor of the jet, and he was on his knees. Beside him, his horns sat with a splotch of blood marring the very edge of the face opening and the metal bent slightly out of shape.

“You’re lucky I left you my helm. Not so much for the man who shot you. The ricochet was nasty.”

“The ricochet killed him?” She frowned, trying to think of the physics that would make such a thing possible.

“No, I killed him. The ricochet left him blind in the left eye, though,” he retorted matter-of-factly, smiling. He finally let go and sat back on his heels, his fingers came away red, but a cursory check with her own showed the blood was not hers. The thought did not reassure her. “I should go back, keep the Spiderboy out of trouble.” He stood and cracked his neck, squaring his shoulders to prepare himself for more gore. “Are you OK?”

She nodded. “I’m OK. I’ll just stay put.”

He snorted. “I doubt that. At least I already stuffed all the bullets I could find into your pockets. Don’t need a repeat of this fiasco.” He stepped lightly to the hold doors, as he had done earlier. This time, he turned around completely, walking backwards out of the open doors. “Maybe keep the helmet on, for now, and try not to get shot in the head again."

For a long moment she looked between the cushioned seats and the hold doors, deciding the best course of action–back to her work table, safe, or…

Just beyond the doors, Loki sunk a dagger into the stomach of a HYDRA agent and kicked them back. As if sensing her gaze, he glanced back at jet and smirked, turning away only to dodge a punch. Becca took a swig of water, grabbed her gun, and ran back into the fire just as the horns settled onto her skull. Loki gave her a knowing smile before pressing his back to hers and finishing their mission.

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 1/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album. https://imagine-loki.tumblr.com/post/623647803992899584/imagine-narrating-episodes-of-lokis-life-with-the

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for but my brain insists.

As far as warnings go, some language, terrible writing, and just general awkwardness because I love it. Warnings will be chapter by chapter basis.

Chapter 1: Sun

Summary: Tony begs Rebecca to come with the team on mission and Loki is a surprisingly thoughtful mission companion.

"For the sake of all of us, I need you to suit up.”

With golden string

Our universe was clothed in light

Pulling at the seams

Our once barren world now brims with life

“Fine. I’m in.”

–

I guess space and time

takes violent things, angry things

and makes them kind.

“We are the dust of dust”

“We are the apple of God’s eye”

“We are infinite as the Universe we hold inside”

“Folks, listen,” Stark started, standing on a box of ammunition to look over the crowd. “This is the big one and I’m sure that your team leaders have driven home the importance of getting in, doing our job, and getting out. I know that for some of you, this is your first mission. Others don’t even want to be here. I appreciate all of you coming aboard. Because, whether we like it or not, we are the only thing between the world and those who intend to destroy it. Let’s go show them who they’re dealing with.”

Becca squeezed her eyes shut, trying to quell the feeling of nausea rising through her. They had gotten into the jet and were flying to some undisclosed location. She had fitted everyone in their armor and left instructions on how and when to double back for assistance. One of the agents had then offered her the handle of a gun and more than a handful of cartridges of bullets before exiting the Quinjet and into a very noisy battlefield. It was then that she realized she would be on her own from there on out.

“Hey.” Becca looked up rather anxiously. Loki was stood in full armor, golden horns and all. He looked just south of fidgety and was eager to jump into the fray. Still, he made it a point to stop and check in when he noticed her take the clip out of her gun and count bullets for a sixth time. “Well, you’ve taken to battle rather well,” he teased, nudging her foot with his.

“Shut it or I’ll throw up on you,” she groused, and the green tinge in her complexion assured him of the truth behind her words.

He laughed boisterously, though there seemed to be no malice in his actions. “Midgardians, scared of a little fight. Precious, really.”

“What part of I’ll throw up on you did you not understand?” Her voice sounded rough, as if she really was fighting the bile from rising up her throat.

“You’re going to be fine.” Loki laughed again, a little less effusively. For a second he hesitated in his movement, before his resolve steeled, reaching up and tugging on a golden horn to slide the helmet from his head. “If I remember correctly, you’re well-acquainted with these. How about you keep them until I circle back, hmm?” They were placed on her head before she had even had time to argue, feeling snug and secure. Long fingers felt cool against her flushed skin as he lifted her chin to look at him. “There. Fit to battle the enemy.” The heat in her cheeks only intensified. “Stay in the jet. And if you need to barricade the doors, regardless of what side of them we happen to be on, do it.” He stared her down until she nodded.

Before he disappeared out the hold doors, he turned his head and winked at her over his shoulder. Oddly enough, it settled her stomach to see his cocky confidence.

The one thing Becca was not prepared for, ironically, was the wait. The jet had been empty for several hours and only Bucky had come to get some gravel out of the hydraulic gaps of his metal arm. The rest of the time, she spied outside the one-way glass at the battle ahead. It was a terrible hobby to have when you knew half of the players, but it was like watching a train wreck. You know you shouldn’t watch, but…

A flash of red caught her eye, at once. Peter had just been flung aside by some Hydra agent in a bulky exosuit. In a flash of green, Loki cut in and deliver a blow to protect the kid. Loki would never admit it aloud, but he had a soft spot for the teenager–partly because he was a child, mostly because he would bring Loki chocolate chip cookies every time he went to see him. Regardless of the reason, the maneuver had ended with Loki becoming a favorite target of all the Hydra personnel around the pair.

Loki yelled something she couldn’t make out, and Peter began to climb upwards to get a better (and safer) vantage point. More agents converged on the Asgardian and Becca found herself chanting no’s under her breath. This was a bad idea. She shouldn’t have watched the fight. And she certainly shouldn’t have opened the hold doors and run straight into its center.

Let there be light, let there be light, let me be alright.

With shaky hands, she lifted her pistol and took aim. Tony made everyone take basic gun training and get certified at the gun range. This wasn’t a new experience for her. Having buildings shudder and rumble, screams fill the air, and explosions happen less than thirty meters off–that was a new experience. And it made it a hell of a lot harder to aim at areas that were not covered by a bulletproof vest or part of her friend.

Loki started as the body trying to wrestle him down shuddered and slumped to the floor. He turned round in a neat circle and glared. “I told you to stay in the jet!”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve circled back earlier, then!” She screamed back, flinching her eyes closed with every thundering bullet leaving her gun.

“Tell me you’re not closing your eyes every time you shoot!” He had closed the distance between them and had joined his back to hers.

“Fine. I won’t tell you.”

“You could’ve shot me in the head!”

“You should have taken your damn helmet, then!” Her voice was near a shriek, another three bullets ringing through the air before she realized she had to change the clip.

Except she forgot them.

On the jet.

Did she mention she had no real battle experience?

“Loki,” her voice trembled, barely audible over the scuffle even to her own ears, “do you have bullets on you?”

He snorted. “Do I look like I have a gun, Rebecca?” He glanced over his shoulder at her and did a double-take before the information clicked. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t!” She didn’t answer, instead drawing a knife sheathed in a strap on her thigh and holding it in front of her. It shuddered in time with the tremors in her hand. She couldn’t stay here and she couldn’t make it back on her own. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He growled. “If I die getting you back to safety, I’m going to be so damn cross!”

With golden string

Our universe was brought to life

That we may fall in love

Every time we open up our eyes

“My head is killing me.”

“Yeah. A bullet to the skull will do that,” he said, smirking. He had yet to let her head go.

They were on the floor of the jet, and he was on his knees. Beside him, his horns sat with a splotch of blood marring the very edge of the face opening and the metal bent slightly out of shape.

“You’re lucky I left you my helm. Not so much for the man who shot you. The ricochet was nasty.”

“The ricochet killed him?” She frowned, trying to think of the physics that would make such a thing possible.

She nodded. “I’m OK. I’ll just stay put.”

For a long moment she looked between the cushioned seats and the hold doors, deciding the best course of action–back to her table, safe, or… Just beyond the doors, Loki sunk a dagger into the stomach of a HYDRA agent and kicked them back. As if sensing her gaze, he glanced back at jet and smirked, turning away only to dodge a punch. Becca took a swig of water, grabbed her gun, and ran back into the fire just as the horns settled onto her skull.

#Loki #Others #Submitted fic #submission #atlas space #Fanfictrashdump #sun #chapter 1

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sally-mun · 5 years ago

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The extra detail actually makes me dislike Jenna-Lu more, because while outing his illness would be unforgivable, omitting it removes the context behind his actions and paints him as a 1D villain to the unknowing public. And yet, I completely understand why she'd think it was the kinder thing to do, why she'd think of herself as righteous, and why other readers would cheer. You've done some amazing things with these characters.

Now this, in my opinion, is where the issue gets particularly interesting.

First and foremost, I think it’s also important to keep in mind that this is all information that SHOULD have been on the public record all along, and the only reason it hasn’t been is because Locke enjoys an absurd level of privilege. It’s not purely the fact that he’s a Guardian; in this case, the real privilege is the fact that his mother is a member of the group that’s supposed to be recording and publishing his behavior. It’s a huuuge conflict of interest. Having her on the inside has allowed the scales to tip in his favor for years. Had Jenna not been in the picture (or had some other profession), all of the information that was in her article would’ve still been reported, but it’d have been in real time rather than all at once after the fact.

