#also i do know he can turn into a little man but i have elected to ignore that bc being a cat IS better even if there's no thumbs

[justauthoring]

change in perspective.

you never thought jamie tartt could be anything but a prick.

a/n: i have no explanation for this other than i just finished ted lasso (fashionably late as always) and this man makes me giggle like a little school girl :) (this is also not spellchecked! i'll do it later ;))

pairing: jamie tart x f!assistant coach!reader

“Does someone want to explain to me just what exactly Jamie Tartt is doing out on the field?”

All three coaches turn to you at the sound of your voice, but it’s Ted’s eyes that light up the second he registers your presence. A smile curls onto his lips as he turns to face you, posture nonchalant with his hands shoved into his pockets. “Ah! Well, if it isn’t my favourite assistant coach, Y/N! I was worried something had happened.”

Blinking back at Ted, you simply cross your arms over your chest. “What is Jamie doing out on the field?”

Ted lets out a laugh but it comes across more as a grimace as he rubs the back of his neck, turning his head to glance at Nate and then Beard. 

It’s Beard who explains. 

“Ted invited him back to the team.”

The water bottle you’d been holding in your hands promptly falls to the ground with a thud as your lips part, mouth left wide open, staring blank faced at Ted who continues to laugh somewhat uncomfortably.

“What?”

Beard raises his hands as if to gesture that he is an innocent party in your accusation all whilst you shift your shocked expression to a glare at Ted.

“Well, you know… I–I just thought that, well… he’s a good player, yeah?”

Shaking your head, you huff; “regrettably so.” Because even you weren’t bitter enough to not admit that Jamie was a great football player. Fantastic really. But–But he was an absolute prick who you’d thought you’d never have to work with ever again.

“And this team needs a little something to spice us up, yeah?” Ted, in Ted style, does a little dance (that’s meant to make you laugh) to add to the effect of his words.

“No,” you say blankly, before Ted raises a brow at you. Sighing, your shoulders fall. “Yeah.”

Offering you a smile, Ted rests his hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Give him a chance, okay?” He asks, his eyes pleading as he nods down at you. “I think he really means to make up for it all.”

You seriously doubt that. But, you don’t voice that opinion.

“Fine,” you surrender, dropping your hands to your side. “But I’m allowed to laugh at him when this team kicks his arse. Which they will because he deserved it.”

Ted snorts at that, “don’t worry, Nate’s already got you beat on that front.”

Your eyes shift to said man, and he’s sending you a wide grin and a thumbs up in a way that makes you chuckle despite how truly unhappy you were with Jamie only a few feet away from you, on your team.

-

The only thing that had made practice somewhat bearable was seeing Jamie repeatedly knocked on his ass.

And then mocked by the rest of the team.

Truly, it brought a smile to your face.

You’re still laughing to yourself about it as you finish packing up your stuff in the office you shared with Nate. Him, Ted, Beard and pretty much most of the team were already gone or on their way out the door, but you usually elected to stay a little longer than everyone else trying to come up with new gaming strategies, plays and honestly, team bonding exercises since you found it incredibly important that the team genuinely care for one another if they were going to play on a team together.

You’re just sliding your laptop into your bag when a knock pulls you from your musings.

“Oh, Sam, just give me–”

Except, it isn’t Sam when you finally glance up. It’s Jamie.

You’re leaping to your feet before you can stop yourself, a surge of panic running through your body as your wide eyes meet his. He’s blinking back at you, as if as shocked by your reaction as you were, and before you know it you’re glancing around, half expecting Ted or Beard to be there because why else would Jamie be here?

But neither of them are there, of course, they’d left twenty minutes ago.

“Coach Lasso and Beard have already left,” you explain before he can say anything. “You’re gonna have to wait until tomorrow to talk to–”

Shaking his head, Jamie takes a step towards you. “I wasn’ lookin’ for them. I, uh… was lookin’ for you actually.”

You blink. Once, twice, before your brows furrow. “What?”

He steps towards you again, fully stepping into your office as he scratches at his face absentmindedly, looking just as uncomfortable as you felt. He glances around for a moment before his gaze focuses back on you, and the serious expression on his face is one you’re not used to or know how to react to so you continue to stare blankly at him.

“I wanted to, em, apologize, I guess? Actually, no, not I guess. I am sorry. And I want to apologize for how I treated ya in the past. You know, for all the shitty things I said and did.”

You must be dreaming.

Surely, you’re dreaming.

There’s no way that the Jamie Tartt, famed football star and resident asshole, is apologizing to you. Some random female assistant coach on a team he’d once laughed at for existing? Yeah. Not possible.

But… it’s either that or he’s taking the piss out of you.

Whatever it is, the shock fades in seconds and is quickly replaced by an indescribable amount of anger. 

Because, honestly? Screw him. Screw him for thinking he could walk in here, say sorry and it’d all be okay. After all that he did.

“You’re sorry?” You ask, pointing at him.

He nods, slowly. 

“That’s funny,” is what you end up saying, letting out a snort as he blinks at you in surprise. “You sure didn’t seem sorry all those times you laughed at me when I tried to coach you. What was it you used to say?” You quirk a brow at him as his face falls, the hopeful glint that you’d accept his apology fading from his eyes as you laugh at him. “Oh, that’s right! That I wasn’t meant to be a coach because I’m a woman and rather, I should just look pretty and help make you look good. And if it wasn’t you belittling me for my job, it was you trying to get in my pants and then laughing about it as if that’s some sort of joke.”

You finish your rant with a huff, shoulders rising and falling heavily as Jamie continues to stare back at you.

You hadn’t really realized how much his comments had truly hurt until that moment. Or, rather, you’d pushed them down so far to the back of your mind that it had been bubbling up until this very moment where he tries to apologize offhandedly like that was going to somehow make things better.

“I may have only known you for a little bit before you left us for Manchester, Jamie,” you add, voice considerably calmer as you frown at him. “But you sure left an impression. And one little apology is not gonna make up for the amount of times I went home crying and feeling worthless, because of you.”

Jamie doesn’t say anything. His lips part like he means to you, but he ends up just gaping at you like a goldfish, looking rather stupid, before there’s a light knock on the door and you’re pulled from your thoughts only to find Sam poking his head into the office. He looks concerned, eyeing Jamie out of the corner of his eye with a certain edge, before turning to you.

Biting your lip, you blink, hating the way your vision blurs and quickly you wipe at your face before any tears can fall.

You refused to cry in front of Jamie.

“Just a second, Sam,” you call, offering him a small, somewhat forced smile. You turn to your desk, grabbing your bag and doing a quick survey to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything before promptly pushing your way past Jamie and slipping past Sam. He sets a hand on your back to guide you forward, blocking you from Jamie’s view and you don’t see it, but just before Sam turns to walk away himself, he’s sending Jamie a rather nasty glare.

The message is clear; leave her alone.

-

The next morning there’s a vase of flowers sitting on your desk.

Nate is eyeing them when you walk in, before he blinks at the sight of you and quickly turns away as if afraid you caught him staring. You just blink at him, before looking at the flowers once more.

Poking your head out to the main office, you gesture over your shoulder; “where’d the flowers come from?”

Beard raises his hands in a silent gesture that they’re not from him, before your gaze falls to Ted.

“Don’t look at me,” he shrugs. “You’d know if I got you flowers,” he winks with a light chuckle and rolling your eyes as you make your way to your desk. There’s a card in front of the vase and as you take a seat, you take the card, flipping it open.

All that’s written on it is the name of the flowers; Lily of the Valley.

Frowning, you let your eyes wander across the white flowers, leaning forward to smell them and letting your eyes fall shut at the sweet scent. 

Only thing is, who sent them?

Leaning back on your chair, you peek into the locker room, trying to see who of the players is there. There’s not too many. There’s Sam, but you walked in with him so you know it’s not him, also he most likely would’ve just given them to you if he was going to get you a bouquet of flowers. Isaac’s there, but you doubt he’d give them to you. Richard and Dani are there, but they're much too forward to try and secretly give you flowers.

And then your eyes fall on Jamie. He’s already looking at you, but he’s quick to glance away the second your eyes fall on him, his cheeks turning a bit red.

Your brows furrow.

It couldn’t–

“Apparently, Lily of the Valley symbolizes apology. Specifically when one doesn’t know how to apologize.” Nate explains, reading off of his phone, the card from your desk in his other hand, before he glances at you with a curious smile. “I wonder who wanted to apologize to you?”

You glance at Nate, before the flowers, before peeking back at Jamie who’s tying the laces of his boots, pointedly not glancing up.

Moving back towards your desk, you stare at the flowers a moment longer.

What the actual hell.

-

“Oh, just–”

Before you can properly register the voice, a blur of blue is suddenly in front of you, opening the door you’d been about to open yourself before your hand can even reach for the handle.

Slowly your eyes flicker upwards to fall on Jamie as he stands beside you, holding the door wide open, a rather proud smile plastered onto his face.

“There ya go,” he offers, head tilting towards the door. “Ladies first.”

Quirking a brow, you nod at Jamie slowly, stepping through the door while you try to fight the smile that threatens to curl onto your lips.

“Smooth, Tartt,” you offer over your shoulder.

He grins back at you, nodding at you.

You can’t help the laugh, however, when instead of stepping through the door like you expected (assuming he’d only done it cause he needed something from here in the first place), he lets the door shut with a goofy wave, leaving you alone in the room.

Pausing, you shake your head.

That was new.

-

“And you, Coach?”

It takes you half a second to realize Jamie is talking to you and you only really realize it because Ted, Beard and Nate are all looking at you, waiting.

Blinking, you swallow thickly, eyes falling back on the team only to see they’re all staring at you as well, also waiting. Your eyes fall on Jamie and he’s smiling at you, happy and all teeth as he rocks on his feet, patiently waiting for you to say anything you might or might not have to say.

It’s not like the rest of the team hadn’t ever asked you for your opinion or if you had any pointers. And of course Ted made sure to consistently ask for your suggestions, wanting to make sure you felt your voice was heard and included.

As the only female coach for a male’s football team, you’d managed to find yourself an incredible group of boys who listened to you despite your gender and actively made sure to try out anything you suggested.

But never had you ever had all their attention like you do in that moment. All of them just standing there, solely focused on you.

And that was because of Jamie.

Biting your lip, you shuffle on your feet. “Oh, well… I–”

But your voice is shaky and you’re not sure how to say what you want, but as your eyes flicker back over to Jamie he’s still grinning at you, smile never wavering and he’s sending you a thumbs up.

As if to say; you got this.

And then the words just seem to pour from your lips after that.

-

The addition of Roy Kent to the line up of coaches is both positive and negative.

And really, it isn’t negative for anyone but yourself. Not that having Roy on the team was negative, just, well… It was already hard enough being the only women assistant coach with two other men, but now you were competing with three men and Roy was nothing if not an intimidating and commandeering addition to the team.

His desk had been squished in between yours and Nate’s and while the man was lovely, if not a little aggressive, by the end of his first day you found yourself drained and feeling like a fool. Roy wasn’t just another man, but he was a previous football star himself; he had the on field experience to back up his suggestions and he knew what he was talking about so that when he did say something, no one really batted an eye to his suggestions.

Or, at least, questioned them.

Worst part was you liked Roy. Sure he swore a lot, and sometimes he’d grunt instead of replying to you but before he’d had to leave the team, he’d always listened to your suggestions with an open mind and never made you or the suggestions feel less just because it was a woman saying them. He was an absolute sweetheart underneath all of the gruff, and you knew him outside of work quite well as well because he was dating Keeley.

So, with the jealousy that you couldn’t help but have, you also felt extremely guilty. 

“Are… Are you alrigh’?”

Gasping, you sit up at the voice, panicked eyes glancing around until you settle on Jamie.

“Jesus, Tartt,” you breathe, pressing a hand to your chest as you shake your head. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” he offers with a light laugh. “I didn’ mean to.”

“It’s fine,” you sigh, letting yourself relax once more as you slump against the wall behind you, pulling your knees closer to yourself. “I just thought I was alone. Didn’t think anyone would come wandering in here.”

Jamie steps into the room at that, letting the door shut behind him as he nods. “Saw you come in ‘ere,” he explains, taking a seat across from you. “Wanted to make sure you were alrigh’”

Shaking your head, you brush him off; “I'm fine.”

“You, um… you sure?”

Turning to Jamie, he’s staring back at you in a way that tells you he doesn’t believe you. He’s got a concerned look in his eyes and he’s fidgeting with his fingers, his knee rocking nervously as he tries to find the words to say.

Sighing, you shake your head; “it’s stupid.”

“Not when it comes to ya.”

Blinking, you turn to Jamie, lips parted in surprise. Except, he doesn’t seem shocked by what he said or embarrassed. He continues to stare back at you with that concerned look in his gaze, patiently waiting for you to explain what’s going on.

“It’s just… It’s hard,” you start, struggling to find the words. How do you explain to him, not only a man but the same man that used to belittle you for the exact same thing you’re feeling self conscious about, that you feel like you’re being tested in your own job everyday just because you’re a woman? You weren’t sure he’d understand. And honestly, although you’ve seen the changes in him and regrettably started to believe them, you weren’t positive he wouldn’t just laugh at you for it anyways.

And yet, you continue to speak.

“Being what I am at my job,” you add, eyeing him carefully.

Jamie frowns. “Being a woman?”

Inhaling sharply, you nod; “yeah. I know Ted and the rest of the guys would never belittle me or make me feel less because I am, but… It’s just hard being the only woman coach for a team of men. Even if you guys don’t mean to, and I know you don’t, you all naturally gravitate towards Ted and the guys more than you do me.”

Lips parting, Jamie stares back at you.

Avoiding his gaze, you glance down at your lap. “Makes me doubt myself sometimes.”

“Oh.”

Nodding, you pull at a thread on your pants. “Yeah. Oh.”

Silence follows and you feel ten times more uncomfortable as the seconds pass. You can still feel Jamie’s gaze on you, watching, waiting, maybe trying to find something to say, and it’s making you feel more and more embarrassed as time goes. 

Shaking your head, you suddenly move to a stand.

“Anyways, it’s late so you should–”

“I think yer an amazing coach.”

Lips left parted, you turn, only to find Jamie suddenly standing in front of you.

“You make great strategy plays, you are undeniably smart about the terminology and nobody cares about the wellbeing of the team more than you,” he continues, his gaze never once faltering. “You cheer us on and never ever make us feel like we’re doing something wrong or stupid for askin’ for help. I know it feels like we listen to the guys more, but every single one of us leans on your advice heavily and we’d be lost without yer support and guidance.”

Eyes widening, you don’t realize it until you blink that you’re crying.

Your hand falls to your cheek, feeling wetness.

“Shit,” Jamie curses and your eyes fall back on him. “I didn’t mean to make ya cry, I just–”

Your arms wound around him before he can finish, pulling him flush against you as you press your head into the crook of his neck. Jamie freezes at the touch, body tensing but just for a second before he eases, his own arms coming around to wrap around you in return.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him, “I… Thank you so much.”

“O-Of course,” he murmurs, voice low and you can feel his chest rumble against your cheek. “I just… thought ya should know.”

Biting your lip, you pull back at that, quickly wiping the tears off your cheeks as you step away from him. Jamie lets you go with ease, both of your cheeks red, yours burning when you realize you’d not only just flung yourself at him but you’d gotten his shirt wet with your tears.

“I.. I’m sorry,” you whisper, gesturing to his chest. “I didn’t mean to cry on you.”

Jamie shrugs; “no worries, love.”

Meeting his eyes, the two of you stare at each other for a moment, before you’re quickly stepping past him. “Anyways, I should… I should go.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Me… Me too.”

Reaching for the door, you glance back at him; “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Nodding, Jamie grins down at you; “see you tomorrow.”

-

“We’ve got a problem.”

Both Keeley and Rebecca turn to you at your words, whatever they’d been saying promptly getting cut off the second they see the panic on your face.

Rushing you inside, they settle on either side of you on Rebecca’s couch in her office, Keeley’s arm wrapped around your waist and Rebecca offering you a cup of tea as they turn to you with concerned eyes.

“Okay, lay it out,” Rebecca says, “what’s wrong and who do I have to fire?”

Letting out a light laugh, you shake your head. “You don’t have to fire anyone.”

“Good,” she nods, “because I didn’t want to fire anyone.”

Rolling your eyes teasingly, you take a sip of your tea before reaching forward to set it on the table.

“Okay, then, babes,” Keeley speaks up, frowning at you, “then what’s the matter? You came in here looking like something horrible’s happened.”

Letting out a groan, you press your hands to your face; “that’s because something horrible has happened.”

“What?” Keeley presses, squeezing your arm.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitate a moment, eyeing the both of them, before you whisper in shame; “I think I fancy Jamie.”

There’s a beat of silence, before;

“Like Tartt?” Keeley asks, eyes widening in absolute surprise. “Jamie Tartt? Our Jamie Tartt?”

“Like on my team Richmond, Jamie Tartt?” Rebecca adds, pointing at herself before gesturing to her office.

Cheeks burning, you hide your face in your hands again. “Yes.”

Keeley and Rebecca eye each other for a moment, before Rebecca’s pulling your hands away from your face.

“Y/N.”

You just shake your head, trying to grab a pillow to further hide yourself.

“Babes, stop,” Keeley laughs lightly. “Explain to us why you fancy Jamie.”

“Yeah,” Rebecca encourages. “It’s alright.”

Hands falling to your lap with a huff, you frown. “It’s all his fault,” you whine. “Because he’s trying to be better now and I can’t handle that. Before, you know, when he was a prick, that’s just it! He was a prick. And I’m sorry Keeley for saying this but I always found him a little attractive.”

Snorting, Keeley shakes his head; “babes, why do you think I dated him?”

Biting your lip, you sigh. “But he was awful, right?” She nods and Rebecca snorts, clearly feeling that’s an understatement. “And when he came back, I was so mad. Mad because he was so mean and laughed at me and belittled me for being a woman, and not to mention he was terrible to the whole team. Like when he used to bully Nate or hog the ball and never give Sam a chance to show his skill.”

