#almost ten years too late for the op but passing this along

[personnage-neutre]

Transcript and translation under the cut.

(L’INTERVIEWEUR [off]): Ce chien, vous l’avez déjà vu. Ces culottes de golf, cette silhouette vous sont familières. Vous croyez avoir trouvé, mais vous luttez encore. Et pourtant, c’est bien lui. C’est Tintin. Nous sommes au Bois de Boulogne, le vrai, celui des Parisiens, et ce Tintin est bien celui dont vous avez suivi les aventures. (INTERVIEWER [off]): You’ve seen this dog before. These plus-fours and that silhouette are familiar to you. You think you’ve got it, but you’re still struggling. And yet it’s really him. It’s Tintin. We’re in the Bois de Boulogne, the real one, the Parisians’, and this Tintin is really the one whose adventures you’ve followed.

(I): Bonjour Tintin. (I): Hello, Tintin.

(JPT): Bonjour. (JPT): Hello.

(I): Très heureux de vous rencontrer. C’est pas possible, vous sortiez de l’album, la ressemblance est hallucinante. Pourtant vous êtes bien vivant. (I): Very glad to meet you. It can’t be, you’re right out of an album, the resemblance is staggering. But you’re very much alive.

(JPT): Ah, je crois, oui. (rire) (JPT): Oh, yes, I think so. (laughter)

(I): Vous êtes un personnage de chair et d’os. Comment vous appelez-vous exactement?  (I): You’re a character of flesh and blood. What exactly is your name?

(JPT): Jean-Pierre Talbot. (JPT): Jean-Pierre Talbot.

(I): Est-ce que vous avez lu toutes les aventures de Tintin? (I): Have you read all of the adventures of Tintin?

(JPT): Bien sûr! (JPT): Of course! 

(I): Depuis toujours? (I): Since forever?

(JPT): Oh, depuis tout petit, depuis euh, depuis que je me rappelle vivre!  (JPT): Oh, since I was very young, since, uh, as long as I can remember!

(I): Comment vous a-t-on découvert? (I): How did they discover you?

(JPT [off]): On peut demander ça à Chantal Rivière. (JPT [off]): You can ask Chantal Rivière that.

(I [off]): Mademoiselle Chantal Rivière. Une toute première question d’abord, quelle est votre nationalité? (I [off]): Ms. Chantal Rivière. One question first of all, what is your nationality?

(CR): Je suis belge. (CR): I’m Belgian.

(I [off]): Vous êtes belge, vous aussi, comme tous les personnages de cette aventure, puisque Tintin, lui, est- (I [off]): You’re Belgian, too, like all the characters in this adventure, since Tintin is-

(JPT): Je suis né à Spa, en Ardennes. (JPT): I was born in Spa, in the Ardennes.

(I): Bon. Alors, ça fait plaisir à voir qu’un personnage belge, mondialement connu, créé par un Belge, et maintenant, euh, en votre personne, en chair et en os, et vous êtes belge aussi. Et- Racontez-nous comment vous avez découvert Tintin. (I): Right. So, it’s good to see that a Belgian character, known the world over, created by a Belgian, and now, with you, in flesh and blood, and you’re Belgian too. And- Tell us how you discovered Tintin.

(CR): Eh bien, j’avais été chargé de cette sympathique mission pendant les vacances d’été, et je me suis trouvée sur une plage, euh, à Ostende plus précisément, le quinze août, vous devinez le monde qu’il y avait, et j’ai découvert, euh, Tintin, qui… s’occupait d’une petite fille, euh, en larmes, et, je me suis dit, euh, il a tout à fait la silhouette de Tintin, je me suis approchée de lui, alors je lui dis, euh��� (CR): Well, I had been given that pleasant mission during summer vacation, and I was on a beach, um, in Ostend more specifically, the 15th of August, you can imagine how many people there were, and I discovered, um, Tintin, who… was taking care of a little girl, uh, who was crying, and, I said to myself, uh, he has exactly Tintin’s silhouette, I went up to him, and I said to him, uh…

(I): Regardez, euh, dites-le-lui. (I): Look, uh, say it to him.

(JPT): Ah, bon. (rire) (JPT): Oh, okay. (laughter)

(CR): -Je lui dis, euh, je ne vous connais pas, mais, euh, je suis certaine que vous, vous connaissez très bien tous les albums d’Hergé, les albums, euh, des aventures de Tintin et Milou. (CR): -I said to him, uh, I don’t know you, but I’m sure that you’re very familiar with all of Hergé’s albums, uh, the adventures of Tintin and Snowy.

(JPT): Oui, oui. Oui. (JPT): Mhm. Yes.

(CR): Alors, est-ce qu’à l’école, on vous a jamais dit que vous ressembliez au personnage? (CR): So, has anyone at school ever told you that you looked like the character?

(JPT): Si, une fois, justement. (JPT): Yes, actually, once.

(CR): Est-ce que cela vous amuserait, est-ce que cela vous intéresserait, d’interpréter le rôle de Tintin au cinéma? (CR): Would you like to, would you be interested in playing Tintin in a movie?

(JPT): Oui, je veux bien, mais il faut demander à mes parents, parce que moi… (rire) (JPT): Yes, I’d like that, but I have to ask my parents, because I… (laughter)

(I [off]): Alors, comme ça, le jour, on vous a demandé d’interpréter, pour le monde entier de devenir, pour le monde entier le personnage de Tintin, cela ne vous a pas fait plus d’effet?  (I [off]): So just like that, one day, you were asked to play, for the whole world, to become for the whole world the character Tintin, that’s all the effect it had on you?

(JPT): Cela me semblait naturel, euh, je me sentais déjà Tintin. (JPT): It seemed natural, um, I already felt like I was Tintin.

(I [off]): Et Milou, lui, quelle est sa nationalité? (I [off]): And what’s Snowy’s nationality?

[Milou gémit dans le micro.] [Snowy whines into the microphone.]

(JPT [off]): Il est belge. (JPT [off]): He’s Belgian.

(I [off]): Lui aussi. (I [off]): Him too.

(JPT [off]): Oui oui. (JPT [off]): Mhm.

(I [off]): Monsieur Hergé, quelle a été votre réaction lorsque vous avez rencontré Jean-Pierre Talbot? (I [off]): Mr. Hergé, what was your reaction when you met Jean-Pierre Talbot?

(H): Il ressemble pas mal à Tintin. Il est très bien, c’est un grand garçon, peut-être un peu plus grand que Tintin, mais il est… simple, franc, euh, naturel, c’est un garçon qui, je crois qu’on n’a pas pu découvrir mieux que ce garçon-là.   (H): He looks a lot like Tintin. He’s very good, he’s a tall kid, maybe a little taller than Tintin, but he’s… unassuming, honest, uh, natural, he’s a boy that, I think that we couldn’t have found any better than that boy.

(I [off]): Et, en tant que père spirituel de Tintin, euh, n’avez-vous pas senti une espèce de filiation?  (I [off]): And, as Tintin’s spiritual father, um, do you feel some kind of kinship?

(H): C’est très difficile à dire, donc- non, pas- non, pas ça, mais enfin… c’était le garçon qui, à mon avis, parmi tous ceux qui ont été, euh, contacté, qui ont été vu, c’était celui qui à mon avis ressemblait le plus au Tintin dessiné. Comment voulez-vous, d’ailleurs, il est impossible qu’un personnage réel, euh, ressemble fidèlement à un personnage dessiné, et encore qu’à un personnage comme Tintin, qui est un personnage- qui est plus un schéma, hein, qu’un personnage, qu’un personnage réel. (H): It’s very hard to say, so- no, not- no, not that, but still… He was the boy that, in my opinion, among all those that were, uh, contacted, who we saw, he was the one that in my opinion looked the most like the drawn Tintin. Besides, what do you expect, it’s impossible that a real-life character, uh, would look exactly like a drawn character, and especially a character like Tintin, who’s a character- who’s more of a framework than a real-life character.

(Chantal van Melkebeke used the pseudonym Rivière for her work on the movies to avoid her father Jacques van Melkebeke's reputation.)

A video showing young Jean-Pierre Talbot (Tintin in live action) and Hergé. (I didn’t understand a word, because I don’t speak French, but I think Jean is very cute there) I had to cut a piece of the video to upload it here. If you want to check the full video, click here: x ENJOY!!

[helliontherapscallion]

Headcanons for SBI Sibling!Parrot Hybrid!Reader

(A/N): ope, went a little overboard with this one (also it’s not proofread, so sorry about any mistakes)

You have wings on your back (the feather pattern depends on what parrot floats your boat)

If you’re a Scarlet Macaw, Blue-and-Yellow Macaw, or Chestnut-Fronted Macaw, then you have black lines on your cheeks and heavy black lines around your eyes (think Hawks from bnha but less pointy)

If you are a Hyacinth Macaw, you have yellow markings around your eyes and mouth

If you’re a cockatiel, you have a killer mohawk/hair that is always very pointy and orange circles on your cheeks (how cute!)

I have a feeling that your hair is incredibly soft

Very sensitive wings

I feel like your teeth would be sharp and your nails would normally be fast-growing, long, and sharp

You tilt your head like impossibly far when you’re confused or trying to hear something better

Like your ear would almost be touching your shoulder

The head movements are very jerky and kinda just happen on their own when you hear something so you would have a lot of neck pain : (

You’re allergic to chocolate : (

I feel like people would underestimate you greatly and think you’re nothing except the ditzy comedic relief

Parrots are actually very intelligent

It bums you out to hear people say things like that behind your back when they think you can’t hear, but you try to not let them get to you

You give the best cuddles and are very affectionate with the people you’re close to (you’re also very cautious of strangers)

You’re also very in tune with the emotions of the people around you

You see someone sad? Head nuzzles and wing hugs

You see someone angry? You deescalate the situation the best you can and make sure they’re ok afterwards

You can dilate and contract your pupils rapidly at will

You may or may not stare at people doing it until they notice you staring or until they get creeped out

You fuck hard with any type of seed, nut, or fruit

When you get excited, it’s literally so cute??

Like you do everything parrots do

Little happy pitter patters with your feet, flutter your wings, your pupils contract and dilate rapidly, you make a ton of mob sounds

You’re easily excitable, hyper, and happy most of the time

It makes everyone happy to see you so excited so they would often go out of their way to get you things that make you happy

“Hey (y/n) I have some extra melon seeds if you want em!”

*Pupils contract and dilate rapidly*

You are loud

Like very loud

And very talkative

Like everyone knows where you are at all times

If you’re quiet and they know you’re around, either something is very wrong or they’re about to get pranked

God forbid you start to scream, your scream is loud enough to deafen someone for a brief amount of time and would leave everyone’s ears ringing for days on end

The mere mention of yours and Tommy's names together in one sentence is enough to give Philza a headache (someone give this poor man a couple of advils and a long vacation)

You two are literal demons when you’re together

Very chaotic relationship

You both like to fuck with people by sneaking up behind them

You would make mob sounds and Tommy would jump them before you two made a break for it

You and Tommy almost got killed by Techno a few times, but in your opinion the look on his face was 100% worth it every time

I feel like you would cart him up and down from the towers he builds

He could relate to being stereotyped as the stupid loud one, so he recognizes right away when you’re sad about it and will try to cheer you up

His main go to is the jukebox

Oh my god if he plays his jukebox around you, you go full send with your dancing

*AGGRESSIVE HEADBANGING*

He would laugh at your awful dancing, but he would join you eventually

Cat and Mellohi go hard

Speaking of music, Wilbur uses you as a walking soundboard

He needs a sound sample? You better prepare for spending most of your day recreating the sound

He needs back up vocals? You spend most of your day listening to his voice and other singers so you could replicate it

You don’t want to disappoint him so you try extra hard to appease his picky music composition

You kinda stress yourself out over it sometimes

When he notices (which he will, he’s very perceptive), he immediately calls it a day and has some sibling bonding time

You both bond over liking to eat strange things

Amazon macaws like to lick clay deposits on riverbanks so you like to have some on you at all times to lick when you get stressed

Wilbur carries some in a bag in his pocket and you carry a bag of sand 

Whenever one of you notices the other has a rough day, you give each other your respective stuff

You have to be sneaky with it though, Philza always takes away nonedible stuff from his children if he sees them trying to eat it (he has good intentions tho)

It always looks like a drug deal 

With Techno, I feel like he would find you incredibly annoying at first with how loud you are

He would actually start to hate you when you started to sneak up behind him 

It got to the point to whenever he would hear your voice he would get irrationally mad and have to leave the house for a few hours

He, like everyone outside your family, would think you were useless and incredibly stupid

That was until he passed Tommy’s room one day and overheard you crying and telling Tommy about your insecurities

He would spend the next few days ignoring you bc he felt bad

He would spend those days contemplating on why he treated you like he did

Coming to the realization that you were likely trying to get closer to him and you were just being yourself, making him feel like the biggest piece of shit

He totally had no idea how to confront you about this, so naturally he went to Philza (that man was literally so happy that his children were gonna start to get along)

He would spend the day gathering golden melons because he found out that you’d never tried golden melons before from Philza

When he approached you one day with an apology and some golden melons, you were suspicious at first

He hated you, so why would he get you these things if he didn’t need anything from you?

Quickly finding that his apology is genuine and he felt incredibly bad for treating you like that over the years

You picked up on his guilt pretty quickly and made quick work to reassure him

He would take you on short trips and would soon find that you’re very useful in detecting mobs and deterring creepers with cat noises

He would never admit it, but he loves it when you would scare Tommy or Wilbur, thinking it’s hilarious 

You also found out that carrying a seven and a half foot tall piglin hybrid was incredibly difficult to do, especially when flying

You two managed to get only about ten feet above the ground before your wings gave out under the strain and you fell on him

“(Y/n) has earned the achievement ‘When Pigs Fly’” flashed on everyone’s comm tablets that day

That wasn’t fun trying to explain to Philza

Philza would be ecstatic to have someone to fly with that he didn’t have to carry

He would take you on flights when you had too much energy 

Sometimes racing each other and competing to do tricks midair (which sometimes you both rope your brothers into judging)

Late night flights when you need to get your mind off from something

Watching the sunrise together in silence for once

Bonding over being able to see ultraviolet light when everyone else couldn’t

You always give him the shiny things you come across and he gives you your favorite snacks

He always fusses over your wings, sometimes preening them for you

Helping each other through molts

Matches your excitement sometimes when you’re really happy

You feel bad whenever you hear stories of how difficult you were as a baby

He’s quick to reassure you that raising you was worth it and you turned out to be a great person

But he wouldn’t be lying when he said you were a difficult infant

Your terrible twos stage? His literal hell

Philza swears he can still hear ringing from whenever you would throw tantrums as a toddler, even years after you left your toddler age

He also still has some scars from when you went through your biting phase (teething was awful for you, his poor baby)

But he’s happy he was the one that raised you, he genuinely enjoys your presence

If you’re in a really affectionate mood he is more than willing to let you cuddle up to him while he reads a book or something

WING HUGS WING HUGS WING HUGS WIN-

When he’s had a long day and is stressed out, you immediately pick up on that and do everything in your power to make sure your brothers are quiet and behaved, try to find out what made him so stressed, and sometimes go out of your way to take care of it for him

You try to be the one taking care of him for once as much because he’s taken care of you so well throughout the years

He can tell if you’re overwhelmed or upset just with one glance at your ruffled feathers and your rapidly dilating and contracting pupils

Immediately pulling you out of the situation and letting you talk it out

Whenever he finds you sad about your insecurities, he points out every part of your personality that he loves

That’s before he hunts down the person that made you feel like this (he really lives up to his title of ‘The Angel of Death’)

Overall, you wouldn’t trade your family for the world

[heybeybey]

Ai-Ai Gasa

Since seeing this post from @rivapetosprmcy, I keep thinking of a “sequel” of sorts where Levi catches Petra drawing the love umbrella. 

Pairing: Rivetra | Levi x Petra

Genre: Romance

Summary:  

What are those two up to now?

Levi decided to approach Petra and Oluo but before he can even speak up, he finally sees what Petra wrote on the wall. 

Huh, so this is the reason why she always serves him tea first. 

---

Levi takes the last few coins, pocketing the change before nodding at the shopkeeper in thanks. Today’s their scheduled biweekly restocking day and as usual, his squad insisted that they all go together since it can be a “bonding moment” of sorts for the whole team. 

Eld and Gunther went off to restock their alcohol, medicine and bandages while he, Petra and Oluo go for the groceries. He asked Oluo and Petra to wait outside as he wraps up and pays for their items, making sure they’re not forgetting anything. 

Instead of seeing them just a few steps outside of the shop, Oluo and Petra are across the street. They were facing a wall as they discuss something.  

What are those two up to now?

Petra started to write something on the wall. 

Great. 

He leaves his subordinates alone for a few minutes and now they’re fucking around and committing vandalism. 

Instead of calling out to them, Levi decided to approach Petra and Oluo. Before he can even speak up, he stops as he finally sees what Petra wrote on the wall.

Huh, so this is the reason why she always serves him tea first.

A triangle with a line in the middle. The words “Capt. Levi” and “Petra” written on each side. A heart above to top it all off.

He knows what that symbol means. Levi may be the oldest in their team but he’s not stupid.

“Ral. Bozado.” He sees the both of them freeze and if he was the type who’d laugh out loud, he’d be slapping his knee right now. 

He retains his impassive face instead as Oluo immediately turns around. 

“Captain Levi!” Oluo exclaimed, trying to shield the wall from him.

Petra, on the other hand, remains frozen on the spot. 

“I believe I called you, Ral.” 

Petra still refuses to face him and he notices how the hand holding the nail she drew the symbol with was starting to shake. He’s slightly concerned because it seems she stopped breathing too. Seeing that she won’t be turning around anytime soon, he steps forward instead, giving Oluo a pointed look to move away. 

His eyes scans his and Petra’s names on the wall before turning his head towards said woman. 

“You have good handwriting. Considering that you wrote this with a nail,” he says casually, as if they’re just discussing the weather and not a younger subordinate having a raging crush on her superior.  

Her face is so red now, he’d think she got bitchslapped ten times. 

“Captain, I’m sorry! It doesn’t mean anything. I swear!” she finally blurts out. 

“Mhmm.”

“Oluo and I were just messing around, right Oluo?”

Oluo doesn’t answer. Most likely scared that he’ll get his butt kicked by the captain if he does join the conversation. Levi remains silent, assessing the situation, before speaking up to address his other subordinate.

“Oluo, go help Eld and Gunther. They’re doing a shit job for something as simple as shopping for medical supplies.”

Oluo hesitates for a moment, looking between Petra and Levi before saluting him and walking away. 

“Captain, please don’t kick me out of the squad!” Petra exclaims once they’re both alone. 

“Petra-”

“I’ll be on toilet duty for three months! Or! Paperwork maybe? Do you want me to do all your paperwork instead? Of course, you’ll still have to supervise but at least you don’t have to stay up late every night-

“Ral-”

“No, wait. I’ll buy all your cleaning supplies for a year straight or-or- I can pay for all your tea supplies-”

“My salary’s higher than yours, Ral.” 

“There must be some way I can make up for this. Do you want me to shoulder the whole team’s chores instead? I didn’t mean to disrespect you captain-”

“Pet-”

“I promise I’ve never allowed my feelings to get in the way!”

“Feelings?” he replies in an almost amused tone. “I thought you said it doesn’t mean anything.”

She finally deflates. “Captain, I’m sorry...”

He watches her and it’s quite comical that the woman in front of him is the type who’d be brave enough to jump straight into a titan’s mouth and kill it from the inside out. By just (accidentally) revealing a crush, her whole body’s shaking  and he just knows she’s about to cry. 

He feels his chest tighten at that thought. 

Awkward silence. Deep down, he knows he should shout at her to stop this shit at once. Romance and feelings shouldn’t have a place in the Scouts. Not when there’s a risk that they’ll die every month. Instead of listening to his better judgement, he allows his curiosity to get the best of him instead. 

“Is this what you meant when you said that you wanted to devote yourself to me?”

Petra seems to realize that there’s no way out of his question. Lying will only get her in further trouble. Who knows what the commander would do if he finds out? Much more if he learns that she flat out lied to her direct commanding officer? “...yes, sir.”

“I see.” He’s quiet for a moment, watching Petra deflate further. It seems the woman may be thinking that she really will get kicked out of the Special Ops now. 

Levi, for all his attempts to repress his sexual urges and feelings, does recognize the fact that his 24-year-old subordinate is beautiful. She’s also kind and skilled to boot. He’s seen the way Oluo looks at her and how even some Scout recruits try to find the guts to approach her and ask her for “tips” when really, it’s just a veiled attempt to get closer to her.

He never allows himself to explore feelings beyond friendship when it comes to Petra. He shouldn’t have even allowed friendship in the first place. How she wormed her way in, he still doesn’t know to this day. 

Levi continues when he noticed that Petra’s emotions show just how her mind is starting to spiral downwards, his voice more quiet than before. “I’m not worth it, Petra.”

That causes her head to snap up. “Sir?” 

“You’re better off with someone who’s not a grumpy midget.” He remembers how Hange can also get creative when describing people. 

In his mind, it’s true. He’s a 34-year-old man who never had a girlfriend. He knows how to kill titans but he doesn’t even know how to romance a girl. He’s a former thug from the Underground and 90% of the women he’d met are taller than him. He knows that if not for his “Humanity’s Strongest” status, he’d be the last man most would choose to go out on a date with. 