It’s also worth considering that the article in question isn’t just Jenna writing an editorial or something, it’s an interview with Lara. If it hadn’t been Jenna telling her story, it probably would’ve still happened regardless, just via another journalist. This information was always going to finally come out one way or another; Jenna just happened to have a personal stake in the matter, so she did it herself. She wanted to rectify having personally buried these stories over the years, which she views as a transgression on her part. It not only cheats the public of information that they’re owed, but it cheats Locke as well. By not having to deal with the consequence of negative public feedback over his actions, he was never even given the opportunity to learn and grow from each incident.

With that said, I absolutely agree with you that Locke’s illnesses go a long way toward explaining why he behaves so irrationally, and that without that context he comes across even worse. (That’s honestly one of the main reasons I started writing The Brotherhood in the first place, because that’s essentially what we get in the comics.) Unfortunately, though, the lack of complete context is Locke’s problem, not the press’s. Public figures, by nature, have their lives under a microscope, and the public is going to judge them, especially if their actions are perceived as a threat. Even though we as readers know that Locke’s view is distorted and he does these things because he believes they’re right, it doesn’t change the fact that in reality his behavior IS dangerous, and the public is going to judge it as so. The ball is in his court as to whether or not they get the context of his struggle with mental illness. He can either choose to disclose that and possibly receive a little more compassion from his critics, or he can keep it his personal business and let the negative perception stand unchallenged. It’s a shitty situation to even have to make that decision, and both paths have their own potential risks and payoffs, but unfortunately it comes with the territory when you’re a public figure (especially one in a massive position of power).

Does the exposure of Locke’s actions paint him as monstrous? Yes, I’m sure for most people it probably does -- but is that Jenna’s fault, or is that simply an objective evaluation of his behavior? Is he monstrous because the presentation is unfair, or is he monstrous because it’s accurate? If it were widely known that he has undiagnosed mental illnesses, would that make the things he’s done any less monstrous? Should someone be shielded from any and all scrutiny or criticism on the basis of having an undisclosed medical condition? Like I keep saying, it’s a very, very complicated issue.

I still don’t know whether or not the way Jenna went about things was the right thing to do; I’d like to think that there may have been another solution entirely that none of the characters ever landed on, but I have no idea what that solution is. As far as the solution we DID get, there are both pros and cons to her approach -- and I’m sorry, I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but Jenna reporting on the things Locke’s been getting away with over the years isn’t a pro OR a con. It’s just a statement of facts, which is literally the most neutral part of the entire article. Facts themselves are neutral; they aren’t inherently good or bad, they just... are.

I don’t expect any of this to have changed your mind, but I hope it can at least bring you a little peace on the matter. I appreciate your feedback either way.

#Sallymun RPs #The Brotherhood #Anonymous

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wordywarriorwrites · 5 years ago

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Chapter 9: On the Run

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn A03 Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration & Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge. Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities.

Instead of sticking to terms, Nick Fury was going for a hostile takeover.

It was a breach of contract, but from a business standpoint, it was the smart play. Hell, Bucky planned to do the same thing in the future, but the situation had gone tits up before he got the chance to put his own plans in motion.

They’d all agreed to the terms of the treaty, but as soon as Fury got back to his home turf, he unexpectedly declared Steve wasn’t the right man to handle their combined interests, and refused to work with someone he “no longer deemed trustworthy.” The Families didn’t have an alternate person who knew both businesses, and without Steve as a diplomat and go-between, the truce became strained.

In in an effort to maintain order in Brooklyn, dues were increased, funds were redistributed, and territories were rearranged. Tightening both the reigns and the purse strings helped for a while, but when people learned trade suffered because an outsider was badmouthing one of their own, they made their displeasure known.

It didn’t take long for whispers of disapproval to turn into deafening roars of outright dissent. The nature of the business had changed, but the foundation and principles had remained the same. In their world, unsubstantiated accusations still brought out visceral impulses, and after Sam went down, the gloves came off.

Bucky had Natasha and Bruce investigate and they’d both arrived at the same conclusion: Steve and Sam had been loyal and all roads led back to Fury. He’d been the origin of the treason rumors, was behind the unsanctioned hit, and wanted Steve cut out so he could wrest control and poach from their joint revenue streams.

The situation reached critical mass after the funeral. Sam had been in the ground less than an hour when another attempt was made. Steve had been ambushed and almost killed in the middle of his own living room, and not long after, Bucky learned the Families private homes had also been compromised.

Bucky knew it was only a matter of time before Fury tried again, and once the Families realized he was gunning for them all, everyone agreed to batten down the hatches and move to undisclosed, more secure locations.

The hotel suite he was holed up in offered privacy, security, and best of all, a well-stocked bar. Yet, even with the creature comforts, Bucky still felt feel like a caged animal. He really needed to get his house in order, and so far, no easy solution had presented itself, and the booze wasn’t helping.

“If you want to take Fury out, you’re going to need to do it from the inside,” Natasha opined over FaceTime. “You need to turn his crew, and in order to get to them, you have to go through Steve.”

“If he rallies Brooklyn and manages to get Fury’s people on his side, allegiances will be divided, and there will be mutiny here and abroad,” Bucky argued. “I can’t fight a war on two fronts.”

“You’ve always been stubborn, but I never knew you could be so ignorant.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Natasha leveled him with a hard stare, “Steve’s calculating, but he’s stalwart. You’re alive because he’s still in love with you, and that’s why he won’t ever betray you or try to oust you.”

Bucky sighed and poured himself another drink, “For the record, he’s not in love with me. And Steve may be steadfast, but he’s also unforgiving and prone to petulance.”

“Look, if you just apologize and set aside your ego, the two of you could--”

“My ego isn’t the problem,” he interjected. “And in case you’ve forgotten, his goon squad beat the shit out of me, and he left you for dead in an alley.”

“And in response, you had our guys torture him for a month. Then, you took away his choices, his money, and his freedom,” she retorted. “The time for posturing and tit-for-tat is over. If you don’t get Steve back on our side, our people won’t fight, Fury will bury us, and it will be your fault.”

Before Bucky could formulate a response, Natasha brusquely told him to, “get his fucking shit together,” and then, ended any further discussion of the matter by cutting off the call.

Partnering with Nick Fury had been a calculated risk, but Bucky could have never foreseen it going bad so quickly. The harsh, bitter truths Natasha voiced were difficult to face, but deep down, Bucky knew she was right. The wisest course of action would be to bring Steve back into the fold, but given everything that had happened, mending fences would be easier said than done.

Too exhausted to think about it anymore, Bucky texted his security detail, and let them know he was turning in for the night. He’d just started to undress when a response came through; thinking it was one of the men bidding him goodnight, he ignored it, but when his cell rang and one of the guards in the suit adjacent suddenly began pounding on the adjoining door, he knew something wasn’t right.

A rhythmic candace. Sharp, loud, repetitive snaps.

The sound was all too familiar and made the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck stand on end. Instinct and a flood of pure, high-octane adrenaline made him reach for his own weapon at the base of his spine. He could hear muffled, indistinct voices; see the doorknob being rattled; feel the grip of the gun against the palm of his hand; taste the fear and whiskey on his tongue.

Knowing he was next, he bolted for the exit, and looked through the peephole. When the hallway revealed itself to be empty, Bucky slipped the chain back, flipped the deadbolt, and opened the door. Both guards stationed just outside were down, and as he continued onward, the bodies kept piling up.

The culprit had taken them out one-by-one and managed to get into the suite next to his without raising any suspicion or alarm. Everyone had erred on the side of caution and the Families hadn’t revealed to each other or anyone else where they were hunkered down. If he was being targeted, it meant someone on the inside had sold him out.

A strange sound drew his attention away from his thoughts and back to the task at hand. When he approached the elevator, he saw the doors opening and closing, but a pair of legs sticking out from the inside prevented them from shutting all the way. Bucky didn’t know how many enemies there were or where they were all located, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

A flickering exit sign pointed toward the stairwell, and he hastily made a beeline for it. Twelve flights and another door saw him out of the hotel and onto the street. Without his phone, wallet, and keys, he had no way of reaching out to anyone or getting away quickly. Exposed, alone, and with the enemy on his tail, Bucky had no choice but to start walking.

Gun low and pressed to his thigh, he crossed the street, and made it about two blocks before a black SUV, headed fast in the opposite direction, suddenly pulled a U-turn right in the middle of traffic. There was absolutely no way to outrun a car, which meant he had little choice but to duck into the nearest alley.

Sweat pooled at the base of his spine and his pulse thudded in his ears, but he remained silent, and waited. The vehicle pulled right up to the sidewalk, but nobody got out. The tinted window on the front passenger side was lowered, which prompted him to ready his weapon.

Bucky was a hairsbreadth away from firing when the high beams were flashed and a familiar voice yelled his name. As he warily approached, the back door was thrown open; the interior lights came on and revealed Bruce riding shotgun, Natasha at the wheel, and none other than Steve Rogers in the seat behind her.

With the threat of death imminent, Bucky didn’t hesitate, and as soon as he was in, Natasha hit the gas, and drove like a bat out of hell.

“How did you know?” he asked.