They both nod to your words.

“So I was upset. Upset because he was back and because Ted didn’t tell me or ask me how I felt. And I said to myself that this whole apology thing was just an act and he’d go right back to being his old self in a few days. I was proud of myself too because when he tried to apologize, I didn’t let him.” Keeley squeezes your arm at that and Rebecca smiles proudly. “But then the next day I came in and he bought my flowers!”

Their eyes widen.

“He did?”

“Yeah,” you nod at Keeley. “A big bouquet of Lily of the Valley and you know what Lily of the Valley symbolizes?”

Keeley shakes her head and Rebecca sighs, shoulders falling. “Apology,” she explains for you. “You give them to someone you hurt and don’t know how to apologize to.”

Keeley’s lips part in disbelief; “I never got fucking Lily of the Valley’s.”

Sinking into the couch, you cry out; “exactly! And then he starts opening doors for me and helping me pack things up… he’s listening to me in practice when he never used to, deliberately asking for my opinion after practice after the rest of the coaches have said their pieces. He tells the rest of the team to shut up if he feels they’re not listening to me and he asks me for pointers alone so he can get better. And! God! I was upset and he made this whole big speech about how amazing a coach I am and how the team appreciates me and shit and then I hugged him and cried on him and he didn’t laugh at me or make me feel like shit. He… he was actually really fucking sweet.”

The second you’re done ranting, Keeley and Rebecca glance at each other, before coming to the same conclusion.

“Well,” Keeley says hesitantly. “It definitely sounds like you fancy him.”

Pulling at your hair, you let out a cry. 

“No, no,” Rebecca shakes her hand, pulling your hands away from your face and holding them safely in her own. “It’s fine, love. Jamie has really turned himself around.”

“He has,” Keeley is quick to agree. “I mean, he never did any of that stuff for me and we were already in a relationship.”

“But it isn’t fine,” you argue, shaking your head. “Because he’s Jamie Tartt, and he’s fucking fit and now he’s nice too… and he’s a star football player and I’m just Y/N Y/L/N, some random assistant female coach on a team of male football players. No one knows me and I’m not special and I’m not a model or a celebrity or any of the usual types he goes for.”

“That is absolutely not true,” Rebecca says instantly, face appalled as if she can’t believe you’ve just said what you have.

“You are Y/N fucking Y/L/N.” Keeley adds, moving to grip your cheeks tightly between her hands. “The first and only female assistant coach of Richmond who has come up with more strategy plays that have helped us win than anyone else. Not to mention, you are proper fit. You are an absolutely fucking gorgeous and successful woman that Jamie would be incredibly lucky to have.”

Lips parting, you blink. Keeley and Rebecca are both looking at you in a way that leaves no room for arguments and feeling your eyes water, you pout; “you mean that?”

“Of course I fucking mean that.”

“Y/N,” Rebecca calls, squeezing your hands tightly. “I am so proud of you and the woman that you are and incredibly lucky to have you as a coach for my team. I know that, Keeley knows that, the team knows that and it looks like Jamie is aware of that more than anyone else. I know it’s hard to leave yourself vulnerable like this, but at least give him a shot.”

Biting your lip, you meet her eyes, finding the reassurance in them you needed before you glance over at Keeley who is grinning widely, nodding.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Okay.”

-

You’d believed what Rebecca and Keeley said.

Of course you did because you know they’d never lie to you.

And you’d promised them you’d give Jamie a chance before simply believing there’s no way he’d like you. But promising and doing was a lot different, and it’s hard to find the chance to say anything to him over the next few days.

The whole team is anxious because of the game against Manchester City coming up, especially since the last time they’d played them, it was the match that had gotten them regulated. Adding even more to that, Jamie had been on the Manchester team when that had happened and even though you know he’d made great strides towards making up with the team since coming back to Richmond, he was just anxious as the rest of them.

For a multitude of reasons you didn’t understand.

So, there wasn’t a chance to say anything.

And there certainly wasn’t one now that they’d lost. You’d briefly wondered to yourself that if they won, maybe you could run to Jamie and just confess your feelings then, thick in the adrenaline of it all. Like they did in the movies. All sweet and romantic.

Only, Richmond hadn’t won and you certainly weren’t going to now.

Especially when you were just as disappointed as the rest of them.

You’re speaking with Ted and Roy in the locker room when Jamie’s father comes in, and any conversation you’d been having falls silent the second he does.

You watch in stunned silence as Jamie’s father makes an embarrassment of himself, laughing and joking as he makes fun of the team's loss before zeroing in on Jamie himself. He says the cruelest things, and everything clicks in that moment why Jamie was the way that he was before he’d left Richmond.

And when Jamie punches his father straight across the face, you jump and your hands fall to your lips but you’re not shocked and you don’t think Jamie is wrong either.

No one says anything and no one does anything as Beard drag’s Jamie’s father out of the locker room and Jamie stands there, still standing in a defensive position. You want to do something, you want to say something, but you don’t think it’s your place. And you don’t know if Jamie would even feel all that much comfort with having you do anything.

Roy steps past you in the next second, taking Jamie into his arms and he loses it then, his sobs echoing throughout the otherwise silent room.

Ted runs past you at one point, but you don’t notice, eyes stuck on that of Jamie and Roy.

Then, Roy’s pulling away, but Jamie’s still got tears in his eyes, pressing his hand to his eyes as he tries to hide away. Suddenly, Roy’s eyes are on you, and he’s smiling in a knowing way, before promptly kicking everyone else out of the room. Your eyes widen as he does, body tensing in panic as Roy nods at you just before shutting the door behind him, leaving just you and Jamie in the room alone.

You can hear him sniffling to himself, a small sob breaking past his lips as you stand there, feeling out of place and like you’re stepping past his boundaries. So, slowly, you step towards him. “I can, uh, leave too if you’d like some–”

“No,” is all Jamie says before he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you tightly as he presses his face into the crook of your neck. You freeze at the action at first, unsure what to do or say, before slowly your body eases, and your arms are raising, hands falling to his back as you squeeze him tightly.

He clutches onto you, sobbing into your neck, and you let him wordlessly, rubbing his back in smooth, slow patterns in a way you hope is comforting.

And the two of you stay like that for a while.

-

Your relationship from then on changes.

More than it already had.

You find yourself willingly hanging out with him when you would’ve avoided it otherwise before. Jamie always seems to be there, lending a helping hand or letting you talk his ear off about something or another.

The two of you never really spoke about what had happened in that locker room but you didn’t need to. It went without saying. You understood Jamie in a way that you hadn’t before, and although it didn’t excuse it, it made sense why he’d been the way had been before and it showed him trying to be better meant a lot more than it had before.

So, the season ends, and you watch the changes Jamie’s doing with a smile and a completely different attitude. When he gives Dani the shot, or when he joins in on team chants before matches. He’s still arrogant and cocky, but it’s in a more loveable way than it had been before, and now when he comes in every morning wearing his stupid ICON hat and dumb sunglasses, you can barely hide the smile that curls onto your lips.

Or the way that despite him wearing such stupid things, you think he looks ridiculously hot.

The season ends and then the new one starts up with one less coach after Nate had left only to join West Ham. It had certainly been a betrayal and you’d be lying if you said it hadn’t hurt. You’d always felt like Nate had understood you in a way maybe some of the others didn’t and the two of you had shared that office alone for so long that you couldn’t help the way you’d cried when you’d realized what he’d done.

Jamie holds you through it. 

A soft, gentle and comforting presence that never makes you feel silly for feeling so hurt and betrayed and for that, you’re eternally grateful.

Suddenly, Jamie is someone you can’t live without. You look forward to every morning you see him walk into the locker room, and you find yourself texting him at night, unable to stop the giddy feeling that floods you every time you hear your phone ding and see it’s him calling or texting you.

Keeley and Rebecca tease you all whilst constantly trying to get you to confess. You always say that you will, but you never do.

You’re mad for him, that you know but you don’t know if he’s mad for you and you don’t want to ruin the relationship the two of you have built just because of your stupid feelings. It was nice having him as a friend, and although every time you saw him you just wanted to kiss him, you didn’t want to lose that friendship either.

So you never say anything.

-

“So, I would suggest just–”

“Y/N–?”

Lips left parted at the sound of Sam, you turn to him as he pokes his head into the office. He freezes when he sees Jamie standing behind you, the two of you going over one of his plays, your hand left held with the whiteboard marker and he winces. “I’m so sorry. I did not mean to interrupt you two.”

Jamie is waving his hand in reassurance as you smile at Sam, letting your hand fall; “it’s fine, Sam. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to drive you home tonight,” he explains, chancing a quick glance at Jamie before focusing back on you. “I have to run by the restaurant before heading home and I’m not sure how long it will take.”

“Oh,” you blink, shaking your head. “It’s fine, Sam. I can walk home tonight. It’s no problem.” Then, cheekily, you can’t help but add; “as long as when you finally do let me see your restaurant, everything is on the house.”

Laughing, Sam shakes his head; “it already was. And for you,” he points at you with a grin, “it’ll always be.”

Smilingly, you nod, waving him goodbye as he does the same, slipping out of the office. You laugh quietly to yourself as he does, before turning to find Jamie’s eyes on you, and you blink; “sorry,” you offer bashfully. “Where were we–”

“I didn’t know Sam drove you home?”

Pausing, you shift back to face Jamie. “Oh, yeah. He saw that I was walking home one night, offered me a drive and it’s been like that since.”

Jamie nods, slowly. “You two are close.”

“Um, yeah?” You agree with a shrug. “Sam is easy to talk to, I guess. Super friendly and kind.”

“Hm,” Jamie hums lightly. “He does look like he’d make a good boyfriend.”

It takes you half a second to register what Jamie’s said both because you feel that’s a weird observation for Jamie to make and also because when in that conversation did you say he was your boyfriend?

“We’re not dating,” you explain, shaking your head as you laugh. “We’re just friends.”

Jamie’s eyes widen, cheeks warming in faint embarrassment but… is that a hint of relief you see? Probably not, you’re just psyching yourself out.

“Oh.”

Nodding, you bite your lip; “yeah.”

“Cool,” Jamie hums and you raise a brow at him, before turning back to the whiteboard.

“Did you wanna…?”

Jamie is quick to agree, shifting on his feet to put his focus back on what you were saying before Sam had stepped in. But then, just as your lips part to continue, Jamie is interrupting you;

“I could drive you home.”

He says it so nonchalantly you think you imagine him saying it at first.

You glance at him over your shoulder, and he turns to you.

“If you’d like.”

“Um,” and you hate the way your voice shakes or the nerves that rattle your entire being. “Sure… Sure, that’d… that’d be great. If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he assures with a grin. “Why would I mind having a pretty girl in me car?”

Cheeks burning you quickly glance back ahead of yourself to not let him see how much that simple comment made your heart flutter and your insides feel like jelly. Inhaling sharply, it’s hard to fight the smile from curling onto your lips as you move to continue saying what you’d been trying to say before.

You’re so focused that you don’t see Jamie watching you, a grin curling onto his own lips when he sees how flustered you are.

-

“Pretty coach.”

Halting in your step, you glance up, only to have to crane your head upwards when you find Zava, the star player Rebecca had managed to score, staring down at you. He’s tall, very tall, and you’re not exactly sure why he’s here, in the middle of the hall, or why he’s talking to you.

“Zava,” you greet nervously, offering a small smile.

He’s stepping towards you, effectively closing the distance between you as your eyes widen, freezing when he reaches forward to take your hand in his own. Before you know it, he’s pressing his lips against the top of your hand, a gentle, swift kiss as he glances at you through his lashes, smirking.

“I look forward to working under you as my coach,” he explains, accent thick as he pulls his lips away. It doesn’t escape your notice that he doesn’t let go of your hand, though.

“Oh, um, me–me too. But you’ll mainly be working under Coach Lasso since he’s the head–...”

Your words trail when you realize he’s not really listening. He’s just… staring. Directly at you.

Swallowing thickly, with your free hand, you touch your face; “is there something on my–”

“Oh no, no,” he laughs gently, squeezing your hand. “You just have the most beautiful eyes.”

Feeling yourself warm, you meet his eyes in surprise before glancing down at your feet, “oh, um, thank–”

“Oi.”

The new voice is sharp and your head is spinning over your shoulder only to see Jamie promptly making his way over to you. You’re surprised by how angry he looks, but his attention isn’t focused on you and rather Zava as he quickly makes his way over, pulling your hand out of Zava’s and gently pushing you behind him as he blocks you from sight from Zava. You flush when you realize Jamie’s still holding onto your hand, before slowly peeking over his shoulder.

“Tartt,” Zava grins, “it’s wonderful to see you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jamie huffs. “Just keep your hands to yourself, okay?”

Raising his hands in surrender, Zava laughs, stepping back as he moves to walk away. His eyes catch yours and he winks at you before turning to walk off.

“Prick.” Jamie hisses under his breath.

You pause at that, turning to him only to see his eyes set in a glare, watching Zava disappear down the hall before you let out a giggle. Jamie’s eyes fall on you the second you do, gaze softening when he sees you giggling.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you smile, biting your lip as you glance up at him. “Just funny. You're calling him a prick.”

Jamie’s eyes widen in mock hurt; “he is!”

“Sure,” you shrug. “And so were you.”

“But not anymore,” he teases, rolling his eyes at you.

“True,” you agree, shocking him by how easily you do. You just continue to smile at him, “definitely not anymore.”

Jamie stares down at you, eyes never leaving your face. “He’s right about one thing, though.”

Quirking a brow, you tilt your head; “yeah? And what’s that?”

“You do have the most beautiful eyes.”

That was the last thing you expected.

Lips parting, you’re burning red as you promptly slap Jamie in the arm.

“Ow!” He hisses, pulling away as his hand (regrettably) leaves yours. “What was that for?”

You just stare back at him, pouting, embarrassed, hoping he can’t hear how fast your heart is beating.

Or notice that the way he said it meant way more than it did coming from Zava.

“Prick.”

Jamie just blinks, pouting; “what did I do?”

-

You let out a laugh as Jamie comes running up on the bus cheering about seeing Windmills, shaking your head with a grin as the rest of the guys cheer him on.

He walks down the aisle, high fiving a few of the guys until his eyes settle on you. Leaning your head against the seat, you grin cheekily up at him. “Did you have a fun night?” You ask with a head tilt, biting the inside of your cheek.

Smiling down at you, Jaime nods; “yeah, you?”

“Perfect,” you assure. “Spent a quiet night in my room.”

“The boys didn’t keep ya company?” He frowns, and he looks like he’s about to say something before you quickly reach forward, grabbing his wrist.

“That was team bonding stuff, silly,” you roll your eyes. “Besides, I had the most relaxing bath. It was fine.”

He glances down at you, not saying anything, but you feel your chest tighten when you see the way his eyes glance across your entire figure at the word bath.

Ignoring the butterflies, you smile; “saved you a seat, see?” You gesture to the empty window seat next to you, and Jamie laughs.

“You want the window seat?”

“Yup,” you grin, shuffling over to the other side as Jamie takes your old spot. You settle down next to him, arm brushing against his as he grins over at you.

“You got lots of training done last night?”

Jamie nods, “yup. Taugh’ Roy how to ride a bike.”

Brows furrowing, you briefly wonder how that happened in the midst of training but you let it go all the same, shrugging as you laugh. “But you made sure to get some rest, yes?” You add, turning to him with a quirked brow. “Because you remember what I said about training? If you push yourself too hard, you’re not going–”

“–to help anyone,” he finishes for you with a chuckle. “Yes, I remember.”

“Good,” you nod, squeezing his arm. 

“And you?”

Blinking, you turn to him.

“Did you get some rest last night?”

You nod, touched by his concern. “Yeah,” you assure, “like I said, spent the night in my room, resting.”

“Good,” he repeats your words from earlier and you turn your head away to the window when you feel yourself smiling.

Yet, despite that, an hour later, you’ve passed out on Jamie’s very own shoulder, softly snoring away.

Jamie is careful not to move, not wanting to wake you up, but when Dani turns to take a photo excitedly, he doesn’t stop him.

“Hey,” he whispers to Dani, “send that to me, okay?”

-

“You need to talk to Jamie.”

Raising a brow, you glance up at Roy.

“...I do?”

“He’s a mess,” is all Roy says.

“Okay…?”

“And you need to talk to him.”

Biting your lip, you hum; “because?”

Huffing, Roy rolls his eyes like you’re the one being annoying. “Because you’re the only one he’ll listen to, so you need to talk to him and get him out of whatever funk he’s in.”

“Okay,” you nod, “I’ll talk to him.”

-

You don’t get the chance to talk to him until you’ve arrived at the hotel the night before the game and even then it’s not really you talking to him.

The movie you’d all watched together is over and Ted had set a curfew but Jamie is taking your hand in his, throwing his hood up and leading you out of the hotel without another word. You glance over your shoulder to see Roy glancing at you in confusion, but you just shrug your shoulders and then Keeley is sending you two thumbs up with a bright grin and before you know it, you both are out the hotel and making your way across the street.

You let him lead, expecting him to say something, but he never really does. He’s eerily silent the entire walk, and it isn't until twenty minutes have passed that you finally tug on his grip and pull him to a stop. He glances back at you in surprise but you’re just shaking your head up at him, confused.

“If this is your way of getting me alone to murder me, I’m going to be really upset.”

He blinks at your words, confused at first, before he shakes his head. “No, no… of course not. I… I want you to meet someone.”

“Oh,” you mumble, feeling yourself ease as you meet his gaze. He’s staring back at you, obviously waiting for you to agree and with a gentle smile, you nod.

“Okay.”

It’s his mom.

He wanted you to meet his mom. 

You’re confused, extremely so, as Jamie leads you up the steps to a house, knocks and some older gentleman opens the door. He recognizes Jamie and invites the both of you in, and you’re left standing in the entrance way, baffled as you hug your coat closer to yourself, until a woman comes running down the stairs, screaming Jamie’s name and then suddenly she’s in his arms and he’s spinning her and calling her ‘mommy’ and it all clicks.