He actually heard it once, while he and Erwin were walking along a street in Sina. Two women were giggling and whispering to one another as Levi and Erwin passed by their table in front of a tea shop. 

“Oh, I’d totally bang the commander. Just look at him! I wouldn’t be surprised if half the Scouts are crushing on him. Think we can invite him over for dinner one day?” 

“How about the captain? They say he’s Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.”

“He’s alright, I guess.” The woman shrugs. “A bit on the short side for my taste though.”

“With how he’s always frowning, he actually reminds me of a gremlin,” the other answers in a whisper. 

“Do you think he’d be into blindfolds? I mean, I bet he’d be good in bed with all that training he gets but... you know.” 

The two nobles weren’t exactly discreet in their conversation and he remembers how Erwin gave him a sympathetic look. 

Not that he cares. 

Levi looks at Petra again. She’s been quiet for awhile but now, he sees that she’s now looking at him softly. His squad once noted how Petra’s huge eyes just highlights her emotions even more and this is the first time that he can actually agree. He feels captivated, staring back. 

“Captain...” For all her persistence to deny her feelings awhile ago, the emotions behind this one word reveals just how much truth the love umbrella holds.  

Levi doesn’t give her a chance to continue. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if this conversation actually goes somewhere. He breaks eye contact and turns away from her. 

“Let’s go. We need to go back to base. Training’s in an hour.”

----

Two weeks later, they went back to the market. Since they only needed to restock a few things, they didn’t need to bring the whole squad for this week’s scheduled shopping day. 

He and Petra were about to cross the street when the rain started to fall. Levi took it upon himself to open the umbrella to shield them both from the rain since he only had one bag in hand. 

As they huddle closer together inside the umbrella, Levi remembers their conversation a few weeks ago, the illustrated umbrella with his and her name below the sharp triangle flashes in his mind, and he feels his heartbeat quicken at the thought. 

It seems Petra is thinking of the same thing as he notes the soft blush on her cheeks. 

[pascalispretty]

dial ‘n’ for narcos - one

The Colombian Correspondent

Javier Peña x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Adult themes, references to death, references to violent crime, references to sex, swearing, smoking, drinking

Summary: A Narcos Film Noir AU. Javier Peña has returned to Colombia, and is determined to see justice handed down to the Godfathers of Cali. On his way, he meets a fresh-off-the-plane journalist with a tip burning her hole in her pocket that might just help him crack the Cali racket. (ao3)

¡Al Fin Cayó! The headline of El Tiempo declared, the blocky type seeping slightly into the thin paper where it had been exposed to the humidity. 

Or perhaps it had gotten damp in transit. The papers could take days to arrive at best; the Argentine headlines were almost always weeks out of date by the time they reached the office.

With a sigh, you spread out the paper on your narrow desk, trying not to smudge the ink any further. Below the headline, with all the subtlety and grace of a sledgehammer, was a photo of Escobar laid out on a slab, his mother at his head.

It was nice to know that the news game was a crass one wherever you were in the world.

The reports of Pablo Escobar’s death had crackled over the airwaves well over a week ago, though stories were conflicting.

The police shot him. An American did it. He shot himself.

Either way, Escobar was dead.

To your annoyance, the article was also scanty on the details, barely more than four paragraphs long. Even the cables that Sierra had managed to get through had been sparse, especially on what would happen now that he was dead.

You rapped your knuckles on the walnut wood of the desk before yanking the drawer open. There’s a mess of paper inside, scraps of telegrams and envelopes, unsent memos, and unused stamps.

Somewhere in there was your ticket out of here.

Buried somewhere in there is a letter from Sierra, prematurely aged by how often you’ve looked it over in the last few days.

You found it underneath a receipt for a cab and pored over it once more. Sierra Nimri had been The Telegraph’s Colombian correspondent ever since Pablo Escobar had become an international news story.

Now that he was dead, Teddy James wanted to pull her out of Colombia and rotate her into Cuba, to replace Harry Johnson there. Officially, Harry was getting bumped up to the Brussels gig; unofficially, the higher-ups were getting twitched about how much time he was spending with the commies.

Either way, Teddy James, Latin American Editor and nephew of the publisher, wanted Sierra in Cuba, and so she was going to Cuba. To his mind, her gig in Colombia was over.

You disagreed.

Sierra wrote to you from time to time, handwritten letters accompanying the typed manuscript pages of her latest article. Usually, it was just trivial; notes asking for more of an allowance for bribes or passing on gossip that didn’t have a place in the paper proper.

You’d been working for the Latin American desk of The Telegraph for almost two years now, and nothing had made you sit bolt upright in your rickety chair the way the last paragraph of Sierra’s last letter had.

At the start of the missive, she’d acknowledged Teddy’s request to ship her off to Cuba, but she was adamant that she be replaced in Colombia by another reporter.

Cocaine shipments were up, she argued. The Godfathers of Cali were the new big racket in town, and the paper needed a newshawk on the ground to keep an eye on things. 

There was also the sensational tip she had been given. 

She had been told by Andrés Pastrana that he had listened to a series of tapes that he called ‘narco-cassettes’. She had been told that what was on them was explosive. 

And then, before Pastrana could detonate whatever bombshell he had been about to drop, he’d vanished. 

His left index finger had washed up in the Cauca river, where the rest of him had doubtless been tossed. Now he was having his bones bleached by the water, his secret gone into the river along with him.

Still, it was the break you had been waiting for. You had spent years, first in school and then in various news offices, working your way up the totem pole. You were tired of covering congressional campaign breakfasts and pet pageants. 

Your time working the Latin American desk at The Telegraph had entailed little more than writing occasional updates on stories broken by the correspondents on the ground. From your tiny, cramped office by the stairs, you had read about assassinations and coups, about guerrillas in the jungles and juntas in the pampas. 

You were determined to get the Colombian gig, no matter what Teddy thought about it being a waste of money. 

With a long sigh, you ran your finger along the edge of the letter. Sierra’s writing looked like a spider had danced a jig in some ink, but you’re used to it by now. Holding the worn paper close to your heart, you pushed your chair back and stood up. 

Teddy usually strolled back in from his liquid lunch with the sports editor around two; it was ten past now, and the best time you could think of to argue your case. Hoping the alcohol has done its job on your boss, you took a deep, steadying breath, and stepped out of the office. 

Pastrana had been an important guy, a presidential candidate. Escobar was dead, and all of his men were either pinched or offed; it had to mean Pastrana had found out something serious about Cali. They were more or less the only narco game left in town, certainly the only ones with enough pull to murder a potential president.

There was a story in there somewhere, you could feel it. You needed to see for yourself if you could shake anything loose, and you were past positive that you could talk Teddy into letting you replace Sierra. 

You just had to hope you didn’t end up dumped in the river yourself for your troubles.  

* * * 

Javier Peña tugged at the collar of his shirt with one hand as he drove, trying to loosen it slightly. Before starting his new job as the DEA attaché in Colombia, he had bought fresh clothes. It had seemed like a gig that required a little more formality than his usual jeans and short-sleeved shirts offered. 

So, before he had left Laredo, he’d done a little shopping, feeling ridiculous as he trailed around the store and dodged men whose wives had clearly dragged them inside for fresh duds. 

Still, he was glad to be back in Colombia. The idea of a few weeks at home had seemed tempting at first, especially after his brush with the DEA brass. 

The wedding was what had made him come back to Colombia early. It had been a painfully awkward affair, people that Javi hadn’t seen in years rushing to shake his hand and call him a hero for helping win the War on Drugs. 

They’d been wrong on both counts.

It almost felt like a relief to pull into the parking lot of the grey hunk of concrete that housed the US Embassy in Bogotá, where people were a little more in touch with the reality of what the US was doing in Colombia.

Stoddard, his new deputy, met him at the door and quickly shattered any hope Javier had that his staff was savvier than the general public. It was like being right back at the wedding; people were practically lining up to shake his hand and ask him about Escobar.

He got rid of them as quickly as he could without being openly rude, sending the kid off to find the boxes of files kept on the Cali cartel. 

It was only when he was ensconced in his office, away from the whispers and stares of the new blood that had been rotated into his department, that he felt more at home. Once the door was closed, and the blinds were down, he was free to surround himself with paper, slip off his jacket, and settle down to work. 

The glass of scotch he’d liberally poured for himself helped too. 

From among the paper and photographs, a better image of the Cali cartel started to emerge. 

They were a bunch of slick bastards, with carefully maintained fronts. 

Gilberto and Miguel Rodríguez Orejuela were businessmen of renown in Cali, and Colombia more broadly. Gilberto had graduated from being chairman of the board for Banco de Trabajadores to setting up his own bank, First InterAmericas Bank. 

Together, they also ran a chain of drugstores, donated handsomely to their favourite football team, owned a phone company based out of Cali, and still found the time to run the largest drug cartel in history. 

They were slightly less brazen than Pablo Escobar had been; Pablo had claimed his immense wealth had originated in a firm that loaned out bicycles before he graduated up to a taxi firm. At least the brothers had more obvious sources of wealth

The brothers had two business partners; Chepe Santacruz Londoño, who handled New York operations, and Pacho Herrera, who officially helped run the drugstores, and unofficially ran security for the brothers. He also apparently owned nightclubs and bars all over, a gunsel who was drawn irrepressibly to the nightlife. 

There was an op running in Cali tonight; they’d found a brother of a cartel dealer who’d been willing to cut a deal. Two agents had fitted him up for surveillance and sent him in as a waiter to some shindig the cartel was throwing. 

It felt strange to Javier to not be there overseeing it personally. He was used to being on the ground, not up in some fancy, newly renovated office made almost entirely of glass. 

“Stoddard!” Javi called, rubbing his eyes. The words were starting to swim on the pages, and he wasn’t entirely sure if that was down to the lateness of the hour or the amount of scotch he’d consumed. 

When there was no answer, he stood and pulled the glass door of his office open, the blinds swinging violently at the motion. 

“Stoddard?” He asked, but it was an empty gesture. The hallways beyond his office were dark; his staff had all left him for the night. 

With a look back over his shoulder, Javi decided to call it a night as well. His new office was a mess of paperwork and boxes already, and now that he was up and shaking the stiffness from his legs, he couldn’t imagine sitting at the low, unforgiving couch in his office again. He itched for a cigarette, but he did his best to fight the urge. 

Instead, he decided to indulge in his only remaining vice and headed for the nearest bar. 

Not far from the embassy was La Social, its name broadcast in bright neon blue above the door. It was a frequent haunt of embassy staff; Javi could remember many hours spent in here with Murphy, talking theories over a cold beer. 

Javier slipped the noose of the tie from around his throat as he walked in, and almost instantly wanted to walk back out. Clustered around a table by the window were his new team, Stoddard holding court at the head of the table. 

Before Javi could make good his escape, Stoddard noticed him, and the cute brunette Javi had clocked earlier. Time was, Javi would have tried to get her into bed. But he was older now, and his run-in with Lorraine in Laredo had thrown him off his game. 

Besides, too many of his mistakes in Colombia had been caused by his weakness for women. Better to avoid that temptation entirely than to risk another Helena, another Elisa, another Maritza. He didn’t need some pretty twist clouding his judgment this time around.

Instead, Javi shrugged his jacket off and took a seat at the bar. Whiskey would see him through, his most reliable partner.

“Hey, boss. Do you mind if we buy you a drink?” He offers, with an earnestness that Javi hasn’t seen in a long time. Was Murphy ever like that? Had Javi been, when he’d first stepped off the plane in Bogotá? The bartender set down the glass of whiskey Javi had ordered, and he took it gratefully. 

“No, thanks.” They’re all too green; he wondered what Ivy League criminology course the DEA had recruited Stoddard from. The kid seemed a little deflated by Javi’s rejection. Perhaps he had hoped for stories of dramatic gunfights with Escobar’s men, of foiled car bombings and cocaine raids. 

If Stoddard was going to survive down here, he had to get used to disappointment. 

Javi finished his first whiskey and ordered another. That itch to smoke was back; he’d spent so many nights in here, with Murphy or Carrillo, smoking until his throat hurt and talking about La Catedral or how to force Escobar out of his hole. 

Murphy was gone, playing happy families with Connie and Olivia in Miami. 

Carrillo was dead, his widow back in Madrid with her son. 

So Javier drank alone, and tried to ignore the desire for nicotine. A glance over his shoulder told him that the cute brunette from earlier was still sneaking peeks at him, and he tried to talk himself out of it. Sleeping with his staff would be a bad look for the new DEA attaché on his first day. 

Just as he was about to slip off his barstool and talk to her, he found the seat beside him being pulled out and occupied. 

Not by a cute brunette; by an overweight, balding man who looked fresh out of the jungle, still in khaki pants and heavy boots. 

“Pretty girl. Poor taste in men though.” Stechner said, making himself comfortable in the seat beside Javier. “It’s nice to see you back, Agent Peña.” Javi very much doubted that. Ever since Stechner’s appointment as the CIA station chief down here, he’d rubbed Javi up the wrong way, and the feeling had apparently been mutual. 

“Heard you signed off on me coming back.” Javi said, trying not to let his surprise show. It had taken him by surprise to hear it, especially after the CIA man had put the skids under Messina. Not that Javi had liked Messina, but there was something that rankled about the CIA being able to dispense with his former boss. 

“Did indeed. You’re no sap, Peña; you know what the deal is down here. You know Escobar wasn’t a win, no matter how much the brass back home said it was. The same, please.” Stechner ordered his drink with the same casual tone as he spoke to Javi. 

It was the tone of a man confident that he was always seven steps ahead of whoever he was talking to, and it made Javi grit his teeth.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Javi would get into incalculable trouble for starting a barfight with the CIA station chief, but it was an enjoyable thought nevertheless. His steady calm was in direct opposition to the rising annoyance that was trying to crawl its way up Javi’s throat.

He almost missed the days when Steve had been the loose cannon; it had forced him to be more measured. 

“What was accomplished, Javier? Thousands of Colombians died, and coke’s still flooding American streets by the ton.” Stechner took his drink from the bartender and took a slow sip. 

“Oh, come on. You don’t care about American streets or dead Colombians.” Point of fact, Javi doubted Stechner cared much about anything. At that, Stechner gave a mirthless little chuckle. 

“Point being, Peña, we can’t afford another bloodbath. No swallowing the spider to catch the fly this time. America has plans for Colombia; blood in the water will just gum up the works.” Stechner said this like it was the most obvious thing in the world, that somehow Javier had been responsible for the bloodbath and it had now fallen to William J. Stechner to tidy up after him. 

“So what’s the play?” 

“Surrender. The negotiations are all silk so far, and has the seal of approval from those muckety-mucks in DC.” 

“And these fucking guys just breeze?” 

“After handing over the keys to the biggest coke racket in history. Hell, the biggest racked in history full stop. Far as I’m concerned, the DEA can even take the credit.” As gestures go, it’s as hollow as a log, and it’s all Javier can do to stop himself from rolling his eyes. 

“So what do you need me for?”

“The dashing DEA agent who took down Escobar? Helps to have a hero along for the ride. The godfathers’ will serve some time, most likely.” There was that word again, hero. Coming from Stechner, it just sounds like an insult, and Javi isn’t sure if that’s worse.

“And that’s enough for you? Sending them up the river for a spell?” 

“If there were any justice in this world, Javier, you’d be in jail. That op your guys are running in Cali tonight? It’ll come up snake eyes. All you’ll get for the trouble of going after Cali are more stiffs.” With that, Stechner drained what was left of his drink and left, with a pat of Javi’s shoulder that smacked with condescension. 

Javier had every intention of making tracks, the bar no longer feeling so welcoming. He truly meant to, finishing his own drink and tucking a few bills under the empty glass. But then, as he stood, he caught the eye of the cute brunette. 

Fuck. 

* * *

It had been a struggle for you not to press your nose up against the window of the cab as you were driven through Bogotá that first night that you arrived. On its high plateau in the Andes, Bogotá was cooler than you had anticipated, a look of rain in some of the clouds up above. 

Part of you wanted to send the cab ahead with your luggage so you could roam the streets for yourself. Neon lights glittered everywhere, people spilled out of bars and night markets and onto the pavements, the whole city so vibrantly alive in front of you. 

You had only read about it in Sierra’s dispatches; seeing it for yourself was another experience entirely, and you didn’t want to waste a single second of it. 

The car paused in traffic, and you stared out of your window at the bar directly across from you. A neon blue sign flickering above the door revealed it as La Social. You wanted to climb out, to go to the bar and order yourself a drink and start exploring immediately. 

But before you could work up the courage to jump out of the car, the traffic started moving again, carrying you closer to your destination. 

The Telegraph had leased an apartment for Sierra not far from the US Embassy, a two-bedroom affair that sounded far nicer than your own tiny apartment that you barely afforded on your meagre salary. Still, the paper was footing the bills, so you were happy to take advantage while you could. 

From the bag next to you, you pulled out the new leather notebook you had bought and squinted at the notes you had made in the light of the streetlamps you passed. 

What was on the tapes worth killing Pastrana for? 

Who has them now? 

Why?

It wasn’t much. But it was a start.

Taglist: @lannister-slings-and-arrows, @zeldasayer, @coffeeandtodd, @lokiaddicted, @yespolkadotkitty, @steeeeeeeviebb, @pascalisthepunkest​, @pascalesque​ . Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

[awesomerextyphoon]

A Warrior’s Heart

Prologue 

Main Paring: Stucky x Black!OFC (Ifekerenma ‘Ife’)

Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, War Crimes, Corruption, Smut, Mentions of Anxiety, Depression, and possible Panic Attacks

Rating: 18+/Explicit

Word Count: 1,461

Summary: Ife didn’t mean to have her employers be the subject of a hostile takeover by Stark Industries. She just held up the city of Novi Grad long enough for the Avengers to defeat Ultron. So naturally, Tony finds and blackmails her into joining the team. No good deed goes unpunished, huh?

A/N: This is my first long form (12+ chapters) story. I’m including characters and/or aspects from Disney’s Atlantis: the Lost Empire, Lilo & Stitch, Big Hero 6, Gargoyles, Inuyasha, and Toriko. Furthermore, I will be including elements of Netflix MCU and Agent Carter as well. Special thanks goes to @jtargaryen18​ for the title. Reposting on any site without my permission is strictly forbidden. Reblogs are welcomed! 😊

Series Masterlist 

Main Masterlist

Just keep the lie going.

That’s the line many of us have to repeat every day, and by us, I mean Non-Humans. Throughout history, humans have created myths and legends about us; some are true, others complete nonsense, but most are somewhere in between.

Let’s rewind a bit, okay?

Life on Earth lines up with most of what the textbooks say until about 5M BCE. Beings that would later be called gods and goddesses start to form with Mother Earth (the Amazing Gaea) as the focal point with other beings such as dragons, elves, and giants start to show two million years later.

The Celestials (sanctimonious assholes) came to Earth to see what’s happening after hearing about various fantastical anomalies (or that they were just bored). Gaea encouraged some (about 30K) of the human ancestors (Homo Erectus) to ‘the Space Gods’ direction. It took a few months, but they were able to create the species that later be known as Eternals. They also did some other shit but Gaea kicked them out when they wore out their welcome.

Around 200KBCE, the Kree (galactic genocidal nationalistic maniacs) happened upon a group of Eternals living on Uranus and traveled to Earth to ascertain whether other beings had similar potential. They experimented on a good number of early humans (about 150K survived) thus creating the first Inhumans (Inhomo Supremis). Several members of the Kree expedition tried to turn the Inhumans into weapons of the Kree Empire but were kicked off the planet by remaining Eternals and Non-Human factions.

Ten thousand years later (190KBCE), other early humans congregated around ‘magical hotspots’ which led to the births of the Homo Magi, Homo Superius, and Homo Animalis sub-species.

Soon after (okay, 15,000yrs later. Leave me alone.), the Mother Crystal (a semi-sentient comet, or Matag Yob) descended onto the island continent of Atlantis, imbuing the human inhabitants with longevity, knowledge, prosperity, and protection. At its height (around 55KBCE), Atlantis became the technological/cultural center on Earth (besides the Eternals).

It didn’t last long, though.

Five thousand years later (50KBCE), the first (and hopefully only) Pantheon War broke out. What exactly happened is lost to history (none of the people involved will fess up.), but what we do know is that shit went down.

Hard.

All that is known (admitted) is that almost all of the pantheons got into a Pantheon War (probably over some dumbass reason), a failed invasion by the Kree (really?), and the whole continent of Atlantis ‘sank’ into the sea in the span of three years (though some escaped).

Neat.

Fast-forward about 38K years (yeah, we’re making some jumps here) to the beginnings of the three most technologically advanced human nations of Earth: Wakanda, Sypavê, and Fetuilelagi; each with their own extraterrestrial metals/minerals.

Earth was pretty quiet until the ‘Christianity Dilemma’. So around 90CE, several ‘deities’ from the Greco-Roman, Norse, Germanic, and Celtic pantheons called for a Council of the Godheads’ to discuss ‘the ‘threat’ with Archangel Michael. It worked out well enough (no one wanted another Pantheon War).

Most of the world was in a pretty good state with a few ‘hiccups’ until the Bubonic Plague aka ‘The Black Death’ hit in 1346/7. It ravaged Eurasia and North Africa killing at least ½ the population and was seen as the start of non-belief in Europe. Worse, it was the beginning of Non-Human persecution and discrimination. You see, while the Black Death took out humans left and right, the worse a Non-Human got was a two-day flu. Many started to return to their respective realms once the Plague subsided and their once friendly neighbors started to accuse and persecute them.