Bruce turned around in his seat, “Ever since Sam was killed, I’ve been monitoring all communications, but there are a lot of phones and a lot of people. Fury managed to get to one of your guards. I just didn’t see it until it was too late.”

“And him?” he prompted, nodding his head toward Steve. “Why is he here?”

“Steve knows Fury’s playbook,” Natasha voiced. “He’s here to help.”

Bucky let out a sound of frustration, “You shouldn’t have involved him.”

“You want me gone? Fine,” Steve mumbled lowly. “Pull the fuck over.”

Bruce shook his head frantically, “Bad idea.”

Natasha glanced in the rearview mirror, “You’re in no condition to be out on your own.”

When the vehicle entered a tunnel and the car’s interior was flooded with light, Bucky instantly understood why Bruce and Natasha didn’t want to dump Steve on the side of the road. The evidence of Nick Fury’s brutality was on every inch of visible skin, and the sight of Steve’s injuries made his gut twist.

One eye swollen shut and the other bloodshot. Brow and cheeks marred with stitched up cuts. Jaw extremely distended. Bruises on his arms that hadn’t even begun to heal. Steve was pale and sweating, and his harsh breathing indicated there was probably something even worse going on beneath the clothes. A lesser man wouldn’t have been able to withstand the agony, never mind be upright, but Steve wasn’t like most men.

Ram-rod stiff. Vacant countenance. The composure and comportment of a soldier.

He may have been bloodied, but Bucky knew not to mistake it for weakness or surrender, and the cold, deadly look in his eye suggested he wasn’t going to let a few cuts and bruises prevent him from getting even.

Everyone in Brooklyn was baying for blood, including Steve, and war was inevitable.

Nick Fury started it.

And Bucky had a sinking feeling Steve would be the one who finished it.

Chapter 10: Behind Enemy Lines

Everything: @jennmurawski13 @nerdy-bookworm-1998

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @captain-rogers-beard

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hollands-poppet · 5 years ago

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Dancing with Our Hands Tied // Part 8 ( Last Part..) // Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom Holland is your best friend and your roommate, but you both have undisclosed feelings for each other.

Word count: 3K💛

A/N: HELLLOO BABIES!! AMY IS BACK FROM THE DEAD. HAHA jk, well kind of. I really wanted to finish this story because I just kind of want to move on from this phase of my life, as far as my fan fictions go. I still want to write, I just want to move on from this story. I love you guys, hope it was worth the wait!!! 💛 💛 💛

Warnings: cussing, I didn’t proofread at all lmao.. I’m just gonna copy and past all my warnings now hahaha y’all get so butthurt on here (like fake fucking homecomings like wtf), its just a fucking story. anyway, this shit ain’t real..if you don’t want to read what people want to put out then maybe fan fictions aren’t for ya.. y’all are super sensitive on here lmao k thanks for coming to my ted talk bye and I kind of proofread but not really

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7

“You what?!” Zendaya yells at Tom who is zipping up his spidey suit.

“I broke up with her.” And he says it with such anger in himself, he would admit that he had a short temper but he knew he fucked up. He didn’t mean to break up with her but the heat of the moment brought up all these emotions and he wanted to hurt her in that short second. It had been a day since he had about seen y/n but it felt like a lifetime.

In that short second, he wanted to hurt her because she had hurt him. But had he waited another second, none of this would have happened if he had just listened to what she had to say..but he didn’t. He brought breaking up first, and he knew it was fault.

“Tom, you realize that you screwed this up right? I really don’t know what else to tell you.” Zendaya says as she waits for her co-star to get ready to shoot.

He wouldn’t admit it but the truth burned, “I know! I know! But- I just..I didn’t think about what I was saying..I just wanted her to come back with me, y’know?” He finishes zipping up the side of the suit and faces Z in the face and away from the mirror in his trailer, “I fucked up..and that’s that.”

Zendaya gives a sarcastic smile as she begins to slow clap, “Royally, my friend.”

Tom rolls his eyes and flips off his friend whose only laying out the plain truth, and only a few seconds later Harrison walks in with a cup of coffee.

“Is that my coffee?” Tom asks as he walks towards his friend/assistant but finds that the cup of joe moves over his hand.

“No mate, sorry.” Haz takes a sip, “Honestly, you don’t want to kiss Zendaya with coffee breath though.:

Z and Tom’s heads both snap at the exact moment in shock and at same time speak, “that’s today?!”

Haz gulps down another sip of his coffee, “Yeah, talk about bad timing. Break up with your girlfriend and kiss another girl right in front of her. What a time to be an actor!” The blonde says exaggeratingly to annoy his best friend.

Tom sighs as she walks towards the exit of his trailer, “Is y/n on set yet?”

Haz shrugs as he looks at himself in the vanity, “Not sure, maybe.” Z lightly smacks the back of his head, “You’re literally no help.”

Everyone on set was ready, it had taken about two hours to prep and all the crew was waiting for was the talent. y/n was along one of the crew to wait around to touch up Z, she wore barely to any makeup for the role of MJ. Her job for this specific film was to make sure her hair looked consistent and to pat away any shiny-ness on Z’s face.

She waited for Tom and Zendaya along with everyone and she didn’t know how she really felt about that, she wasn’t sure what they were filming today to be honest. She did notice some harnesses, so she figured that her ex was probably going to be filming some stunts. Even though they were no longer an item, to even refer to Tom as in ex in her mind really hurt.

She didn’t understand why he would do that to her, and for such a stupid reason too, well in her opinion at least. She knew Tom was going to feel some type of way about her not moving to Kingston, but she didn’t think the worst. She didn’t know it was going to be his deal breaker.

y/n clears her throat as away to get back in focus because the talent is finally arriving on set, and from the distance there she spots him. She sees Tom and Z walk on set, and his mask is already on. The only visible part of his face were his eyes, he couldn’t put on the spidey eyes until they were ready to film for safety reasons.

Z breaks off from Tom and makes her towards y/n to get touched up before they start filming. Tom makes his way towards the stunt coordinator and towards the harnesses to discuss what’s about to go down.

y/n hears her name and immediately focuses back on her task, this was not the time and place to be thinking about this. She pulls a powder puff and brush so that she can begin touching up Zendaya.

“How you feeling?” Z asks as she looks into her friends eyes, y/n sighs as she pats down her forehead and completely avoids eye contact.

She almost whispers her response because she doesn’t want to even think about it, “Just leave it alone, please.”

Y/N puts away her brush and powder in her belt and re-adjusts Z’s hair just to make sure it’s been consistent since the last time they shot. “Don’t worry about me today.”

And for the most part, Y/N was zoned out until she was called to fix Zendaya’s hair or touch up her shine. A lot ran through her mind as she stand behind the tents and cameras, and a lot was about her and Tom and if all these fighting was worth it anymore.

When y/n wasn’t zoned out, she would catch glimpses of Zendaya and Tom laughing and talking. It almost stung because he was so nonchalant about everything but he also had a job to do, and so did y/n.

y/n and tom started off as roommates and nothing more but this nothing turned into something. She knew what she was getting herself into and now she just wanted a way out of it.

All she needed was time and he couldn’t give that to her… well that’s what it seemed like. People in love say ‘home is where the heart is’ and if that’s what Tom was then why couldn’t she let go of the rest.. right?

More bitterness began to hit as the day was closer to ending. This was the last day of filming and she couldn’t believe that these past few months had gone by so quickly. It also hit her that she hasn’t gotten help for her trauma that she hadn’t taken care of.

She knew it was a reason that caused her and Tom break up.

As Tom and Zendaya swing down from the air and onto the pavement, y/n watches from the distance as the two lock eyes and the film is still rolling. He pulls of his mask and immediately locks his lips with Zendaya, and it’s almost a stab to the heart.

And they didn’t just shoot this scene once, they shot it enough that y/n had to move away from the main set while she hung out at the food table.

This was all fake and she knew that, and she was going to be fine. It was a little annoying to see but she knew that he loved her whether he had to kiss her best friend or not. And this was one of the last of her problems because she had nowhere to live and also had ptsd.

“cut! and that’s a wrap!”

y/n sighs and lets out a fake smile as the rest of the crew who claps out of excitement because quite literally this was the last scene. She claps from the food table as she watches her friends from the distance. Spiderman:far from home was done and so were her and Tom?

y/n had began packing for a couple of hours now, shooting was wrapped and she had no other reason to be in new york anymore. z was on her way back home to vacation with her family and y/n literally had nowhere to go. She wasn’t sure what Tom had done with their apartment back in LA but she as hell didn’t want to back there.

Her ptsd from that awful situation still haunts her and being alone in that place would trigger her so bad. This was truly one of those moments that she didn’t know if she could escape from, she had to face her fears whether that meant being homeless for a couple of days or facing Tom. She didn’t know if she could do either of them but she had to choose.

It was like in that moment the energy had brought up the knock on your hotel room door, “Who is it?” She asks as she continues shoving some of her toiletries in her luggage. The person’s voice at the door was too faint to hear so she decided to look and there stood her tall friend, Zendaya. y/n wasn’t too excited about company at the moment but she decided to open the door for her friend, “ Hey..”

Z smiles awkwardly, her snaggle tooth making an appearance, “Can I come in?”

y/n purses her lips in thought and nods almost hesitantly but let’s her friend into her room, “What’s up?” She asks as she closes her room door.