You can't help the smile that curls onto your lips at the sight, feeling like you’re being allowed to see a side of Jamie others rarely were.

And when Jamie introduces you to his mom, the smile turns into shock when she says; “you’re the one Jamie’s told me so much about!” And before you even have time to register those words or see Jamie glancing at you, she’s wrapping you up in her arms and hugging you so tightly as she gushes about how much she’s wanted to meet you.

You spend the night being welcomed by his mother and her boyfriend, before you leave Jamie to have his much needed conversation with his mom. Simon shows you around the house, before leaving you to glance around Jamie’s childhood bedroom yourself. You all but squeal at his Roy Kent poster, before rolling your eyes at Keeley’s, but happily glance round the rest of the room. You look at all his trophies and childhood photos, little drawings he’d done or books he’d read.

Before you know it, Jamie’s poking his head into the room and calling for you.

“Oh, Jamie,” you smile, “are you all done catching up with your mom?”

He nods, “yeah, you wanna get out of here? Go back to the hotel?”

“Sure,” you agree with ease, stepping toward him. He sets his hand against your back, leading you back towards the door where you say your final goodbyes. You thank Simon for the tour and give Georgie a huge hug, expressing how happy you were to meet her before she makes you promise you’ll come by and visit again.

You’re not quite sure how to reply to that, but it’s okay because Jamie does it for you, promising the two of you will stop by for an actual dinner soon.

And then, it’s just the two of you, making your way back to the hotel.

“So,” you call out, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “You told your mum about me?”

Jamie rolls his eyes at that, huffing. “Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

That certainly isn’t the response you were expecting, so, with warm cheeks, you glance at your feet.

“Got it all sorted now?”

Jamie hums, “yup. Sorry if I worried ya.”

You shake your head. “Think you had Roy in more of a panic, if I’m being honest. Poor man couldn’t breathe, he was so worried.”

Jamie snorts at that, lightly nudging you with his arm. “So, ya weren’ worried at all?”

Turning your head, your smile fades as you meet his gaze. “No, I was. I just didn’t want to overstep.”

“You could never overstep,” Jamie assures, “I should’ve been open about how I was feelin’. Just needed to sort it out for meself.”

Smiling softly to yourself, you hug your hands behind your back. “Well, I’m glad you figured it all out, Jamie. Really. Now you can kick some serious ass tomorrow, yeah?” You’re smiling as you say it, nudging him back with your own arm as the two of you continue to walk.

Then, suddenly, Jamie stops.

Frowning, you glance back at him; “are you–?”

“Me mum helped me with somethin’ else.”

“Oh,” you mumble, not sure where he was going with this. “What’s that?”

“Said I should stop being such a pussy and tell you how I really feel.”

Lips parting, you freeze. “Oh.”

Jamie nods, slow, and you can tell he’s nervous by the way he’s shuffling on his feet. “So… here goes.”

Your eyes widen when he steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you until he’s right in front of you, inches away. Your eyes follow him, head tilted back as you stare up at him, unsure what to do or say. But you don’t need to, because Jamie is speaking up in the next second.

“I’m in love with ya,” he confesses, letting the words just slip past his lips. “I’ve been in love with ya since you hugged me after me dad in Wembley. Maybe before that, I dunno. All I know is that when I came back to Richmond, all I was focused on was makin’ everyone like me again and then you yelled at me that day in yer office and I realized it was more than that. It wasn’t just about makin’ people like me, but makin’ up for the cruel things I'd done. I’m so sorry for the way I treated ya before, but I want you to know that I think the absolute world of ya. You are kind and sweet and smart and proper fit and… I dunno, you might not feel the same but I don’t wanna go on another day not having you know how crazy I am for ya.”

His words settle, carry on in the silence, as you stare back up at him, lips left parted, disbelief coursing through your veins.

Jamie’s confidence wavers as the silence carries and he’s shuffling on his feet in worry as he swallows thickly. “You don’t have to say anythin’,” he assures, rambling now with nerves. “I just wanted ya to know, so–”

But you cut him off by pressing your lips firmly against his own.

Jamie stumbles back from the pure force of the kiss at first, before he catches his balance and the shock fades and his hands are falling on your waist as he squeezes, returning the kiss with just as much passion. Maybe more. He kisses you like he’s been waiting to do this for weeks, and you realize, he maybe has. He holds you like you're the only thing in that moment that matters and you let yourself sink into his touch, turning to putty in his hands as you thread your fingers through his hair.

Then, slowly, you pull away, breathless as he smiles down at you.

“I love you too,” you whisper, “since the day you left me those flowers.”

Jamie’s eyes widen and his lips part but you don’t have the care to be embarrassed by your confession; it just felt good to finally, finally be able to say the words out loud.

“And I am so excited to see you kick ass tomorrow.” You breathe out, pressing your hands to his cheeks as you smile up at him, eyes dazed and sparkling with delight. 

Pressing his forehead against yours, Jamie presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

“And I can’t wait to see you kick ass tomorrow.”

[hussyknee]

THE LEFTIST THIRD PARTY HAS WON SRI LANKA'S PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION.

WE HAVE A PRO-LGBT, PRO-UNION, ANTI-ETHNOFASCIST, ANTI-IMPERIALIST PRESIDENT. MY ANTHROPOLOGY PROFESSOR IS GOING TO BE PRIME MINISTER. A COMPETENT ACADEMIC WHO HAS WORKED ON FEMINIST INITIATIVES AND RESEARCH ALL HER CAREER.

please please please please god don't let them fuck this up don't let them turn into a bunch of cunts to retain their new voter base don't let them fuck up the economy don't let them let the minorities down please please please they won't ever get another chance if they ruin this one we'll be stuck with more idiot corrupt nepo babies till we die please please please PLEASE LET THIS BE THE END OF THE EXECUTIVE PRESIDENCY AND PREVENTION OF TERRORISM ACT AND PERSECUTING THE NORTH please please please let them decriminalize being gay and not bury LGBT rights please please please let there be a god I can't take anymore of this shitshow please please please don't let hope be something that keeps pissing in our faces please please please please please please please

ANURA KUMARA DISSANAYAKE WILL BE THE NINTH PRESIDENT OF SRI LANKA. TAKE THAT YOU TWO PARTY VOTING MOTHERFUCKERS.

Edit:

WHAT DO YOU MEAN FUCKING COLOMBO WENT TO THE IDIOT NEPO BABY???

AKD HAD 52%!!!!! HE WAS ALL BUT SWORN IN?????

THEY HAVE TO COUNT THE SECOND PREFERENTIAL VOTE FOR ONLY THE SECOND TIME IN HISTORY??

There is a very real chance that nobody will get over 50% of the vote. That would be really, really bad.

Fuck.

I HATE YOU MOTHERFUCKING URBAN MIDDLE CLASS LIBERAL CUNTS SO MUCH. PLAGUE ON THE WHOLE DAMN COUNTRY. FUCK YOU.

Edit 2:

Ok so first counting gets AKD 42% and SP 32%. It's very likely the preferentional vote will put him over the 50% line.

It's so poetic that Ranil's greed for power ended up handing the country to the very Marxists that his uncle hunted like animals. You love to see it. 🥰

Edit 3:

So the preferential vote didn't give anyone a 50% majority and we're still at AKD 42% and SP 32%. But apparently that's enough to declare AKD President as per the Constitution. I don't think that's ever happened before. He was sworn in an hour ago.

Point of clarification: The NPP are not Marxists. Foreign news is just uncritically regurgitating the pro-government Red Scare propaganda. AKD and his JVP party used to be Marxists back in the '80s and '90s. They're now more very pro-union socialist. The NPP is their coalition, which is even more mildly social democrat and just happens to be a little more left than the other two. Calling them a Marxist is like how MAGA thinks the Dems are commies. 😂

I truly don't have great hopes that much will change, but there's a chance one or two important things might. Which is more than we've been able to hope for in decades.

See this post for a run down of the what's really been happening.

Edit 4:

I retract the "openly bisexual" part with many apologies. I completely misremembered. It wasn't AKD but JVP senior K. D. Lalkantha, who said in a 2018 interview is that he has also had same sex encounters with his friends as a boy and young man, and that he knows others who have had as well. And he specifically said he doesn't see the need to maintain a label for his sexuality. Still, the fact that his party allowed this in a country that still criminalises homosexuality, to a Sinhalese magazine, speaks to a commitment to LGBT rights. He also explicitly stated his support for women's rights, trans rights, polyamory, open relationships, explicit sexuality in media. It's impressively progressive for this country. The interview is in Sinhala and you can read it here.

Here's an excellent write-up of AKD's career, political outlook and creation of NPP in The Hindu by correspondent Meena Srinivasan, a journalist whose reporting I've always liked.

[luimagines]

Can I ask for FD Warriors or Sky post battle making sure Reader is ok?

Why not both?! :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Warrior

He was furious.

The power coursing through his veins was intoxicating and compelling in the mortal sense of divinity.

This was a drug and the purest sense of invincibility.

Rage and fierce devotion were his only companions as it stands. They fought in the confines of his mind for control. He could keep fighting. He could continue to end the enemies that stood between his loved ones and their safety.

But the threat was no more.

Gingerly, he puts his sword away. He feels as if he is shaking.

The boys all come to him, asking his questions and attempting to get his attention to dullness of their reality. But that's currently none of his concern.

Warrior takes a deep breath, patting his brothers on the shoulders before he stalks his way through the camp.

He stops right in front of you and puts his hands on his hips. You were injured and bleeding. "you're hurt."

"I'm fine." You gasp as you attempt to shift out of your position.

Warrior shakes his head. Without prompting and without warning, he begins to tend to the gash on your arm.

"Warrior please-"

"silence."

You shut up.

Warrior takes the bandage and wraps it tightly around your bicep, not wanting it to get worse. He grits his teeth and clenches his jaw, willing himself with sheer force of will alone to keep his hands gentle.

The others wait on baited breath to see what he will do next. They are also paying extra attention to your own reactions, wanting to see how you fare dealing with the one who had donned the mask.

He finished fairly quickly and scowls at the bandage.

"It didn't insult your heritage." You say softly, taking your arm away. "Stop it."

Warrior raises an eyebrow, taking off the mask with little fan fare. He seems unbothered by the power that is sucked away from him and sealed with the wooden mask once more.

"You got hurt."

"It'll heal."

"I told you to stick to the plan."

"I'm aware that the group had elected a decision, but given that it was a stupid decision, I've elected to ignore it." You snarl back, turning away form him. You stand up in indignation and begin to storm away.

You pause and sigh in defeat before you could even take the first step.

"Thank you.... for saving my life."

"Always."

Sky

That was it. It was over. The power of gods was no longer needed.

He sighs and puts the familiar (?) weight of his sword on his back. This power was strange but not entirely foreign. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew how to use it and how to call it forth to use for his own benefit.

How fortunate, he thinks to himself for a moment, that he is not a god, nor is he on a rampage for vengence.

He feels invincible.

He looks over the carnage and walks through the fallen bodies with the same casualness as if he was on a mere Sunday stroll.

The others stare at him with varying degrees of shock and awe as he gets closer to them. They are not who he's after though. There's a specific person that eh wants to check up on and there currently no where to be found.

If he was a lesser man, he would have panicked, but with this form, he knew better. There was no voice telling him here to go. Sky has no idea why he seemed to know where he was going, but he wasn't about to question the force behind his actions.

He had saved the day by listening to them, hadn't he?

"Oh for the love of-! Sweet blueberry pie." You shout and fall silent suddenly at the sight of him. You step back, putting a hand over your fragile heart.

Sky takes a knee, putting his sword in front of him with his opposite hand. "Are you harmed, Beloved?"

You push yourself against a tree. You had attempted to create more space between you and his other worldly figure, but had only figuratively trapped yourself. You're silent. Jaw dropped and eyes widen, you find it in yourself to shake your head.

You're unharmed.

Good, Sky takes in a breath. His rather drastic attempt of turning the tides on the battle field had not been in vain.

He stands.

You slide down the bark of the tree, staring at him with an unreadable expression on your face. Sky doesn't think it's fear, but you've certainly reverted to a primitive sort of reaction.

Sky shakes his head. The call to the power is alluring and smooth. Soft and inviting.

A softer, almost imperceptivity softer curse leaves your lips.

Sky takes off the mask and wobbles on his legs for a moment. He takes a knee again, but not out of a sign of respect this time.

He's heaving.

"...Ow..." He raises his head, panting harshly. "...I'm not doing that again."

[brucewaynehater101]

Wing au but Tim doesn’t have any.

dick and Jason had beautiful wings that helped with training, not Tim tho.

and Bruce probably made him do all the same training too, bc the others could do it why can’t you

(I wonder if the joker cut off Jason’s wings, to ground the little birdy)

(I also wonder if Jason belittled Tim for his lack of wings at Tt)

Okay!! Okay!!!! Fudge yes. However, mind if I make it worse (angst wise)?

Tw: wing removal, JJ

Imma change the setting a little bit.

So, the Drakes despise wings. When Tim grew his, they made him wear an amulet that hid his wings. No one in public was to be made aware that the Drake heir had wings.

Was this severally damaging to Tim? Yes.

Anyways, before Jason dies, Tim gets captured by Joker. We have all of the usual stuff with JJ, but Joker discovers this kid has wings.

And... well. That won't do. How can Junior be Joker's son if he's a bird (which is similar sentiments the Drakes have stated to Tim)?

So Joker removes his wings.

Tim gets away somehow, and no one knows that the Drake heir was JJ (if they do know about Junior). Tim tells his parents that he elected to have his wings removed by a trusted surgeon.

The Drakes, ecstatic at Tim's thinking or what not, stick around for a bit. They shower him in love and praise.

Tim internalizes this. He thinks his parents love him now that he's no longer a hybrid.

It doesn't last.

Moving on, Jason ends up dying. Joker, remembering his "son," removes Jason's wings as well. He even sends then to Batman like a fucked up package.

Batman goes berserk (which... fair. I would too if someone sent me my metaphorical kid's limbs).

Tim steps up to be Robin.

He still has hybrid instincts, but he's a pro by now at hiding them.

Batman, in an odd turn of events for Tim, actually wants Tim to be a hybrid. As far as the man knows, though, Tim isn't (and if Bruce, when he's really tired, sees Tim out of the corner of his eye and thinks it's wingless Jason coming back to haunt him... well).

So Tim struggles to be a wingless Robin until he gets the bright idea to make fake ones.

For the first time, Tim can actually fly (and if some part of him mourns that he never got to fly with his original wings, nobody else has to know).

It's rough, and he's had no support from Bruce with the wings, but the grunt of approval at their appearance was worth the electrical burns on Tim's hands.

Tim, when he's alone at TT, doesn't wear his wings. He's not on a mission, and no one is around for him to compromise his identity...

Until Jason breaks in.

[threezzyo]

໒‧₊˚ your little secret ∘︴fushiguro t.

∾you were always a good girl, as a governor's daughter, but little did anyone know... it's only natural to have a crush on your bodyguard. 6'1", the biggest muscles you've ever seen, scars begging to be licked. months of seducing him leads to something you wanted, something secret between the two of you. daddy doesn't have to know that his daughter is hooking up with her bodyguard behind the scenes.

∾older!bodyguard! toji fushiguro x fem!brat!reader. modern au. word count- 3.4k ∾NSFW! MDNI! age gap, (17 years) reader is a senior in high school (19, early birthday). dark-ish content! brat taming. no use of y/n. toji is a bit harsh... kinda 'used' as a toy. (mentions of using as a sleeve) usage of brat, slut, minx, good girl (for reader) and daddy, oldie, mister (for toji). promiscuous reader. finger sucking. car sex. smoking. oral (m recieving) riding! pussyjob kind of. slight exhibitionism (in a parking lot where literally anyone can see them......) biting. lots of teasing lorddd. just filthy, depraved, NASTYY smut.

∾indi's notes: i am sorry for being so iffy with posting and i will also stick to a theme now lol 😜 divider creds to @/cafekitsune

you were nineteen and hopelessly in love with your 36 year old bodyguard.

you had a student council meeting today, and was the last one to leave. toji fushiguro, your bodyguard (more like chauffeur) was waiting against the brick wall of your fancy pants school, cigarette in hand. he seemed to be texting someone, his mood irate.

“oh, y’er finally here.” he says in that rough voice you absolutely love. "took you long enough, brat.”

he pretends not to notice your skirt hitched up with your ass practically hanging out, or the two unbuttoned buttons on your thin white blouse that doesn’t do much to hide the lacy black bra you decided to wear.

it became a routine, before he picked you up, you’d unbutton your blouse a tiny bit and hike up your pleated skirt in the girls bathroom. maybe slather on some lip tint.

“i’m not a brat. and i told you i’d come out late.” you retort, skipping down the parking lot.

“unlock the car, oldie!” you yell, already reaching the expensive car he drives you around in. it’s yours, the porsche 911 carrera cabriolet, but why not let the handsome man drive it for you?

“tch.” he mumbles to himself, unlocking the car. "what a minx."

you were already nice and comfortable in the passenger seat when he got there, curled up on the fancy leather, your skirt riding up to your mid thighs. you were scrolling through whatever social media was popular, your headphones plugged into your ears.

what a typical high school girl.

he knows it’s wrong. he’s nearly twice your age, and you just turned nineteen, just a baby. and just because you’re the governors daughter doesn’t mean you were all prissy and proper, or sweet and innocent, you were quite the opposite.

even if your father paid a pretty penny to keep you out of trouble, a little extra cash from you was enough to keep him quiet. a man does what he has to do.

and unfortunately, your hedonistic lifestyle was gonna get your sweet father in trouble- and even worse, toji’s job at risk if he didn’t keep you under control.

“brat.” he leans over and snatches your headphones from the wire.

“toji!” you exclaim, irritated. “give them back, oldie!”

he rolls his eyes, throwing them in the backseat. “get them later. now shut y’er trap and listen to me.”

you grumble, falling back onto the seat. "i'm listening."

he takes a breath. "you know the election coming up, right?"

you furrow your brows. toji doesn't seem to be the political type. "yeah. papa's running for re-election."

his voice is low. "you need to keep a low profile. your father can't have anything tarnishing his reputation. especially his brazen brat. so, imma need you to follow my rules." his hand grips the steering wheel as he parks in an empty business lot.