The feeling of unease did not end but rather subsided. A tip from a Non-Human in Queen Isabella’s court alerted several groups in the Pre-Columbian Americas. Genocidal rapist, sex-trafficker, and all-around monster, Christopher Columbus does make it to the ‘New World’ (people were already there, dumbass) and devastated the indigenous population for centuries to come. By the time Columbus was executed in 1498, it was too late.

As many as 40 – 70% of the indigenous population was wiped out due to ‘virgin soil epidemics’ such as smallpox and influenza. Pantheons from negatively impacted areas called for a Council of the Godheads and demanded the ‘deities’ of the colonizers take action.

It went about as well as you’d think.

Earth was about to be embroiled in another Pantheon War until a few ‘level-headed’ individuals struck a bargain. No one was to interfere with human affairs whether it be good or ill. It was later amended to not have any ‘divine’ intervention (Sure). So by 1593, they had ‘bowed out’ of Earth affairs outside of their respective demi realms.

Outside of the matters of the ‘gods’, the rest of the world was dealing with its own problems. Tensions between humans and non-humans grew since the immediate aftermath of the Black Death. The Age of Enlightenment had started to pop up in intellectual circles across Europe around 1647. It focused on reason and free-thinking (Neat), but it also stoked up fear and anxiety towards Non-Humans (Boo!). Things came to a head in the 1670s. It got so bad that the Inter-Realm Parliament ordered all Non-Humans that weren’t exiled to return. They later founded the Bureau of Non-Human Affairs, BNA, in 1692 to deal with such matters in the future.

Two white-passing Non-Humans, Marcus Ashton and Jakob Schwartz founded Ashton & Schwartz Inc in 1809 along with a private partner. The company made waves in biomedical, chemical, agricultural, and climate science (they had to explain it to the populace) as well as pollution cleanup/prevention. One of their biggest inventions was a truly biodegradable plastic-like substance called biokivó̱tio or biokivo for short. The company made an even bigger impact with Non-Humans by solving issues pertaining to agriculture, large scale portal creation, and maintenance.

When the founders’ private partner decided to shut down the company in 1928, Ashton & Schwartz were a household name (especially since all major fossil fuel investments ended in 1900).

Barely ten years later and the threat of World War II rocked the planet to its core, especially the dropping of the Atomic Bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The war Council went behind current President Henry Wallace’s back and had them done on the same day,  August 7, 1945.

Well, that got everyone’s attention.

The Inter-Realm Parliament issued an edict that every one of ‘age’ (biologically 18+) would have to spend at least five consecutive years amongst the humans. It didn’t take long for BNA to lay the groundwork.

Wakanda, Sypavê, and Fetuilelagi (who will now be known as The Unconquered Alliance or UA.) saw this as a ‘we need to end this’ type of situation. Within three weeks of the bomb dropping, they formulated a plan and got to work kicking the colonizers out of Africa, starting with Belgian-colonized Congo (80% of the uranium used in the bombs were mined from there). They also made a deal with British-colonized India.

Once they were successful in their test run, The U.A. moved forward with similar models until they were to liberate the continent in 1955. Meanwhile, Sypavian forces kicked out most of the Nazis that fled to South America and ended US/European influence in Central and South America.

The United States tried to play it neutral until The UA (mainly Fetuilelagi) freed Hawai’i from US occupation in 1951. The war was sold as “We must fight to preserve our freedom!” (Keep telling yourselves that).

Once both South/Central America and Africa were liberated, other colonized nations asked for their aid. UA agents/dignitaries offered to relocate Black people from the Caribbean, Europe, and the United States. As many as five million African-Americans took the offer, including former Howling Commando, Gabe Jones. By then the US was clamping down domestically through the FBI and local/state police.

Irked by the knowledge that the UA had satellites, the US jumpstarted the Space Race (they had more than a few satellites, but good for you).

As with most wars, both sides partook in some ‘questionable actions’ (i.e. Syria, Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Cambodia, and Laos).

The war climaxed in 1977 when a UA (Sypavian) agent discovered plans for a super-weapon in the US. A Special Ops team led by N’Jobu realized that the weapon was a mega bomb that would’ve wiped out the African Continent.

After weighing their options, The UA came to an agreement with BNA: BNA would gather their most powerful Homo Magi and cast a spell to erase the memory and evidence of the war from every human outside of the UA in exchange for letting some Non-Humans live openly in UA borders.

They shook on it, unaware of the chaos that would follow.

Next>>

---------

Taglist:@opheliadawnwalker3​ @sherrybaby14​ @stargazingfangirl18​ ​ @hevans-angel​ @threeminutesoflife​ ​ @cockslut-padalecki​ @golden-ariess​  @sapphirescrolls​ @holylulusworld 

[headfulloffantasies]

Consequences

The title of Mand’alore catches up with Din Djarin.

Part 4 of Clones and Kings

Read on Ao3

“Do you think all of Master Yoda’s species have Jetii powers, or are we just lucky enough to find another one?” Wolffe asked Rex.

They sat side by side on the ramp of Mando’s ship drinking in the first rays of sun Rex had seen since Jakku. The Mandalorian had left them to guard the ship at the landing dock while he took Not-So-Yoda to pick up supplies at the market. Five credits said Mando would come back with a new toy for the kid.

“I don’t know. The kid still gives me this look sometimes like he knows what I’m thinking,” Rex grumbled.

“That’s not hard, vod,” Wolffe joked. “You have a terrible poker face.”

Rex shoved his brother’s shoulder. He missed this. The camaraderie between clones. It had been far too long.

“Well?” Rex asked Wolffe. “What will you do now?”

Wolffe turned his mechanical eye towards Rex. “I want to rejoin our brothers. Do you know if any others live?”

Rex shook his head. “You’re the only vod I’ve found since the end of the war.”

“And the Jedi?” Wolffe asked.

“The baby or Luke Skywalker?” Rex asked.

“I was thinking Commander Tano,” Wolffe growled. “I’d like to serve under someone from the old days.”

Rex closed his eyes and basked in the sun. “I’m here on Commander Tano’s orders. She’s doing shadow ops these days.”

Wolffe scoffed. “You don’t look very undercover, brother. Babysitting doesn’t suit a Captain.”

“I’m doing my best,” Rex answered. “Commander Tano said watch the Mandalorian and the foundling. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Speak of the devil,” Wolffe nudged Rex.

Mando came lumbering out of the crowded port towards them. He had two bursting satchels slung over his shoulders and Yoda the Younger riding his hip carrier.

Rex stood and wiped his hands on his pants.

“Hold him,” Mando dumped mini-Yoda in Wolffe’s lap. Wolffe froze. Mando ignored the clone’s obvious discomfort. Rex smirked. Served Wolffe right for teasing Rex about the kid.

“Let me help,” Rex offered Mando. He took one of the satchels off Mando’s shoulder.

“Din Djarin.”

Mando went stiff as a board. His hand drifted to his blaster. Rex craned his neck to see over Mando’s shoulder.

“Kriff,” Rex spat. He unfortunately recognised the red-haired woman marching towards them with her blue helmet under her arm.

“Is it too late to run?” Mando asked.

“Pretty sure she’s seen you,” Rex answered. “You could try shooting.”

“Din Djarin,” Bo Katan repeated. She came to a halt with a respectable space between them. Then she dropped to one knee. “All hail the Mand’alor.”

Rex gaped. Mando still didn’t turn around. His shoulders had come up around his helmet.

Wolffe made a choked noise. “You’re the Mand’alor?”

“Mand’alor,” Bo Katan said to Mando’s back. “It’s time to return to your duties as ruler.”

“I am doing my duty,” Mando turned sharply to look down at her. “You and the other advisors were informed of my intentions to collect my son while the Jedi is busy.”

Bo Katan scowled. “Yes, but we assumed you’d bring the child home with you. Not gallivant around the galaxy reliving your bounty hunting glory days again.”

Mando went silent and still. Rex took a half step back. Mando radiated violence from every line of his armour.

“Inside. Now,” Mando finally ground out.  

Bo Katan straightened up and followed on Mando’s heels up the ramp into the ship. Rex trailed behind. He glanced back at Wolffe still sitting in dazed confusion. Yoda in Training took the opportunity to climb up Wolffe’s arm and sit on his shoulder.

“Come on,” Rex snapped. “Bring the kid. They might reconsider tearing each other to pieces in front of a child.”

Mando stomped into the cargo space where the carbonite freezer blinked and the frozen bounty sat in its slab. Rex hoped Mando’s helmet was heat shielded from the death-rays Bo Katan beamed at the back of his head. Mando grabbed the bounty and spun the slab around so Bo Katan could see its face.

“Do you know him?” Mando asked.

Bo Katan barely flicked her eyes disdainfully over the frozen Devorian. “No. Should I?”

“This man,” Mando explained. “Was selling beskar. He claimed he got it off a Mandalorian he killed.”

Rex shuddered.

Bo Katan crossed her arms. “So, you avenged a brother. That doesn’t-.”

Mando cut her off. “The galaxy’s underworld needs to learn that beskar belongs to the Mandalorians. I intend to make the life of anyone selling beskar unprofitable. Once they realise the steep punishment for trading our heritage, no one will want to buy beskar. Then the Mand’alor can sweep in and claim the remnants to give back to our people.”

Bo Katan chewed on this. From her pinched eyebrows she clearly thought it foolhardy.

Rex found himself staring at Mando in a new light. The man had honour in spades. And patience and ruthlessness to carry out his ambitious plan.

“That will take time,” Bo Katan finally said.

“Yes,” Mando inclined his head.  

Bo Katan visibly struggled with this concept. “Fine.” She bit out. “I assume you have your next target.”

“Yes.”

Bo Katan lifted her chin. “Then I will accompany you.”

“Absolutely not,” Mando snapped.

Bo Katan didn’t back down. They locked in an intense stare. It didn’t really seem fair when Mando had his helmet to shield his face. Rex read the resolution in the line of his shoulders while Bo Katan grit her teeth.

“You may accompany us on your own ship,” Mando relented, much to Rex’s surprise.

“How gracious of you,” Bo Katan bowed her head. Mando escorted her off the ship.

Rex watched them go by in bewilderment. He caught Wolffe’s eye. Wolffe looked twice as flabbergasted as Rex. Good. Rex was the superior officer. He shouldn’t experience the same surprise as someone under his command.

Itty bitty Yoda saw a chance with Wolffe distracted and wiggled out of his grip. Rex dove and caught him before the kid could make another of his famous escape attempts.

Mando came back with defeat dragging down his shoulders.

“Why’d you let her tag along?” Rex blurted out.

Mando took Yoda Junior from Rex’s hands. “She’d only follow us anyways. At least she’s not trying to kill me for the Darksaber this time.”

“You’re the Mand’alor,” Wollfe gasped. Mando refused to respond. He tucked his child into his arms and swept up into the cockpit and sealed the door.

Wolffe pointed up the ladder. “He’s the Mand’alor.”

Rex dropped a hand on Wolffe’s shoulder. “Steady. Take a breath.”

Wolffe’s hands came up and gripped either side of Rex’s face. “Holy kriff, that madman is the Mand’alor!”

Rex carefully extricated himself from Wolffe’s fingers. “Do you need to sit down?”

Rex assumed Mando had locked the cockpit because Mando had finally decided to indulge in his afternoon meal. He’d open it after he had his helmet back in place. For now, Rex reckoned he’d like to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

Rex laid out his bedroll on the floor and placed his blasters within reach. “Wake me in thirty,” he instructed Wolffe.

Rex woke in twenty to something punching the breath out of his solar plexus. Rex bolted up. Huge liquid eyes stared back at him.

“I told him to let you sleep,” Mando’s tired voice said from above. “I don’t know if he understands words yet.”

The twitch of Un-Yoda’s smile said he knew exactly what people told him but he enjoyed chaos too much to bother obeying. Master Yoda had shared the same wrinkled smirk. Rex narrowed his eyes. The child mimicked him and showed off his sharp teeth.

Rex scooped up the child and held him at arms length far away from those biters.

Mando took the kid again. “We’re almost there,” he said. He trekked back up to the cockpit, his cape swirling behind him. He left the door open. Rex took it as an invitation. He started for the ladder.

Mando had the Wee Little Yoda asleep in his lap. The kid made cooing sounds in his sleep.

Rex sat in the co-pilot’s seat. Mando said nothing for a long time. Rex relaxed into the silence. He stared out at the glowing streaks of stars passing by. Mando’s helmet caught the glint as he turned towards Rex.

“Do you think I’m being an irresponsible leader?” Mando asked.

Rex thought he was asking a question high above Rex’s paygrade, but he answered anyways. “I think a ruler’s responsibility is to take care of the people around him. So, if he never leaves the throne room, well.” Rex left that there. “But a ruler who knows the needs of his people because he’s out among them is a good man in my books.”

Mando sighed. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Rex nodded. He’d known the Mandalorian from the first day they’d met. The man was simple. That didn’t mean he was foolish. He was probably the wisest person Rex had ever met. That included Master Yoda, because the old gremlin hadn’t managed to see a Sith plot ten years in the making. Rex might have a bias. Didn’t make him wrong. The point was; Mando wanted two things out of life. To care for his son, and to live his Creed. It didn’t seem like much to ask. Too bad Bo Katan thought different.

“How many Mandalorians have you tried giving the Darksaber to?” Rex asked carefully.

Mando tipped his helmet. “Everybody but Boba Fett.”

Rex imagined Boba Fett leading an army of beskar clad Mandos. It would be like someone unleashing a nuclear bomb to get rid of an anthill.

“That’s smart,” Rex squeaked.

“Fett commed me right after I got it and threatened to dismember me if I offered it to him,” Mando finished.

That tracked actually. Fett had complicated history with Mandalore and he had his hands full on Tatooine last Rex heard.

“We’re here,” Mando announced. They dropped out of hyperspace.

Rex had to know something before they plunged into the lion’s den.

“What is this really all about?”

Mando leaned back in his seat. “Mandalorians have been hunted for our beskar ever since our ancestors abandoned Mandalore. There are those who would see our reuniting as strategically unwise. Before I ask them to make themselves vulnerable, I have to prove I can protect them.”

And that right there was why Bo Katan could never rule Mandalore while Mando lived. She just couldn’t compare. Nice try, Princess. Come back with some scruples and a better attitude.

The planet they’d landed on looked like a wasteland. Only sparse vegetation managed to poke through the grey dust. The trees grew twisted in spindly bunches. A dark fog spread over Rex’s feet as they exited the ship.

Bo Katan’s ship landed behind them. She emerged with her helmet on and guns at the ready. Mando leaned casually against the side of his ship with Yoda the Imposter snuggled into the satchel at his hip.

“Alright,” Bo Katan said. “Where’s your beskar thief?”

“This way,” Mando stalked silently into the gloom. Rex and Wolffe exchanged a look. They followed at a distance.

“Not many heat sources on this planet,” Wolffe reported, tapping his cybernetic eye. “Place seems abandoned.”

“So, it’s a good spot for lowlifes to hide,” Rex summed up.

Wolffe shrugged. They trekked through the fog. Rex kept his blasters in hand. Nothing moved in the sparse trees. The dry earth under their boots crackled with every step.

They approached a ridge of rock. Mando stopped.

“Hang on,” Mando started. “Something’s not right.”

A blaster bolt scorched the ground inches from Mando’s boot. He drew and shot in the blink of an eye. Rex pulled Wolffe behind a boulder. A bolt cracked against the stone above his head. Rex heard the sound of return fire.

Rex leaned out to sneak a peek. Mando hadn’t moved. He held his ground and aimed his blaster.

“We have to retreat!” Rex yelled. “There’s not enough cover here.”

Mando didn’t seem to hear. He sprayed the ridge with a shower of fire. The return shot clipped him on the pauldron. The force of the blow spun him to the side. Rex’s stomach jolted as he realised Mando had shown his vulnerable flank. He opened his mouth to shout.

Bo Katan barrelled out of nowhere and crashed into Mando. She tackled him behind a tree. Rex ducked back into his hiding spot.

“I thought the Jedi were bad,” Wolffe growled. “But Mando’s kriffing crazy.”

The blaster fire from the ridge stopped.

One by one their rag tag crew peeked out of their cover.

Rex risked stepping out from behind the boulder. He pointed his blasters. No bolts came careening to cut him down.

“All clear,” Rex announced.

Wolffe joined him, spitting curses.

Rex turned at a sound of surprise from Bo Katan.

Mando shoved himself into Bo Katan’s face. “Don’t do that again.”

Bo Katan met his ire with her own venom. “It is my responsibility to defend the Mand’alor.”

“You shame me in battle again and I’ll throw you in a sarlacc pit,” Mando growled.

A squeak came from Mando’s satchel. The tension dropped from his shoulders. He pulled Yoda the Pretender from his pouch. The tiny toddler gripped Mando’s thumb tightly.

If Rex wasn’t still worried about blaster bolts raining down from above, he would have melted over the Jedi baby.

“Can we please find some new cover?” Wolffe voiced Rex’s thoughts.

Mando and Bo Katan broke apart. Mando reached for the side of his helmet. Rex assumed he was shifting through heat scans, looking for the trail their mark might have left.

“This way,” Mando headed out around the side of the ridge.

Bo Katan watched him go. Rex gestured for her to follow, determined to keep his position as rear guard. He had some experience from chasing around kriffing Jedis.

They moved as a tight knot through the trees. Wolffe bumped his shoulder against Rex’s.

“Does this feel like an ambush to you?”

Rex nodded. “The shooter had us pinned down. He didn’t need to retreat. Unless.”

“Unless he went to warn his backup.”

Rex scanned their surroundings and cursed the fog.

The rounded a bend and ran straight into four bandits armed to the teeth.

“Kark!” Rex shouted. They were surrounded.

Wolffe and Rex moved as one; diving behind the nearest tree. Splinters and blaster bolts rained over Rex’s head.

Mando landed in the dirt next to him. Mando grunted and gripped his side.

“You hit?” Rex demanded. He raked his eyes over the spot where Mando pressed his hand. Bless the armour for saving Mando’s life and curse it at the same time for hiding the injury from Rex’s sight.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mando shouted back. He yanked out his blaster and took up firing along with Rex. Rex had a kriffing time getting a single shot off with the sharpshooter pinning them against the trees. He also had no eyes on Bo Katan. Much as he disliked her, Rex hated to think she might have fallen.

Finally, Rex caught a break in the assault. He peeked around the tree trunk. Two of the four bandits were advancing. Rex aimed at the Twi’lek holding an elctro-spear.

Sizzling electricity leaped from the tip of the spear and arced past Rex’s ear.  He ducked back and jostled Wolffe.

“This feels familiar,” Rex shouted in Wolffe’s ear.

“We’re evenly matched now,” Wolffe yelled back.

“Hold your fire!” A male voice suddenly ordered. The bandits quit shooting. Rex leaned around the tree.

The tall Twi’lek twirled his electro-spear. He surveyed their little group.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” the Twi’lek bared his eye teeth in a nasty grin. “We’re going to pry those two Mandalorians out of their armour and sell that beskar for a fortune. You other two can either help us and take a share of the money; or you can die just the same.”

“I got a counter offer for you,” Wolffe shouted. “You can take that spear and ram it where the sun don’t shine.”

The Twi’lek’s face turned stormy. “Fine. Have it your way.”

The other bandits lifted their weapons and renewed their firing. Rex ducked back down.

Mando shoved Not-Yoda into Rex’s hands. “Watch him. I got this.”

Mando vanished like a puff of smoke. Rex cradled the child against his chest to shield him from the stray blaster bolts. Sharp claws found their way past the collar of his breast plate to cling to his shirt.

“It’s okay,” Rex promised. “Your buir has a plan.”

The crack of shots continued to deafen Rex.

A sudden explosion rocked Rex against the tree. He curled around the Jedi child as debris rained down. Rex poked his head out.

Mando stood in the center off the destruction. Even through the smoke Rex could see his chest heaving. Three of the bandits lay on the ground at his feet. Rex didn’t see the Twi’lek leader.

Out of the smoke, a figure tackled Mando. Mando threw him off. Rex heard the groan as Mando pressed a hand to his side. The thick fabric between the beskar plates looked darker than it should.

The Twi’lek rolled and came up with a vibroblade. He slashed at Mando with the knife. Mando brought his arms up and caught the blade on his vambraces. The screech of metal on metal shrieked in Rex’s ears. He grabbed his blaster and took aim. The Twi’lek danced around Mando, hopping and weaving so much Rex couldn’t get a good shot.

A lucky kick knocked Mando’s feet out from under him. He hit the ground in a clank of armour. The Twi’lek raised the knife over his head. Rex shouted too late.

“Djarin!” Bo Katan plowed out of nowhere. Her wrist blade blocked the vibroblade’s descent. She plunged her other wrist blade into the Twi’lek’s chest. The bandit made a gurgling noise Rex wished he could block out. The body dropped and landed on top of Mando.

Bo Katan kicked the corpse aside. She offered her hand to Mando. He smacked her hand away. Mando got to his wobbly feet. He wiped the blood from his breast plate. He left a horrible handprint smeared across the silver beskar.

Rex hurried to Mando’s side. Yoda’s Progeny whined and begged for his father.

For the first time, Mando ignored his son. He pressed his visor into Bo Katan’s face.

“I warned you not to do that again.” Mando’s voice growled through his vocoder.

Bo Katan lifted her chin. The painted eyes on her helmet were cold. “If you died in battle, that kriffer becomes the next Mand’alor. I can’t let that happen.”