“I just wanted to check up on you, you’ve been pretty distant since we filmed last..” Zendaya turns around to face y/n who is still close to the door, “Like right now, your energy feels so off.”

y/n sighs, rubs her eyes in frustration and completely forgets she has mascara on, “I mean, Tom and I are done. I’m kind of upset about that.”

Z crosses her arms, she believed y/n but something felt different. “Okay, I get that but did I do something?” Her arms unfold and she rest her to hands on her chest, “Did I do something personally to upset you?”

And in fact, y/n wasn’t upset with her good friend at all but just bitter because she was freely being intimate with Tom on set. It was work though, Tom and Z’s job is romantic at the moment and y/n had no say in that but it also wasn’t her friend’s fault. In truth, y/n couldn’t bare the sight of them together but she had no right to be upset at her friend.

Although y/n wanted to tell Z the truth, right now wasn’t the time. “I- I just have a lot on my mind, I’m kind of homeless right now so I’m trying to figure out where I should even book a flight to.”

Z walks up to her friend and holds both of her elbows, she is super confused. “What do you mean..homeless? Your apartment..?”

y/n nods her head in defeat, even bowing her head because she can’t look her friend in the eyes, “I can’t go back there..it’s just too much.” Just thinking about the break in makes her so nauseous, the tears in her eyes beginning to overflow.

“Is it because of Tom?” Z asks, and y/n’s head immediately shoots up, “How dare you ask that.”

y/n’s tone becomes serious, her two tears flow down her cheeks as her eyes dry up, “I have more important things to deal with than him. I think I fucking need therapy for that fucking break in because I’m so fucked up and I can’t be alone.”

“Then don’t be, y/n.”

y/n nods her head, her throat burning because she is triggered that her friend is hitting the spots that she has been avoiding.

“For fucksakes, he literally wants to move to a different country with you..please help me understand.” Zendaya’s voice is in between frustrated but also understanding, she wants nothing but the best for her friend.

“That’s the thing... I need to be alone.” y/n moves past her friend and sits next to her luggage, “I need to be okay to be alone again. I love him so much..I just can’t be alone and what if-”

“What if?” Z asks before she can even finish her sentence. She makes her way next to y/n and moves her hair behind her ears, desperate to try and help her friend find an answer.

“What if I let my trauma take over my life?” She sighs as she lets out a few more tears, “I just know that I have to take care of this.”

Even though filming was done, Tom was going to stay in the big apple for a couple of more days. He was going to make an appearance at jimmy kimmel the next night so he was resting up. He lay on his bed in his pajamas and phone in hand just scrolling through his instagram when he gets a call.

Her name reads across the screen as he sits up quickly and blinks a couple of more times to make sure this was real.

“Hello?” He says into the phone, waiting to hear her voice on the other side.

“Hey...uhm, I’m outside your door.”

He keeps the phone to his ear as he gets up from his bed and makes his way to the hotel door, removing all the extra locks and there she was.

There is awkward tension but the energy flowing between them also feels safe. She brings her phone to her jean pocket and clears her throat, “Can I…?” She doesn’t even finish her question, it doesn’t give Tom more than a second to move out of the way.

He finally removes the phone from his ear, “I didn’t think you would still be here.”

She shrugs her shoulders as she stands in the middle of his room, “There were still things I needed to take care of.”

“Like us?” Tom bluntly asks, he needed to know and she needed to know that he fucked up. y/n looks to the ground and bites her bottom lip and makes eye contact with him, “There is no us..not anymore and I just wanted to-”

“No,no,no,” He repeatedly says as he drops

his phone to the floor and makes his way to her, “Listen, I fucked up so badly and I just wanted you to know that we don’t have to move anywhere you don’t want to.”

y/n purses her lips in thought, not even directly making eye contact with him. “I just- I need help.”

Tom shrugs his neck back a bit in confusion, “What?”

Tears begin to flow down her cheeks as she lets out a sigh in between an awkward laugh, “I need to be able to be alone..whether we’re together or not. I need to be able to be independent and not afraid.”

Before he can even respond, she continues. “And trust me, moving to a different country with you has nothing to do with it. And the old me would’ve went in a heartbeat...I need to find her again.”

Tom is still slightly unaware at what she is hinting it, he understands that the break in still has her a bit paranoid. “So, what are you saying?”

“I’m going to start going to therapy.” She lets out as she stands in the front of his bed, she meddles with her fingers as she finally releases her truth.

“And that’s okay, darling. I’m literally going to be here with you every step of the way.” Tom remarks as he finally makes his way to her, his hands interlocking with hers. Her hands weren’t as warm as they usually were but there he was to make her feel safe again. His hands move from her hands and up her arms, she still isn’t making eye contact with him.

“We can’t, Tom.” She doesn’t move, not even an inch because the warmth feels nice and familiar. She’s weary of even giving into a hug or a kiss, she doesn’t want to regret her decision.

He notices her not wanting to give into him but he also knows that this is what she has wanted for a long time..actually what they both have wanted for the longest time.

“Come on, love...aren’t you tired of dancing with our hands tied?” He asks as his hands rest on her neck, and her hands slowly come up his.

Her head comes closer to his, their noses touching at this point, “I am tired..but I need to work on myself first.”

Their lips touch and it felt like nothing has ever went wrong between the two. They were just two young kids who wanted only this and this moment to last forever.

She pulls away and her sighs, she needs to express a bit more before any of this goes further, “Tom..I just want you to know that I can’t move to Kingston…”

He nods in agreement as their noses are still intact, “That’s okay, love. You don’t-”

“But, I do. I really do want to move there and be with you.” She bites her bottom lip as her hands hold onto arms tightly, “I just need to make sure I’m okay..And I don’t know if that’ll be tomorrow, a week, a month, a year.” There is a pause between the two, she’s nervous. All she wanted was this to work and whether that meant they had to work on themselves separately or together.

All y/n wanted to make sure was that he made her heart feel safe, and that if this wasn’t okay that he needed to tell her that. All she wanted to hear was that it was going to be okay, and his response was only a few moments away. She hoped he didn’t run away this time.

A/N: SO DON’T FREAK OUT. THERE IS GOING TO BE AN EPILOGUE. UNTIL THEN...HIT MY MESSAGES..SEND ME THEORIES, THOUGHTS ANYHTING! LOVE YOU GUYS. -Amy 💛

#tom holland fan fic #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #reader x tom holland #tom holland x y/n #y/n x tom holland #tom #holland #spiderman #far from home #spiderman far from home #tom holland fan #tom holland x imagine #tom holland x reader imagine #tom holland x reader imagines #reader x tom holland imagines

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creativeashproductions · 6 years ago

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Be Alright // Noah Centineo

Summary: Right at the beginning of Noah’s career he meets a British girl in a town just minutes from his own. A spark that dims and illuminates over the next few years before a rapid increase of role offers leads Noah to move away. A relationship that has to last through his new friends and life with an unexpected cost.

Characters: Noah Centineo x Reader, Taylor Centineo, Greg and Kellee Centineo.

Words: 3.7k

Disclaimer: This is based roughly on a movie I watched not long ago. I only own my characters I make in this. The lives of the Centineo family are fictional compared to their real life. There are some intentional mistakes for an undisclosed reason so read on for why.

Do not post our work on other sites without our explicit consent.

Warnings: Angst, talk of underage drinking, allusion to drug use, angst and fluff if you squint.

A/N: More work coming. The more notes we get and feedback the more chances we’ll upload sooner. Ash is still on hiatus however.

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The British accent caught the attention of everyone you came across in North America, specifically the U.S. even if you had been living in America for years. When your aunt moved away from London to America after the horrific accident that stole her partner your parents followed a year later.

It was a culture shock when you settled in Atlantis, Florida where there was barely anything to do compared to the large city you lived in England. It was terrible if you were honest even if you had friends that made sure you were brought to the larger cities to explore. That’s how you met Noah and how you started a tentative relationship with him when you were both around thirteen years old. It was serious as it could be at that age enough that when he moved to Los Angeles you stayed together until you were seventeen years old. After that you barely spoke other than that one time you called in desperation only to have no answer.

At eighteen you gave birth to Sutton Emerson Y/L/N in the fall of 2014 with a tough labouring process and her week stay in the NICU. Even if you struggled as a single mother you knew you had your family to help you along with Kellee and Greg when they got to see her. It was a mutual decision to keep Noah from knowing after he had ignored your calls, you had promised that if he didn’t call you back you would never bother him with your daughter.

When Greg went to visit Noah that first time after the breakup he saw a man that didn’t deserve to be a father of such an innocent little brunette baby girl. Sutton was now a vivacious four year old with messy curly shoulder length hair that was tough to brush and style but you wouldn’t change her for the world. You were thankful her eyes were the exact replica of yours so you never had to see his eyes in her.

“Sweetheart it’s time to go see Grams and Grumpa.” You spoke kneeling in front of her where she splayed on the ground in front of her doll house.

“No fanks.” Her little voice spoke with the British accent that had somehow come to have a twist from the American accent she was surrounded by everyday.