"hey! i am not a brat!" you ripostes.

"oi. if your dad goes down, so do you, princess. i'd listen to me if i were you." he says, leaning in closer.

you scoff, crossing your arms. "fine. what?"

by crossing your arms, you slightly push up your lace clad bosom, easily seen through the sheer material of your white blouse.

his eyes flicker down.

like you didn't notice.

he rolls his eyes, looking back into the empty concrete lot. "y'er not going to go out for any party. y'er definitely not talking to any stranger. or any boys, for that matter. and you gonna have to start wearing something more..."

you grin. "more what?"

"more prudish." he grits, his eyes blazen. "can't have you prancin' around like that."

despite his tone, there's a hint of arousal in his voice, and he can feel the blood rushing right where he didn't want it to be. he clears his throat and tries again, "just follow those rules while i'm around, okay? it will make things easier for y'er daddy."

you roll your eyes, pulling your skirt down a bit and buttoning your blouse again. “just send me to a damn convent, then.”

toji grits his teeth at the girl's defiance. why does she have to be such a brat? and why did his dick twitch at the sight of her fixing her clothes? "don't be so stupid, girl. i'm just looking out for your safety, and if you don't cooperate, there will be consequences."

“consequences? like what?” you ask, your eyes wide and curious.

"like... being punished," he murmurs, barely audible. "if you disobey me or disrespect me in any way, i won't hesitate to discipline you."

you didn't realize how close toji had gotten to you, feeling his minty tobacco breath hit the side of your face.

there was an opening. and you took it.

"i wouldn't mind being punished.” you say with a sultry smile, giggling.

fuck.

she's right there, forbidden fruit, so very tempting.

he really shouldn’t, but he did.

"you wouldn't?" he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. "well, you better be prepared for anything then." he grins.

he swiftly unbuckled your seatbelt. "get in the backseat. you wanna act like a slut, i'll treat you like one."

you're pushed into the back of your car, toji following you. without warning, he pulls you into his lap, so that you're straddling him. "toji!" you squeal, eyes wide open as you drink in the lecherous look in his eyes.

"toji-" you're abruptly cut off by his palm.

"didn't tell you to talk, now, did i?" his shit-eating grin was so infuriating, but also so enchanting. "you gotta listen to me, sweet girl. i don't want a single word out that damn mouth."

you narrow your eyes, but comply anyways.

"good girl." he smirks, sticking two fingers in your mouth. "suck."

you looked absolutely bewildered. “to-“

“suck.”

he sticks his two fingers in your mouth, going down your throat and causing you to gag.

that look in his eyes, it was so lewd. it just made you more turned on.

your tongue swirls around his digits. you look like you’re pouting by how your bottom lip sticks out, lips latched on his fingers.

he could hear your sinfully wet sounds as you suck on his fingers, soft whines escaping your lips.

he slides his fingers out of your mouth, a little wet pop! sound.

“do the same with my cock.” he demands, pushing you to the floor of the car.

you’re on your knees, silently thanking the gods for this opportunity. a true blessing in disguise.

“gladly, toji.” you grin, your head resting on his knee. your fingers ghost over the tent in his grey sweatpants, eyes never leaving his.

he looks like a mess, his pants practically bursting at the seams.

“i don’t have all day, sweetheart.” he warns, pulling at your hair. “no time for y’er dilly dallying.”

you sigh, wanting to tease him more. he spreads his legs a bit further, and you pull down his sweatpants, before palming the bulge in his boxers.

“damn, daddy.” you giggle, tracing the wet spot. “all of this for me?”

“jesus, girl, you can’t even follow orders?” he groans, grabbing at your wrists and forcefully makes you pull down his boxers. his dick sprung up, nearly hitting your nose. angry, veiny, girthy. the others you've hooked up with pales in comparison to the older man.

you've never been nervous. it was big, too big. "toji, that.. that's not gonna fit." you mumble meekly, staring at it.

"fuck, girl, i know you've taken dick before. don't tell me you're tappin' out so early." he leers. "use your hands if it's too much." he gets comfortable in the leather seat, yanking you closer to the tower he calls his dick.

"daddy. you're so mean." you whine, your breath hitting his tip. "its so hot." he isn't having your shit. he just grips your hair tighter, forcing your mouth open with his other hand. he only pushes your head down so that your lips clamp on his tip.

"urgh- to-" the wind is nearly knocked out of you as he shoves his fat dick further down your throat. it's so messy, tears prick your eyes and your saliva mixed with his pre-cum trickles down his cock, dripping down his balls. now was the absolute worse time to have a gag reflex, stomach heaving as you struggle to open your jaw to fit all of him.

"ahf, to-.." your moans are muffled by his cock, whimpers and whines reaching his ears as you find the energy to bob your head up and down.

"fuuck. good girl." his grip on your hair loosens, allowing you to catch your breath as your mouth unlatches from his dick.

"shit, oldie, what the fuck?!" you whine, coughing into your school blazer.

"just giving ya a break." he's kinda nice at times, wiping away your smeared mascara. "but i'm not nice all the time. you're sucking me off, girl."

you shoot him a glare. "just.. don't shove it directly down my throat."

he chuckles, caressing your cheek. "hurry on, sweet girl."

you whimper, but you abide grudgingly. your sloppy mouth takes him so well, he lets out a low groan of satisfaction at the way your teary eyes make eye contact with him.

"fuck, yes, sweetheart." his calloused hands guide your head up and down as the slick collects and drips down his base. "such a good fucking girl, yes, mmh.." he's merely using you as a cocksleeve now, your tongue swirling around his tip. your nails make half moon indents on his muscular thighs, your staggered breaths hitting his trimmed pubes. your obscene sounds play like music to the older man, your teary, coy eyes glassy as he fucks your throat.

you lick the vein on underside of his cock, bobbing your head up and down, giving yourself a break by also licking the skin on his balls.

using your nimble fingers, you toy with the base of his cock.

“ah, to-ji, please…!” you croak, as his hips piston once more into your awaiting mouth, cum brimming in the back of your throat. you have no choice but to swallow.

the way your teary countenance and cum-dripping lips look to him is delectable. he laughs, throwing his head back as he comfortingly pulls your hair back.

“good girl.” he grins as he sees you wipe the cum off your lips. “you’re getting better by the second.” his expression was so pestiferous- he enjoyed seeing you cough, he enjoyed how you cleared your throat since it was so hoarse. he liked seeing you fix your messy lip gloss, liked seeing you sniffle as you rest your temple on his knee, looking up at him like a darling little kitten. begging for more.

you had never felt so needy before. blowjobs were something you just gave to get a feel for how big a guy was. and if it wasn't to your standards, you left disappointed but he at least got something out of it.

"sweet girl." his fingers toyed with your hair, as if to apologize and comfort you for the rough treatment.

"toji." you whimper, bottom lip sticking out. "please.. i want it so badly."

"ask nicely." he demands, stroking a strand away from your face.

"...please can you fuck me?" you repeat.

"again. use my name."

you groan. he's really making you work for it. "fuck. fuck me, mister, please!" you shift uncomfortably, finally sitting back up on the seat. "toji, pleasee." you whine, straddling his lap again, hovering over his semi-hard cock, while kissing his cheek. "need you so badly."

he chuckles, hands sliding to grip your hips, letting you kiss down his neck. "ah, little minx. can't say no to such a sweet request, can i now?" he drawls, calloused hands sliding down your skirt to squeeze the meat of your ass.

"ah... 'es, toji.." you murmur, kissing his lips. it was your first with him. his lips were chapped in contrast to yours. you tasted like your berry lip oil and his cum at the same time, and he tasted like cigarettes. your head was tilted, your manicure digging into his shoulder as you ravished his lips.

"you taste good, sweetheart." he purrs, guiding you as he maneuvers your thong off of your body. "i'll be taking this, by the way." he whispers, placing a kiss on your neck, stuffing your panties into the pocket of his grey sweatpants.

"t-toji!" you peep, eyes wide in bewilderment. "g-give them back-"

"nah." he sits you down on his lap completely, the base of his now rock hard cock teasing your aching, sopping slit. "ride me, girl. wanna see you try."

your face was even more flustered, if that was even possible. "whatever you say, daddy." you feign your confidence, adjusting your position.

he slides off your white blouse, unlatching your bra. "pretty little tits. wonder who else saw these, hmm?" he teases, tongue teasing your peaks.

"ah- toji! fuck! n...not so sudden!" you instinctively arch your back, nails sinking into his chest covered by his compression shirt. he simply wraps his arms around your waist even tighter, virtually feasting on your perky breasts. "toji! fuck, not there..!" you squeak, noticing the salacious string of of love bites dissipated on your neck, collarbone, and under breasts.

"mm.. nah. i like marking up my girl." he mutters, taking in your nipple in between his teeth.

"ow!" you yelp, tugging on his hair instinctively. "that hurt."

"oh, 'm sorry, baby. won't happen again." his sleazy grin says otherwise.

"toji, ah... need more." you whimper, rocking your hips against his cock, wetting the base with your arousal. "want you in me so bad."

his eyes were dark hearing your pleas, his fingers gripping the meat of your ass. "damn, nasty girl, begging for it? might just give you what you want if you promise to be good."

"please, daddy." you groan, lifting your hips up to hover over his dick.

"so impatient..." he sighs, pressing a butterfly kiss to the back of your ear. "go ahead."

you perk up at his allowance, gently swirling the tip around your dripping arousal, flicking your clit with it. "ah.. fuck!" you cry in excitement, sinking onto his cock, so fast, and you didn't even do that much foreplay to be this wet.

"shit, y’er such a slut." toji groans, feeling you engulf him, you feel amazing. "juust like that, baby, good girl." he presses a wet kiss to your nipple. "ride me, i want to find out how quickly you can cum.”

"t-toji, shit." you croak, feeling the slightly uncomfortable stretch. "wait, please, one second..."

"poor baby." he croons in your ear, stroking your hair softly as you bury your head in his chest, trying to adjust. "too big for you?"

"mhm." your sweet voice comes out muffled, relishing his scent. "can we wait?" you mumble. “let me get used to you?”

he barks. “this ain’t for your comfort, darling. you need ta be taught a lesson here.” his eyes flash with a dangerous spark. “y’er lucky i like you a lil’ bit, letting you ride me and all.”

you whimper, feeling more relaxed after slowly rocking your hips. “ngh- it’s so deep, daddy-“ you groan, finally finding the strength to bounce on his dick. “shittt.” you cry, feebly moving faster to chase your high.

“such a good little slut, hm?” toji chuckles, kneading your ass. “tight pussy for such a loose girl. doin’ daddy so well."

“fuck, fuck, yes!!” you cry. “ah.. ngh- daddy, so good, mmh..”

your mind was hazy, focused on riding him with all the determination you got. you lifted your hips and then sank down on him again, moaning his name over and over again. "t-too good, daddy...!" you whine, chasing your high with all your might, legs cramping.

you felt toji's hands twitch at the side of your hips, granting you some leeway by meeting your thrusts halfway, legs spreading a bit further apart. god, how could he have resisted your temptations for so long? he was so infatuated with the way you cried out his name, kohl smeared around your eyes. the lewd cherry on top was the way your tits bounced in his face, as he fucked you senseless.

"harder, daddy, please...!" you claw at his shoulders, nearly ripping the slutty compression shirt.

and harder he went, his hips slamming into your ass, feeling the slick from your wet cunt stain the expensive leather. you felt the car lurch forward. he made the car bounce over and over again, every time he pounded into your perfect pussy.

"you like it, baby?" he asks you, lips latched to your breasts. "dirty girl- hah- likes my cock rough?"

"yes, yes, -ahh- dont stop, please!" your back arches like cat, relieving your leg cramp by your impending orgasm. the bastard made it so much better worse by thumbing your swollen clit, your legs freezing, rendering you helpless.

"you're so sexy like this." he chuckles, seeing you're letting him throw you around like a doll. "taking me like such a good girl, seemed you learned your lesson, hm?" toji pinches your nipple with his other hand, slowing down when you spray all over his thighs with a scream of his name, soaking his grey sweatpants. "fuck, oh my god. " you cry, your orgasm lasting a lifetime, clenching onto him. he relished in the obscene squelch, toji's coil in his stomach was gonna snap soon. the sound of your moans fills the small space of the car, and toji can feel the vibrations of your pleasure echoing through the metal frame.

"daddy-" you choke, "cum in me. p-lease." you whimper, desperate for him, all of him.

"dirty, dirty girl." he sneers, roughly grabbing at your waist to hit into you deeper. "want to be a mom at 19? slut." he groans, when you pick up the slack, slamming your ass down.

"mhh- 'm on the pill, just- ah! please..!" you gasp, when you feel him thrust once more, a harsh smack on your ass ringing.

"take- it." he grunts, feeling his vision blur as he empties his load into your awaiting, perfect pussy. you feel so much of it, so much it's trailing down your thighs.

"ah..! toji." you whisper, eyes wide.

"don't give me that look, you wanted it." he snaps, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. "good girl." he adds, his tone slightly softer.

you don't say anything in return, opting to melt in his arms, feeling his cock soften inside you. "mmm."

he presses a kiss to your temple, "clean yourself up, brat."

you whine. "why am i back to brat?"

he rolls his eyes. "jesus fucking christ. clean up, princess. i need a smoke." he pulls out reluctantly, shamelessly grinning when he sees his cum drip down your thighs. you let him go, lending him a jacket to hide the wet spot you made on his pants.

he's standing outside, leaning on the dashboard as he's texting someone- your father, probably- taking a puff of his cigarette.

you dress again, fixing your skirt and retrieving your bra. you get out of the car, quiet footsteps approaching him, hugging him.

toji is startled when you suddenly appear beside him, wrapping your arms around his waist and looking up at him with that sickly sweet pout. he can feel her breath tickling his neck, and he takes another drag from his cigarette before looking down at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. "princess," he says dryly, "what are you doing?"

he takes your silence as a hint to return your affection.

he puts an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and sharing some of his warmth as you two stand together under the setting sun. "we gotta go home soon, princess."

"don't wanna." you murmur.

"aw. c'mon, princess. y'er daddy's asking where we are." he shuts off his phone, putting it in his pocket.

"mm. okay. lets go home." you sigh.

toji takes one last drag from his cigarette before throwing it away and putting it out with his foot. Then he wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him and kissing you deeply on the lips. "parting gift?" he smirks.

you laugh. "whatever, daddy."

"let's go home now, sweet girl." he rolls his eyes, laughing as you pepper kisses over his face. "and remember..." he adds on, his voice a smooth murmur. "our little secret." he holds out his pinky.

"your little secret." you whisper, twisting pinkies into a small promise, unfolding for better or worse?

hii i was so lazy writing this (took me a whole damn month) (more like two) but i had to get this out i lobe bodyguard!toji so so so muchhhhh 🙁🙁 (not enough to not be lazy)

reminder that fiction is not reality and don't base off sexual relations w/ smut or p-rn. things are exaggerated and they are fantasies. just an fyi because i gen feel so icky when i write darker content (smut) and how it could impact people who read it... just make sure that there's always consent, you're vocal about boundaries, and you feel safe.

reblogs appreciated i love u guys 🤩

༝༚༝༚ indy

- cross posted on ao3- miniminari (linked if i actually posted it LMAO)

[roastedoatmilk]

Daisies and Tulips

Kento Nanami x Reader

Summary: The first year trio help Nanami pick out a bouquet of flowers for his partner

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags: fluff to the MAX, itafushi mention, nanami is in love with reader, megumi knows a lot about flowers, the trio being their silly selves

Little Things Masterlist

This is also available on ao3

A/N I hope you guys enjoy this part as much as I enjoyed writing it !! As always reblogs and comments are always very appreciated

Kento Nanami loved this time of year, the three beautiful months where both of his love’s favorite flowers bloom at the same time. It had been tricky at first trying to figure out a time where he would be able to purchase both of them together but after years of being with you he has nailed it down, so now as soon as it hits March 1st the blond heads to the local flower shop once a week to create a bouquet that never failed to make a smile grace your face. 

On this particular day just as Kento was getting ready to leave the school for the day, a rambunctious trio of first years bounded up to him right as he locked his door. The first grade sorcerer exhaled deeply at the sight of the teens, who hadn’t given him a moment of peace since the night that they had dinner with him and his partner. 

“What can I do for the three of you now?” The man questioned the trio.

The three students quickly looked at each other, having a silent conversation before turning back to the older man. Yuji steps forward seemingly being the one who was elected to speak. 

“Nanamin we were just wondering what sort of things you do for your partner to make their day?” The young boy’s brown eyes beamed up at Kento wide in curiosity. 

Nobara then cleared her throat and added on “Yeah you seem like the type to be a secret hopeless romantic, you both have been together for a while so I’m sure there’s at least one thing that you do for them since they haven’t dumped you yet.” 

Megumi says nothing but just nods along with what the other two are saying. Kento lets out a sigh, the sides of his mouth twitching as he tries not to smile. The fact that the teens are so eager to learn about you and about his relationship with you warms both his heart and your own. 

“Well this time of year I like to go to a flower shop and make a bouquet of their favorite flowers since there is only a short time frame where they both grow at the same time.” The blond man stated, no longer fighting off the urge to smile. 

Nobara and Yuji awed at hearing this while their raven haired counterpart flushes at the mention of said flower shop. Not long ago Megumi had run into the elder man and his partner at the shop looking at flowers. Kento had obviously recognized the boy and greeted him, causing you to greet the green eyed boy as well. Megumi, who had been overcome with embarrassment at interrupting this moment, stuttered out a greeting and introduced himself before turning around and booking it in the opposite direction. Thinking back to that moment causes the young teen to accidentally groan out loud, interrupting the onslaught of questions that the other two first years were asking Nanami.

Yuji’s head jerks in his boyfriend’s direction, concern evident in his eyes. The black haired boy flushed even deeper before waving Yuji off. Kento cleared his throat before stepping away from the trio.