“Not until you get your shot first,” Mando snapped back. “We’re done.”

“You can’t dismiss me,” Bo Katan snarled. “I’m the rightful heir to the throne of Mandalore.”

“You want your throne?” Mando unclipped the Darksaber from his belt.

Rex held his breath.

Mando extended the saber hilt to Bo Katan. “Go on. Take it.”

Bo Katan seethed in silence.

“That’s what I thought.” Mando turned his back on her.

“I will challenge you for the throne,” Bo Katan promised.

“I appreciate the warning,” Mando drawled. He limped back the way they’d come.

Wolffe caught Rex’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Rex shrugged. They fell in together and trailed behind Mando.

They were barely a pace out of Bo Katan’s view when Mando’s knees buckled. Wolffe snagged his arm and kept him from cracking his bucket against a tree.

“Kriff,” Wolffe hissed. “You got bacta on the ship?”

Mando nodded.

“Alright. You’re going to have to walk. I can’t carry your weight in beskar.”

Rex carried the anxious Yoda the Younger after his father leaning hard against Wolffe’s side. The child whined and wiggled, reaching for his buir.

“He’s alright,” Rex tried to soothe the tiny Jedi. “Your buir is strong.”

They got to the ship and Wolffe dragged Mando up the ramp. Mando directed Wolffe to the med kit. Wolffe flipped it open and started rifling through the contents.

Rex knelt beside Mando sitting with his back against the ship’s wall. Blood had soaked through the flight suit under Mando’s arm. Rex set the Jedi down and grabbed for the clasps on Mando’s breast plate. A gloved hand clamped down on Rex’s wrist.

“Don’t,” Mando growled.

“We got to get at the wound,” Rex explained.

“I’ll do it myself,” Mando grabbed the kit from Wolffe. He threw himself at the cockpit ladder.

Wolffe yelped a protest. “You’re going to need help.”

“It’s forbidden,” Mando insisted.

“Fine,” Rex snapped. “But if you die up there, I’m not delivering the Darksaber to Bo Katan. I’d rather eat my bucket.”

Mando managed a bark of a laugh. “I’ll make it my final wish to have that kriffing thing tossed in a supernova.”

“That I can do,” Rex promised.

The cockpit sealed behind Mando. Wolffe stood at the door and stressed in silence so strongly that Rex was certain he would manifest the emotion as a Force Ghost.

“Make sure to use plenty of gauze,” Wolffe called through the door. “And more bacta is better than too little.”

“Vod,” Rex snapped. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“Are you sure?” Wolffe snarled back. “That kriffer jumped into an ambush to detonate a karking bomb. I don’t put much stock by whatever brains he might have left in that bucket.”

“Stop being a mother bantha,” Rex grumbled.

The door opened. Mando stomped out right past Wolffe and Rex to snatch up Small Fry Yoda. He slapped the panel that revealed his private bunk. Mando paused there, not turning to look at them.

“Thank you. I owe you a debt,” he said.

“The only thing you owe us for is forcing us to work with Bo Katan,” Rex answered.

They couldn’t see Mando’s smile, but Rex watched Mando’s shoulders relax. He retreated into the bunk and closed the door behind him. Rex and Wolffe exchanged a look.

“Do you think he sleeps with the bucket on?” Wolffe asked.

“I can hear you,” Mando’s muffled voice came through the door.

End

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Surprising Too Late-Part III

Part III

           High summer in Southern California was one of my favorite times of the year. The days were long, the pool sparkled in the sun, and Matt and Nick insisted on taking a week off and taking the entire family to Oahu for vacation. We’d end up coming back just in time to celebrate with the rest of the family. It had been a wonderful surprise when our firstborn came early, just two days before Nick’s birthday. As she’d gotten older, we’d taken to celebrating the occasions together.

           Nick loved it, living every single year for his birthday celebration with Mattie.

           We’d been home for barely a day when my eldest daughter caught me in the kitchen. It was early—too early for anyone else to be awake—but I had become a morning person in the years I’d been with Matt and Nick. I’d practically trained myself to be awake at all hours so I could speak to them when they were away.

           “Morning, Mama,” Mattie said with a grin. She grabbed a mug and poured herself a cup of coffee, adding creamer and milk and half a dozen things that she’d picked up from Matt, before folding herself into the Lotus position on the bench beside me. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy looped ponytail high toward the crown of her head, little whisps of it gathering around her face. Her blue eyes were bright, alert. Just like when she was a baby.

           “Morning, Tea,” I replied. “What are you doing up so early?”

           She stared into her coffee concoction, and for a moment I couldn’t help but marvel in how beautiful she’d become. She was lithe and graceful, strong like Matt but quick and athletic like Nick. Her heart burned to be in the ring. Mattie lived and breathed wrestling, just like her fathers. She was just like them in every wonderful way.

           “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” I asked, sweeping my hand along her cheek, and tucking hair behind her ear.

           “I have a question… about my birthday.” Her fingers tightened around her cup. I watched her swallow hard. God, I thought, she acts just like them. “About my… about a present.”

           I rolled my eyes. “What else do you want? Dad bought you a laptop, a new phone, and ten sets of ring gear. Papa bought you a new car.”

           Mattie leaned her head against my shoulder. “I want something from you.”

Matt

           I stretched, feeling the soreness start to sink into my back. Sweat and heat turned my hair into frizz as I walked to the side of the basketball court.  The boys laughed and continued playing HORSE without me. Lee was almost fourteen and as tall as I was. Just as when he was a baby, he was easy smiles, laughs, and charm. RJ had come out of his shell as he’d grown. At twelve, he had become more comfortable with himself and the world, even though he was still quiet and walked to the beat of his own drum. Baby Ty wasn’t a baby anymore. He was ten and adventurous, curious, and energetic. In some ways, he was the easiest of our kids. But he held his own against his older brothers and sisters.

           “Are your parents coming tomorrow?” Y/N asked as she leaned over the railing above me. I caught the bottle of water that she dropped and took a swig.

           “Yeah, at seven. They wanted to give us some time to celebrate alone,” I replied, grinning. As I thought about what was happening later, I felt my smile falter. “Mattie’s eighteen. Jesus, where did the time go?”

           My wife gave a nostalgic sigh. “Remember when she was first born? You panicked every time she got near anything that wasn’t squishy. And Nick would play peek-a-boo with her for hours.”

           I glanced up just in time to see Y/N swipe at her eyes. Without a second thought, I jumped and caught the edge of the concrete above me. Ignoring the pain in my spine, I pulled myself up, swinging to catch the wrought iron of the railing. A moment later, I climbed over and pulled my wife into my arms.

           “Hey,” I murmured, drawing her closer. My lips ghosted over her hair. “We did good with her, Mama. She’s a good kid—smart and kind. Just like you.”

           She sank against me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “It’s not that… she’s asked for something else for her birthday. Something from me.”

           I leaned back to look into her eyes. They were stormy, conflicted. “What did she ask for?”

Nick

           I double checked that I’d wrapped all of Mattie’s presents and that Brandon was going to bring down the car later that evening. Denise had made an Elite bow to put on the hood. I had a sudden flash of memory—me in the passenger seat, Matt in the back, teaching Mattie how to drive. She’d gotten so big so fast. Every time I looked at her, I couldn’t help but see Y/N in her. I was so proud of the young woman she’d become.

           Y/N was in the kitchen setting up everything for the dinner that was on the way. She’d ordered a complete spread of our favorite things from Cracker Barrel and a shared cake from the bakery that one of the parents from Mattie’s co-op owned. We’d have some time together before my parents showed up to celebrate with us.

           Balancing my daughter’s gifts, I slipped into the living room and dropped them carefully on the coffee table. Oreo looked up at the noise, ears flicking, but quickly plopped back onto the floor. I leaned down to scratch behind his ears. “Guard these, boy,” I said playfully.

           When I looked up, Y/N was standing at the kitchen counter, tucking her hair back behind her ears. She was more beautiful now than she’d been that day in the airport when we’d met. I loved her so much it hurt, loved her from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, more today than yesterday, more tomorrow than today. Not a day passed that I didn’t thank my lucky stars that she was mine.

           She glanced at me, something about the set of her mouth making me think she was worried. I watched as she flicked a faint smile at me just as the doorbell rang. “I’ve got it,” I called.

***

           I nipped at my bottom lip as I stared out the kitchen window at my husbands and children out in the pool. Matt raced Mattie from one end to the other, getting thoroughly trounced each time. He certainly didn’t need to give her a head start anymore. Nicole sat on the edge with her feet dangling in the water, kicking them back and forth around Ty as he held his breath. Lee did backflips off the diving board while RJ scored him like an Olympic judge. For the moment, they were all peaceful and happy.

           Matt looked up as he pulled himself onto the edge of the pool. His dark eyes met mine, and a genuine, sweet smile danced over his face. A moment later, he pulled Mattie out of the water and pointed her toward Matt’s house. It didn’t take long for the rest of the family to follow along behind. They slipped inside to change clothes before coming in to eat.

           My heart skipped a beat as they crowded into Nick’s kitchen, grabbing plates and lining up along the counter. Nick and Mattie were pushed to the front of the line, then bickered with one another over who would go first. In the end, they went together, fixing each other’s food. Nick draped his arm around her shoulder as they plopped down together at the table. One by one, the table filled up, laughter spilling through the house as the boys teased each other and then ganged up on Mattie. More than once, they brought Cassidy into the conversation, making my eldest daughter turn pink.

           It seemed like no time passed at all and we were gathered in the living room, Oreo curled up in RJ’s lap. Wrapping paper lay in a heap on the corner of the sofa. A brand new Sorento sat in the driveway, a paint splattered Elite bow on the hood. Mattie moved to sit at the edge of the sofa, her hands clasped together as she looked at Matt and Nick. I wanted to reach out for her, but I knew that she had to do this on her own.

           She grabbed a card from the table and took a deep breath. I watched her face go alternately pale and crimson as she held out the card with a shaking hand. “Happy birthday, Dad,” Mattie said.

           Matt moved to sit next to me, his fingers latching with mine. He leaned against my shoulder.

Nick

           I couldn’t figure out why Mattie looked so nervous. She kept glancing over at Y/N, almost as if she were asking for permission. My wife smiled, giving her an encouraging nod. My brother was settled in beside our wife in a way that reminded me of their united front when we’d been rebuilding our family all those years ago.

           My finger slipped under the flap and tore the envelope open. Inside was a heavy white card along with a folded piece of paper. I smiled as I read the front—No matter how old she may be sometimes a GIRL just needs her DAD. My eyes burned as I tried not to cry. The inside was filled with a long letter in my daughter’s perfect swirling writing. I clenched my jaw, clearing my throat as I fought a losing battle.

           “Tea,” I said at last, looking at my first born through blurry eyes. “This is the best gift.”

           Mattie looked back to her mother before she said anything else. For a moment, the two of them looked at one another. I smiled sideways, thinking how they looked exactly like Y/N said Matt and I did. They had something brewing between them.

           “There’s more,” Mattie said, standing up and moving to stand in front of me. She picked the paper up from my lap and unfolded it. “Mama gave it to me this morning.”

           I felt my brow furrow as I took the paper from her hand. It took a moment for me to make any sense of it. At first, it looked like a bunch of useless numbers and letters across the page. I looked up, confused. From the corner of my eye, I saw Matt squeeze Y/N’s hand. My brother’s brown eyes were warm and happy. My wife, on the other hand, looked as if she was going to be sick.

           “Read it, Dad,” Mattie said, stepping closer and pointing her finger to a paragraph of text about halfway down the page. “This part here.”

           Her finger trembled. I took her hand as I focused on the words. Based on our analysis and the biomedical evaluation of the results, it is found that Mr. Nicholas Jackson is the biological father of Mattea Jackson with a statistical certainty of 99.99%. A moment later, I couldn’t see the text or anything else. Tears poured down my face as I tugged Mattie into a hug.

           She threw her arms around my neck, hugging me just as tightly as I did her. “Happy birthday, Dad,” she whispered into my ear.

           I pressed a kiss to her cheek and sniffed. “Happy birthday, my love.” My baby girl.

           Matt caught my eye as he handed tissues to Y/N. He smiled just as proudly as he had the day Mattie came into our lives. Then I knew what we’d always said was true.

           It didn’t matter who was her father, she was still our daughter.

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it​ @not-that-kinda-gurl08​ @lilred91​ @imagineall-the-fandoms​ @maelleoute​ @librathepheonix13​ @justamess44​

[thewritewolf]

Clever Like a Fox

Summary: A few years down the line and while the face of the enemy has changed, the ones who fight for what's right haven't. Heroes once thought retired return to the fold, leading to Rena Rouge sharing a patrol with Snake Noir. It might be a quiet night, but Alya always has something to say - in the mask, or out of it.

Hello and welcome to my first of four entries for Adrien AUGreste! This will be the final part of my six-month adventure with daily prompts, starting with Marinette March. I had originally intended to do the full month, but at this point I'm too exhausted to do a long-form fic like that again.

Now, the week's prompt was Snake Noir, and the daily prompts I used were Oblivious, Civilian, and Unify.

@adrienaugust

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Years passed for Ladybug and Chat Noir. Circumstances changed, as they often do - Hawkmoth was gone and another villain emerged from the woodwork to make sure the two of them didn’t get too much of a vacation. Of course, with the fall of Hawkmoth, that opened up opportunities that had been closed for far too long.

When the villain made themselves known a second time, they weren’t just facing Ladybug and Chat Noir. Carapace and Rena Rouge had joined them - this time, on a much more permanent basis. After all, Marinette had argued that the kwami had been locked up for too long. They needed to see the world, be with people, if they were going to be effective.

Which was part of the reason it wasn’t Chat Noir and Rena Rouge on patrol for tonight, but rather Snake Noir and Rena Rouge. Neither was the other’s ideal partner for patrol, but Ladybug could only be in one place at a time and she was busy tonight working on her piece for the summer fashion show, her big debut in the industry.

And Adrien intended to be there… as supportive as a friend could be.

“So… what’s on your mind, big cat?”

Snake Noir looked over at Rena Rouge, her back against a section of wall facing him, laying along the edge of the building that he was dangling his legs over. She was watching him curiously.

“Nothing much, I guess,” he said with a sigh.

The silence stretched on, awkward and uncomfortable. It was at this moment that he realized that of their little group of friends, he spent the least time with Alya. With the two of them, it had always felt more like they were the friends of friends rather than being close themselves.

“Nino been up to anything recently?” He retreated to safe, common ground.

“He’s your best bud as well as my fiance,” Rena said with a raised eyebrow. “Something tells me you’ve got just as good a scoop on him as I do.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Snake Noir picked up a small rock that was on the roof and turned it over in his hands before dropping it into the empty street below.

Another stretch of silence passed between them, ended only when Rena sighed loudly and stood up.

“Okay, big cat, how about you help me out with the Ladyblog?”

“What?” He looked up at her, a confused look on his face. “Do you want to drop your transformation and have me give an interview?”

“No, don’t be crazy,” Rena said, waving with her hand as if she could physically brush away the idea. “It is too late in the day for an interview to not look fake. But!” She grinned and raised a finger. “If the Ladyblogger just so happened to spot two patrolling heroes during her nighttime jog, I’m sure they would love to give their favorite journalist a selfie.”

“Oh would they now?” Snake Noir smirked despite himself. “Sounds awfully generous of them. Especially Rena Rouge since she’d have to be in two places at once.”

Rena Rouge made a disapproving noise. “Poor, poor Chat. Your mind is closed to the possibilities.”

Snake Noir raised an eyebrow at her. “That so?”

“Yes. What you don’t realize is that I don’t need to be in two places at once. I just need to look like I am.” She grinned and pulled out her flute, giving it a twirl.

Snake Noir frowned. “I don’t know… Ladybug doesn’t like us abusing our powers like that.”

“It's not like we have a timer to worry about.” Rena rolled her eyes. “Besides this helps throw people off my scent. Otherwise, having no foxy hero pics taken by me on the blog looks supes suspicious.”

“Hm… alright, I guess,” Snake Noir conceded and stood up. “Where do you want to have this spontaneous photo op take place?”

“That’s the tricky question.” Rena Rouge hummed in thought and tapped at her chin. “Somewhere that looks like I could have been just passing through, with enough light for the photo, and empty enough that there won’t be anyone around to poke holes in my story.”

It would take ten minutes of combing through the city before she found her perfect spot, but Snake Noir didn’t mind. Years of modeling had given him a good eye for ideal photoshoot locations and eventually it was him that found the ideal place for their little deception.

Rena pulled her phone out from one of her suit’s magic pockets and set it up against a wall. The soft notes of her flute hung in the air before feeling almost like they condensed and pulled together until they formed a perfect likeness of her civilian identity. Specifically, an Alya that was all dressed up for a jog. Maybe a little too much, but no doubt she was trying to sell the story as best she could.

The illusionary Ladyblogger went from having a blank expression and standing passively to excitement lighting up her eyes, a wide grin splitting her face. She became slightly crouched as if she was caught in the middle of an excited bouncing in place.

“Okay big cat,” Rena the real said, “put those modeling instincts to good use and give me something that’ll make the Ladyblog sizzle.”

“Sizzle, huh?” Snake Noir let himself smile just enough that he knew the small fangs granted to him by his transformation would peek through. He gave the camera a hungry look, the one that his photographers had been asking for more and more these days.

Once the phone had taken a few pictures, Rena lunged forward and eagerly looked through them. The fake Alya turned to smoke and vanished. Her eyebrows rose high up her forehead.

“Oh wow. That’s gonna get the comments section talking, big cat.” She looked up at him and grinned knowingly. “I’m starting to get why M has been such a big fan of your more recent photoshoots.”

His cheeks turned red. “I’m sure she just appreciates them for the fashion.”

“Yeah, sure, if you say so. Not a whole lot of, ah, fashion on display when it comes to your underwear line though.” Her grin turned downright lecherous. “A lot of something else though.”

Snake Noir made a strangled sort of sound as his mind baked from the heat of his blush. Ladybug had photos of that shoot up in her room?

“Come on,” Rena said with a chuckle. “Let’s get back to patrol.”

A few minutes later and they were up somewhere high again, about as secluded as they were before. Really, at this point, they couldn’t even call them patrols. Even when he was with Ladybug (his heart did a backflip as he remembered her and the recent revelation), patrols tended to be just wandering the city or talking the night away.

“Looks like you need to get your mind off things.” Rena Rouge crossed her arms, a teasing look in her eyes. “At least until you get home.” She rested her chin on he palm and stared down at him.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Snake Noir muttered. A little more loudly, he asked, “What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, that brush with the Ladyblogger got me thinking - how would you use your powers in day to day life? Assuming you could manage it discreetly?”

“Uh… hm…” Snake Noir rubbed the back of his neck as he thought about it. Destruction was a bit dangerous to use in his day to day life.

“Let me give you some more examples while you run that through your head.” She held up her hand a raised a finger with each point. “Photo ops, like you saw. Recreating stuff. Enhanced stories and hot gossip. Party favors.”

“Well, I’m not sure how much I could use cataclysm for normal stuff, but I bet I could get a lot of mileage out of Second Chance.”

“Ooo, lots of opportunities there. Although it only goes back, what? Five minutes?”

“Yeah. But! There is plenty of stuff that would be under five minutes that I could use it for. Especially if it is just casual use.”

“Go on,” Rena said as he paused.

“Well… cooking for starters.”

“I thought you said it only lasts five minutes?”

“Which is about how long it takes for me to mess up a given recipe.”

Rena laughed in surprise and shook her head. “You two are a perfect match, I swear.”

He cleared his throat nervously. “A-anyway. I’d also practice jokes - see which ones land, which ones don’t.”

“Make yourself seem funnier than you are, hm?”

“I’m already funny, but there is always room for improvement.”

“Fair enough.” Rena had a thoughtful expression on her face as she tapped her chin. “You know, there is one more thing you could practice now that I’m thinking about it.”

“And what’s that?”

“How exactly you’re going to ask Ladybug out on a date.”

[ladywinterwitch]

Infamous Winter Soldier

Pairing: Sebastian Stan X Fan! Reader 

Summary: You were convinced by your eight years old Brother to attend Wizard world con. He absolutely wanted to see his favourite hero, the winter soldier. During the photo op, you catch the hero's eye.

Warnings: Just fluff, it kinda turns into a social media AU at the end (but it’s not, it’s just texts)

Word Count: 2987

A/n: Y’all this is more like a fever dream than anything, but a girl can always dream ;) But one thing’s for sure: I have met him and I assure you he is that charming and sweet. So sweet.

                                                 (Gif not mine)

You yawned, then procedeed to shake your head a bit, squeezing your eyes to try and stay focused. You've been up til late to finish an assignment for college, even though you knew that the morning after you would've had to wake up early. Why? Your little devil (no, in reality he was a sweetheart, but you really wanted to hate him for this) of a Brother convinced you to take him to Wizard World Con after your parents said no. 

-That’s totally your responsibility y/n. Try to take him home alive, will you?- those were the last words that your mother said to you before your departure. 

So there you were, driving a two hours trip, sleep deprived and with the only thing that keeps you alive awake being a cold brew latte from Starbucks. But someone else, precisely an eight year old way too hyperactive, was definetely more awake than you. The only thing stopping you from getting Harry to actually drive in your place was that he doesn’t have a driver license.

-Swoooosh! y/n look out! Captain America's shield is coming your way!- Harry screamed too loud for your liking. You rolled your eyes, narrowing them a bit for the noise, but playing along anyway.