“Sutton we always go to Grams house on Friday for supper.” You sighed leaning down to scoop her into your arms, “Don’t you want to see Poppy?”

Poppy was the little puppy Greg and Kellee had bought for Poppy to play with, even if you had asked for nothing. They were ecstatic to be grandparents although they would have liked if their son was more involved in his daughters life but he didn’t know he was a father either.

“Poppy?” Sutton spoke bringing her head up to stare at you. You nodded as she pushed her toys away to ran towards you.

“Can you put your dolls away?” You asked barely done with half the sentence before she haphazardly shoving them in the large crate for toys.

“Come on Mama!” Sutton exclaimed shoving her arms into her tiny purple fleece Barbie jacket. Her head grasped tightly in yours to the stool near the door, it had been there since she was baby.

It the spot she would sit on to put her shoes on and it helped to teach her how to put them on and soon you would be teaching her how to knot her shoes as well. God you never thought you could love someone as much as you loved your little girl. You just wanted the best for her whether it meant choking back fear to take her to her grandparents or saving up money to show her London in a few years.

“Do you think Aunty Tay will be there?” Sutton questioned curiously. For some reason she had a high intelligence for her age and had bypassed many language milestones to the point she sounds years beyond her age.

“No sweetheart. She’s at her home.”

“Will we ever visit her?”

Your mind froze at her question given that Taylor had dropped the comment that Noah was living with her and her boyfriend. The conversation ended swiftly when Sutton had crawled into the room towards you. He was never mentioned in her presence nor yours anymore once Taylor saw there was no chance for you wanting him back anymore.

“That’s a long ways away.”

“But Lomdon is more.”

“It’s London sweetheart.” You spoke pressing a kiss to her forehead, “Let’s get you in your carseat.”

“Grams and Grumpa said a boys name when I was at their house. Noah.” Sutton spoke from the backseat of the car, “I was playing hide and see with Aunty.”

Your hands been white on the steering wheel you replied shakily, “I’m sure that wasn’t what they said.”

“Hm. Okay.” She shrugged turning to stare out the window, “Can I teach Poppy how to roll over?”  

“I’m sure we can do that.” You grinned at her.

It was a fifteen minute drive from your place in Atlantis to Boynton where the Centineo’s still lived. It was nice house settled in the outskirts of the town often that had a man hanging around, a security guard that Greg wasn’t fond of. Apparently Noah was nervous his parents would be hounded by fans which they never had been since he moved away. Speaking of the family, Kellee was on the porch waving as you pulled into the driveway.

“Grams!” Sutton shouted as Kellee came over to the car. In mere seconds Sutton on in her arms hugging her, “Missed you.”

“Oh we missed you guys more.” She replied pressing a kiss to Sutton’s little cheek. Quickly she pulled you into a hug and ushering you to the house.

“You look gorgeous.” Kellee grinned towards you, “Did you get a haircut?”

“Sutton had hers down but threw a fit when we got there. We made a deal that if I had one first then she would.”

“Mama got to sit in the car! I sat on the unicorn!” Sutton excited waved both her hands almost hitting her Grams in the face.

“A unicorn!” Greg gasped from the entry way, “My granddaughter saw a mysterious animal! Oh man I can’t believe I missed it!”

“Grumpa!” Sutton exclaimed as if she hadn’t seen them in a few days, “It was pink and purple! It was so pretty! I raced the horses too and I won!”

“Of course you did.” Greg chuckled giving her a high five, “Poppy’s in the living room waiting for you-“

Sutton disappeared into the spacious room to the sound of Poppy’s excited barking, the two were best friends, while you were brought into the kitchen. You had a lot of sight into the living room to keep an eye on your little girl.

“Noah got a massive part in a movie coming up.” Kellee nonchalantly spoke pouring herself a cup of ice tea, “Some remake of Charlie’s Angels.”

“That’s nice for him.” You blankly spoke staring at the clear glass.

“It’s gonna be in the theatres September 2019.” She continued, “It’s very exciting!”

“Sweetheart not now.” Greg shook his head carefully before sending an apologetic smile to you. You waved it off, “Now hows our daughter doing?”  

You snorted, they were always somehow referencing how you were apart of the family given Sutton’s relation. You stopped denying it when they were the first to show up at the hospital when you went into labour.

“I’m doing good. I got a promotion to manager at The Queen’s Pavilion now, night classes are terrible.” You rolled your eyes leaning forward.

“Congratulations on the being Manager!” Greg clapped quickly, “That’s amazing.”

“Thanks. My hours are a little more flexible and concrete than the waitress shifts.” You sighed. You had worked at the upscale restaurant for years and with the former manager quitting to be a full time Mom she recommended you.

“We should cele-“

“No! Noah you-“

“It’s my house. I don’t need to knock.” The familiar husky voice spoke turning you sheet white as you ran into the living room. You quickly scooped up Sutton to hide against the wall in the kitchen. Your frantic eyes flittering between Greg and Kellee.

 “Noah! You don’t live here anymore!”

“Taylor can you be quiet I want some peace and quiet. Something I haven’t had in so long!”

“It’s not my fault you skyrocketed after Sierra Burgess and All The Boys.” Taylor exclaimed trying to move in front of Noah.

“What is going on?” He spoke confused at the puppy in the living room, the Barbie jacket in the entry room and Taylor desperately keeping him away.

“Noah!” Kellee exclaimed high pitched, “How are you sweetheart.”

All the while Taylor had gripped the jacket tightly to move around Noah and her mom towards the kitchen. As she hugged Greg she inconspicuously handed over her niece’s jacket to you and you were racing out of the back door.

“Mama? Who was that?”

  “Uh.”

“I thought there wasn’t a Noah?” She spoke confused while your strapped in the car seat as fast as you could. God you wished Noah had bought a fancy race car so you could hear the car a mile away instead of the jeep sitting next to your car.

“I don-“

“Lying is a sin Mama. Josie told me that.” She proudly spoke of her friend in day care. The same Josie who was the daughter of the Preacher’s son and wife who graduated with you.

“Sometimes people tell white lies-“

The ding of your cell phone made you look down at the next message.

You felt the judgement clear as day even from the screen and you weren’t surprised given that Taylor had to be around him day in and day out. She sometimes told you it made her uncomfortable and sick to lie to her brother.

You were just pulling out of the driveway when the boy in question came out onto the porch staring as your vehicle pulled away. Thank god you bought a more safe vehicle early in your pregnancy with the little funds you had saved for college. The college fund turned into the saving for buying baby things.

“Mama is that him?” She spoke through the tinted windows.

“Should we stop for some nuggets?”  

“And ice cream?!” She excited spoke forgetting about the man in her grandparents house. You felt a sharp stab of guilt of shame for bribing your daughter.

The Queen’s Pavilion was upscale but definitely was fine if your daughter was dropped off to the restaurant by your best friend. Clara was a few years older than you with a son the same age as Sutton. They went to the same daycare but pickup time was always an hour before your shift ended on the days Sutton went. There were your parents that looked after her on the days she didn’t have daycare and you worked your longer shifts on the busier days.

“Table for five.” You barely heard the voices as the hostess asked them to sit for a moment to find them a table. You still had a few minutes before Sutton would be here, “It looks more-“

“Upscale?” You spoke signing a paper in your leather clipboard before closing it shut.

Instead of answering the voice went quiet in shock. You had barely looked up before hazel eyes met yours sending a shiver of fear down your spine. You had barely opened your mouth before the door opened in a fury.

“Mama!” Sutton yelled slamming into your legs. You kneeled quickly.

“Hi baby.” You grinned scooping her close in your arms to nestle in close, “How was daycare?”

“I have a a lost tooth!”

“Do you mean loose tooth?” You asked brushing a back a curl of her hair dancing in front of eye as her breathing moved it.

“Yeah!”

The sharp intake of breath reminded you that Noah was standing there watching the interaction of you with his unknown daughter. The little girl with his brown curls and easily charming smile. He didn’t need a test to know that he had a child, it was there in the little girls features.

“Clara can you take Emmie for some ice cream.” Clara knew instinctively that when you used the rare nickname you had for Sutton it wasn’t good.

“Of course. Hey Sutton want some mint chip?” Clara asked holding her hand out for her while holding her sons hand as well.

“I’ll meet you there. Thanks.” You half smiled at her. You quickly sent Noah a look before turning you back on him to walk to your office. The steady footsteps following behind you. The moment the door closed behind him he was staring at you shocked.

“How old is she?”

“Four years old.” You sighed leaning against the mahogany wood desk.

“Why didn’t you tell me. I’m assuming she’s mine given her age.”

“I tried. I found out I was pregnant week and a half after we broke up.” You spoke picking up the photo of a three month old Sutton, “I…uh…promised myself that I would call you but if you didn’t call me back I wouldn’t contact you ever again.”

“Why?”

“You were this upcoming new star and when you didn’t call back a week later I decided it was for the best. Especially when I had seen the articles on your new love. I didn’t keep the pregnancy secret for long. Your parents kept their distance but they knew and when I went into early labour they were in the hospital when my parents were traveling back.”

“They knew?”

“You’d have to ask them why they kept it from you. Even when I asked them to keep Sutton from you they had every right to tell you.”

“What’s her name?” 