“If that is all I really must be going, the shop closes in a few hours and I need to make it there before then.” The man spoke silently hoping that the answer he gave them would suffice. 

“Why don’t we go with you so that we can help?” Yuji asked his mentor, eyes mimicking that of a puppy. Nobara and Megumi nod in agreement.

Kento once again sighs before nodding his head at the pink haired boy, the trio cheered in response. The four then made their way to the flower shop. It was a relatively short walk, Nobara and Yuji filling the silence with their banter. Once they arrived Kento opened the door and held it for the trio, the bell chiming in the distance. 

“Ahhh welcome back Mr. Nanami, here for a bouquet for your partner?” The man behind the counter greeted the sorcerer, a smile on his face.

“Hello Haruto, yes I’m back for a bouquet, however this time these three are going to help me pick out the colors of the flowers.” Kento says before gesturing to the trio of teens.

The shopkeeper turned to the teens and asked “Well alright then, do any of you know the meanings of different flower colors.” 

Yuji looked at the other two puzzled and muttered “Flowers have meanings?” 

Nobara scoffs and says “Of course they do dumbass, I left my book about it in my dorm so I’m not going to be of much use.” a pout appearing on her face.

Megumi coughs before muttering, “I know a bit about the meanings of different flower colors.” the boy’s face once again a violent shade of red. 

His admittance of this caused Yuji and Nobara to look at him in complete shock, Megumi refused to meet their eyes instead focusing on the flowers in front of him. There was a wide variety of flowers spanning across the entire store, each type getting its own section with a multitude of colors. 

Megumi, still refusing to meet his peer’s eyes, turns to Nanami and asks, “What kind of flowers do they usually like?” His hands rubbing together, a clear sign that the boy is nervous.

“They like daisies and tulips, that’s why this time of year is perfect because it's the only time where they both bloom together.” The brown eyed sorcerer remarked with a small smile on his face. 

Megumi nods firmly before turning to Yuji and Nobara, grabbing their hands and dragging them over to the daisy section first. 

“Okay so for daisies I think we should get blue, they mean long-term commitment, trust, honesty and loyalty.” Megumi shares before continuing, “Then I figured we could go with red which is not only a classic but they also mean passion, romance, and devotion.” 

Yuji and Nobara stare at the green eyed boy in complete shock before grabbing a couple flowers of each color. Neither expected their fellow first year to have this much knowledge about flowers but considering he was raised by Gojo it doesn’t come as too much of a shock to them.

Once they have all of the daisies gathered Megumi makes his way over to where the tulip display is, taking a minute to look at all it has to offer. Yuji and Nobara stand quietly behind him as he observes, the two sharing a silent look of admiration for the boy. 

Megumi clears his throat before turning back around to face his friend and his boyfriend, “After looking over what they have I think we should get pink because they symbolize happiness, and I think we should also get orange because they represent passion and excitement.”

The boy plucks a couple flowers of each color from the display and turns back to his friends, “While its an uncommon combination of colors I think that the light blue of the daisies will look nice with the light pink of the tulips, and the red daisies with the orange tulips will also look nice.” Megumi explains. 

Yuji and Nobara nod in agreement, the teens then make their way over to the counter up front. Nanami is still standing there talking to the shopkeeper about you. 

“Yes, our five year anniversary is coming up soon and I already have the whole day planned out. The ring has been sitting in my pocket for months now but I just haven’t found the right time yet.” Kento whispers to the old man in front of him, as if he's trying to keep the proposal plan a secret.

The three teens gasp as they hear their mentor mention the ring, drawing the man’s attention to them. His eyes wide in shock, he wasn’t expecting them to hear about that. 

“Nanamin you’re going to propose to them??” Yuji asks, tears slightly welling up in his brown eyes at the idea of the man he admired so much taking such a big step in his life. 

“Come on, show us the ring I wanna see.” Nobara says moving her hand in a give me motion.

“I want to see it too.” Megumi utters his eyes darting in the opposite direction.

Kento sighs, taking off his goggles and pinching right between his eyes before reaching into his pocket and removing the velvet box that has been there for months. 

“Yes Itadori I will be proposing to them soon, now that everything has settled down and things aren’t as hectic.” Kento informed the trio before opening the velvet box to reveal a gorgeous ring. It was a silver band with leaf detailing all around it with a single pearl placed in the middle surrounded by even more leaf detailing. The three teens looked at the ring in awe knowing that you were going to love it. 

“Wow you sure know how to pick em Nanami.” Nobara admitted, her eyes transfixed on the ring.

“Yeah Nanamin they’re going to love it.” Yuji chimed in with even more tears in his eyes. 

“It’s beautiful, they'll love it.” Megumi agrees. 

Kento chuckles before closing the box and putting it back in his pocket, “Thank you, now let’s see what flowers the three of you picked out for them.” The blond man responded with a faint flush on his freckled face. 

The trio straighten up before showing their mentor the flowers they picked out. Nanami smiles before taking the flowers from each teen’s hand arranging them all together. 

“Wonderful work you three, I am sure they’ll be very happy with these.” Kento smiles at the kids. 

Kento hands the flowers to the shopkeeper so that they can be wrapped together and paid for. The shopkeeper smiles as he rings them up, having known you personally due to your former apprenticeship at the flower shop. 

“Have a great rest of your evening, they’re going to love them Kento.” The shopkeeper says before bidding them farewell.

Kento ushers the trio out of the shop and they make their way back to the school, the blond man making sure each teen makes it safely back to their dorms. Later that evening all three of the teens receive a text message from the man including a photo of you holding the bouquet with a wide grin and tears streaming down your face. Below the photo was a message that said “Thank you again for helping pick these out, they love them.”

A/N this is the ring

[grimm-writings]

on my hands and knees begging you to write that legally blonde idea… obsessed with the idea of reader thinking chil wants to get back w his ex vs chil just wanting to be friends and crushing hard on reader

take it like a man!

…ft! chilchuck x fem! reader

…tags! fluff, reader is into fashion

…wc! 2294

…notes! chilchuck tims and emmett forrest are the same to me (my type). this is so incredibly self indulgent thank you for enabling me anon.  a lot of dialogue is paraphrased from the song/show, such is the way of songfics. enjoy!

Oh, how Chilchuck wished he could say no to you.

He didn’t know what he was expecting from you and Marcille’s ‘sweep your wife off her feet operation’, otherwise shortened to SYWOHF which Chilchuck pointed out was an awful name for a campaign.  You elected to ignore him.

In actuality, he really wanted to just do this his own way.  What he had in mind was just to pay a visit and talk things through.  As those with a little womanly touch, you and Marcille knew that wouldn’t be enough.  Chilchuck had to prove he was serious about this – that he really wanted his wife back in his life!

Seeing how excited you were showing off your step by step plan… he didn’t have the heart to tell you that he really just wanted to remain friends with her.

So, here he is.  Having his eyes covered by your hands as you guide him through the busy streets of… who knows where.

“Almost there,” your breathless though excited voice reaches his ears, “I promise!”

You finally slow to a stop, and Chilchuck also gets the chance to speak about his thoughts on this.  Simply being, “this is pointless.  We don’t need to be doing all this.”

Scoffing, you fold your arms.  “Don’t be like that!  A conversation isn’t the only way to win her over.”

“No,” Chilchuck starts, “but it would sure make me look desperate!”  He swats your hands off and away from his face.  His back is turned away from the building you’re arguing outside of, not even bothering to see what you’re doing.

You frown.  Chilchuck doesn’t easily get so frustrated with you.  That’s what people usually say – if anyone can convince him to do anything, it’d be you.  “Chil,” you try to appeal.  You even try physically reaching out, hand hovering over his shoulder.  “Work with me here.  We can do this in a way that will prove yourself, and let her know you’ve changed.  For the better.”

Chilchuck listens to you, sparing you a sidelong glance as you go on with your speech.  “You make it sound like we’re in some romance novel.  This isn’t ‘for the better’ I just want to talk to her.”

“No you don’t, you want her back in your life!”

“Well…!”  Chilchuck stutters at how blunt your words are.  You are way too observant for your own good.  He never knows how to talk to you cooly when you do this.  “Well, of course I do!  And I can do that by slowly building up trust between us again, without rushing anyone.”

Where Chilchuck expects begging to follow through with your scheme, you simply look at him with a cold expression– colder than he’s ever seen you wear.  “So you have the chance to run away again if things get too much?  Sacrificing your integrity?”

You’re both lucky this little nook in the streets was away from most crowds.  Save for the passersby' conversations, the silence would have been strife with weight.  Chilchuck opens his mouth, then closes it again.  He repeats the action, and tries to use his hands to communicate his thoughts to no avail.

He settles for turning away from you in angered shame, fists balled at his sides and tips of his ears growing red.  “...I guess.”

You smile, knowing you have swayed the half-foot to your side.  Even in the dungeon, your debates went this way.  Chilchuck would present a cynical, logical approach whilst you were more realistic – something your appearance doesn’t really match with.  Chilchuck thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Not like he’d say that to your face.

Hearing your confident hum, Chilchuck sighs and turns back to you.  “Why do you always have to be right?”  He complains about this constantly.  You always seem to one-up him in ways he can never prepare for.

“I don’t have to be,” your attitude and voice returns to its usual, jovial form, “when I’m with you, I just am!”

You reach over to Chilchuck once more right as he’s about to make a scathing comment back at you.  His face is a bit too close for comfort with a wooden door, an entrance somewhere.

“You trust me to help you impress your wife, don’t you?”  You ask, with a clear sense of finality.

Chilchuck doesn’t think he has much of a choice in the matter.  “...Of course,” he responds honestly but you can hear his voice waver.

He can practically sense your smile from behind.  “Then don’t stop now.”

You wish you could say without a spot of bias that you were 100% supporting the operation at hand.  In actuality, it came with a heavy sacrifice of your own feelings remaining unsaid.  Of course you just had to fall for the semi-married man.  You have already tried to move on, from distracting yourself with an operation like this, to asking Izutsumi to pummel your head with a rock (which she was very close to doing).

This will have to do.

It was like magic, how the environment of the building interior rushes through you.  Chilchuck even feels it, his large eyes blinking as he drinks in the sight.

“...Where are we?” he asks, almost dreamily.  A beautiful ceiling lamp shines onto coloured wallpaper.  The scent reminds him of the kind of perfume Marcille would use.  It’s strangely… alluring.

You lean your face over Chilchuck’s shoulder.  “Oh, nothing much.  Just the most trendy half-foot exclusive clothing store in Kahka Brud.”  You can easily sense Chilchuck’s shock from this position – amusing you greatly.  “Here.”

You stand up behind Chilchuck again, massaging his shoulders.  “Just take a deep breath, and let it sink in.  We’ll be here for a bit so get used to the smells and lights.  Feel how it draws you in.”

“I’m feelin’ it alright,” Chilchuck responds, moreso about how he has no idea what convinces people to remain in these environments for so long without feeling overstimulated.

He already feels hot with how you’re handling him.

You move around so you’re in front of Chilchuck.  “Listen, I know this can be… overwhelming,” you start, giving the understatement of the century, “but think about who you’re doing this for.  Swallow your pride and… pick out anything you think is nice.  I’ll do the same.”

Chilchuck nods, about to set off, but not before you take his face, squishing his cheeks a comedic amount so he’s forced to pout and look you in the eye.

“Promise me you won’t run.  Take it like a man, alright?”

You let him go, and Chilchuck swears the heat on his body is from the stuffy maze of clothes stalls.  As he navigates the first selection of half-foot men’s clothes he sees, he tries to ignore the thoughts that seem to non-stop course through his brain.

He’s largely unsuccessful.

What are you getting out of this?  Some sort of second-hand pride at bringing together two estranged lovers?  Wait ‘til you find out the truth – that those aren’t where his true feelings lie.  Why can’t you leave well enough alone?

Why does he let you string him along with every plan you come up with?

You arrive back with a couple of blazer–pants combos, calling out Chilchuck’s name as you do so.  Damn, you sure are speeding through the process.

“So, I took the liberty of picking some of the more fancy kinds of suits.”  You hold them up in your arms.  “Whaddya think?”

“Suits,” Chilchuck repeats dryly, in disbelief of how far you’re taking the idea of impressing a woman.  He looks through each of the three upon seeing your determined expression.

He points at the pale pink option.  “Absolutely not.”

He gestures to the navy one with a thinner fabric.  “I like this one.”

Finally, he only spares at a glance at the creatively patterned suit.  “I think I’d sooner be fed to wargs than be seen in that.”

You assemble each of the selections in order of preference.  You muse, “I see, I see…  Something refined but masculine.  Much better than your ‘tattered chic’ look.  Like an old book forever trapped in a library.”

Chilchuck furrows his brow as you run off again.  “Wh– What’s that supposed to mean, jerk?!”

He sighs.  He watches you as you make a few more choices again, before Chilchuck tries to distract himself looking at ties.  He’s come this far.  He should trust in your instinct.  It hasn’t failed him– or anyone yet.

So what the Hell?

Before Chilchuck knows it, he’s handed the acutely sized down, perfect combination of blazer and pants, and he’s stuffed inside a changing room.  He’s instructed to change into the whole thing.

As he does so, you can’t help but pace.  This is it.  This is the winning goal to help him impress his old flame.  It’ll be like an academy romance – falling in love all over again like you’re teenagers.  You sigh longingly.  If only you can be there, in her place.

“You’re gonna look great!”  You converse with Chilchuck through the curtain.  “You’ll become a whole new man, promise!  You’ll bloom like a rose!”

“It’s just clothes,” Chilchuck, in his usual cynicism, calls back.

You return with a raspberry.  “Don’t be such a Debbie-downer.”

“Wow.  No one’s called me that since grade school.”

“Maybe not to your face.”

Even without looking at him, you can imagine the scoff and eye roll he must be giving you, interrupted by a small choke on his own spit.  “Is this the price?”

“Ignore that!” You quickly respond.  “It’s my treat!  Come out, come out, I wanna see you!”

Better to gloss over the fact you worked hard to do this for Chilchuck with a high budget.  No doubt he’d tease you or outright refuse it.  You open the curtain and pull Chilchuck out by his arm.  He quickly adjusts himself and you both stand in front of the wall length mirror.

“...Woah.”

It’s said naturally in sync.  Both of you hardly recognise the brunette half-foot in the form fitting suit and tie.  With a bit of hair maintenance and more time to actually make himself look presentable… 

“I look like Laios on a good day,” Chilchuck jokes.

Your breath caught in your throat, you can only let out, “y-yeah.”

You pray he doesn’t notice how enthralled you are in his appearance, if slightly ungroomed.

Once the moment passes, Chilchuck makes himself comfortable by loosening his tie and undoing a button or two, then putting his arms where they usually are behind his neck.  “But it’s just me.”

Without hesitation, you find yourself speaking without meaning to.  “Is that not the best part?”

Chilchuck looks at you in confusion.  “What?”

“I-I mean…” you trail off.  You look nervous.  That’s rare for you.  Usually you always had something to say.  Now you look like you’re trying to figure out how to word something in a specific way.  Why?

You move behind Chilchuck to smooth down some of his hair.  “You may look more charming but… this is all you.  Your choices, your style…  It reflects who you are on the inside.  That’s the magic of fashion.”

Chilchuck laughs a little, mostly at his own cluelessness.  He can’t believe he’s underestimated a simple shopping trip.  “Thank you,” he says, with complete sincerity.

“No.”  You shake your head.  “This is not a gift.  I’m just… This is me thanking you for how you let me get away with so much.”

Your hands land on his shoulders, and Chilchuck’s fingers find their way to interlace with yours.  For just a few more moments, you look at yourselves in the mirror.

Catching yourself, you step away from the situation – from him.  “Well?  Come on, you need to buy this.  I’d want to marry you if you took me out looking like this!”

The half-foot flushes red.  You got to know what you’re doing to him.  “That’s not really—”

“Chilchuck.  Please.”  You place your hands on your hips, looking dead serious.  “You look hot.”

…Well, he can’t argue with you.  If you really think that, then who is he to deny it?

“Fine.  I’ll get it.”

You smile that cocky grin Chilchuck has grown to love.  “That’s our man.”

Leaving the shop was like a breath of fresh, unperfumed air.  Chilchuck would nearly fall to his knees and start kissing the ground if he paid too much attention to how his legs ached.  The post shopping trip fatigue is really hitting him.

“I enjoyed this,” he however admits.  “Maybe women are onto something when it comes to clothes.”

“That’s why you should always listen to whenever a woman is speaking,” you wisely advise, making Chilchuck nod with a slight snort.

He stops at a crossroads, where you go back to his place, and he goes back to his.  “You can trust that I will now.”

“Good.”  You sigh in relief knowing your venture was successful.  Maybe too successful, because now you may lose him.

Chilchuck keeps looking at you with affection.  You can’t say you haven’t noticed how he keeps sparing you glances, mostly throughout the shopping trip.  Maybe he has warmed up to you?

Still, neither of you can stop yourselves at this point.

You approach, and for a hopeful second, Chilchuck tilts his head a bit to the left, eyelids lowering and leaning into you.  Your arms wrap around his middle.

Your face nuzzles into his neck as you hug the man tight.  Chilchuck is still for a few seconds.  A hug.  Right.  Of course you’d want a hug…  He responds in kind.

“See you soon, Chil. I wish you luck.”

“Y-Yeah.  Luck with the lady.”

Your happiness comes with a heavy sacrifice of Chilchuck’s feelings remaining unsaid.

He’ll take it like a man.

[nicosraf]

It's my birthday! And Angels Before Man's second birthday from the original publishing! And almost three years since the original draft of it! Wow! Thank you all a million times for being here. Really, genuinely

I'd like for this extremely long post to be happier ! But a lot of people are really troubled by the United States election. There's a lot of fear-mongering online about what'll happen and a lot of real threats to marginalized people in the U.S. and abroad. I don't talk about my own identities a ton. I'm a gay, trans, Mexican from the US-Mex border. The vast majority of my family, community, and friends are immigrants of varying legal statuses. I could lose everything!! I fear for my family! My friends! For my body and my heart!