-Oh no, help me.- you responded with the tiniest bit of enthusiasm that you could find.

-Don't worry, the winter soldier will catch with his metal arm!- he made a noise that was supposed to resemble the metal impact -You're safe now. Thank Bucky now.- He shoved a little action figure in your face and you gave it a slap.

-Harry don't do stuff like that! I'm driving. And who the hell is Bucky?- you huffed and then asked. You really didn't want a car crash to happen, especially not for a damn toy.

-What? He's the winter soldier! Bucky Barnes. You don't know that?- he said shocked.

-You Always call him Winter Soldier, and I haven't seen the movies, so no, I didn't know.- you responded.

-Don't worry, I'll fix it. So, James Buchanan Barnes was born on march 10 1917..- he started to tell his whole story, comic and movies and lore, just to be sure to not miss anything.

You mentally cursed yourself for asking and just hoped that at least this actor is a good person, if he was a duchebag, you probably wouln't have responded to your actions. Not just because it would be a tremendous disappointment for your brother, but also because your gas, money, time and sleep would've been wasted.

-

Harry finished his storytelling, and you murmured a 'Thank God' and commented that it was very interesting. But, even if it was a neverending ramble, it had been actually quite interesting. You never saw the movies, but now, hearing all that story, you thought about how difficult it must have been to bring everything to the screen. Not just story-wise, but also emotionally. All the dark things that he'd gone through.

-We're here buddy.- you announced as you parked outside the building.

-Yeah!- he cheered and clapped. You both got out of the car and while you were walking towards the entrance you saw some people. Some of them were in costume and some weren’t, but everyone had their pass on.

-Shit, I almost forgot.- you muttered looking in your bag and pulling out two passes and your IDs. You passed one to Harry while you kept the documents, and he put it around his little neck.

-Okay, now let's go inside and take look at the schedule c’mon.- he nodded happily and you went inside. You found yourself in the lobby and saw a sign that gave directions to the various rooms. You took the main corridor and arrived in a big common lobby, where a lot more people and several booths were present.

You walked in between, looking around. Some of the booths were mainly selling nerdy stuff, some t- shirts, some art, and so on. Others, that were empty, had above them a large paper board with a collage of the actors faces and their names.

-How's Bucky called again?- you asked your little brother.

-Sebastian Stan.- he answered, then pointing somewhere on your left.

-There! That's his table.- he ran towards the booth and you sighed, following him. You looked at the board and kinda tought that maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad. There were different photos, with different haircuts, but his handsome face was still the same. Blue eyes, sharp features, pink lips and a smile to die for.

-Well, damn.- you whispered to yourself, feeling definetly more awake.

Then you looked at the day’s schedule and saw that his first panel was at ten am. It was now nine thirty, so you wouldn't have to wait too long. You decided to go take your seats in the hall, and on the way you saw a few very long queues and your heart dropped a bit. It was going to be a long day.

-

The panel began exactly at the indicated time, and when the host annouced Sebastian, everyone cheered, screamed and clapped. He entered the stage with his fist in the air and a big smile.

You weren't exactly in first line, but you were close enough to see his figure clearly. He had a light grey tee shirt under a darker grey jacket, black jeans and brown suede shoes. His brown hair were slicked back and quite short at the sides, he had a scruff that adorned his sharp face.

You felt your stomach flutter a bit. You had never seen a man that attractive before. Not in real life at least. You were definetly going to watch those blessed movies once you got home.

-Hey everyone! How're you doing? Good? Yeah lemme hear ya!- he exclaimed with a big grin, laughing when the crowd cheered louder. You smiled and whoed a little with your Brother.

The panel begun and as the questions went on, you found out a few things about him: He couldn't take a compliment if his life depended on it, he was really smart and thoughtful, he was a dork but the adorable kind, he liked 80's rock and Star Wars. At some point a fan was so nervous to ask him her question that someone screamed 'someone give her a hug' and by everyone's shock she did recive that hug from Sebastian himself. You were a few seats away from the mic and took that opportunity to take a better look at him.

He squeezed her in his arms even raising her from the ground, and when he walked away laughing she fell on the floor. Same girl, same you thought.

After that little interruption the panel ended smoothly. He thanked everyone and said that he would see them at the photo ops.

You and your brother walked out of the hall to buy a snack. On the way to the vending machine you couln't stop thinking about him. You were bewitched by his voice, his mind and his appearence. How come you never found out about him before today? Harry was always talking about that Winter Soldier, but you thought that his interpreter deserved the same, if not more attention. But he was a little boy passionate about superheroes, so it was normal for him to prefer the punch and adventure kinda guy than tha thoughtful one.

-

Sebastian had his first photo op session and after his autograph session at four pm, and honeslty you didn't know what to do until then. It was just midday. So you looked at the schedule and opted for another actor's panel that was at three pm, maybe getting out a little early to take place in the queue.

From one to three pm there had been a lunch pause for everyone, so you and Harry went outside to eat a burger at a near diner. To get away from the crowd for a bit, but also because the food inside was hella expensive.

You had enough time to do everything calmly and you even had a brief call with your mother to update her.

-So, how was he?- she asked with a little excitement.

-Honestly? Surprising.- you laughed a bit.

-As good or bad?-

-Good. Very good. He seems like a very genuine and sweet person. We just saw his interview though. Maybe up close he'll be an asshole. But I doubt. He seemed like a really down to earth guy.- you heard her giggle a bit.

-My daughter has a crush on the superhero uh?- you blushed.

-What? No, no. I don't even know him, mom.- you quickly responded.

-Hey, chill honey. I was just messing with you. But I wouldn't blame you. You know, I've seen those movies under your brother's torture, but those pretty blue eyes didn't escape me. Nor did his even prettier face.- your mouth was agape.

-Mom!- she just chuckled like a schoolgirl.

-Oh, let an old woman dream a bit y/n. - your smirked and rolled your eyes.

-You're not old. Your fifties seem thirties, mom.You’re doing good.- you heard her sigh.

-My babygirl, always speaking the truth.- you laughed, shaking your head.

-I'll hear you later mom.-

-Later honey! Kiss the pretty soldier for me!- you hang up, shaking your head again. She was shameless.

-

This other actor's panel was interesting but not as much as Sebastian's one. Or maybe it was because you couldn't really concentrate. In any case four pm came rather quickly and you went outside to queue, and boy, did you wanted to run away.

An enormus line of people was already there, waiting. You told your brother to stay in line while you tried to see where it began. The first girls were in front of a closed blue tent, a big large bodyguard in front of it. You sighed, defeated, and went back to Harry.

After a few minutes the queue started to move. You were just behind the middle, and almost felt sorry for the people in the back, but you wouldn't have moved for any reason in the world.

You played a little with a game on your phone, looked at the notifications, the news and even searched for the weather broadcast for the day after. It was supposed to be sunny, just like today.

Speaking of sun, you began to feel a little hot, so you took off your black leather jacket and were left with your pale pink short shirtdress. You really liked that dress because it reminded you a bit of the 50's. You loose braid fell from your shoulder on your back when you slipped off the jacket.

You looked at your brother that apparently was more social than you, because he had been able to found a few other children to play with. Then you gazed at the line and you were surprised when you saw that just a few more people were in front of you. With all the people in front of you you were honestly surprised that it took just twenty minutes, but on the other hand, it didn't take ages to take a photo either.

You put your phone away, not wanting to waste any more battery before you got to your hotel in the evening. A lttle past five it was your turn. The bodyguard checked your passes and got you in.

Your brother straight up ran to Sebastian, hugging his hips, his head barely reached his stomach.

-Hey bud! It's good to see you too. What's your name?- he chuckled squatting in front of him.

You remained in the corner watching. You didn’t buy a photo, so you weren’t supposed to appear. You had your arms crossed, your bag and jacket pressed on your chest. You grinned looking at the scene.

-Harry.- he answered proudly. Sebastian nodded, keeping his smile. Then he looked up, straight at you. His gaze locked on you. Your smile faded and a tremendous blush took place.

-And who's that, Harry?- he asked, a little smirk on his lips.

-That's my big sister y/n!- he exclaimed. Sebastian got up putting a hand on your brother's shoulder.

-Isn't your sister taking the photo?- his look never left your figure.

-Uh-Uhm...no, I just accompanied him.- you responded nervously with a gesture of your hand. He shook his head making a fake disappointed face.

-Nah, you're too pretty to not be included. What do you think pal?- your brother begged with a c'mon and you reclutantly gave up, passing your jacket and bag to the assistant with an apologetic smile. Then you walked to them and you were finally face to face with him. He was taller than you, your head reached his ear more or less.

-Hi.- you said, not really knowing what to do. He flashed a big grin.

-Hi to you.-

-Mr, there's still line outside.- the assistant said and you looked away embarassed.

-Yeah, sorry. Big smile.- Sebastian said, while he circled Harry, who was showing off his non existing muscles, with one hand, and the other was placed on your waist, pulling you closer to him. The little tug making you instictively place a hand on his chest. They were both smiling, so you did your best and gave the camera a small shy smile of your own.

-Done!- the photographer said. You moved and the assistant gave you your stuff.

-Thankyou.- you said to the handsome man. He winked.

-My pleasure.- after that you exited the tent in front of you. You brother went away jumping from the joy, while you stayed behind, walking slowly. You still didn't process what just happened. You touched unconsciously your side, where his hand was, smiling like an idiot.

-

You went to fetch the photo, and while Harry was basically flying with happiness, you couldn't stop yourself to look at how close he was holding you, your hand on his chest your rosy cheeks and his handsome grin. Your heart was about to burst.

The photo ops were over about half an hour later, and the authographs should’ve been starting in fifteen minutes. Your mind wasn't giving you a break. You kept repeating what happened in your head. At first you felt like a damn teenager in love, but then more bitter questions started to take place in your mind. Was he joking? Was he always this flirty with everyone? Was he even single in the first place? Was he just trying to get you to relax or was he hitting on you?

All these questions almost made you decide to not accompany your brother at the autograph booth. But then you just decided that you just couldn't do that, so you took a deep breath and went to queue. This time you arrived a little early, so you were on the first half thankfully. The wait was just about ten minutes.

You were next. Harry left to you the task to give him the photo to sign, just because you were taller and had better access to the table. You slipped the picture under his eyes and as soon as he recognized you, he looked up and smirked.

-Hey again.- he said with a suave tone, signing the photo. -Hey bud, are you having fun?- he asked and you looked at the little boy next to you with a smile.

-Yes! I'm your biggest fan! The winter soldier is my favourite character- he told him. You returned your gaze to Sebastian and he took the photo in his hand, passing it to you. A small smile on his lips while he watched you. You gave him a shy smile in return and felt yourself melting. You took the photo and thanked him again.

-Thank you bud. And thank you.- he spoke to you. You gave a small nod and went on.

-

After the autographs you went around a bit between the merchandise booths and ended up buying a winter soldier backpack for your Brother, then you went out to grab dinner. It was just six thirty, but you were both hungry. You eated then you sent a text to your mother saying that everything was okay. You didn't wanted to go into details.

Then you drove for a few minutes to the nice hotel you booked for the night. As soon you stepped into the room, Harry changed into his Avengers pajamas and started to watch tv.

You unpacked the only change you brought, then you wanted to put in the suitcase the documents,passes and the other stuff, but your eyes fell on the back of the photo. You took it into your hand and saw that a yellow sticky note was attached at the back.

Can't give u my number, but feel free to text me in instagram dms Seb ;)  

You were  shocked. Sebastian fucking Stan asked you to text him? You went into the bathroom with your phone, needing a moment to recompose yourself.

-Oh my God.-  you did a face palm. Walking up and down the little bathroom, you nervously toyed with the phone in your hands.

What should I do? I mean the worst that can happen is that he'll not respond. But he should, 'cause he did write the note.Your mind was spinning. You looked at yourself in the mirror.

-Oh, fuck it.- you huffed and opened instagram. You had an account but had barely two posts. You weren't the type to post or stalk people, but you did follow a lot of pages with art, photography, music and movie stuff.

You searched his user and then tapped to the dm icon. His profile pic was a black and white photo

You wrote at least five different senteces, but then went for the simplest. Then you closed the app, blocked the screen and waited. You decided to refresh yourself in the meantime. You brushed your teeth and just when you were about to take off the make up on your eyes, a notification popped up.You took the phone and unblocked it with shaky hands.

You closed the app and went back to your room with a smile plastered on your face, and almost didn't notice that your brother had fallen asleep. You you covered him with the bed covers, turned the tv off and then changed into your pjs and went to bed. You couln't wait for Tomorrow.

So, first off, I feel the need to precise that OBVIOUSLY the chat is fake and photoshopped. It’s kind of obvious, but ya know not everyone has enough braincells I guess. Just to be sure. Anyways, hope you liked it. Let me know what you thought <3

[livinglikearoyal]

Love on a Schedule | Namjoon

Summary: You were able to join the boys on their trip to New Zealand and comfort Namjoon when he is unable to enjoy the trip due to stress. 

Inspired by Bon Voyage S4 : E6 when Namjoon decided to forgo cycling to work and the anonymous request “I was just wondering if I could request a Namjoon/reader oneshot based on the lyric “let them be them, let us be us” from Love Maze.”

Director Junsoo to camp. Namjoon has decided to return to the campsite. Please ensure that the cameras around the site are ready for his arrival. No personnel is required to remain onsite other than camera op one. Once again, Namjoon will be returning to the campsite for the afternoon. Once the site is prepared, no personnel required to remain besides camera op one.

The rise in volume signals the departure of the staff that remained at the cabins for the day. Quiet murmurs spread throughout the common room as the men and women that expected to have the afternoon off to rest and prepare for the rest of their trip find this time put momentarily on hold. 

Director Hyangmi veers away from the small group heading toward the door when she sees you standing near the front desk, holding your coffee mug. Moving to meet her halfway, you prepare to ask your question when she interrupts.

“You want to go, don’t you.” It was a statement and not a question. It seems as if she has gotten to know you well as that is exactly what you want. Her face is stern for a moment before it breaks into a small smile. “Give it an hour or so for the camera op to get some footage for the broadcast. After that, you can head that way. While the camera op is there be sure…”

“To remain inconspicuous. The camera shouldn’t see or hear me. Understood!” You give an exaggerated salute. 

The director shakes her head as she chuckles, “I’m glad you were able to come along this time, Y/N. We’ll be back shortly.” 

You return to your seat near the fireplace and continue to eat your previously forgotten lunch as your mind wanders.

Namjoon has been having a rough time lately. The month-long break was meant to be a time for the band and company members alike to recharge and refocus themselves: go on trips, visit friends and family, eat whatever they want, sleep the day away. While on paper and in the headlines this seems like a fantastic idea, for a person like Namjoon, it was a struggle. He had been working almost without pause for nearly ten years. His love and dedication to his work is something that he takes pride in, even when it is at its most challenging. So to have a month where the expectations are not for him to produce content but to stay out of the studio, it caused its own form of anxiety for Namjoon. While you weren’t able to be with him due to your own job, you know that he tried the normal vacation things: trips to other countries, countless museums, walks with his dog and bike rides along the river, dinners with his family. He did all of that. He enjoyed all of that. However, at the end of the day, he felt like he was neglecting what he should truly be doing. 

You were able to join Namjoon for the last week of his vacation. He treated you to a trip that you had been wanting to take for as long as he could remember and ended it with a couple of nights spending time with both of your families. While you had been able to see his internal conflicts during the countless video calls you had with him and you tried to cheer him up, it was during this week when he opened up about how he struggled with the break. He confessed that he felt the stress building and almost guiltily showed you the notebook of lyrics, ideas, and deadlines he just couldn’t help but put into writing throughout the month. 

Now, you were allowed to follow the boys to New Zealand and spend some more time with Namjoon, albeit interrupted time. You have to respect the filming schedule for Bon Voyage. Essentially if there is a cameraman around–you should not be seen or heard. This is when BTS having seven members comes in handy. When some of the members go on an excursion or begin to do something ridiculous, that is when you and Namjoon can have some time to yourselves.  The crew usually goes to the bare minimum shortly after dinner so you can usually spend some time with the entire group at that point as well. Otherwise, it was very hit and miss. With that being said, you were provided lodging in the cabins near the campsite and got to see the beauty of New Zealand while spending time with your boyfriend so you can’t complain too much. At all, really.

Coming back to reality, you notice that over an hour has passed. You grab your bag and stop by the kitchen before heading toward the star of your daydreams.

You see the camera operator leaving the RV as you make it to the campsite. He nods to you in acknowledgment and holds the door open, gently closing it once you are safely on the interior steps. 

Namjoon doesn’t initially notice your appearance. His hands are in his hair, leaning over his notebook like a desperate college student trying to block out the nonexistent library noise after a regretful night of partying before an exam. You can hear faint sounds coming from his earbuds and can see the tension radiating off of his frame. 

It isn’t until you place the steaming mugs that you brought along with you onto the table that he registers that he has a visitor. 

“Thanks,” he says while scratching out something in his notebook.

“Anytime.”

Looking up for the first time, his surprised look quickly fades to one of curiosity.

“Babe?”

“Filming is over for a while. I got here right as he left.”

“I didn’t even see him leave.”

“Understandable. You were really focused.”

“How’d you know…”

“Everyone knows your here this afternoon, Joon. They announced it over the walkies. The director said they’d only film you for about an hour.”

“Ahh, yeah. I messed up their afternoon off.” He tosses the pen he has been writing with onto the table and leans his head back. 

“That’s not it. They know you.”

He opens his eyes to look at you in question. When you don’t respond, he sighs and finally takes a drink from his mug. 

“Have a seat?” 

You run your hand lightly through his hair before settling onto the bench across from him. You grab a book from your bag before taking a sip from your own mug and making yourself comfortable. 

“You’re not going to tell me to stop working?”

“Would it help if I did?”

A pause. “Probably not.” 

“Then no, I won’t.” You smile softly at him. “I’ll just read a little bit while you work. Maybe I can even help you think of a word or something when you can’t quite think of how you want to say it.” 

You take another sip of your drink before opening your book. The smile that Namjoon sends your way goes unnoticed by you.

After finishing a couple of chapters in your book, you stretch and take in your surroundings. Your feet have found their way onto the bench across from you so that your lower legs are resting against Namjoon’s thighs. Observing the man in question, he is in an almost identical position as he was when you entered the RV. You spend some time watching him: the tapping of his fingers against his head or paper, his grip on the pen, his mouth forming unknown words. Only after he lets out several frustrated sighs do you nudge him with your feet to capture his attention. He looks up and removes one of his earbuds; eyebrow raised in question.

“What about a change of scenery?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Why don’t we take this outside? The sunshine and view might help your ideas flow better. It is starting to get kind of stuffy in here anyway.”

He looks around reluctantly, “We could open the windows?”

“Namjoon.”

He sighs. “Alright. It wouldn’t hurt to stretch a little bit anyway.”

Grabbing your book and a blanket from the bed, you take his unopened water bottle and lead the way out of the RV. You glance around the campsite and find the perfect spot to sit. The two of you take your time walking the short distance to the pair of chairs set up near the lake, where you lay the blanket out in front of both of them. 

“Lay down.” You point to the blanket.

“Y/N, I didn’t know…”

“Don’t make it weird. Just lay down, please?” 

He grins and lays down on his back after setting his notebook, phone, and pen safely in one of the chairs. 

“Roll over.”

You sit down next to him as he does so before saying, “Oh, so you aren’t going to make that rated R?” 

He chuckles and a smile comes to your face when you see his entire body shake because of this.

“Take a bit of a break, Joonie,” you say. “Stretch out and relax for a few minutes.” 

He lays his head on his arms and looks at you with a smile. 

“That sounds good.”

“Hmmm,” you respond before kneeling and beginning to massage his back and shoulders. 

“That feels good.”

“Hmmm.”

The next fifteen minutes are spent with his eyes closed and your hands working their magic on the tension in his back and neck. The only sounds that can be heard are that of the surrounding wildlife and the occasional gasp or groan as you hit a particularly tender spot. You are content to continue for quite a while longer when you notice that his eyes are open and you can see the thoughts forming.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” 

“For this.”

Your hands stop their ministrations and you sit back so you can look at him better.

“What?”

He sighs and sits up as well.

“We can rarely spend time together. And whenever we can spend time together, my mind is elsewhere. That isn’t fair to you. Everyone else can go to dinners together whenever they want, stay at home to watch movies, spend birthdays at amusement parks. But you’re stuck with me, an idol that can’t be seen in public even if he had the time and energy to go out. A songwriter that sucks at putting his thoughts into words. A stressed workaholic that can’t find a balance between home and work, even after a decade. A boyfriend that can’t treat his girlfriend like they do in movies.” He grimaces. “We have to love on a schedule. And when we do find the time, it seems like you are always taking care of me. I’m sorry.” 

It takes a moment for all of that to sink in. In that moment, Namjoon seems to shrink into himself and looks down at his hands. 

You place a hand over his and use your other hand to guide his chin upward to look at you, finally resting it on his cheek. The unshed tears in his eyes are mirrored in your own.

“Namjoon, you have nothing to apologize to me for. I enjoy taking care of others. That’s why I do what I do for a living. The fact that I have this amazingly strong, ambitious, and responsible boyfriend that allows me to take care of him, makes me feel important. Special. We all have a lot on our plates and you are no different. The amount of expectation and responsibilities that you have is unreal. You have so many upcoming projects to balance along with the responsibilities of being a leader and brother to the guys. But you manage it and you succeed more times than not. And the amazing thing about you is that you take those times that you don’t succeed and create the most beautiful and inspiring work from it, whether you share it with the public or not.”