“Sutton Emerson Y/L/N. She loves Barbies, marvel heroes, and Poppy.”

“The puppy at my parents.”

“Birthday gift for her. It was surprise and the only stipulation was they keep Poppy at their house.”

Noah was silent following that trying to wrap his head around that he had four year old daughter that you kept from him. It hurt him that he had missed out on everything involving her and he regretted not fighting for you.

“Look be in her life or don’t but don’t get her hopes up about having a Dad. You can cause me pain but you break her heart, I will hurt you.” You vehemently spoke while standing straight up, “I have to pick her up. She has dance in twenty minutes.”

You brushed by Noah frozen form while opening the door to see Greg standing there silently. Whatever he had to say was between him and his son and you wanted nothing of that conversation.

“Don’t break anything.” You spoke to them while exiting the room.

Greg continued into the room where Noah stood staring at the baby picture of Sutton.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Noah mumbled barely looking up at his father.

“You didn’t deserve to know about her.” Greg simply spoke, “I came out a few weeks after you broke up with Y/N. I was coming to give you a piece of my mind and tell you that you had to step up and be a Dad.”

“You never came out.” Noah replied confused.

“I did. I came to your place only to start following the trail of plastic cups and garbage to find you with a group of people. I spoke with you for a few minutes but quickly realized you were too fucked up to even know me.”

Noah barely remembered the years he had partied from the amount of shit he had ingested to soothe his aches. He must have reached the peak of his partying in the aftermath of the breakup when his Dad came out.

“You were drunk, high and had that girl handing off your arm. The girl you dated for a while even if I knew you loved Y/N. I didn’t recognize my son anymore and I decided on the spot that you had no right to come into Sutton’s world and destroy it like you did your own life.”

“I’m sober now. Have been for over a year.” Noah gently defended himself with distaste for his mistakes.

“I know that.” Greg replied, “Yet I also know many people with fame that relapse easily and destroy everything they touch.”

“I won’t. I can’t let that little girl grow up without a Dad.”

“I hope you can convince everyone.” Greg finished, “We got a table. We should rejoin the family.”

“Mama? Is Noah my Daddy?” Sutton questioned a few weeks into Noah’s stay in his parents home. You had been drinking drinking when you started choking on it.

“What sweetheart?” You coughed.

“Well Noah is Aunty Tay’s brother that means Grumpa and Grams are his parents. Does that mean he’s my Daddy?” Sutton asked quietly looking down at her dollhouse.It still floored you on how gifted she was at just four years old.

She had placed her male and female dolls at the table in her kitchen along with a little baby in the high chair. You didn’t have to guess why she had done that when you had a feeling the lack of a father and watching other families had settled in her mind.

You moved from the table to sit on the ground beside her to pick up a doll you would use when you played with her. You brushed the dolls hair into your hands thinking of a way to approach this.

“Are you sad you don’t have a Daddy?” You questioned beginning a simple braid in the dolls hair.

“Sometimes.” Sutton spoke completely shattering your heart into pieces, “Did he want me?”

“He didn’t know about you. Before you were born I didn’t know about you. Your Daddy and I dated together for many years when we were younger.” You pushed the doll aside when Sutton crawled into your lap, “We broke up a few weeks before I knew about you. I tried to tell him but we had no contact anymore. He would have wanted you from the minute he knew I was pregnant.”

“He would?” Sutton questioned leaning against your chest with her thumb slowly moving to her mouth.

“Of course he would. Sutton you are the most kind beautiful little girl. Anyone would love you from the moment they see you. I’m so sorry you didn’t have a Daddy.”

“It’s okay Mommy. I have you.”

“Do you want to know Noah?” You asked gently placing your hands on her sweet rosy cheeks.

“Would it hurt you?”  

“No baby.” You quickly soothed her fear while kissing her forehead as gently as you could with one stray tear racing down your cheek, “I’ll be right back okay.”

“Mhm.” Sutton replied already turning back to her dolls. You quickly stepped into the hall just out of her earshot to call the number you hadn’t thought of in years.

“Hello?”

“Hey Noah. It’s…uh Y/N.” You spoke quietly.

“Oh hey. Something wrong?”  

“Yeah.”

“What is it? Is it Sutton?” Noah jumped in the topic quickly as he scanned the room for his keys, “Do you need me to come?”

“I kept her Daddy away from her. I should have done that. Would you like to come over to meet your daughter?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to cause problems.”

“Noah, she knows your her father. She just asked and she wants to know you.”

The gasp before his next words, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“See you soon.”

You smiled leaning against the wall to watch Sutton move from her dollhouse to the cupboard where you kept the colouring books. With a tentative smile you reached into the higher compartment she couldn’t quite reach yet for the crayons.

“Thanks Momma.” She grinned, “Will you cooler with me?”  

While you coloured with her Noah was rushing around his childhood home choosing a pair of clothes that he felt worthy of meeting his little girl. He was next in the bathroom re-shaving his face, he was too nervous to know his skin was smooth from a few hours ago, with a shaky hand. He gave himself a pep talk before he was driving to the address you had texted him.

Five minutes in the parked car he stared at the red front door mumbling words to himself just before the curtain shifted. With a smile from you he was climbing out of the car holding a small box and started shuffling to the door. It opened before he was even on the porch step of the tiny home.

“Hi.” You spoke.

“Hi.” He spoke nervously, “Are you sure this is okay?”

You nodded ushering him inside to where he was just skirting around you when you spoke up, “Promise to not hurt her?”

“Never.” He vowed as his eyes caught sight of Sutton at the kitchen table swinging her legs just barely able to see the colour book in front of her.

“Sutton.” You gently spoke to the four year old. Her attention turning from her colouring book to you, “Someone’s here for you.”

“Is that my Daddy?” Sutton asked inspecting Noah as she had for a long time, “He has my hair!”

And when Noah grinned she excitedly continued,“You have my smile too!”

“Hi.” Noah breathed kneeling in front of her chair, “You can call me No-“

“Can I call you Daddy instead?” Sutton whispered pressing her tiny hand on his cheek where he leaned into her hand with closed eyes. The soft smile growing melted your heart.

“Only if you want to.”

 “I missed you Daddy.” Sutton mumbled dropping her crayon to hug his neck. His arms wrapped around her tiny body.

“I missed you more than anything Baby.” Noah breathlessly spoke turning his attention to you with watery eyes.

Sutton’s future grew more bright in that moment she had craved since she knew about families. Yours did too because those feelings you had for Noah since you were thirteen never went away. The same future Noah hoped he would get to share with you as a family.

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infinitum-imaginaerum · 6 years ago

Text

UMBRA | LUCAS

Bodyguard!AU | Mini-Series

Words | 2,700+

Language, mature themes, mentions of death, illegality; we’ll see where else this goes

I | II

Holed up in your room was where you spent most of your time these days. With the dark halls of marble flooring and Victorian architecture accentuating every sound ever made in the house you were forced to live in, it was hardly a good idea to be wandering around, especially since the next to silent padding of your feet was about the loudest noise on the face of the planet in the middle of the night.

It was an interesting lifestyle you had to live considering you were essentially the target for any potential blackmail or ransom, the type of exposure your family couldn’t risk. Your mother had feared so much for your safety, she often argued with your father about it—booming through the aforementioned halls when your father insisted that you had to live your own life, with her retorting that she wasn’t going to lose you because of his past. Karma was a bitch, and because of your father’s rather nefarious and disillusioned lifestyle when he first met your mother, you were trapped in his luxurious quarters potentially until his death.

After a couple of failed attempts to run away—much to your chagrin, but owed to your father’s assistance—you were essentially under twenty four hour surveillance. The extravagance of your father’s home allowed for the Umbra to be live in assistants.

The Umbra…there was a high turnover when it came to them thanks to your mother. Your parents met on a job, your father participating in undisclosed gang-esque related ordeals, your mother the hired protection. She was highly experienced in the field of assassination, a bounty hunter per se. She taught you everything you needed to know about growing up in this type of household, the types of people you’d no doubt come inadvertently into contact with because of their reputation and she wanted to you be prepared.

But perhaps she prepared you a little too much.

Back to the Umbra. You often gave them the slip, your hiding and escape skills far superior to most of the men your father hired which proved to truly irritate both of them.

That’s the argument you had the misfortune to overhear. They were down the hall just a little way from your room in the master bedroom, the door closed but it didn't matter. The argument was loud enough to let the residence in on the particularly convoluted situation.

“It’s the fourth time this week she’s gotten out of this house! What type of guys are you hiring, because they all seem quite incompetent to me! How hard can it be to keep tabs on a little girl!” Your mother’s voice boomed down the hall and permeated through your door, the shrillness of her voice able to penetrate your earbuds.

You raised an eyebrow, removing a bud from your ear to change your motive from overhearing to eavesdropping.

“At some point you have to come to accept that she’s top tier in the department of mischief and getting away with it with a mother like you.” Your father seemed to be taunting your mother, laughing off his previous statement and you could only imagine the enraged look on your mother’s face as she stared down the man she married.

Your parent’s marriage had been on the outs lately because of you. You couldn’t spend your whole life cooped up in their house—it became quickly apparent just how necessary it still was when you unintentionally got an Umbra killed in the line of duty, trying to protect you from the vengeful outside world. It was at that point that your mother realized your father had continued with his risky business.