My mom called me yesterday morning, though, basically asking for an explanation. She told me she was shocked, she was scared, and I said that so was I, then we said, "Pos ni modo." Ni modo!! Oh well!!! What can we do now? We can keep doing what we've always done. Survive. That's all you really have to do at the end of the day, you know, survive.

My family is from a rough Mexican city that fell apart when I was little, a place where my own family has been kidnapped and bodies have been left mutilated in the street for everyone to see. The radio spoke in code to let you know not to go outside when things got really bad. There used to be mariachis in the street to greet American tourists but by the time I was little, they were mostly gone. Boarded up, abandoned stores and boarded up, abandoned homes. I remember being scared, and I remember not knowing what to do listening to a shoot out right outside. I remember my heart stopping when my family was stopped by the soldiers and they demanded money out of us for the first time.

(And I can talk also about living on the other side. The hyper policing, ICE, the racism when my school played against other schools, my parents forbidding me from speaking Spanish outside our Mexican enclave and to stay close to them, and I can talk about the aggression from the white nuns at my catholic school toward the latino kids, I can talk about having to see the border patrol every day just to go to school, I can even talk about Trump-supporters coming down to the border and making a mess of the place and I can talk and I can talk but why? what for??)

My family is all (mostly) still around. I'm here also. We're still here. All of that horrible stuff happened and is still happening to us y ni modo!! Ni modo ! The fight continues. You'll be fine if you allow yourself to be, and if you're not, then you really gave it your best shot, and the people around you will see that you did.

I know for a lot of people there might be the urge to spiral into doom and grieve, but you don't need to borrow the grief of the future. Today you can get up and roll up your sleeves and clean the house. That's what my parents tell me to do when I'm sad. Ponte a limpiar. Ponte a trabajar. I used to get mad at them for it, but in the end, you're only in charge of yourself and the places/things that you upkeep.

I was raised around nopales (prickly pear cacti) and, many years ago, I threw one out of my parent's house because I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't want it. I figured it'd get eaten by something or die somehow. The nopal started growing instead, and it's still there. It even grew a flower, though it hasn't given us a pear yet. My dad doesn't like the pears/tuna but my mom does, so we went out to check on it and while we were there, we heard a bird singing. He looked up and he told me it was a cenzontle and that it was singing a little song for the nopal. I had this thought about how even though I basically tried to kill it, the nopal was growing, thriving. it's an easy metaphor to make, but the earth gives you simple lessons sometimes.

(The monarchs pass by every year. They don't even do it legally. They cut the border line and don't wait their turn to talk to the Customs guys!!! They just fly overhead then look back at us like we're crazy. How can we explain this to them? How do I tell them that there's a place that hates us both)

All you have to do is survive. Whatever happens to me or my family or my friends, we will find a way to grow and find birds to sing along with. If there's so much grief in the future, then we can grieve when that time comes. In other words, canta y no llores. All you have to do is survive. Take it hour by the hour. Pick up the broom and get to work while you can.

Because I've talked too much, I wanted to remind everyone that my ebooks versions of my writing will always be free to read.

Maybe it'll come as a shock to you that a lot of ABM was about coping with losing a home forever, of remembering the feeling of wall paint that you will never feel again. But it's about survival too. I hope you all take care of yourselves as much as we can. This isn't a sad post! Go out and enjoy what you have! Go for a snack. Protect yourself however youre able to. I'm so lucky to have a birthday, to have lived this long. I hope my work will live on no matter how much the world might despise it. I've survived this far despite the world too, and so will ABM... I hope ! :)

[mesetacadre]

Regarding your post on Stalin and Lenin, I want to ask in good faith: how can honest Communists, in good conscience, acknowledge the material harm and the death tolls of the deportations of the Crimean Tatars, Soviet Koreans, and Chechens + Ingush carried out by Stalin's administration?

I at least understand why Marxist-Leninists dispute calling the Holodomor and Kazakh famines genocides, on the grounds that they came about as a mix of failed policy, bad weather, and unintended consequences.

However, while Stalin's influence on the Famines is debatable, allowing the deportations to be carried out (which DO constitute a genocide) must certainly fall on his head. This is doubly so because Lavrentiy Beria - the principal architect of the Crimean Tatar and Chechen deportations - was a close ally of Stalin.

A big reason I ask this is because I frequently see other communists either gloss over the material harm of these deportations, or treat them as a regrettable footnote in an otherwise proud career. I find both approaches problematic, because I do not see them as an honest assessment of Stalin's wrongdoing with regards to ethnic minorities within the Soviet Union.

I thank you for your time, and I look forward to reading your assessment, should you chose to answer it. Have a good day.

[context]

I'll get to the ask itself in a moment, but first I want to point out how you're doing exactly what the post you're replying to is criticizing, how every mistake and imperfect policy of the USSR between 1924 and 1953 is scapegoated to Stalin. You're ignoring both the very important structures of democracy and accountability within the party as well as in the administration of the state. He wasn't a dictator and policy was not a direct extension of the man's thoughts. The party leadership was a collective organ made up of at least a dozen people, of which Stalin was simply the chairman, with the same vote as everyone else. And every single one of these members were beholden to democratic recall at any time.

Let's start on the common ground, we understand that the famine which struck Ukraine, southern Russia and western Kazakhstan in the early 1930s has a context of cyclical famines, grain hoarding, rushed collectivization, and bad weather. There has been a strong effort on the part of capitalist powers to both exaggerate the effects of the famine and to place it all with intent to exterminate Ukranians specifically. The policy of collectivization and antagonism towards the grain-hoarding rich peasants was one approved by and carried out by hundreds of thousands of people, if not millions. We can debate the degree of maliciousness, the severity of its effects, etc. But what is indisputable once you know just a little of how the USSR worked, to pretend that it could all be carried out by Stalin's sole will is absurd.

And what is the context of the deportations? The fascist invasion of the USSR. This is an extraordinary circumstance, every facet of the USSR was being attacked and threatened with sabotage. It wasn't even the first time they had had to deal with internal sabotage, like it was revealed in the trials following the assassination of Kirov. Throughout the 30s, Nazi Germany's strongarm diplomacy was practically enabled by their ability to create fifth columns, to instigate conflict and to infiltrate. They were in the process of setting up a coup d'etat in Lithuania when, with only a week to spare, it was voted that Lithuania would join the USSR. So, the fear that, as the front advanced, the nazis would do everything in their power to turn the tapestry of nationalities close to the front against the USSR, wasn't only unfounded, it was certain. Fascists are also quite famously brutal against the minorities in the territories they conquered. Their modus operandi whenever they captured a population was to kill any elected leaders and start to instigate anti-semitism.

This was the rationale that drove the policy of resettlement. It was a rushed wartime decision, such was the context, and people definitely died unnecessarily in transport. They decided that the negative consequences of resettlement outweighed the risk of sabotage, destroyed supply lines, and of a completely certain brutal destiny for these minorities if the front advanced past them. It was not a genocide, and it had nothing to do with whatever personal relationship you think Stalin had with Beria. (As a tangent, in this interview, Stalin's bodyguard said that Beria was "neither his [Stalin's] right hand man or left hand man"). I reiterate though, the personal relationships of one man did not dictate the policy decided on democratically by the CPSU.

I don't see the problem in understanding the context of these decisions and understanding the rationale behind them without kneejerking into discounting Stalin's competency. It's very easy to criticize a decision with 80 years of hindsight, without the pressure of the largest land invasion ever carried out advancing steadily. You can't understand the policies of a country containing hundreds of millions of people and hundreds of nationalities through the lens of a single man's personal failings, especially in wartime. Admitting these mistakes, but understanding the context in which they were made, is the only way to learn from other attempts at developing socialism. What is not productive is to insist on pinning every mistake, every unnecessary pain, every inefficiency, as the wrongdoings of a single man. It's dishonest to both the past, and to how communists organize today.

[year2000electronics]

how does your reverse falls weirdmageddon go down?

GREAT QUESTION. full explanation under the cut! (this info can also be found in my reverse falls doc) tldr ford and will start weirdmageddon, the gleeful family goes through the ultimate challenge of realizing theyre a selfish and broken family, and they all work together with the rest of the zodiac to destroy will through erasing fords memories!

the dimensional rift exists, but instead of ford finding it, stan does. ford knows there should be a rift around somewhere now that his portal's been totaled, but he can't find where it is. this is frustrating.

ford wants to start weirdmageddon with will to become the most powerful man in the world. that's his goal after he came back.

mason wants to grow up too fast, mabel is afraid of growing up. (we know this from canon already) this is also coming off the coattails of last mabelcorn, where mabel gets called 'ugly' by the unicorn (it hits her twice as hard because mason and mabel's entire thing is being cute kids performing!)

in mason & mabel vs the future, ford takes dipper to crash site omega to try and build an anomaly detector. he treats it as mason's first sort of "real expedition" but in reality he's still trying to find where stan hid the rift.

ford offers mason an apprenticeship, but instead of the problem being "dipper would stay in gravity falls", it's "ford says that he would have to stop his 'telepathy twins' act with mabel because it's holding back his potential and is actually quite childish". (of course he insists mabel would do great as a solo act)

mabel hears through walkie-talkies (they use it to fake 'twin telepathy' sometimes), gets upset that mason is abandoning her, and runs off, but instead of blendin, it's will that finds her! will insists that since she's technically his boss, if she wants a little more summer, he has no choice but to do as she wishes. he explains he'll need the rift that stan keeps in his study. mabel sneaks back inside and is able to get to stan's keys thanks to stan being hypervigilant of mason and less so of mabel (due to his brother and all)

once she gets the rift to will, will SMASHES it, revealing that ACTUALLY, he works on FORD'S orders, and she's forgotten where she lies in the pecking order. weirdmageddon begins, she gets trapped in a bubble, and ford and will's deal gets broken because of will's newfound physical form (and now that time is dead, it's technically "the end of time!" so there you go). they agree to rule the world as partners

somewhat replacing the canon intro all the way to the part where ford gets turned to gold is ford and will running into mason, who ford invites to join him because "he sees great potential in him". mason looks up at his uncle being all buddy-buddy with a demon and literally ending the world and he realizes "this isn't the man i want to be." but hes too terrified to say no, but he doesnt WANT to say yes, so hes just kinda frozen there.

wendy bails him out, pulling him into a car she jacked and driving off. they take shelter in the mall which is where they find paz, gideon, reggie and robbie. they form a ragtag group of Apocalypse Heroes and mason explains he needs to free mabel from her bubble. they drive all the way out to the bubble but get ambushed by STAN

stan kinda takes gideons place in the role of weirdmageddon where he has a mad max troupe of road warriors, but once he sees mason in the group, he calls them off, revealing he only "joined" ford to save his own hide and is absolutely ready to ditch that idiot.

the gleeful family enters mabel's bubble as the rest of the gang stand guard outside

weirdmageddon 2 is very similar to canon, but mabel gleeful elects herself queen of mabeland and has a lot more of a "tyrant ruler" vibe. she throws mason and stan in the dungeon and stuff its great. mason and stan convince her that theyve all messed up and they need to Be Better... starting with mason not taking the apprenticeship. mason and mabel reunite and theyre ready to take on will and ford now

weirdmageddon 3 has the gang finding bud and hope (gideon's parents) trying to ditch town by driving away in an RV, but paz and gideon want to help their NEW FRIENDS THE GLEEFULS rescue all the other townspeople, and maybe try to talk some sense into ford? (stan is doubtful.) so they start gathering resources to head to the fearamid

meanwhile, the reverse falls equivalent to the penthouse scene is happening, which is basically just will and ford chilling out as ford slowly tries to hammer away at the barrier equation (he studied magic, not this! give him some time!) until will drops the ball that like. ford has charmed him into still loving him. that much is true. but he's like "i think we're a little beyond you being in charge of me, right? and im more than happy to keep you around... but i never said anything about stanley or those kids."

hes like, to fords face, "i am going to kill mason and mabel." and obviously fords like UHHH NO DONT DO THAT because theyre family? and he doesnt want them DEAD even if theyre below him! but of course, will is just reflecting ford's terrible attitude back at him that only the Special and the Worthy should be able to claim that success. and since ford was always only looking out for himself, this is the ultimate culimation of that: he'll be the one surviving gleeful.

ford protests against this but will starts sobbing that ford is getting cold feet and turns him into gold and thats where we're at by the time the gang gets to the fearamid with the GIANT BUD'S AUTO ROBOT.

they rescue ford cos hes part of the zodiac and he definitely seems a little shaken up as he agrees to hold hands and save the world. but stan is pissed OFF because ford has done nothing but threaten and belittle stan for the entire time hes been back so as theyre holding hands he lets a remark slip about it and then ford just cant help himself and goes "its not my fault im the better twin". cue fighting cue everyone getting turned into tapestries etc.

stan and ford, instead of pulling the switcheroo, agree that ford should goad will into entering his mind by saying he's solved the equation (since yknow reverse ford doesnt need a metal plate). ford does that and then they erase his memories like they do with stan in the original show. kinda the ultimate penance going on there, ford doing something that isnt selfish for once and actively harms himself.

world saved, ford gets his memories back, blah blah blah, the gleeful twins celebrate their 13th birthday and mason, mabel and ford all smash their magic amulets so that theyll never use them again

stan and ford become the new "telepathy twins" as now neither of them have any magic to their name and can bond by tricking tourists Together. meanwhile mason and mabel retire and do part time work at greasys

paz leaves town for the summer but promises she'll come back next year

will whines at the axolotl to give him a second chance and he gets chucked in the theraprism

[tanoraqui]

The last sons of Fëanor and their forces came to Sirion with blood-hungry blades and the acrid burn of Free Magic, and the ringing of deathly bells. Not a single charter mark was left uncorrupted in that fallen house. Worst of all, they came with a monster of white fire, which leapt ahead of their army with predatory glee.

The Abhorsen was not there to guard his city. He had sailed up the coast seeking aid, seeking refugees, seeking anyone who might be left in the darkening land beyond the wall, which darkened a little more each day as Orannis's strength grew. (Soon, the Ninth Bright Shiner's full power would return, and nothing left in the world would be able to stop him from destroying all that he hated, which was everything.)

He'd left his sword with his wife, the Charter marks still shining bright under the ever-clouded sky. She was the heir of Ranna-that-remained (though that queen remained no more) - so bells might have served her well, but even the Abhorsen's blessed blade didn't suit the power of the gentle Sleeper. She leapt with it into the sea, rather than let the fallen princes steal the heirloom at last.

The entity of white flame picked idly through the ashes and refuse of the refugee city. It was vaguely humanoid, though its limbs twisted and stretched at its whim. It batted a fallen tower-stone around like a cat with a toy. It did the same with a few corpses, but stopped more quickly, and set them to the side.

In a one-room house, it found a woman still alive, leaning heavily on a doused stove with one hand pressed to her bleeding side. It spoke to her in a voice that snapped and cracked like lightning as well as flame: "Go swiftly, child. You won't like what's coming if you stay."

Though clumsy with blood loss, she raised her dagger and tried to stab it. The entity's laugh crackled as it caught her arm. Still laughing. It broke first her wrist, then her shoulder, then, as she gasped in pain, her neck.

"Remember what I said!" it called as she faded helplessly into Death.

A muffled squeak of horror came from a large travel chest shoved against the opposite wall. The entity cocked its head curiously, then prowled across the room with all the confidence of a predator which knew its prey was cornered.

It yanked the chest apart entirely, tearing it in half between two burning white arms and crumbling the pieces. Two boys spilled out, identically dark-haired and fine-featured, about six years old. Only one was awake; the other was limp and bleeding from the temple, a stray blow in the madness of battle. Yet conscious and unconscious alike they clung to one another, and the wakeful child glared up at the monster with all the savage fury of a terrified child.

The being of Free fire recoiled.

"No," it hissed. "No! They had time to breed?"

It was about to sink blazing, dagger-sharp spines into both children where Sareneth rang deep and demanding from outside the little house, and a hoarse but strong voice only a little less accustomed to command called, "Mogget! Stop playing with your food and come face us!"

The entity stopped, attention briefly yanked toward the door. Then with a shiver of light it broke free and reached again for the children with merciless intent.

The bell sang out again, this time joined by Kibeth, and two voices called it out. The entity, which was still known as Mogget, was again caught for a moment - but an even shorter moment this time.

But still it stopped, and cocked its head toward the door.

"Only two, now," it murmured to itself. "Yes..." It smiled, which was a terrible thing to behold on a thing with no real face. "Two, I think I shall manage quite well."

With an almost gentle touch, save for the acrid burn of raw Free Magic, it swooped down and scooped the boys up in its arms, and deposited them unharmed on the very ragged mattress beside the shards of the chest. The wakeful one hugged his brother even tighter, trying to shield him.

The Mogget chuckled, and patted him on the heard.

"Wait here, little pests," it purred - a snapping, crackling purr, but a purr unmistakably. "I'll have you for dessert."

Then it darted out a shattered window.

Shouts greeted it immediately, and more ringing of bells - necromancer's bells, which had never known a Charter mark. Light flashed and cracked like a rainless storm, a rich voice rose to accompany the bells in song, and fire sizzled against cold steel. On the ragged mattress, the wakeful boy first looked around for somewhere else he could drag his brother to hide - for he had no desire whatsoever to be 'desert.' But when Astariel herself joined the chorus of battle, he just just clapped his hands over his ears and buried his face in his brother's blood-stained hair with a sob, and through muffled tears begged him to wake up.

However soft, his cries were loud in the echoing silence that followed the Weeper's ring. The second boy stirred, tears staining his cheeks, too, and murmured, "'lrond?"

The wakeful twin's weeping redoubled. Before he could reply, however, both froze at a terrible shriek from the street outside. The soul-piercing scream came closer without moving and they clutched each other tight. Then it faded into a cate's enraged yowl, merely ear-piercing.

Elrond leapt to his feet, and resumed looking around frantically.