A tear falls as he shakes his head. 

“You are one of the most important people in my life, Joonie. Of course, I want to take care of you. Of course, I’d love if we could be together at all times of day and have that typical fairytale romance. But you know what? I absolutely adore what we have. It gives us both the opportunity to flourish in our own independence while also having the comfort of knowing that the other is just a phone call away. That distance…that makes times like this even more sweet and memorable. This relationship has not only brought me you, my prince charming, but it has also brought so many more people into my family. The guys and crew feel like my brothers and sisters. I hope that my family and friends are the same for you?”

He nods.

“So what if we can’t have dinner in the same room every night. So what if we don’t spend our birthdays together at arcades or amusement parks. That is what everyone else does. Let them be them. Let us be us. I absolutely love every single moment we have spent together. Every single trip. Every word. Every touch. It doesn’t matter if we are somewhere extraordinary like this or on different sides of the globe, speaking through the phone. I’ve loved it all. You are home to me.”

You kiss him gently on the lips.

“I love you. I love you the most.”

“Y/N, I…” Namjoon tilts his head like he can’t figure out what to say before he moves forward, capturing your lips in his once again.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Your smile is reflected on his face as you scoot to sit between his legs and lean into him. His arms come to wrap around you and he leans his chin on your shoulder. The two of you sit looking at the gorgeous scenery for an unknown period of time, sharing gentle kisses and touches, whispered promises. 

“You know, you can go ahead and work on your music if you want to. I’ll stay,” you say softly after you give him a kiss on the cheek.

“You sure?”

“Hmmm. If there is ever a time when I want or need your undivided attention, I will let you know. Just like I hope you would let me know. Right now though, I just want to be around you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing.” 

“Alright.” He places a kiss on your temple before untangling his limbs from yours to stand up and retrieve his supplies. He soon returns, handing you the book you had been reading before laying down on his stomach and getting to work. You watch him for a few moments before making yourself comfortable, using his back as a pillow. You let out a contented sigh when you feel his back move slightly, signaling that he has started to write.

You’ll have to be sure to thank Director Hyangmi when you get back to the cabins for having the crew avoid filming near the lake once everyone returned. 

[thiswasinevitableid]

➼ we discover on our date that we’ve just missed each other our entire lives (living in the same city only years apart, going to the same hallowe’en parties but never speaking, almost were set up by different friends three years ago at a NYE party, missing each other at our friends’ BBQ parties by ten minutes, shopping at the same store, going to the same college for two years) Indruck?

Duck checks his phone for the fifth time. He’s only a few minutes late, but he’s worried his date may have bailed when he didn’t get there on time. Or maybe he bailed all together. 

“Duck?”

He looks up to find a tall, gangling man with white hair and red glasses smiling nervously at him. His features are softer than they look in the photos on his profile, but still just as eye-catching.

“That’s me. Nice to meet you, Indrid.”

Is he supposed to shake hands? Pull Indrids chair out? Damn it, he’s been out of the dating game too long.

“I’m sorry I’m late, my bus was delayed.” Indrid sits down across from him, fingers tapping anxiously on the table.

“That’s big city livin for you.” Duck sips his coffee, 

“Oh, yes, you said you grew up in the country. What brought you out here?”

“The state park offered me a real nice position. You?”

“Uh, just sort of landed here, oh, thank you.” Indrid smiles at the server as he sets down his drink. 

“What...is that?”

“White chocolate-caramel macchiato. With extra whipped cream.” 

“To each their own.” Duck lifts his mug and Indrid clinks his against it, “friend of mine, Barclay, keeps tryin to get me to ‘broaden my palate’ but I don’t-”

“Wait, Barclay who runs the food co-op?”

Duck blinks in surprise, “Yeah…”

“Oooh, we’ve been friends since I moved. Aren’t his Halloween parties the best?” Indrid bounces in his seat with adorable excitement.

“They’re fuckin amazin! Don’t remember seeing you there, that’s weird.”

Indrid digs through his jacket, pulling out his phone and holding it out to Duck. He looks at it, finds a photo of-

“Holy shit! You were the mothman last year. Man, that costume was fuckin cool.”

“Thank you, I made it myself.”  Indrid preens for a moment before blushing into his drink. 

“How’d you get the eyes to go glow?”

“Well, it’s rather simple, assuming one has a glue gun….”

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

This is getting weird. 

Not only have he and Indrid been shopping at the same grocery store for years, they have the same favorite restaurant in town (“Willoughbees? Fuck, they have the best hash.” “Mmm, maybe I’ll try it. I usually get their pancakes.”  “The chocolate chip ones?” “Of course.”). They missed each other three years running at Aubreys summer BBQ because Duck always has to leave early for work, and they even overlapped for two years at UW.

Duck is finishing his coffee when Indrid sighs happily, smiling at him so sweetly that Duck might melt right out of his chair. 

“I’m so glad we found each other. Honestly, I was terrified of trying out that dating app, and I kept passing up guys who wanted to meet. You were just so, so” Indrid waves his hands, searching for the word, “unflappable and patient, not to mention handsome. You even let me ramble on about tattoo design. I couldn’t figure out what a great guy like you was even doing there.”

“I’m only on it because I lost a bet.”

Indrid arches an amused eyebrow, “With who?”

“Friend of mine. Really oughta know better by now than to do that kind of thing with Ned.”

Indrid bursts out laughing.

“You made a bet with Ned fucking Chicane, didn’t you?” 

“How do you know-”

“We met a year ago, when I was making sketches at the Cryptonomica. He was going to set me up with a friend of his at a new years party but the friend never showed.”

“Yeah, because a bunch of knuckleheads decided to set off fireworks in the park.” Now Duck is laughing, the near misses too ridiculous even for him “God, I thought I dodged a bullet not gettin set up on a date by Ned. Now I’m just real pissed it meant I had to go longer without meetin you.”

The baristas are starting to put the chairs up, but he can’t bring himself to say goodbye just yet.

“Hey, I know a real nice path along the arboretum, we could walk for a bit. If, uh, that is, if you still wanna keep talkinAHohokay.”  He giggles as Indrid leaps up, grabs his hand, and hurries them out the door. 

Indrid drops his hand, falls in step beside him as they head through town.

“I can’t believe it’s taken this long for us to meet.” Duck muses.

“Me neither. Perhaps the universe was trying to keep us apart and now we’ve messed with the wheels of fate.” He wiggles his fingers in mock menace. 

“Guess I better take precautions in case fate tries to pull somethin.” Duck takes Indrids hand again, and the taller man draws close to him as they walk. 

“Why, Duck Newton” Indrid purrs with a delighted, soft smile, “are you saying you’d defy the hands of fate just to date me?”

Duck chuckles, squeezing his hand, “damn right I would.”

[she-is-tim]

P.S. I miss you | Elu Online friends AU | Ch.1

It’s been since a month now that Eliott started to talk to this interesting boy on instagram. They get along well and it’s just a safe place for him to go back to when things are getting too much in his life. But january is here and he’s about to start at his new school. What he doesn’t expect is to bump into the person he’s been texting with. Suddenly Eliott’s life going upside down as he both tries to approach and avoid Lucas at the same time. 

The New Student

Eliott got up from his bed, turning off the alarm he snoozed at least five times in the last ten minutes. He got used to sleeping in during the holidays and this morning he felt extra grumpy for needing to wake up early. New school, new people, on hist last year. Gotta be a real fun ride, huh? He yawned, running his fingers through his messy hair and walked to the bathroom, taking care of his morning needs, such as peeing, brushing teeth and washing his face. When he was done, he took off the old shirt and shorts he was using as pyjamas, putting on light blue jeans and a black shirt. Before getting into his hoodie and going to the kitchen for breakfast, maybe some coffee, he grabbed his phone, unplugging it from the charger and checked his instagram. There was one new message. He quickly opened it, not being aware of the wide smile that spread across his face.

lucallemant Uhg, I hate waking up early

srodulv You tell me?  New school and all, remember? 

lucallemant Fuck, really That sucks

srodulv Wish me luck

lucallemant Should I send kisses? 

srodulv Oh, being playful so early in the morning?  I love that 

lucallemant It’s the Eli affect for sure 

srodulv So I’m affecting you?  Good to know 

lucallemant Shut up  Weirdo 

srodulv This weirdo have to get ready for school Talk later? 

lucallemant Good luck ❤️

srodulv ❤️

He was still smiling like an idiot as he got to the kitchen, making himself some toast and reheating some coffee from yesterday. It wasn’t the most healthy breakfast, but he could get on with it at least. Before leaving he pocketed his phone, put on his favorite brown jacket and left the apartment with his bag on his shoulder. Suddenly he started feeling really nervous. Through the past month neither he or Lucas had many things to do, so they were texting (and flirting) back and forth basically all day, but now they are going to have classes, homework, studies. It made him feel anxious to think about that he can’t share things with him, because he will be busy. 

With a sudenly appeared lump in his throat, he got off the bus at the stop nearest to his new high school. He pulled up his hoodie both as a protection from cold and from the curious eyes. He put in his earphones, turning on some dubstep, making sure the volume is high enough for him to cover the possible whispers, but not too loud to hear if anyone tries to talk to him. 

He walked through the school gates, trying to blend into the other students that arrived the same time. Everyone is busy greeting each other after the long holiday break, so he has good chances of not being spotted as the new kid. He almost made it to the building, people around him went off to their own way, when a small group of guys were coming towards him. They were so busy talking about something, that they didn’t notice Eliott. One of them even bumped his shoulders into him, but he kept talking with so much passion that was unreal in such early hours. The tall boy was so intrigued by these guys, that he stopped, turning around to see them, but all he saw was him. 

He felt like someone pulled the ground from under him, letting him spin and fall in the endless pit. His stomach flipped, his heart skipped a beat, then started beating faster than a race horse. He couldn’t believe that it was Lucas, but he saw his photos on instagram so many times that he could pinpoint him in the biggest crowd anytime. He was even more beautiful in person, his hair seemed soft, bouncing up and down as he walked. His smile was brighter than the sun. The only thing that surprised Eliott was his height, he was so tiny.

He looked down, then back up again, realizing that Lucas and his friends disappeared from his sight already. He swallowed the lump in his throat, continuing his way to the principal’s office. He had to get some things done before starting his classes. Deep inside he was fighting a battle with himself, incapable of forgetting his accidental meeting with his online friend... crush actually.

He was on lunch break, spending it outside on a bench, munching on his cold cheese toast and drinking orange juice. He could only start eating at the cafeteria tomorrow, so he had to bring food with himself from home, which was a bad idea, considering how bad of a cook he was. Suddenly his meal seemed even less intriguing when his phone buzzed, letting him know that he got a new notification. 

lucallemant So, how’s the new school?  I’m bored out of my mind 

srodulv It’s okay so far Eating cold cheesetoast  Delicious~

lucallemant Eugh! That’s disgusting Why aren’t you eating in the cafeteria? 

srodulv No tickets, only tomorrow

lucallemant I’m eating some weird looking pasta It doesn’t taste as bad as it looks like though

srodulv Well, I’m just gonna bury my sadness into my cheesetoast then 

lucallemant You are being unnecessarily dramatic

srodulv I’m craving for your attention 

lucallemant Yeah, right Dramatic

srodulv I like to label myself as romantic

lucallemant Sure, whatever Gotta go, the boys are bugging me for texting so much

srodulv Talk later then  ❤️

lucallemant Talk later  ❤️

Eliott sighed, pocketing his phone with a silly smile. He couldn’t remember when they started to use hearts when they said goodbye to each other, but since then both of them are doing it and it’s just so wholesome. It makes his heart flutter everytime. He was so in depth with his thoughts that he didn’t notice the girl standing in front of him, hands on her waist, so he startles when she says hi. He looks up and his face falls. Imane, wearing a nice headband over her braided locks, makeup is on point like always, her eyes piercing like a sharp knife. He swallows.

“Hey!” that’s all he can force out. He’s supposed to be the older one, but who the hell could be brave when someone is looking at them with such a mad expression. He knew Imane wasn’t a bad person, but she still had a tough personality, which won her the respect from Eliott. 

“Didn’t know you are going to my school.” she said it so casualy, like he was owing her any explanations to which school he attends to.

“This is my first day.” he shrugged. “Didn’t the boys tell you that I’m changing schools?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Idriss usually shared every little thing with Imane, but probably he just forgot to mention this, since both him and Sofiane already graduated last year, there weren’t much talk about school between the three boys. 

“No.” she shook her head, expression easing a little now. “Problems in the other school?” he asked with so much understanding that it basically hurt Eliott. She knew exactly how it feels like to be different from others, wanting to break out of your previous life and start things over. He smiled at her softly.

“Something like that.” he admitted, trying to brush off the question. It was for the best if no one knows about his bipolarity in the new school. He was already grateful that neither Idriss or Sofiane shared that information with the girl. It was his private secret and he didn’t wanted anyone to pity him or think that he’s crazy. Especially not Lucas. 

“I see.” she nodded, not pushing forward the topic, which Eliott was forever grateful for. “We will have this thing.” she said, giving him a little piece of paper, well put together leaflet that was advertising some common room meeting. The boy raised his eyebrows in quiestion. “My friend is really excited about this, she wants to bring something new to the school, a place were people can meet up, talk and get to know each other.” she explained with a soft smile that made her look even more beautiful. “Can you come? We need people to be there, so she can go on with this project.” 

“Yeah, sure.” he said and shrugged, putting the paper in the pocket of his jeans. “It might be even useful for me, since I know noone here.” he said smirking, trying not to remember how big of a lie that was. He knew someone, and he knew him really well. 

“Cool, see you there then.” she said with a victorious smirk and walked away, probably back to her friends. Eliott sighed, throwing the rest of his toast and his empty juice box into the trash, walking back inside to his next class. 

The week passed by pretty calmly, Eliott decided to just avoid Lucas at school, which wasn’t hard since they weren’t in the same year. Also the short boy had no idea how Eliott looks like, neither he knew his full name. He once sent him a picture of his pet snake, Nagini wrapped around his neck, but he made sure his face is not showing on the photo. Oh yes, Eliott had a fucking snake as a pet, named him after the snake of Voldemort and loves him more than anything. He is that kind of nerd. Obviously he managed to freak Lucas out with that fact, but he only needed a week to get over it and now he sometimes just casualy asks how Nagi is doing, which makes Eliott’s heart melt each time.  

By friday he was kinda comfortable in his new school, even made friends with a cool guy called Alex. He was super chill, super nice and vegetarian. Eliott sadly couldn’t live without meat in his life, but he had huge respect for those who chose that path voluntarily. He was a bit disappointed when Alex said that he’s not going to the common room, because he knew just enough people and he also had basketball practice too. So accepting his fate, Eliott made his way to the place.

As he walked inside with a hopeful smile on his face, he noticed that he was probably a few minutes late, since the girls at the front were already talking. Thankfully the door was wide open so he didn’t got anyone’s attention by coming in and sat down to the closest chair he found. He catched a disapproving look from Imane, but she also had a smug smile on her face. He smirked back at her and for some reason he looked through the crowd. A lot of people came, which was really nice, since the blonde girl, Daphné if he remembered correctly seemed happy. She was probably the one initiating this whole thing.

His eyes almost wandered back to the girls in front of the group, when he caught a pair of blue irises staring at him. He felt like time froze right then and there as he stared back at Lucas. His heart was thumping in his ears, making him impossible to hear anything that is being said by the girls. He watched the boy swallow and turning back to his friends as they snapped him back to reality. Eliott was never so grateful for anything in his life, but he felt like if the boy would be staring just a few seconds longer at him, he would just launch himself at him, kissing the living hell out of those cherry lips. 

He tried to focus now on what Daphné was saying, she gave surveys to the ones in the front to spread it to everyone. Eliott was glad he was sitting far from Lucas, so they wouldn’t get in contact as the students passed papers and pens around. He grabbed a pen and a survey, then giving the pack to the next person. It was hard to pay attention to the quiestions when he kept hearing Lucas and his friends whispering. Hearing his voice made things much harder. Not like he didn’t hear it before, but only in videos and insta stories as he was goofing around with friends. This was different. His heart skipped a beat when he heard him laughing. He had to get out as quick as possible. 

The meeting took much longer than he expected it to, Daphné was a really talkative person and Eliott didn’t had the guts to leave in the middle. He was sure that Imane would cut off his balls the next time she sees him, so he stayed, trying to close Lucas out of his head, but it was an impossible task, since he kept glancing at Eliott from time to time. For fucks sake, Lucas, focus on what your friend says! 

He made his way to the bus stop as fast as possible, hoping that he doesn’t have to wait too long. When he arrived, he realized how hungry he was, so he stepped to the vending machine that was standing there behind the stop like an angelic blessing for his growling stomach. He looked through all the snacks inside, lifting his right hand to his mouth, running his fingers over his lips as he tried to consider which one would be the best choice. After some minutes he heard footsteps too close to him to be just one of the passing by people. He looked to his side and almost got a heart attack when he saw Lucas standing there, having a soft smile on his face. 

“Oh, fuck! I didn’t notice you there.” he stuttered, much more calmly than he was actually feeling. “I just don’t know what to get.” he explained himself, feeling like a complete idiot that he couldn’t just buy something and leave. 

“The 24 one isn’t that bad.” Lucas said and fuck if his voice wasn’t the smoothest thing he ever heard in his life. Also that fucking scarf wrapped around him like three times, consuming half of his face. When Lucas cocked an eyebrow up, that’s when he noticed that he was just staring silently, so he quickly started to look for the coins in his pocket, but managing to drop half of them as he pulled his hand out. He cursed under his breath and leant down to pick them up, but halfway his head knocked into Lucas, both of them stumbling back in surprise, pressing their palms on their foreheads. 

“Woah, I’m sorry.” Eliott mumbled, being terrified of what the short boy is thinking about him now. He used to be so fucking confident as they were texting, why he had to be such a clumsy idiot right now? 

“I wasn’t expecting that for sure.” Lucas replied, a soft giggle leaving his mouth, making Eliott’s heart skip a beat. Yepp, he definitely has a crush on this boy.

“Let me buy you something as an apology.” he mumbled quickly as he knelt down to pick up the coins he dropped, this time without knocking his head to Lucas’. As he straightened up, he catched those ocean blue eyes, seeing something special in them, a playful spark maybe? He swallowed and turned to the machine.

“Sure, get me one of those chocolate bars.” he nodded his head towards the machine. Eliott just nodded and started putting coins into the little hole, pushing the right buttons, then doing it for the second time. He took a deep breath, taking the chocolates out and turning to the short boy, handing him one. 

“Here.” he said softly, trying not to drop it or do anything stupid again, making even a bigger fool of himself. 

“Thanks.” Lucas said smiling and took the chocolate. Eliott was expecting him to eat it there, but he instead pocketed it and puled out something from his jacket. When he noticed what it was, he stared at him in disbelief. “Wanna share a joint?” he asked smirking, raising his eyebrows in a challenge. The fuck is this supposed to be, Lucas? He screamed inside his head.

“Sure.” he shrugged, sounding much more uninterested than he actually was. They walked back to the bus stop, sitting down to the cold steel seats, not exactly next to each other because no homo and all. 

Lucas lit the joint, taking a long drag from it and then handing it to the tall boy while blowing out the smoke. Eliott was just a little starstruck by that, but he took the cigarette, placing between his lips, inhaling the stuff. He wasn’t able to smoke since a while now, considering that both Idriss and Sofiane made sure that he has no access to blunts at parties. 

“Are you new?” Lucas asked after long minutes of silent smoking. The weed was kicking in, making Eliott relaxed and much more calm. His heart wasn’t racing anymore and his thoughts were too fuzzy to overthink this situation, he was just enjoying it. 

“Yeah, I just arrived.” he responded, handing the joint back to the short boy. “Third year, Literature.” that wasn’t necessary to share, but he still wanted Lucas to know. They never talked about school that much for him to realize that his new guy is actually the Eli he is texting with since a month now. 

“Five months before Bac?” he raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a bit weird?” he asked and every little part of Eliott wanted to scream, because Lucas is so fucking obsessed with the word “weird” that it’s ridiculous. 

“Are you trying to say that I’m weird?” he asked on a playful tone and he watched as the boy’s face falls, trying to explain himself, when a girl appeared from nowhere, jumping in front of him.

“Hey! How are you?” she asked with way too much enthusiasm than Eliott could endure. She was pretty though, long brown hair tied up, soft face, beautiful smile. Anything a teenager boy could wish for. 

“I’m fine. And you?” Lucas didn’t really sound interested as he was speaking, but the girl seemed to not notice that. What she noticed was the joint in the short boy’s hand, she beamed and her smile grew bigger. “Can I?” she asked and Lucas just shrugged, handing her the joint. She sat down right between the boys, taking a drag from the cigarette, focusing her vision only on Lucas, which started to annoy Eliott. 

“That meeting was nice, right?” she asked, trying to initiate a conversation between them. 

“Yeah, it was okay.” the short boy answered, taking back his joint from her.

“The survey was a great idea too.” she added and Eliott couldn’t hold himself back now, he had to say something. He leant forward, to be close to this girl that was getting on his nerves.

“I think it was weird.” he said, startling her with his sudden pesence, but she looked at him with that annoyingly bright smile. 