“Oh, so now it’s my fault her life is in danger? Maybe if you hadn’t led such a flowing blood trail, they wouldn’t know that you even had a daughter in the first place!”

You winced at the unceremonious sounds of glass smashing around on the marble floor. He was a whiskey sipper and it didn’t take long anymore for your father to become a complete fool and get a little aggressive with your mother. You didn’t have to guess what the sound was—you father had intentionally chucked his glass to the floor to make a point—and silence ensued. Your mother was used to this by now; divorce was just around the corner.

“You are the one who taught her how to protect herself—she’ll use it on anyone she deems threatening,” he slurred, successfully ticking his wife off even more than she already was.

“You’d think men who are trained to deal with this type of thing would be able to handle it. She’s just a little girl.”

“You keep saying that but she’s of age now. Do you remember where you were at when you were twenty one? You had fifty kills under your belt,” his punitive voice reminded her, dripping with venom though a little slurred.

“You will always find a way to turn this on me.”

“So what do you suggest then, all-seeing-eye?”

Another unceremonious smashing of glasses jerked you under your covers. It was already so late at night and you had been trying to sleep, relaxing to the placid music in your ears, the moonlight trickling through your blinds just enough to illuminate the room to realize every detail of it as you glowered at nothing in particular.

The silence continued, which was a little disconcerting. Your father asked a question, and he mostly demanded answers so when no reply came, you ripped the covers away from your body and tossed your headphones to the side and touched your feet to the soft shag rug covering the chilled marble flooring of your room.

It took only a moment for your feet to slide into the slippers you left next to your bed and head out the door of your bedroom. The Umbra posted outside your door turned, concernedly, to give you a look and reached his arm out to block you from advancing, but you shoved it out of the way, almost completely disregarding him. You shuffled down the hall to the Dutch doors of your parents’ bedroom, having every intention of throwing them open to ask what could possibly be so pressing and heated to be breaking glass, but you were stopped when another hand grabbed your arm.

“Step off,” you growled, turning your widened eyes to the man stopping your attempts. He was suit clad, as all of them were. The sheer determination in your eye to interrupt their little conference was nearly dreadful.

“I’m ordered to keep you out of the room,” he tried, voice firm but intention unsure.

“I’m ordering you to take a fucking hike,” you snapped back, “This is entirely my business—it’s not as if I couldn’t hear the whole conversation from my bedroom.”

He released your arm, a man whose name was entirely unknown to you as the turnover of these men was so great, you could hardly keep their names straight before they were replaced by new employees.

Your attention shifted back to the Dutch doors, not even bothering to turn the handle as you heaved the center crease, propelling both doors open and shake the walls upon impact, disturbing the wall adornments in the near vicinity.

Two sets of eyes were immediately on you as you scanned the luxurious master bedroom before landing on the culprits of your disturbance. The man who previously tried to stop you stood tall and presented, waiting to speak once spoken to, but your parents had other ideas.

Glossy eyes fell unto them, waiting for an explanation once you checked that everyone was in one piece, that there were no mishaps like you initially suspected. Glass scattered the floor, expensive whiskey trickling in this direction and that, your father sitting and your mother standing, enough distance between them.

They both looked at you, waiting for you to say something, so you took it upon yourself to open the conversation.

“What the fuck is so important that you must discuss so stridently past midnight?”

Your mother approached you, reaching out a hand to perhaps offer some solace from the hostility she knew you’d overheard, but you clouted it away.

“I mean, I know what you’re discussing, but does it have to be done so noisily and, I don’t know, so inconveniently?” you inquired, disregarding your mother’s proximity and focused a majority of your attention and the entirety of your gaze on your temperately toasted father.

“Your father and I were discussing his inability to hire anyone even abstemiously qualified to keep watch of you while we sort out his retirement.”

She used the term retirement very loosely. It really was just to cover up the fact that while your mother had been kept in the dark, your father couldn’t let go of his old life and continued to indulge in pilfering everything from money to fine art, cars to properties—whether that involved violent ends or not was not your business, but seemed to be a bastardized clarification of why it was your problem.

Despite all of that, your father was a successful businessman, legally. He used gargantuan proportions of his wealth for charity purposes and auctioneering. If that was to cleanse his wrongdoings in some sick and twisted way, that was his shtick; at any rate, it caused a lot of elegant and, for lack of better words, superfluous gatherings at your estate. You called it superfluous, because it was really just a gaudy attempt to prove your father’s status in the community—and what better way to do so than throw extravagant cocktail parties—since he’d been questioned by other members of the community of his authenticity. But who really needed authenticity when it was all about charity in the first place.

Amongst the vast amounts of people who attended these events, which were typically celebrations for winning a high bid or for receiving a letter of recognition for contributions, there could be anyone looking to end your father, or, perhaps, yourself. That was where the Umbra came in.

“If you honestly expect me to be under twenty four hour surveillance by a man twice my age and me be quite unprotestingly accepting of it, I think the both of you need to reevaluate. I want nothing more than to remove myself from these slime balls. It’s disgusting to be so objectified by middle-aged men.”

Silence fell over your little family, the realization of your discontentment with the Umbra finally washing over the face of your mother. You’d leave it to them to figure out, “Clean this up, and try to actually let the residence of this house, including myself, get some sleep.”

You dismissed yourself, spinning on the polished floor to head back to your room. The shuffles among the silence seemed to be deafening, only drowned by the clopping of black dress shoes as those on duty returned to their assigned posts.

Pithily, you slammed your room door and crawled back into bed, hardly having the mind to remove your slippers, pleased when they removed themselves, descending to the floor at their own volition. The covers had been half-tucked over your body, face down in the pillows and forcefully shut your eyes in otiose attempts to sleep.

Days passed and for once the quarrelling ceased. It was the first time in a while that you’d approached them in such a manner. It was disrespectful, sure, but it appeared to be the only avenue by which you could get both of them to listen at the same time.

There was muttering amongst many of the house staff about a new young hire, information attempting to be hidden from you, as they all knew how much you just adored new Umbra hires. It must have been the reason your mother called for your appearance in the foyer in the first place. She could hear you coming down the hall, the almost silent clops of suede peep-toe wedges making your presence known.

“This is my gorgeous daughter, your assignment.” Your mother was in the middle of a sentence when you’d finally made it within ear shot. You knew you should have worn something besides what you were. A rayon crepe black sundress. Of course, the dress was flattering. A simple but elegant white floral print, fit and flare cut, puff sleeves and a regency style lace trimmed neckline to top it all off. Your hair in loose beach curls shrouded a bit of your face as you avoided gaze with the new hire.

You had anticipated mental drools, a predatory look of epic proportions—the type you normally got but gave your best attempt to brush off. You stance was implicative of your mood, hip jutted to the side with your arms crossed over your chest, very closed off body language. Out of the corner of your eye, though, you didn’t notice the stares you were used to.

He examined your face, the spoiled brat look written all over it. Fancy makeup, shimmery earrings, perfectly styled hair and flattering but expensive clothing. You were the definition of an only child to a filthy rich set of parents. His gaze never faltered from your eyes, though you knew he was scanning every bit of you he could see, but not in an objectifying way—it was almost as if he was measuring you up.

It was your turn to give him a good judging onceover. His suit was perfectly pressed and his stance was secure, feet shoulder width apart, chest out and shoulders square, hands hooked behind his back, jaw firm and head high. He was as legit as they came, so you softened a little.

Amidst your final mental verdict, your mother was calling your name somewhere in the back of your mind. Once you finally snapped back to reality, your mother cordially introduced you to one another.

“This is Wong Yukhei, a prospect from Hong Kong. He’s come a long way—”

You were already done listening, distracted by his sharp features. For such a young man, his jawline and cheekbones were pretty set. His eyes, a gorgeous mix between coffee and ebony, serious and attentive, stared you down. You examined the rest of his features. His nose was straight, buttoned on the end. His jaw tightened when your eyes fell onto his lips. They were a pale muted rose, top thicker than bottom and before you were staring too long, your eyes regarded his honey brown locks, parted on the side, hardly considered combed—some tassels were falling into his eyes.

He was tall, an observation you’d missed upon first sight and judging by his stance, his set jaw, and the wear of his pants, he was fit. He had to be for this type of job, especially considering your agility and tendency to disappear unwarranted.

His ears were pierced. That Cupid’s bow was something else, glittering in the dim light of the foyer, all natural light from the skylights above. His neck was long and slender, fading into square shoulders with the curve of his traps, which you only became aware of by the fit of his jacket, hung up a little too high for a normal boy his age. He was easily unlike anything you’d ever experienced around here before.

When he finally spoke, his voice was something ethereal. For such a young man, his pitch was deep, too deep. You hadn’t even realized your mother had stopped talking until he was speaking. His voice was velvet in your ears. Suddenly, you were moving. Despite his velvet voice, you were finding it difficult to focus on exactly what he was saying—it was short lived and your mother was talking again as you headed down the hall, herself at the head of the train and you the caboose, sandwiching Yukhei between to take the first right, which was the hallway your bedroom was down.