"'Ros, he have to hide," he whispered. "We have to - "

Elros caught sight of their nursemaid on the floor, unmoving with her bloody side and twisted neck. He shoved his fist in his mouth to muffle a cry, and let his brother drag him into the corner beside the potbelly stove - the closest thing to a hiding spot, with escape blocked by voices approaching the single door.

A giant pushed it open, or close enough to a giant - a seven-foot-tall man in heavy armor with vividly copper hair tied back for battle. His armor was singed blood-splattered and his skin pale from the iciness of Death. But he moved unflinchingly and his single mailed hand held a long sword that sparked with red lightning and reeked of Free Magic.

A monster, at any rate - these children knew what Maedhros, Fëanor's eldest son, was said to look like. He was one of their mother's nightmares.

Another followed him - another son, another nightmare. The Dark Singer, Maglor the necromancer, bells all slung across his chest save for the sixth, which he held ready to ring. Ice was still melting off his armor.

At Maglor's heels came a small white cat in a red collar, complaining, " - waste your time, when reinforcements could arrive from Balar in - "

He saw the boys crouching by the cold stove and cursed in a language older than anyone else present could comprehend. It sounded a great deal like hissing.

Maedhros raised one cynical eyebrow. He continued stalking forward with a foreboding frown.

Elrond flinched back. It was Elros's turn to scowl fiercely up at the enemy.

"Nelyo, don't scare them." Maglor elbowed Maedhros aside and crouched in front of the twins. He sheathed Saraneth and displayed his empty hands with a gentle smile.

"Hey there," he said. His was the rich, warm voice. "We're not going to hurt you. Don't mind my brother, he's just grumpy. He's had a rough day. I bet you have too, hmm?"

There was blood on his teeth and lulling power in his hum. On raw instinct, Elros shrieked in jarring disharmony.

Quick as a flash, Maglor drew tinkling Ranna and sang Saraneth in harmony. Already exhausted from grief and fear, both children collapsed bonelessly.

"'Don't scare them,'" Maedhros quoted dryly as the echoes faded. His was the hoarse voice, rough from ancient scars.

"Shut up," Maglor said irritably. Bell still held high, he leaned forward and fished the scowlier child out of the tangle of immature limbs. He ran his fingers carefully along the boy's bloody scalp and pronounced, "Just a cut."

He turned the boy's face toward the dim light from the broken window. "Those are Turgon's eyebrows, right? And his nose, a little?" He added conscientiously, "Also, the silver keys on their tunics."

"Mogget," said Maedhros, looking back - but the cat had disappeared. His jaw tightened.

"He'll be back," said Maglor. "It's us or Eärendil - especially if we have the Abhorsen-in-waiting."

He gathered one twin over each shoulder and stood with a grunt. Their bodies lay limp but warm against his armor. The last bits of ice had melted.

"Much use, any of them," Maedhros said bitterly. "With no bells, no book, not even the bloody sword..."

Already across town from their recurring arguments, the small white cat stalked an engagingly plump rat through some battle-torn turf...and lost it when the bell on his collar suddenly chimed in a strong gust of wind. He sat back and began to wash himself in the universal sign of a cat who meant to do that, no really.

Damn bells! Damn bindings! Damn infant Abhorsens! He couldn't wait for Orannis to finish waking completely and tear them all to shreds!

Though, he could admit, the ninth note on the scale, far beyond petty mortal perception, which permeated matter and mind alike with ever-increasing intensity and goaded destruction as Ranna whispered sleep or Saraneth demanded obedience...and kept the sky so damn cloudy all the time; he hadn't had a really good sunbeam in years... He didn't like that, either. It set his fur on end, even on the pleasant occasions when he wasn't confined to fur.

Old Kingdom au!Fëanor wants to he Abhorsen like his father before him so bad that it makes him look stupid. He wants to be Abhorsen like his father before him so bad that he makes an entirely new set of Charter-infused necromantic bells just to prove that he can wield such powerful, important, approximately sacred tools. He manages this because he is, of course, a Wallmaker, not an Abhorsen. They do become the Abhorsen’s main set henceforth, after the originals are destroyed when Fingolfin tries to 1v1 Orannis.

Hm, actually, the relationship between divinities and people is all but inverted between these two media. I need to think about this some more.

[bees-making-art]

Beat of the Heart, Chapter One: Electric Feel

This is the start of my silly little LoganxGN!Mutant!Reader story! It will loosely follow the plot of the first x-men movie. Basically just switch out Jean for reader as the center of Logan's romantic affection. Reader has a described power but other than that no physical description. Reader is also a medic/scientist like Jean and Hank. This is also cross posted on A03 if you want to read it there!

“So, do you know what happened to the new arrivals?” you ask Jean, who walks beside you to the in-school infirmary and research bay.

“Not much. I haven't had the time to talk to Scott or Ororo yet. All I know is that one is a teenage girl named Rouge and the one, we will see now, is a man.”

As you reach the door, you give a little hum to show her you're listening. You press your hand to the sensor. The device takes a minute to scan your palm before flashing green and opening the doors. 

Beyond the door is a sort of ‘mud room’ that holds lab coats, gloves, masks, goggles, and other lab safety clothing. You and Jean both grab your respective lab coats (which have your name embroidered on the inside) and a pair of disposable gloves. Once the equipment is on, Jean compels the glass doors open with her mind, and the two of you walk in. 

Immediately, you see the man Jean was speaking of lying on one of the many infirmary gurneys. Completely ignoring him for a moment, you gather a clipboard with pencil and paper to take notes and fill out the general form you have for everyone in the school. Only when you are beside the gurney with your note-taking supplies on the metal table do you really take in his features. 

The first thing you notice is that this man is handsome, but you bury that thought in favor of taking actual notes. The man has dark brown hair that is tousled but seems to have been styled into two little animal-ear-like points. His skin is a light tan, which is clearly due to working in the sun. The man's eyebrows are naturally shaped into a furrow, giving even his resting face the appearance of scowling. And on each side of his lower jaw are mutton chops that truly only a man as handsome as him could pull off.

His chest, arm, and stomach muscles are well-defined. You guess this is from the same work that gifted the man his lovely tan. Said places are also covered in a smattering of dark brown hair. It curls out from the center of his chest to the edge, down the valleys of his stomach, and disappears under his pants and over his forearms.

During your inspection, Jean puts little circular, sticky sensors on the man's chest in preparation for the examination machine. Once the sensors are in their correct places, she takes his blood pressure before grabbing the pen on the table to scribble down his results. 

You try your best to stay focused on the task at hand and not be distracted by this stranger's attractive visage but it's difficult not to when you have to focus on looking at him. Jean takes notice of your ogling and can't help herself but to smirk, giving your bicep a little nudge. You turn to face her, immediately annoyed at the expression you find on her face. 

“Looks like someone is enjoying their research,” she teases in a quiet tone. She uses her powers to hand herself a syringe from the metal table next to the bed, inspecting it to ensure it wasn’t tampered with or damaged. 

You roll your eyes at her comment, write down your observations, and fill out the parts of the form you can. The clipboard is set to the side as you grab one of the man's arms, lifting his hand up to inspect it and the pocket of his elbow for any scars or markings. You don't give her the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you simply elect to ignore her comment. 

Jean notices this and giggles as she grabs the man's other arm, lining up the syringe with the crook of his elbow. You place the hand you were holding back onto the bed. With clipboard back in hand, you write that he only has a few faint scars across and in between his knuckles, evidence of fighting but none of injection drug use. 

The two of you make eye contact, and after a shared nod, Jean begins to slowly press the needle into his skin and pierce the vein.

What happens next occurs in mere seconds. First, the man's eyes shoot open and flicker between you and Jean. Then he's standing up, pulling his arm away from the shot, the other hand curling around Jean's neck. He’s now standing behind her with his syringe-free arm wrapped around the other to secure it.

The man's eyes dart across the room before landing on you. You mentally note to write down later that his eyes are a deep brown with a speck of Hazel. But nonetheless, you raise your hands to your head to show you have no intent to harm the man.

“Hey! We’re not trying to harm you! I promise we were simply checking you and possibly treating you for injuries that you might have sustained from the crash and fight. We mean you know harm,” you try your best to convince the feral-looking man. 

His eyes flick around your face and then the room once more. A noise that sounds more like an animalistic growl than what a human makes leaves his mouth as he lets go of Jean with a shove and rushes out of the room. 

Jean coughs and catches her breath, her hands gently holding her own throat as you lower your hands back to your sides. You let out a sigh as you pick up the tossed syringe, placing it next to your clipboard on the table. You walk to Jean and put a comforting hand on her back.

“Well, he’s going to be a fun one,” you grumble, only half sarcastic. Jean’s laugh in response makes a smile cross your face. You pat her back before returning your hand to your side. She stands up straight and smiles at you in return, a quiet ‘thank you’ whispered into the back of your mind. You nod then look to the door where the man had left.

You shake your head and peel off the plastic gloves sticking to your hands, tossing them to the trashcan nearby. The lab coat slips off your shoulders as you place it onto the gurney nearby. Jean follows suit as you walk towards the glass door, beridding herself of her lab clothing and taking long strides to catch up with you.

“At least he has a pretty face to look at,” you hum, a laugh bubbling in the back of your throat. A giggle shoots out of Jean, tossing her head back in the laughter.

“I knew you were checking him out!” Jean teases, making your cheeks redden. 

You wave her off as the two of you exit out the second pair of doors, facing the long hallway to the stairs and elevators that lead upstairs. The two of you decide to split up. Jean checks out the rest of the basement while you head upstairs to look through the rest of the mansion. 

As soon as you reach the floor level of the estate, a familiar, comforting voice enters your mind. ‘The new mutant is in my office. Please meet us there for proper introductions,' Charles speaks. You assume that he sends the same message to the rest of the X-men. 

Luckily for you Xaviors office is only a few minutes walk from where you are currently. You waste no time in walking up the stairs past the many students and down the hall till you reach the ornate door at the front of the professor's office, a little golden plaque displaying his name about a foot and a half above where the handle is. 

You turn the handle and slowly push the door open, taking care not to accidentally hit the new mutant if he was standing right in front of it. Once you see that he is not there, you open the door all the way, leaning left against the door frame. You cross your arms in front of your chest. A smirk spreads across your face as you notice the jacket the man has seemingly ‘borrowed’ from the changing room in the basement. 

It's a blue-tinted medium gray zip-up jacket. And even though he's turned away from you, you know that there is a blue X-men patch on the left side. The hoodie seems not fully zipped as the fabric is not fully covering his shoulders and slipping down his back, perfectly showing just enough skin to tease your imagination. And god, does it look amazing on him like that.

Charles gestures to you with his left hand, a permanent soft smile on his lips. The man turns to face you. And it reveals just what you were expecting; the zipper is only up to about his sternum. Zipped up just enough to not show off everything but still down enough that you can see his clavicle and his chest that's painted with dark brown hair. It makes you want to slide your hands into the jacket to feel what you cannot see.

But hearing your code name coming from Xaviors mouth pulls you out of your thoughts. You push them far back as you give the man standing before you a little wave, meeting his eyes for the first time since entering the room. The deep, woodsy color is something you are slowly becoming acquainted with. A similar smirk to yours is plastered on his face as his eyes sweep over your form. If you didn't know better, you would say he was checking you out. 

You put your hand out in front of you, presenting it to Logan for a handshake. 

“Or you could just call me by my real name, Y/N. It's nice to meet you again.” This gains you a chuckle from the man and a playful eye roll from Charles. The jacket-donned man clasps his slightly bigger hand to yours and gives a half-hearted shake. 

“Names Logan, some call me Wolverine, but I'm willin’ to guess you already knew that, sweetheart,” the tone in which he says the pet name sends a shiver up your spine. And his damned smirk paired with it isn't helping your goal to not get flustered. 

So, why not return the favor? At least in some way. Using a bit of energy you always had stored away just in case, you give Logan a little shock. It’s nothing more than one of those prank hand buzzers. But it does get you the desired result, a wince paired with a hiss as he pulls his hand away from yours. 

Logan looks down at his hand to find not even a wound to be healed. His gaze turns back up to connect with yours as your smirk turns into a grin. You hold up the hand you just used to shock him, making the ‘devil horns’ with your thumb out. In between the two digits, a small, faintly purple-colored electrical current forms between them.

Logan's eyes drift to it as his hand returns to his side, then back to yours. He rolls his eyes at your unbidden glee. He tries to give off the impression he is not impressed, but you can see the hint of a smile playing at the edges of his lips. 

“I can control electrical currents, manipulate them to make machines do what I want. I can take their energy, store it in my body, and send it back out just like that.” You return the energy you were using back into your body, veins in your hand and arm glowing for no more than a second. Your arms are back to being crossed, along with your shoulder being pressed against the door. 

Logan's mouth opens as if he is about to say something, but he shuts it as Scott and Ororo appear in the doorway behind you. They are closely followed by Jean. Who, unbeknownst to you, slips her hand into Scotts.

You move further into the room so that the other three don’t have to stand in the doorway behind you. Ororo is the first to introduce herself with a little wave and her usual kind smile. They each tell Logan their names, code names, and their powers. Jean is the only one able to show it as she lifts a pencil off Charles's desk. 

Throughout the entire exchange, Logan keeps an unimpressed look on his face. But it's a little more genuine than with you. You can’t help but giggle a little, covering your mouth with your hand to pass it off as a cough. The two of you meet eyes again, and Logan's lips twitch into a smile at your actions. 

Charles notices the two of you no longer paying attention to the others and claps his hands together. All the heads in the room snap to face him as he wheels around to be in front of his finely carved wooden desk. 

“Y/N, since the two of you appear to be getting along, please show Logan where his room is and give him a tour of the school.” It sounds like a gentle request, but you can tell from the look on Xavior's face that he is a bit miffed at your behavior. 

A blush blooms across your cheeks as you nod.

“Will do, professor,” you respond not a moment later. Your tone is much like that of a student who was just scolded by a teacher, and in some ways, your relationship with Charles was like that.

You turn to face the door to walk out. As you turn your head, you catch Jean's teasing smirk. You roll your eyes at her antics. You nod your head towards the door and only start moving when Logan follows. You only glance at him briefly as you quickly turn to exit. Storm bumps your shoulder almost imperceptibly and winks at you. You narrow your eyes in return to her gesture, waiting for Logan outside the hall. 

Once he stands beside you in the hall and the door is closed, you huff and drop your shoulders from where they had been practically pressed to your ears. You feel almost like Logan is looking at you, but you don't bother checking. Taking a step forward, you begin your tour of the institute. 

The air around you is filled with awkward tension. And part of you is tempted to let it stay that way lest you become distracted by Logan again. And his stupidly good-looking stolen jacket. However, despite your valiant effort, your eyes flit to Logan's face. 

From his side profile, you can see his defined jawline through the facial hair and subtle frown lines that stretch from the edges of his nose to the outer corner of his lips. 

Catching yourself, you return your gaze onward. You find yourselves at the top of the staircase before the entrance. You perk up a bit at the opening of conversation.

“This is the entrance to the school; you can access most of the inside areas from here. The kitchen is through there, the student dormitories are down that hallway, and the teachers are opposite. Classrooms are upstairs, as are the rest of the dormitories. Downstairs is where the infirmary, laboratory, and battle practice rooms are,” you explain as you walk down the stairs, pointing to each of the doorways and stairs to tell him what they are. 

“We were holding you in the infirmary early if you couldn’t tell, but we also occasionally use it as an extra lab. We have a library and a few common rooms on this level that connect the dorms.”

Turning to Logan, you see him nod, his particular way of showing you he was listening. You flash him a grin and head to the teacher's rooms. Walking down the hallway, you pass by a few students, to whom you give high-fives as you pass.

“I'll show you the room we’re providing you while you're with us. And I’ll tell you whose room is whose in case you ever need any of us.” Logan raises an eyebrow at this but doesn't comment. He just simply follows.

The hallway is mostly just a long series of doors. However, it is occasionally broken up by large windows with couches in front of them, bookshelves, and small tables with decorations and plants on them. As you pass by the doors, you point to each, telling Logan whose room it is and how to remember it.

“These two are Jean and Scott's rooms, though usually they are in one or the other. They’re the first room, so it makes them easy to find. This room right here is Ororo’s, and Hank’s is across from it. You haven’t met him yet ‘cause he's on a mission right now, but he’ll be pretty hard to miss when he returns. Hanks always has blue fur at the threshold, and you can usually hear music from Ororo’s.”

There's a bit more hallway that you two walk before you reach your door, and by some gracious being above, where Charles decided to put Logan. You smile upon seeing the familiar door to your room.

“This one is my room,” you say while pointing at the door. “It’s probably going to be the easiest for you to remember because it's right across from where you will be staying.”

A smirk spreads across Logan's lips, and he turns to you. “And I’m sure that was by complete accident; it's definitely just a coincidence.” He nudges your shoulder teasingly as he walks to the door of his new room.

You chuckle and roll your eyes at his insinuation. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But no, I don’t have a say in how rooms are picked; that's all Xaviors doing. Trust me, if I had any say, I would be on the top floor with my window facing the backyard.”

Logan's smirk never leaves as he opens the door. The nod he sends your way gives you the impression that he doesn’t entirely believe you. He steps inside the room, looking around. You walk in behind Logan but stay near the door. 

“All the rooms have separate bathrooms, so don't worry about sharing. Right now, all we have is basic clothes for you, but feel free to get yourself some new ones. The closet's that door right there if you do,” you point to each door after explaining their respective purpose.

The room is in its basic cookie-cutter style, which all of them start with: plain off-white walls with wood paneling and crown molding. A window facing the outside has a plain queen-sized bed right under it. All of the cloth in the room is the same cream color. It gives the feeling of a hotel.

Logan turns to face you after sitting on the bed's edge. Arms propping him up from behind and legs mildly spread.

“What? Don't want me wearing your fancy X-men clothing?” Is his only response to anything you said. You smile and roll your eyes at him, one of your hands resting on your hips.