“How rude of me, I didn’t even introduce myself.” she said on a happy tone, reaching out her hand. “I’m Chloé.” she chimed and the tall boy had no choice but to accept her hand and shake it. 

“Eliott.” he said smiling a little, catching the glance of Lucas, who had all his attention on him instead of this pretty girl. He felt satisfied with that. “I’m Eliott.” he repeated, this time addressing it directly to Lucas who shot him a smile. 

“I’m Lucas.” 

Then an awkward silence fell on them, just passing around the joint quietly. When the bus arrived, Eliott got up and said goodbye to the two, mostly focusing on Lucas. He had a soft smile on his face which made the tall boy’s heart flutter in his chest. During the whole ride home he was smiling like a fucking idiot and not just because he was high. He was almost at his stop when his phone was buzzing. He pulled it out of his pocket and was surprised that it was a message from Lucas.

lucallemant Today was so busy Sorry for not texting you all day

srodulv No worries I also had a busy day

lucallemant Done with the first week though How was it? 

srodulv Not too bad I made some friends

lucallemant Shit, that’s awesome I’m happy for you 

Eliott couldn’t answer immediately, because he had to get off the bus and walk home. His phone was basically burning in his pocket, begging him to grab it and answer Lucas. As he walked into the flat, throwing his jacket on the hanger by the door, he went to his room to make sure Nagi is alright. He was rolled up in the corner of his terrarium, probably sleeping. After that he walked back to the living room, throwing himself on the couch and taking his phone into his hands. He got another message from Lucas.

lucallemant I actually met someone today

His heart skipped a beat and his hands started to sweat. What was he supposed to answer that? Yeah, I know, because that person is me? That is so fucking stupid. He should be honest with Lucas, they were always honest with each other. He knew about the bad mental state of the boy’s mother and Eliott hinted a couple times in their conversations that he also has some mental issues, not wording out that he’s bipolar, but he knew that Lucas put the pieces together. 

srodulv Oh yeah?  Already ditching me for someone else? 

lucallemant Hahaha I would never ditch my favorite stalker

srodulv You have multiple stalkers now?  What else I don’t know? 

lucallemant Oh shut up

srodulv ❤️

lucallemant I hate you 

srodulv No, you don’t 

lucallemant  You got some serious confidence, huh? 

srodulv I just know you  And I know that you can’t resist my intense charm 

lucallemant What charm? 

srodulv Ouch, my heart  That was mean, Lulu

lucallemant So, how is Nagini doing? 

Eliott smirked at his phone. This little shit often used stupid questions like this to avoid continuing a coversation. 

srodulv He’s sleeping

lucallemant  Good then 

srodulv So, you menationed that you met someone today

lucallemant Yeah, nothing special though He seems like a cool dude, but he might be weirder than you 

srodulv Is that even possible? 

His face was hurting from all the smiling, but he couldn’t stop. It was so sweet that Lucas was talking about him, while he had no idea that it was Eliott he met with. 

lucallemant Guess it is

srodulv Maybe you’re attracting weird people 

lucallemant  Thinking about my friends, that must be true

srodulv Still, I’m your favorite weirdo, right? 

lucallemant Of course  ❤️  You are weirdest weirdo I know 

srodulv That is so touching You are my favorite hedgehog too 

lucallemant  Like you have any other hedgehogs 

srodulv Oh, someone seems jealous I can reassure you that my heart only belongs to you  ❤️

lucallemant If only I could roll a joint with it... 

srodulv Every rejection is making my feelings stronger  Just so you know

lucallemant Shut up and go to sleep already

srodulv How mean We barely talked today and you want me to leave? 

lucallemant I just know that if you don’t go to sleep right now, we will be up until 3am talking about the global warming or shit 

srodulv That’s actually an interesting topic...

lucallemant Shower and bed, Eli Shower and bed

srodulv Only if you could join me

lucallemant I believe that you can fix that with some imagination 

Eliott had to take a deep breath after reading that last message. Lucas was always more flirty when he was drunk or high, he realized this just a few weeks ago. Lucas went out a party on saturday, just something organized by one of his friends to celebrate the last days of the holidays. He sent some messages while being at the party, but after it when he was totally high, he kept bombing Eliott with sweet, but for him probably really awkward text. He even asked for a dick pic. Eliott laughed his ass off that night and the next morning too when Lucas was apologizing rapidly. 

He sighed, trying to focus his attention back on his phone, but his mind started to wander off to his meeting with Lucas. He couldn’t get it out of his head how the boy looked at him in the common room. That was the very first time he saw Eliott, not knowing who he was and still there was some strange connection between them in that exact moment. He knew that Lucas felt it just like him. He quickly shook his head, looking back at his phone, typing a reply.

srodulv Good night then, Lulu  ❤️

lucallemant Good night  ❤️

Okay guys, hit me up with your opinions on this new story. Do you like it? There will be a lot of texts, lots of flirting and disaster Eliott! I was so fucking excited that I finished this chapter within a day, don’t blame me, I was waiting to write this story since days now. Bisou 

[sleepysera]

17, 18 and 19 please!

aww @eveesque thank u for the music ask game questions ♡ i'm adding a cut bc i'm annotating these in the margins.

[I might post these on @tinyblips]

17. 4 songs that make you think of a specific person

Circadian Rhythm (Last Dance) - Silversun Pickups Currently on repeat. A dance in a gay bar after work, and headlights behind me in the fog at 4 in the morning. Don't really have to stay, don't really have to leave, and yet we're here, we're here, we're here, we're here-- Circles - Post Malone About a smile that's faded in the dust, and it's almost been a year. A heart drawn on a window that's slowly vanishing with the sunlight and the rain and just the simple passage of time. Maybe the Time Traveler never made it out, and maybe that's okay after all. Auf Achse - Franz Ferdinand A giggle in the high school halls, and maybe the vibrations caused by those sound waves over a decade ago are still causing vibrations in the sky now. Maybe the love that had nowhere to settle settled up high in the clouds above us, swirling and turning into snow falling gently upon my eyelashes. Smile Like You Mean It - The Killers A sigh in a parking lot late at night staring up at the stars with an iPod well worn. Cars passing by in the night and I wonder where I'll be ten years from now--twenty even. The feeling settled unwelcome in my chest: I knew that we were already done, and soon enough you weren't going to be part of my story anymore.

18. 4 songs you would listen to when you can’t sleep

The Moon is Down - Explosions in the Sky The feeling of tired eyes and a weary soul. The change is here, and all that's left is to breathe through it softly. The winds will settle, and the waves will wash all of it away, and you will stand on the rock in the sea under the moon surrounded by the grace of love and the knowledge that you did the best that you could. There is no harm in that for nothing is ever wasted. In the quiet night before dawn, there are no regrets, and there are no more tears to be shed. Waltz in A-Minor, Op. Posth. - Frédéric Chopin The college dorm sheets sit in disarray, and the glow of the lamplight haunts the window until the break of dawn. Insomnia lines the eyes thick with the tragedy of isolation and doubt. Coffee sits cold and untouched, along with the question of whether it's best to lean into the untired sleepiness with another cup, or to sit restlessly deep into the night with eyes unclosing. My Love - Sia The fog wraps itself upon the city like a lover left out in the cold. Lights beckon the unsleeping eyes, and hesitant fingers play restlessly with zippers up and down, up and down. The streetlamp casts its glow upon the movement of the fog, reflecting the swirls of the soft night breeze, showing what was invisible like a love and a sigh and a death. What is the separation of consciousness? What does it mean to love, and what does it mean to die? Rubber Ball - Cage the Elephant My hands are shaking. They are cold and cracked dry. I've worked them day after day, night after night, doing too much for people who don't even need it--don't even want it. Why do we try so hard to succeed? Why do we try so hard to be lovable? Why does my heart always feel like it's never enough--like I'll never be loved?

19. 4 songs that help you work

everything i wanted - Billie Eilish Cold are the echoes of my steps through the stairwell; hard is the slam of the door to the offices. White are the walls and grey are the carpets; cubicle after cubicle passes by my scanning eyes, scanning, ever scanning. The office supplies are supplied; the coffee freely flowing. A whisper in my heart tells me it's not right, but I know that this is home. I wouldn't rather be anywhere else than this place that's accepted me for who I am. The screams of home don't exist here. The constant threats of homelessness are a stranger to these walls. lofi hip hop radio - LoFi Girl Mischievous laughter during the holiday break, and my friend and I cast the LoFi Girl on the big screen TV of the lobby conference room. Office work is a steady beat, and with no one in the building the beat gets slower, and the talk gets thicker. We lounge and pretend we're friends, slowly beginning to understand that maybe we've been friends all along--maybe even a certain type of family. He asks the real questions, about life, about dreams. We breathe and pass the hours away, happy for the moments we can spend knowing what it means to be valued. Helena Beat - Foster the People The days are getting longer, and my shoes hit the concrete, fast. I look at the same hallways I've looked at every day, each time finding something different I hadn't seen before. Looking at the building with an artist's eye I observe all the little things that make it what it is. Was that pipe always there? The table sits just so, perfectly centered between chairs that swivel back and forth between nervous conference calls. I look out the window of the top story to see the pale moon rising behind the mountains and I know--the time for life is now. The thought crosses my mind, and I wonder if this is what it means to be alive: to help people who matter to you do their job well. When I'm Small - Phantogram For all the thrills that office life gives me (and the endless hammerheads and double shot cappuccinos), the thought still sits restlessly covered under the sands at the bottom of my heart: "Ah, so you're leaving." The thought sits heavy in my throat that I had dared to think I had found a friend--a best friend, even. One who would run with me beside the violent stormy seas at night; one who would show up and help me clean my room when I'm at my very worst, tired and angry, lashing out at the world and everyone who ever loved me. Taking the tides of my volatile soul he tempered it, sustained it, grew through it. And yet as he sits in his desk down the hall newly promoted, the thought sticks like a wrench in the cogs of my mind. This is only temporary, and one day, he is leaving.

[anextraordinarymuse]

Prompt: # times Philinda almost got caught being lovey-dovey and 1 time they actually get caught.

5 times Phil and Melinda succeeded at being Covert (+1 time they Failed Miserably):

Note: some of these ended up being more loving than lovey-dovey, but I hope you like it anyway. 

One

They don’t consciously decide to keep their developing relationship a secret - it just sort of happens. Their chain of command is less like a chain these days and more like a Celtic knot. Phil’s not the Director, but the team has always looked to him as their leader and that’s not something he takes lightly. He doesn’t think they’ll care, necessarily, but what he has with May is so new that he’s uncertain about sharing it yet.

May’s just private by nature.

That’s not to say, however, that they’re great at keeping the two halves of their lives separate (or that they care overly much about doing so). Phil is terrible at this.

He’s a tactile man, and that impulse to touch - to initiate and maintain contact - only increases with their intimacy. He’s careful about it for the most part, but May does notice that any time they’re alone his hand will find its way to her sooner rather than later. His favorite spot seems to be the small of her back.

It’s this propensity for touch that almost gets them caught the first time. 

Phil sends May, Elena, and Mack out on a mission that ends with a rather nasty fist fight. They all take a bit of a beating, and Phil is waiting for them the moment they get back. 

“Simmons is waiting for you in medical,” Phil tells them.

Melinda doesn’t attempt to follow Mack and Elena as they disappear down the hall. She knows enough to wait; Phil brushes the hair away from her brow, which is cut and already bruising, and then rests his hand against her uninjured cheek. 

“I’m fine,” she reassures him gently. “You should see the other guy.”

Phil smiles, but May can sense the displeasure that lingers behind it. He hates when she’s injured, but he’s trying not to be overbearing. She’s never been fond of excessive attention when she’s injured. Phil is the only person whose attention she can tolerate in such situations, because she can trust him not to go overboard. 

They’re standing close together - closer than they would have before - and Phil’s other hand has found its way to her hip. May is about to say something when Jemma’s voice cuts her off. 

Phil manages to step away milliseconds before Jemma turns the corner. 

“Here you are,” Jemma says. “I was worried when you didn’t show up with Mack and Elena. Oh, sorry - am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Phil says. “She’s all yours.”

And that’s all the fussing Coulson does. Melinda is grateful for that. 

He does bring her a cup of her favorite tea later that night, though, and doesn’t wake her when he gets up the next morning. 

Two

It’s not always the big things that threaten to get them in trouble. More often, it’s the quiet moments that run the biggest risk of discovery.

(Inch by inch, Melinda has been reacquainting herself with the parts of her that she forgot existed after Bahrain. It’s a long road, but she travels it easier with Phil.)

“That is not what you said,” May insists, and she’s grinning.

“Yes it is.”

“No, you said ‘May I persuade you to try this coffee’ and almost blew our cover.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” Phil counters, and he’s doing his damndest to keep a straight face. 

They’re making breakfast together, and that had prompted May to ask, “hey, remember our first mission together when you almost ruined everything by using my name?” Twenty minutes later and they’re still arguing over it. 

Melinda has turned herself so that she’s parallel to him and can see his face, and he tries to accommodate for that by keeping his expression neutral.

It’s barely six thirty in the morning and she has her hair pulled back and a spatula in one hand, and they’re both in their pajamas and staring sickeningly at each other. 

“Who doesn’t like coffee?” Phil teases. 

“What did they teach you in Communications, anyway?” May fires back. 

Phil is leaning over to kiss her when a bleary eyed Daisy stumbles into the kitchen. He straightens up so quick his back pops. May is convinced they’ve been caught - not that she particularly cares - but Daisy just blinks and passes a hand over her face. 

“Are you guys making breakfast?”

“Pancakes,” Phil says. 

“I still hate mornings,” Daisy grouses.

Melinda knows that the cat will be out of the bag sooner rather than later. 

She’s in no rush.

Three

They really need rooms with en suite bathrooms. 

It’s close to two-thirty in the morning and Melinda wakes because she has to pee. She’s taken to sleeping in Phil’s shirts (and little else); it’s late so she figures she can make the quick trip down the hall to the bathroom without encountering anyone. She slips on a pair of house slippers - also Phil’s - and opens the door quietly so she doesn’t wake him. 

She has to hide in the bathroom for an extra ten minutes because Mack and Fitz are not only awake, but decide to stop in the hall and argue about what May assumes is a video game. 

“Everything okay?” Phil asks sleepily when Melinda slides back into bed.

“We’re getting our own place,” she grouses. “I’m tired of living in bases.”

“Okay.” 

Phil’s asleep again before he’s finished saying the word. He only remembers the conversation days later.

“Were you serious?” he asks when he does.

“House or condo?” Melinda replies. 

Turns out they both prefer a house.

Four

The team is accustomed to the ways everyone communicates with one another. They know that Fitzsimmons has a language and a way of talking that no one else can follow when they really get going, just like they know that Phil and Melinda have a tendency to say things to each other that make it seem like they started this conversation ten years ago. They don’t question it.

That’s not to say it’s not strange to hear one conversation, but feel like they’re having a different one entirely. 

Daisy, Fitz, and Simmons have just been briefed on the parameters of their newest mission and their expected roles and are about to leave when May says, quietly but not secretively, “not that one. Too crowded. We need more space.”

The three of them exchange glances, because no one had been talking - the conversation was over - and yet she’d started like she was addressing a question that Coulson hadn’t asked. 

It’s Jemma that glances over her shoulder in time to see the way Coulson’s expression softens and a small smile tugs at his lips. He steps closer to May, and that’s not unusual for them but he gets closer than Jemma expects (but not, apparently, closer than May expects). 

“Melinda,” Phil says quietly. 

The fondness in his voice hits Jemma square in the chest. She knows that undercurrent of something that carries away his words: she hears it in Fitz’s voice when they’re alone, and feels it in her bones when she tells him she loves him. 

May and Coulson are standing no closer when Jemma follows her friends out of the room, but Jemma knows better than to believe there’s any space between them. 

She doesn’t mention it to anyone.

Five

Their mission goes south, as field ops have a way of doing, and May is going in to get their people out. 

“I don’t like this,” Phil says.

“Not overly fond of it myself,” May agrees. 

Mack is on edge and ready to start arguing all over again about how he should be going with her. He’s on standby - they all are, really - but the hope is that May can get in unnoticed. 

Phil is so tense and on edge that it makes his skin crawl. It feels like Bahrain, and if he realizes that then May must as well. His instincts are ablaze with the need to stop this, to make her stay out of it, and he’s managed to quell them - until now. Everything about this feels like Bahrain all over again, feels like a trap, and he can’t get past it. 

(He’s not thinking about the right things. He should be thinking like an agent, like the Director, but he’s failing. Instead, he’s thinking that just yesterday May pranked Daisy with a bucket of water over the doorframe; he’s thinking that she lets the kids hug her now, and is warmer than she has been in so long, and that if something like Bahrain happens again he might not get her back a second time.

He’s thinking like a lover, and a friend, and May won’t thank him for that.)

“I’m going,” he announces.

And yeah, May is going to murder him, or mutiny, or ... something.

“What?”

“I’m going,” he restates firmly. “You and Mack stay here unless and until you’re needed. That’s an order.”

“You aren’t the Director,” May starts.

“That’s an order, Agent May.”

S.H.I.E.L.D hasn’t quite recovered and they’re still fragmented, and May is right that he’s not the Director. No one is at the moment. Habits are hard to break, though, and Phil knows that even if they’re nothing else to each other they’re still partners - he knows that May will listen. 

He fears that he’s damaged them. He can handle that; what he can’t handle is seeing all of the progress that Melinda has made washed away.

He can’t handle losing her to that darkness again. 

Mack is gone and they’re alone now, but Phil hardly notices. The tension between them is electric, and not in an enjoyable way.

“I know what you’re doing,” May says tightly. She’s so mad her mouth barely moves with the words. 

“I’m sorry,” he answers. He steps into her personal space despite her anger and reaches out a tentative hand to brush his fingers along her jawline. It’s a fleeting touch, and if she’s angry enough with him it might be his last. 

Mack returns just as Phil drops his hand. “It has to be now.”

They drop Phil into the melee. His last glance at Melinda shows him lips pressed together so tightly they’re bloodless and a hard gaze. 

+ 1

“You were way out of line!” Melinda yells. 

“I know,” Phil says as best he can. The livid bruising on his throat isn’t the only evidence of his nearly crushed windpipe: his voice is scratchy and fades in and out against his will. 

They’re facing each other in the middle of the room, and there’s really nothing private about the confrontation. Anyone within a thirty foot radius can probably hear May and the room doesn’t have any proper doors, but she’s mad as a hellcat and clearly doesn’t care about privacy. She’d ambushed him the moment Simmons had finished patching him up. 

“Never mind the fact that you aren’t actually the Director, what the hell made you think you could abuse your power like that?”

“May --.”

“Your job is to be indifferent,” she spits at him. 

“Melinda --.”

“You have to make the hard decisions, Coulson, you have to ...”

“I have!” Phil yells. It lacks the force it’d normally have, when his windpipe isn’t damaged and bruised, but his voice holds strong for those two syllables and finally stops her. “I have made the hard decisions,” he reminds her. 

They’re both angry now, and Phil can’t yell but there’s nothing quiet about what’s happening. He takes a step forward, the smallest chunk taken out of the abyss that currently separates them, and stops. 

“I’ve stayed behind when I knew I could help. I’ve sent good people to their deaths, and put my friends in danger, and kept going anyway because I had to. But don’t you dare stand there and tell me to be indifferent. I have never been indifferent; I will never be indifferent.”

May takes the tiniest step forward. Phil knows that she’s taking stock of him even now: his good arm is fractured in two places and in a sling across his chest, his bottom lip is split in the corner and bruised, and a butterfly bandage covers a gash on his cheek. She’s taking stock of him, and his injuries only fuel her ire. 

“I know that I made you stay for the wrong reasons,” he admits. “I know that it was wrong. But I thought ...”

“I know what you thought,” Melinda says finally, and her voice is noticeably softer. 

“I panicked. I weighed the consequences and made a decision, and let me tell you - it wasn’t an easy one. But I couldn’t risk another Bahrain. I lost you once, Melinda, and that darkness ... I know it’s not my choice, but I can’t lose you to that darkness again.”

He breathes out heavily. They’re still miles from each other (figuratively and literally, it seems) and the tightness in his chest has nothing to do with his injuries. 

May finally drops her arms, which have been tightly crossed over her chest since nearly the start of their fight, and sighs quietly. She takes another step toward him.

“Indifferent wasn’t the right word. But the only way this works,” and here she motions vaguely between them, “is if we’re partners.” She takes a deep breath and Phil instinctively steps closer. He knows that sigh: it heralds a confession, a moment of vulnerability. “You can’t treat me differently, Phil.”

“But you are different.” His throat has had enough and his voice wavers. “You’ve always been different, Melinda.”

Another step. They’ve closed most of the distance between them, but Phil hardly realizes it. His gaze is fixed on Melinda’s face, on the softness that he can see slowly spreading across her expression. The tension is leaking out of her bit by bit, and it makes him hope. 

“You made a mistake,” she says.

“I made a mistake,” he affirms. 

May reaches out to put a hand on his face and brush her thumb against the skin below the injury on his cheek. He takes a chance and puts his uninjured hand on her hip and exerts the smallest amount of pressure. She concedes and steps into him, stopping only far enough away that she won’t crush his arm. 

“It’s not easy to send the woman you love into the dragon’s den.”

His voice is so weak and scratchy now that he knows he won’t be able to talk at all tomorrow. 

Melinda’s face does something remarkable at the admission: it illuminates, and she smiles a crooked little smile, and there is nothing cold or withdrawn in her eyes. 