Speaking of, your mother mentioned you being Yukhei’s new assignment. Your heart skipped a beat; it had to have, when your mother stopped at the door across the hall from your bedroom. What had happened to the previous resident of that room? It was always a seamless transition when someone new took that room.

“… the bathroom is that door there…”

You were almost panicking when she pointed to your door. Yukhei was so serious about this job; he didn’t even turn to look at it and took the information at face value, having no particular significance or point of interest to him. It was a job, a job he was paid for, a professional job.

Wong Yukhei was your new personal bodyguard.

#yukhei #lucas #yukhei scenarios #lucas scenarios #nctwriters #nct #nct scenarios #bodyguard!lucas #this boy won't let me live so i'm going to spend my days writing this since i've had this idea for some time now and lucas fits the bill #good day infinites

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anctilbrayen · 4 years ago

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stopharassmentinssports · 4 years ago

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Op-Ed: Inconspicuous, Not Insignificant

I hope you have paid attention to the countless accusation’s athletes have made regarding sexual assault in their respective sports. You likely have seen social media platforms discussing the aspects of these accusations. The perpetrator could have been a coach, staff member, or a fellow athlete. You may have heard of these acts, but you probably did not go and research any particular case. Chances are, you also did not reflect on any of the significant number of cases to help yourself bring awareness of sexual assault within your sport of choice, whether you watch or participate.

The cases you have seen are the tip of the iceberg compared to the total amount of cases of sexual assault in sports. So many cases go unreported and unnoticed. Why is that? Assault charges and cases in sports go unnoticed possibly because it is difficult to determine exactly how many cases of sexual assault are not reported by the victims. However, given the lack of available statistics, a number of anonymous surveys suggest the problem is much bigger than is being reported. An article titled Sexual Assault of Young Athletes stated, “2%-8% of children are currently being sexually assaulted in the context of sports”. That data demonstrates that approximately 2 out of every 25 minors in sports are sexually assaulted or harassed in some way. It is very difficult to get exact data on sexual assault at college level sports because there are certain laws that do not allow that information to be open to the public. But with some of the cases discussed later, it shows that sexual assault is happening at that level, as well.

It could also possibly be that there is little press on these cases because no charges have been filed against the perpetrator. Some victims, understandably, want to go through the process of identification and reporting quickly and quietly. But it also may suggest no one really cares about sexual assault in sports. Or maybe no one is holding these perpetrators accountable for their disgusting actions at all. Or there could possibly be some sort of bias towards these victims of sexual abuse in their sport.

We may never know what is truly going on with sexual assault in sports because of the very small number of reported cases, but we can hope that people are beginning to awaken to an understanding that these vile actions come with vile consequences. We need more press on these topics because it will be the only way for athletes, and the communities surrounding them, to truly learn that they are being seen and heard and allow those indirectly affected to reflect on the problem of these sexual assaults in sports cases.

The Opposite Argument

Some may say that there are good and valid reason why these situations and cases of sexual assault in sports are not and should not be in the mainstream media. Their main reasoning seems to argue that giving the cases of sexual assault in sports a prominent space in public reporting would fundamentally change the way we look at sports or perceive certain athletes.

We idolize our sports heroes, including coaches, and though we know they are human and fallible we absolutely don’t want them to be so. Indeed, in many ways our society has chosen to use sports as an escape from some of the harsh realities of life. These instances of abuse, then, invade that ‘escape.’ In addition, some might also argue that we are actually protecting the victims by discouraging publicity.

My Argument

“You Either Die A Hero, Or You Live Long Enough To See Yourself Become The Villain”

— Harvey Dent in The Dark Knight

The answer to the opposing argument is, yes, of course, more publicity is going to change how we look at sports and certain athletes. When there is justice for these victims, especially where the perpetrator is otherwise well-loved by the media and spectators, the community should roundly turn on them and condemn their actions because their “god”-like status is a revocable gift that has meaning and consequences.

It can and must change for the better. That day will only be worth celebrating when the perpetrators are banned from their sport, lose their job, tarnish their reputation, and/or have extreme media backlash. If an athlete, coach, or staff member does choose to sexually assault someone, they deserve to be punished. Such punishment should come swiftly and completely.

The most publicly, well-known, sexual assault cases in sports are cases that could have some sort of “appeal” factor. These cases might draw more of an audience than cases of sexual assault that do not have that same variable. The factor could include a celebrity athlete being the predator or the victim, the situation or event that relates to the assault, or anything that will make a good headline.

Throughout my time researching cases, observing people’s and the media’s responses to sexual assault in sports, it seems as though there might be some sort of bias. There is a positive bias that could be towards sports, the positivity of sports, and what sports do for individuals.

With the love of this sport, there absolutely is a bias that blinds what is happening behind closed doors in their beloved sport: sexual assault, harassment and discrimination. Some try very hard to “look on the bright side” of everything and only look at the positive. What I have theorized is that some almost purposefully “skip over” or do not look at the information that could possibly change the overall view of sports.

Those individuals do not want change in viewpoints because they do not want anything to “distract” them from what is really important, the actual playing of the sports. The assault and harassment forces people to look at sports for what they really can be, flawed. Just like any system that is praised for its excellence.

We ultimately have to change this “look on the bright side” view because it is invalidating these victims’ trauma and enabling further abuse. Those who have been assaulted by the coaches, fellow athletes, or sport staff members are looking for justice. We have to care, show empathy, and change our mindset so we can prevent any further form of assault or harassment in these sports.

Larry Nassar v. Scott Shaw

The main difference between the sexual assault case of Larry Nassar and Scott Shaw is how widespread their actions are known. Even if someone is not part of the sports community, they inevitably know what happened with Larry Nassar. Even if someone is part of the sports community, they likely don’t know what happened with Scott Shaw.

Larry Nassar was a U.S. Gymnastics physician from Michigan. A lawsuit filed in 2016, which became more public in 2018, alleged that he sexually assaulted over “250 women and girls dating back to 1992”. Nassar is now serving his life sentence for those crimes.

Scott Shaw was an athletic trainer for the women’s swimming team at San Jose University. He has been accused of sexual assault by over 17 female swimmers since 2009. There have been NO charges filed against h im and he WAS NOT fired from his position as an athletic trainer. He actually resigned from this position on September 2nd, after old and new allegations were revisited by a new administrator.

To be certain, there is a difference between the numbers of females sexually assaulted by each of these men. Does the number of victims really define how much sympathy towards the perpetrator we show? Are we really talking about showing sympathy towards sexual predators in specific sports? Why is the media so focused on numbers? Even one assaulted athlete should engender significant community outrage. Why are overwhelming and shocking numbers required? Are we so desensitized that only catastrophic loss is worthy of attention?

Heightened media coverage of these sexual assault cases does not mean that it is the “worst case we have seen so far”. Heightened media coverage merely means that there is a certain aspect of the assaults that is eye catching to most of the population. In Larry Nassar’s sexual assault case, Aly Raisman, Gabby Douglas, and Simone Biles are some of the most well-known Olympic gymnasts in the world who came forward in the media with their experience of assault with Larry Nassar.

Scott Shaw’s case did not grab most of the media’s attention because there have been no official charges filed, no legally recognized “proof”, and no current investigations. Therefore, no appeal. Seriously? We can do better.

What follows is what media is not showing you. Even though these cases are not mainstream, they are still so extremely important.

Jerry Sandusky v. “The Unknown”

Jerry Sandusky was the founder of the organization The Second Mile, which helped care for young boys who have an absent father figure in their life. He was also the former President of Penn State University. He was convicted of 8 counts of involuntary deviate sexual intercourse, 7 counts of indecent assault, 1 count of criminal intent to commit indecent assault, 9 counts of unlawful contact with minors, 10 counts of corruption of minors and 10 counts of endangering the welfare of children. That is 45 total charges against him.

I am comparing the case of Jerry Sandusky to “The Unknown” (an “as yet undisclosed” assault). Based on what we do know, there is inevitably another case like it, but no one has talked about it and there is no media attention about it. We know that there are more sexual assault cases in the United States and in the world that have not yet come to light. That is the media’s fault for not digging into and fully covering these topics and our fault for not insisting that they include such stories. We absolutely must talk about these incidents otherwise they are going to be repeated endlessly without any meaningful change.

High profile cases shine a light on what the public might actually be interested in, a compelling story (often defined by its extreme and horrific level of tragedy). It absolutely can be something to tell your children for which to watch out. Something that will scare them enough so that it impacts their child to the point where they will learn from it. Something that will teach them how to respond to these types of dangerous situations. This is a positive side effect of a terrible case, but can it really be that this is the only way to educate and reach large numbers of people? I hope that is not true. We do this work to ensure it will never be true. We have to learn to make ourselves care about the smaller and less high-profile cases or we will never stop the big ones.

What You Can Do to Help This Cause

The best thing for you to do to help this cause is talk to every athlete you know and those close to them about this problem and how to identify and avoid it. In addition, do your research and write columns, letters to the editor, or suggestions to media outlets to bring attention to the countless cases of sexual assault. Just because these cases might be inconspicuous does not mean the cases should remain insignificant in our consciousness. We must demand that the media and ourselves care about these sexual assault cases in sports, or else nothing will change in our society. Change is necessary to prevent our children, and their children from being put in these traumatic positions.

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