“By the way: I love you.”

“I know,” she murmurs.

May kisses him, a tender press of their lips, and then another, and another. 

Phil starts to grin. “Was that a Star Wars reference?” he asks delightedly. “Did you just Han Solo me?”

Melinda smiles then. It’s both intimate and radiant, and the tight thing in Phil’s chest finally loosens and dissipates. 

“Well,” Mack says from the doorway.

They don’t move, but Phil and Melinda turn their heads simultaneously to see the rest of their team hovering just outside the doorway. Daisy is grinning smugly; Jemma might be crying.

“Best way to end a fight, if you ask me,” Fitz quips.

“Ugh, Fitz!” Jemma chides. 

“Don’t mind us,” Elena says as she physically herds the others away. 

The feeling of Melinda’s gaze on his face is what makes Phil turn his attention back to her. She kisses him again. 

“I love you, too,” she says. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But if you ever do that again --.”

“You’ll kick my ass,” Phil finishes. 

“You’re damn right I will.”

[fuckinsteverogers]

Biological

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: PG

Warnings: Talk of Death, Baby, Cute ass frickin fluff between Sam and Reader.

Request:  Hiii! Happy New year! Could I have a fluffy imagine where the reader is Sam's best friend from before the Avengers and she has a baby sister that she raises as a daughter and brings her to the tower for the first time.

Author’s Note: Happy New Years to everyone, especially the wonderful person who sent in this request!!! Which is my first one, and I was super nervous about it, because I have a real hard time writing stuff if I’m not super into it, but this was fun mostly because I’m hella clucky and I love Sam. So I hope you enjoy it!! And feedback is always appreciated. 

Nervous… That was the only emotion you could think to describe the current experience, which is standing on the sidewalk of busy New York city with a seven-month-old cradled in your arms, staring up at the Stark Tower. The most expensive building in New York and the one your best friend, Sam happens to live in.

Sam and you have known each other since you were seventeen, having met at a local bar in Harlem where you both were from. He’d been the only kind guy that night amongst all the other men trying to get their hands on an underage girl, but he hadn’t tried a thing… He’d never tried anything with you, not for the ten years you’ve known him.

You’d always known how brave and courageous Sam was and how he’d always wanted to fight for his country… fight for something, and when he’d joined the United States Air Force, it hadn’t come as a shock.

What was more of a shock was when he finished his two tours and came home to see you cradling a one-month-old in your arms. His reaction still made you laugh, he had looked wide-eyed at the baby, then asked you in an oh-so-shocked voice how you looked so good for just giving birth.

It’d been even funnier when you’d told him that it wasn’t your daughter, it was your sister. It’d been heartbreaking to tell him that your mother hadn’t made it through childbirth and with your father and your baby sister’s father MIA, it had meant you were now her legal guardian.

Just like Sam though, he had been encouraging to help raise her, you as her mother, and him as her father. It’d made your heart swell.

Fast forward to today, holding your seven-month-old sister in front of Stark Tower. Sam hadn’t been wholly welcoming to the Avengers into his life, but when you’d bumped into a certain Captain America on the B train a week ago while Sam was holding your sister, it’d sparked curiosity in the tower.

Who was this girl? Is Sam a father? Are they together?

Rather than answer the questions himself, Sam thought it’d be more fun to have you answer them instead.

Taking a deep breath to collect yourself, you begin to walk up the sidewalk towards the tower, rocking your sister in your arms as you do.

You’d been tentative to introduce yourself and the little girl that is basically your daughter to the team, knowing the reputation they have amongst civilians lately, but Sam had assured you that they are not what the world thinks they are.

You realise there is no backing out when Sam spots you as you enter the lobby area, he’s waiting for you and Y/D/N with a key card to get up to the residential floors.

“Y/N!” He yells, jogging towards you and despite the nerves, you can’t help but smile when you see him, your chest expanding.

“Hi,” You say when he reaches you, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek. Heat rises to your skin as he looks at you, and down to the sleeping baby in your arms.

You laugh as Sam makes grabby hands at you, you never knew he liked kids as much as he does until you had seen him hold her the first time. Your eyes had filled with tears, so overwhelmed with seeing Sam after so long and realising how much you needed someone else there to help with your baby.

You adjust the diaper bag on your shoulder after handing your baby to Sam, watching him adjust her in his arms and you take the hand that Sam outstretches for you, entwining your fingers with his. As much as it looks romantic, you know that Sam and you aren’t together; just best friends. The thought makes your throat tighten, but you only let it plague you for a moment as you watch Sam lean down and place a little kiss on your baby’s head.

“The team is really excited to meet you,” Sam encourages, tugging your hand lightly. You roll your eyes and laugh at Sam’s eagerness, clearly wanting to show off the baby he’s helping raise.

“More like you’re excited to brag about fatherhood,” You toss back at him, as you both walk towards the elevators. Sam looks down at you with a smirk, not denying your claim because you and him both know it’s true.

When you both enter the elevator, he lifts your joint hands, not disconnecting them as he swipes the key card and presses the floor number.

“Have you eaten?” He asks after a moment of silence. You shake your head, looking down at your entwined hands, a little ashamed. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah; I know.” Shaking your head down at your feet. Being a mum is hard sometimes, rushing is hard when you have a baby to look after.

“I’ll make you something when we get up to the common area,” Sam promises, and it only makes you laugh, tilting your head back to look at him. Fondness fills your chest as you look up at his kind face, eyes crinkling as he smiles down at you.

“You mean, you’re going to put Y/D/N down for long enough to make me food?” You ask, raising your eyebrows in faux shock. The grin that finds its way onto your lips ruins the dramatics, and all he does is laugh, knocking you lightly with his shoulder, gentle as to not wake the baby.

The elevator dings and the doors begin to slide open, and your hands suddenly go clammy, your attention directing towards the sleeping child in Sam’s arms. Sam must notice your nerves because he removes his hand from yours, and ops to wrap it around your shoulder.

“Is it too late to run?” You ask quietly, not knowing where everyone is as you walk down the hallway.

“You will not run with my sleeping princess,” Sam glares down at you, but the fondness in his eyes ruins the glare. You grin at the pet name, so utterly fond of the little family you have.

“Your?” Is all you get in before a squeal takes over the quiet room.

Your head whips towards a short redhead running across the common room filled with a lot of people, which you hadn’t even noticed.

“Baby!” Is what- you finally recognize- Natasha Romanoff squeals as she stops in front of Sam, lifting up onto her toes to look at your daughter.

You look at Natasha then up at Sam, who is looking down at you, and he just shrugs; clearly uncharacteristic of her, but not unwelcome.

“I’m being rude. I’m Natasha,” The redhead says after a moment of gazing at your baby, holding her hand out for you to shake. You take it eagerly and smile at the beautiful woman.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N,” You introduce yourself, overwhelmed with this situation.

“Oh, we know. Sam never shuts up about you and your daughter,” says a voice from the common area. You look up to see everyone looking at none other than Tony Stark. If you weren’t in a state of shock, you probably would have grinned at the admission.

“In my defence, it’s because Cap can’t keep his mouth shut and everyone kept asking,” Sam grins down at you, which causes a smile to pass over your lips, staring up at your best friend.

“How else was I meant to get you to extend an invitation to her?” Steve says from his position on a stool at the breakfast bar. “Nice to see you again, Y/N.”

“You too, Steve,” You reply, smiling over at him. The familiar face helps with the nerves, along with the arm Sam still has slung over your shoulder.

The rest of the team slowly introduces themselves, and you shake their hands until it comes to Bucky Barnes who simply claps you on the shoulder and grins down at you from his towering height. It’s honestly intimidating.

“Thanks for softening the heart of this hard ass. Every time he talks to you, he tends to stop being annoying for a few minutes,” Bucky admits fondly, and it only makes you laugh loudly. You regret it almost immediately when your baby whines in Sam’s arms.

“Why do you have to make my lady laugh, Barnes? Now the princess is awake,” Sam glares at Bucky with the worst attempt at fake anger you’ve seen him produce. Removing yourself from under Sam’s arm, your skin hot with the remanence of his lady and moving to grab your girl out of Sam’s arms, gently rocking her in your arms.

“Do you want me to heat up her bottle?” Sam asks, kindly taking the diaper bag from your shoulder as you lift your baby and lay her gently on your chest, rubbing her back as she begins to whine lightly.

“Please,” Is all you say before you begin lightly shushing your girl, rocking her.

“Sorry,” Bucky apologises, looking down at you, complete guilt overtaking his features. You shake your head with a light laugh.

“She is due to wake up anyways. Don’t worry about it.” You comfort him, patting his arm with your free hand.

The Avengers watch you from their seats and Sam heats the bottle, taking the time to make you a sandwich as well.

“Do you have mastitis?” Clint is the first one to break the silence. You look up from where you’ve got your face tucked next to your baby’s.

Natasha scolds him in what looks to be sign language, and you remember suddenly that Clint is deaf. Clint shrugs, looking at you as you smile at the exchange. It’s a common question amongst people who don’t know that you’re not the biological mother. You blame Sam for this.

Sam obviously knows his misinformation as he chuckles from where he is slicing meat for your sandwich.

“No, I don’t have mastitis,” You reply, walking a little further into the common room, rocking your girl as her whines grow a tad louder.

“Did you just not want to breastfeed?” Clint asks, cocking his head slightly. You watch his eyes direct towards your lips, awaiting your reply.

“I didn’t produce milk, because I didn’t give birth to her,” You reply, watching the clocks tick in his head, along with the rest of the Avengers.

“Did I read her lips, right?” Clint asks Natasha, as he signs to her. She just nods and looks back at you with the same shocked expression that everyone in the room has.

“My bad. I should have mentioned she isn’t the biological mother,” Sam laughs, moving around the kitchen counter with the bottle of warm formula milk.

“Then who is?” Tony asks, sitting on the arm of the couch, regarding Sam and you with curious eyes as Sam takes the baby from you. You watch as she begins to screw her face up, ready to burst into hysterics just as same offers her the bottle. The tension in your shoulders releases as her face relaxes and she takes the bottle eagerly.

“She’s biologically my sister, but my mum died in childbirth. So, now the princess is my responsibility,” You explain to the team, you don’t wait for the usual look of pity to cast over their faces before looking over at your best girl. “Hey, munchkin,” You grin, taking her little foot between your fingers and wiggling it playfully.

She opens her eyes and looks at you for a moment, before shutting them and consuming herself in her food.

The ache for the death has dulled over the months, and you don’t mourn it anymore because your responsibility to this little girl is far greater than your responsibility to mourn your mother’s death. You know she would have wanted you to take care of the little girl more than being consumed grief. With Sam, it was so much easier to put it all behind you.

“You and Sam co-parent then?” Wanda asks in her thick accent, which is surprisingly comforting.

“As much as we can, especially with him going away on missions, but as far as Y/D/N is concerned, Sam will be known as dad,” You tell her fondly, moving to tuck yourself under Sam’s arm, wrapping an arm around his back, and admiring the beautiful little girl calmly drinking her bottle.

“And you’ll be mum,” Sam grins down at you, you lean your head against his chest and embrace the feeling of him wrapping his arm around your back.

“So, you’re together?” It feels like a tension leaves the room when Steve asks the question like everyone had been wanting to ask but was too afraid to.

You look up at Sam; your chest tightening, scared to know the answer. Sam and you have been best friends for ten years, you’ve been through so much together and you’ve loved him for so long that it felt like unrequited love was a permanent part of you.

His eyes find yours, the room silent despite the gulping sounds coming from you and his baby, and time stands still for a moment, just the three of you.

You let all the emotions, all the love for him show through your eyes, trying so hard to tell him that you want to be with him, that you love him.

“Yeah, I’ve been in love with this girl since she was seventeen,” Sam tells the room, but the way he says it, looking deep into your eyes, seems like he’s really only saying it just to you. Heat rises to your skin quickly, and you fight the grin that bursts onto your lips by burying your head in his chest.

“Creep,” You laugh into his chest. You feel the laugh rumble through his chest, and it only makes you grin wider.

“Now, baby mamma, go eat your damn sandwich,” Sam commands, as you tilt your head up to look at him. You shake your head up at him in frustration but do as you’re told.

You don’t notice the grins on the Avengers faces as the conversation starts up, nor do you notice the knowing look that Wanda sends you and Sam. All you notice as you bite into your sandwich, quenching the hunger rumbling in your stomach, is the man holding your daughter, the man you’re sure you will have more children with, the man you’re in love with.

Permanent Tags

yoursupernatural   |   @niallandsebastianaremylife   |   @lxdyred

Tags are open and feedback is always appreciated!!

[backtoyourownworld]

A very long read

You’re too young to be an alcoholic. That’s the first thing I hear when I try to share my experiences with someone. I had always liked a drink. From a sip to a chug of my dad’s beer, to helping mum polish off a bottle of vodka; alcohol was in my blood. That line between casual drink out with the mates and waking up on a park bench after a three-day bender is so fine it might as well not exist. Not to me at least. I learnt early on that I lack self-control when it comes to that mind-numbing, fucking fantastic substance that is alcohol. While schoolmates were worrying about GCSEs (exams) and relationships, I was fretting about the new alarms in the local Co-op. What was I to do without my fix of stolen Henry Weston’s cider (chosen because it was least visible from the checkouts). I made a decent living fencing my stolen goods to classmates. I felt like a real fucking entrepreneur selling stolen sandwiches and chocolate bars to fund my drinking. The good stuff was always behind the tills, impossible to pinch and stuff in a schoolbag.

I was promised amazing things for my GCSEs. My pick of schools throughout the country, top-class universities fighting over me. I don’t mean this boastfully, but I was always aware of my intelligence. Even as a primary school pupil I read from the book box two years above me. I couldn’t help it. I was voracious in my desire to learn. 

Things went alright for the first few years of secondary school. I did the work, answered the questions, got the grades. Then the anger came. Call it what you will: teen angst/acting out/attention seeking. Whatever it was, it was real to me. I remember so much anger. So much hate. I was fifteen when things really started getting seriously out of control. All that anger had to come out somewhere. And I chose fighting as my release. Fuelled by a few litres of energy drink a day, I had numerous fights throughout my teen years. I do remember one thing: I always retaliated, I never struck first. Yet the sheer number of times my name was mentioned in incident reports led to me being suspended. God, those flying fists and scratches, and biting felt so good, so primal. It was such a release.

My grades slipped. As became Cs and then Es. And then I stopped caring. Meetings with parents and tutors washed over me like rain. I was numb. I didn’t give a shit about university applications or apprenticeships. All that mattered to me was how deep I could cut. Maybe the next time I would do it deep enough to make it last. It’s hard to care about classes and grades when your mind is focused on the three-inch gash on your leg that you stitched up yourself. The empty water bottle filled up with stolen vodka became a staple in my schoolbag. Mum never seemed to notice how diluted her vodka became. Or the countless other spirits I sampled from the drinks cabinet. Campari and Advocaat. The odd smelling drinks you don’t even know what to mix with so you just chug from the bottle and hope for the best. I won’t deny I enjoyed my celebrity as the drunk girl in school. The girl who could knick you anything from the shop as long as it wasn’t too close to the tills. But while people grew tired of me stumbling in the school hallways, falling off science lab stools, puking between classes; I craved more. Passing out alone in my room wasn’t enough. I embarrassed myself at parties. On one occasion I even ate a piece of pork from a bowl of my own vomit. 

I watched my friends complete their university applications, receive their offers and sort out student finance. Meanwhile I was stuck. What future did a pathetic drunk have. I was convinced I wouldn’t make it to the end of the year so why bother taking up a place at university. But I could never go through with it. I didn’t die. Despite my attempts I was still alive at eighteen. I spent a year at the mercy of the NHS, stuck in purgatory waiting for appointments that never fucking materialised. Don’t get me wrong, the NHS is a wonderful system for healthcare. But not for mental healthcare. A year of my life wasted. A year where I did actually want to accomplish something. I gave up on the NHS like they gave up on me. In a fit of enthusiasm I enrolled myself in college. I finally, three years late, finished my A Levels and earned my place at a Russell Group university.

Being a Fresher at university is like taking a starving man to an all-you-can-eat buffet and saying you can only eat one thing. Temptation is everywhere. And I don’t mean that religious bullshit where it’s somehow noble to turn down any vices. No, I mean the temptation where you find yourself literally salivating in the alcohol aisle of the local supermarket. Standing there with your bread and milk willing the queue to go down faster so you can get away from the cheap lager and that goddamned vodka. Most people’s first year at university is spent intoxicated in one way or another. It’s a fact of university life. That’s how I started. I’d never lived away from home before. Never had the freedom to down vodka with my morning Shreddies. But god, first year was a revelation. Everyone else had it under control. I thought I did too. College had been alright, I’d got my grades while drinking at socially acceptable levels. Why would uni be any harder. Freshers Week. Fucking Freshers Week. I made it to the third night before shit hit the fan. I remember it so vividly despite being so drunk my flatmates tried to convince me not to leave pre-drinks. It was Wild Night. I know because I still have the t-shirt. I was in the smoking section of the Students’ Union club (I don’t even smoke), decked out in my wolf shirt and wild backcombed hair. I climbed the railings. A twenty foot drop onto concrete below me. People screamed. I laughed. Then I remember crying as security dragged me back over the railings and shipped me off to the local alcohol treatment centre - they didn’t know where else to send me. 

I avoided my flatmates after that. Stopped going to lectures. I only left my room to walk to the nearby corner shop and stock up with a couple bottles of vodka and lemonade. The shame I felt for my behaviour was so easy to squash down with booze. My diet became vodka and crisps. I turned almost nocturnal, choosing to venture out of my room in the early hours when I was less likely to encounter my flatmates. I stopped being invited to pre-drinks. I don’t blame them. I was no longer a fun drunk, falling off chairs and singing off-key. I was a puking, punching, mess of a person. Somehow, I managed to pass first year. Despite my self-sabotage I was allowed onto fieldwork for my degree over that first summer. A month in Germany. Four weeks surrounded by cheap beer. I barely remember that month. A few moments do stand out though. Threatening to jump in a lake. Going for a midnight walk through a bramble patch. Finding myself on train tracks. 

I don’t even know what possessed me to attempt second year. I knew I wasn’t prepared. Knew I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to attend university. But still, I went for it. I thought I was doing so well, but I was lying to myself. It was so easy to sleep in and miss a lecture here and there. I’d joined a few societies to help me meet people with similar interests. The socials were great at first. Like-minded people coming together for a casual drink and chat in the pub. And then the socials weren’t enough to satisfy my cravings. Six pints at a social was followed by twelve pints from the off-licence on the way home. Then lager wasn’t enough. I needed something stronger. I remember calculating the price-per-unit for every type of alcohol in my local offy. Their off-brand vodka was the best value for money. Combined with the cheapest lemonade, it was the drunk’s cocktail. Consuming so much alcohol isn’t without its consequences. I put on weight. I had stomach issues. My skin was greasy. And I stank. Vodka was literally oozing out of every pore on my body. The rare lecture I did attend, people would ask me if I’d been drinking. They could smell it on me from ten feet away.

I don’t remember much of the day I slit my wrist. I knew I wanted to hurt myself but I don’t think I meant for it to go that far. I took a bottle of vodka along with me for my bath. Hot water and alcohol make for very thin blood. I recall trying to clean the bathtub after and then phoning a taxi to take me to A&E. After that it’s a blur of disapproving doctors and concerned nurses. Nine stitches later and I was home with instructions to see a therapist. The bottle of vodka was still in the bathroom. Bless my housemate; he’d tried his best to clean up all the blood and throw out my razor. I got sedated with Valium after that. Like a scene from a 1950s mental institution. All that did was numb me even more. I became like a zombie, barely able to get out of bed to wash or feed myself. The only thing I left the house for was to buy more booze. Not long after the bathtub incident I phoned my parents in a drunken mess and begged them for help. They drove 200 miles and took me home that night.

What followed was a year of private counselling and cognitive behavioural therapy to help me learn healthy coping mechanisms. It was decided I should go teetotal. I thought that year out had fixed me, that I was finally a functioning member of society. How wrong I was. Not four weeks into my second attempt at second year and I was drinking heavily again. I get this thought in my head: fuck it all. This is what drives me when I’ve been drinking. What makes me walk out my front door with a bottle in my hand and do something stupid. And it was inevitable that sooner or later my actions would result in serious consequences. 

The worst night of my life was 18th March 2018. I got drunk as usual. But it was supposed to be my final night of drinking. I was going to give it up completely. I’d bought some whiskey. I have a terrible history with whiskey, it gets me violently drunk very fast. I got hammered. That thought of “fuck it all” came into my head and I decided to throw myself into the local river. Once again, I don’t remember much of that night. I do remember drinking the whiskey in my room and then leaving my house. But I don’t remember grabbing the knife or talking to that woman on the bridge. The next thing I do remember is a policeman handcuffing me and shoving me into the back of a police van. That night in the cells was one of the worst of my life. I was like a madwoman, banging my head off the walls and scratching my arms till they bled. I was charged with possession of a bladed article in a public place. Four years in prison. I could have been sent down for that long. But whatever deity there is saved me and let me off with a deal. I see an addiction counsellor instead. No charge, no criminal record. 

At the time of writing this I am still drinking, but I have seriously cut down and am on my way to complete sobriety. God knows I got fucking lucky. 

I just hope one day my luck doesn’t run out. 

Thank you for sticking with me for this long and reading to the end. If you’re going through anything, or just want to talk, my ask is always open.