  “No, I just got the impression that you wouldn’t want to wear Scott's hoodie,” you gesture to the gray zip-up, which, in your opinion, looks better on him than it ever has on Scott. "And he won’t be too happy about it either. “

The way Logan looks at you can only be described as incredulous, disgust, and dread all rolled into one. It almost makes you laugh. But you manage to keep it at just an amused smile. 

“You're just saying that to get me shirtless again.”

You give him a shrug with your hands raised, “You don't have to believe me, but I can bet you $100s that Scott's name is on it.” The man grumbles under his breath about something you don’t quite catch as he unzips the jacket and strips it off. 

You’re tempted to look, but you peel your eyes away to show Logan you are being truthful and don't just want to see him shirtless. As you look away, you’re reminded again of how bare the room is. 

“You can also decorate how you like. Charles just asks to keep it child-appropriate in case one of them has to come in here.”

Logan chuckles and shakes his head as he tosses Scott's jacket to you.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I won’t get anything too ‘adult’.” He makes quotation marks with his fingers as he says, ‘adult.’ You smile in return as you catch the jacket. You drape it over one of your arms, willing everything that you don’t blush or start glowing. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to show you earlier, but the laundry room is further down the hall. It has a little plaque, so you won't miss it. You know, for whenever you do get your own clothes.”

You expect him to laugh at your retort, but he gives you this quiet smile instead. Not a smirk, a genuine smile, albeit a very small one, but a smile nonetheless. It makes a bundle of butterflies spread through your chest. Much like the blush, you try your best to suppress the feelings. You don’t need your powers giving you away this early.

All he says in response besides the smile is a simple, “thanks.”

You smile wider in return and give him a little nod. You turn and exit through the doorway, turning to him once you're past the threshold. 

“I’ll be across the hall or in the lab if you need anything.” You close the door behind you and walk over to your own. You let out a relieved sigh once in the safety of your room. A faint purple glow begins to emanate from your veins. A result of you releasing the hold on your powers. Once the light fades, you take a moment to collect yourself before leaving to return to the lab.

Hope you all enjoyed! I can't promise a consistent schedule but I'll aim for a chapter a week. Thank you to my friend c20w for beta reading! And credit to strangergraphics for the beautiful banners!

[icemavs]

wild-eyed jokers

5.1k, explicit, ao3

“Fuck, Ice,” Maverick panted. “You can’t just move like that and not expect a reaction.” A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. 

“Well what else was I supposed to do?” Iceman replied with a laugh. “Chipper was right on your tail, I had to get him off somehow.”

Maverick shook his head to himself and flipped a switch to listen to the air traffic control radio frequency as he maneuvered his jet back to the base. It was taking some getting used to, flying these new F/A-18s the Navy was letting them try out. Maverick, along with Iceman and a few others, were tapped to help develop new tactics with the new jets before taking what they came up with to TOPGUN and teach a brand new class. There were new instructors teaching the F-14 TOPGUN classes, but there wasn’t anyone experienced enough to teach F/A-18 pilots yet. So, the Navy pulled five pilots from their squadrons to learn what they could and be the best on a new airframe. 

It wasn’t that Maverick took what he did for granted, he knew it was important, but sometimes he forgot just how important it could be. As he felt the landing gear touch down on the tarmac, Maverick let out a breath through his nose and marveled at the way the Hornet handled compared to the giant Tomcat. Everything about it was so smooth and new, he loved to push it to its limits as much as he could. He was excited for the future of the Navy with this new piece of equipment. 

Finally back on the ground and finished with debrief, Maverick headed to the locker room to shower the day away. Everyone else had already gone for the day, electing to shower at home and have a meal probably cooked by their wives. That wasn’t really Maverick’s style. Often it was only him and Ice that stayed behind.

He was sitting on the bench with his flight suit peeled halfway down his body, revealing his old squadron’s t-shirt he wore that day, when the door to the locker room slammed open. 

“Ice, nice flying today” Maverick said dismissively without looking up from where he was untying his boots. They weren’t quite friends, but there was no more bad blood between them since the mission in the Indian Ocean. “Anyone get on your ass for that maneuver?”

When Iceman didn’t reply, Maverick finally looked behind him to where Ice’s locker was. He was just standing there with his head against the cool metal, not moving. 

“Uh, Ice?” Maverick asked. “Everything okay?” Ice was usually quiet, but after a sortie like that he was typically a little more keyed up. 

“Just got some news I wasn’t expecting, s’all.” He quickly stripped his clothes, grabbed his shower things, and walked off. Maverick sat there stunned, Ice was never that short with him. He was curious to know what he’d learned. For all Maverick’s experience in life, he still hadn’t learned to keep his nose out of other people’s business. 

Maverick slowly finished undressing himself and waited to enter the showers until he heard the water turn on. He saw Ice with his back turned toward the rest of the room and the water beating on the back of his neck. Maverick chose a shower head a few spaces down and turned on his own water. He kept sneaking glances at Ice as he stood unmoving under the spray of the shower. Maverick would never be able to get over how beautiful Iceman was. His body was perfectly sculpted by an intense workout regimen and constant G strain while flying. Not only was Ice physically perfect by Maverick’s standards, but he was also one of the most talented pilots Maverick ever had the pleasure of flying with. He was incredibly smart with a wicked sense of airmanship and always seemed to be one step ahead of anyone he was flying with. Maverick respected him immensely, but not so much that he wouldn’t objectify him. He was still a man, after all.

“Mav, I can feel you looking at me,” Iceman said suddenly. “If you want to say something just say it.”

Feeling a flush creep up his face, Maverick finally started to wash himself properly. “You know me Ice,” he said. “I just want to know what’s making you so quiet.” He paused before adding, “Only if you want to tell me, of course.” “Yes, I know how fucking nosy you are, Mav,” Ice said. “My grandmother is in the hospital, that’s all.” Ice went quiet again, but the hard look had fallen from his face, replaced by something a bit softer, but almost scared.

Maverick wasn’t really sure what to say to that, so he went back to showering. 

“She just had a fall, that’s all,” Ice said after some time. “She’ll be okay, it just wasn’t something I was expecting to hear.”

“That’s good,” Maverick said. He had gone back to stealing glances at Iceman every once in a while now that he was done washing himself. “Are you close with her?” he asked. 

“She practically raised me,” he replied with a slight wobble in his voice. “After my dad passed, she was my closest relative so that’s who they sent me to. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen her, so I’ll just have to call the hospital tonight.” He clipped the end of his sentence short and ran a hand down his face.

Ice turned off the water and grabbed his towel, flashing a look in Maverick’s direction that was more what Maverick was used to seeing from him. It was familiar and it eased the rumbling in Maverick’s gut that had started when he thought Ice had gotten in trouble for his flying. Not that it was good that his grandmother who raised him was in the hospital, but it wasn’t something Maverick could have been responsible for. Often when they flew together, Maverick would do something a bit reckless, Ice would have to save his ass, and because of whatever acrobatic thing Ice had to do to cover him, Ice would get reprimanded and Maverick would go apologize to their CO to let him know Maverick should be the one in trouble. 

When Maverick shut off his own shower and dried himself off, he went back to the locker area to find Ice was still there, clothes on and looking like he was waiting. 

“Do you want to come over to my place and we can go over some of the stuff we did today?” Ice asked him. He sounded a bit stressed, that wobbly sound from earlier was still in his voice. 

“Uh yeah, sure,” Maverick replied. He was thinking about bringing up the fact that Ice had said he was going to call the hospital, but figured maybe Ice needed a distraction for the night. “I rode my bike, so I’ll just meet you there?” Ice nodded his head but didn’t make any move to leave the locker room. 

Maverick turned to his locker to get dressed, but when he dropped his towel he could still feel Ice’s eyes on him. It took everything in him to not turn around and make a comment about it, but he knew better. It wouldn’t be the first time that something like this had happened. There was a time during their first run at TOPGUN that they figured out a way to blow off steam and keep themselves from killing each other. A few of their meetings over the years had produced the same results. They were two of just a few of their TOPGUN class and now their instructor cadre that didn’t have wives or girlfriends and neither of them really went after women the way the other single men did, but still no one acted like they knew. Don’t ask, don’t tell and all that. It only happened a few times, but Maverick hadn’t forgotten about it and based on the eyes burning holes into Maverick’s ass, Ice hadn’t forgotten either. Maverick just didn’t think that was the kind of distraction Ice wanted tonight. 

He decided against trying something while they were still on base, so Maverick dressed quickly and grabbed his helmet and jacket from where they were hanging on a peg near the door. 

“Ready?” he asked Ice while he pulled his jacket on. Ice still didn’t say anything and just nodded again. 

Maverick could feel the heat of Ice’s body where he was walking close to him and it took all his willpower not to reach out and touch him. As they approached the door, Maverick let out a groan when we saw it was raining. He hated riding his bike in the rain. It was well waterproofed, so the fact that it was sitting out there wasn’t the problem, but Maverick’s jacket was leather and there was no way in hell he would ride with it in the rain. 

“You can just ride with me and I’ll bring you back to get your bike later,” Ice said with an air of finality as if he had already made the decision for Maverick. 

“Fine by me,” Maverick replied, and they set off for Iceman’s Mercedes.

The car ride was mostly quiet, but the silence was charged with an energy Maverick hadn’t felt since the last time he and Ice had needed to let off steam and distract themselves. That time it was Bradley that was in the hospital. Carole was driving with a seven year old Bradley in the backseat when another driver ran a stop sign and t-boned Bradley’s side of the car. He ended up with only a broken leg and a few bruised ribs, but Maverick was so distraught at the thought of him being hurt that he sought out Ice and asked him to make him forget who he was for a little while. 

When they finally pulled in front of Ice’s house, the two of them sat there for a little while not saying anything and staring straight ahead. Ice cleared his throat and looked over at Maverick. 

“Well, I’m getting a bit hungry, so how about we go in and I’ll order a pizza?” he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Pepperoni and mushroom, right?”

Maverick snorted. “You got it,” he said. He knew it was a bit of a different pizza order but he was tickled that Ice remembered it. 

They got inside and shed their jackets and shoes before settling in on the breakfast nook barstools. Ice pulled two beers from the fridge before picking up the phone. Maverick pulled his notes out of his bag as Ice made the call to the local pizza place for two large pizzas to be delivered. Once he was done, Ice sat down in the stool right next to Maverick and stared down at his hands. Maverick felt how stiff Ice was as he sat there, so he moved his foot over to Ice’s stool and nudged his foot. 

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Everything okay?”

“Mhmm,” Ice hummed, still not looking up from his hands. “Mav, are you trying to play footsie with me?” he asked after a moment. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Maverick replied, feigning offense. He plastered a big grin on his face as he turned to face Ice. “I’m just trying to go over my notes from today, that’s all.”

“Right,” Ice said shortly. 

Maverick figured he would let Ice take the reins tonight, given that he wasn’t exactly explicit about what he wanted from tonight. For all Maverick knew, Ice really did just want to go over their notes tonight, and Maverick was reading too much into it. 

Iceman pulled his own notes from his bag and began quietly going over them while Maverick did the same. They pointed out a few things to each other with a few mumbles as they sipped their beers and waited for pizza. 

They had a lot of similarities in their notes from the week, everything was coming together nicely for their first TOPGUN class in a few weeks. The other pilots were helping come up with a syllabus and what was going to be necessary to teach to pilots new to the F/A-18. After about twenty minutes the pizza finally came. The two of them scarfed down their respective pizzas in relative silence while talking only when necessary, most often to ask if the other wanted a napkin or another beer. 

“Wait, wait, Ice,” Maverick said around a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni. “Explain that to me, what do you mean by a split s against that system? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Ice waved his hand in the air and swallowed the bite he was chewing before he spoke. “The seeker on that missile isn’t any good against the Hornet’s radar jamming, anything more aggressive than that and you’re going to over G whatever bombs you’re carrying and not be able to drop them on the target.” He moved his hands around to show how the motion would work. “See?”

Maverick nodded. “Okay, okay, yeah that makes sense. We should try that next week with the emitters at the range.” 

Iceman clapped Maverick on the shoulder and squeezed. “I do wish you would finish chewing before you speak, though.”

Maverick took another large bite and smiled dopily at Ice. “I just wanted you to know as soon as possible that I recognize your genius as a fighter pilot,” he said sarcastically. “The pizza couldn’t wait.”

“Shut up,” Ice laughed. He got up and took the plates to the sink and the empty beer bottles to the garbage. Maverick’s shoulder still felt like it was burning from where Ice’s hand had grasped him.

Ice stared at him from across the counter without saying anything. Maverick didn’t know if there was anything he could say, this was Ice’s dance to lead. He excused himself to the bathroom instead. 

Once he got there, Maverick splashed some water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror. He was still so confused about how Ice could want him when Ice could have anyone he wanted. Maverick was attractive enough. His green eyes were a common topic people commented on when they wanted to pick him up. His hair was stark black and spiky from a day of flying and no shower could tame it. His exploits were often fans of grabbing it when they wanted to get him in a more advantageous position in bed. Maverick scrubbed his hands down his face, took a deep breath, and left the bathroom. 

When Maverick walked back to the living room, Ice was spread out on the couch and watching a black screen on the TV. His breathing was shallow and was sporting a thousand yard stare Maverick could relate to a little bit. 

“Hey,” Maverick said as he walked over to the couch. He swung his leg over Iceman’s and settled on top of his hips. Ice grunted with the sudden weight on top of him and quickly moved his hands to grab Maverick’s hips.

“Someone is a bit forward tonight,” Ice remarked as he squeezed Maverick’s hips. 

“You seemed like you needed it,” Maverick replied. “You look like you need a distraction.” He was going to let Ice kiss him first, just to make sure it was what Ice wanted. With Ice’s hands gripping his hips and the heat of him underneath, Maverick was bubbling with anticipation. It was always his favorite part, the build up to the actual moment. Not that the real thing wasn’t good, but the adrenaline rush he got would always excite him. He trailed a hand down the side of Ice’s face and slid the other under the hem of Ice’s shirt so he could feel the muscles jump under his touch. 

“Maybe a little,” Ice replied. 

Iceman lowered his gaze to pointedly rest on Maverick’s lips before flitting it back up. He looked up at Maverick through his lashes and tightened his grip. One of his hands came up to scratch at the short hairs at the back of Maverick’s neck and all at once pulled Maverick forward. 

The kiss was slow but heated, Maverick letting Ice guide him, manipulate him into whatever position he wanted. Maverick arched his back to push his hips farther into Ice’s and rest their chests together. Ice worked Maverick’s mouth open, gently taking the lead with his tongue. 

It’s not like this was the first time they had kissed, in fact it was far from it, but Maverick would never get over how good Ice was at kissing. It wasn’t unlike being in the cockpit of a fighter jet. It was smooth yet fast, with constant ups and downs that left Maverick feeling like he was pulling 8 Gs and always wanting more. 

With one hand in his hair and the other snaking around to grab a handful of Maverick’s ass, Ice was moving quickly. After one particularly hard tug, Maverick let a moan escape. Ice took the opportunity of the broken kiss to latch onto Maverick’s neck and work a mark into the skin. 

“Fuck, Ice, don’t leave a mark,” Maverick panted. 

Iceman just hummed and continued on for a short moment before working his way down to pull at Maverick’s shirt collar and bite his collarbone. 

“Fine,” Ice said into Maverick’s neck. “I won’t leave anything visible. Below the collar is fair game.”

In lieu of a reply, Maverick just groaned and ground his hips in Ice’s, earning a moan from Ice. Exactly what he was going for. Maverick was going to let Ice lead for the night, but that didn’t mean he had to be patient about it. 

Maverick continued grinding his hips and let his hands explore under Ice’s shirt. He tugged at the hem in a silent question and Ice complied quickly. After he had pulled his own shirt off he grabbed at Maverick’s to have him take it off as well. Once he was shirtless, Ice immediately moved his attention to Maverick’s nipples. Maverick threw his head back and let himself bask in the pleasure. He wasn’t holding back on the sounds, he knew Ice was a fan of them, if the growing pressure pressing on Maverick’s backside was any indication. 

“God, fuck Ice,” Maverick moaned. “Keep doing that, holy shit.” 

“Yeah? You like that, baby?” Ice was goading him, trying to get him to say more. “Tell me what you want, Mav.”

“Fuck, I want whatever you want to give to me,” Maverick replied. It was getting harder and harder to form a coherent thought with Ice playing with his nipples and a hand on his ass. 

Maverick finally let his head fall forward again and rested his nose on the top of Ice’s head. He breathed in deeply, letting the smell of Ice’s shampoo and sweat fill his nose. It was an unmistakable combination of something almost minty and something musky. Ever since the first time Maverick smelled it he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head. He was so glad to have it back for one more night. 

Ice pulled off Maverick’s chest and looked up at Maverick with a mischievous look in his eyes. He surged up to kiss Maverick quickly and deeply before fitting both his hands under Maverick thighs and standing up. 

Maverick let out a yelp of surprise at being lifted like he didn’t weigh a thing. Maverick may be short but he wasn’t exactly lightweight, he carried a lot of muscle on him, but Ice was so incredibly strong. They abandoned their shirts in the living room as Ice carried them down the hall to the bedroom. 

Once they got there, Iceman dropped Maverick unceremoniously on the bed. Maverick reached out to pull Ice in by his belt loops and got to work on the buckle. This wasn’t unfamiliar territory by any means, but for Maverick it always felt like the first time with Ice. Everything about it was just so good, it never felt like they were doing the same things. With the buckle finally undone and Ice’s pants kicked off to somewhere in the corner, Maverick leaned forward to breathe in more of Ice. He mouthed over Ice’s cock in his boxers and earned himself a loud groan.

“Jesus Mav,” he breathed. Ice snaked his fingers through Maverick’s hair and squeezed once he was satisfied he had a good grip. “Wait,” he said suddenly.

Maverick quickly sat back to look questioningly at Iceman. “What’s wrong?” he asked. 

Ice just laughed at him. “Nothing, nothing,” he said. “I just had something else in mind.”

“In mind?” Maverick asked incredulously. He could feel a blush creeping up his body. Iceman had planned this, he was thinking about Maverick. “You mean you thought about this ahead of time?”

“You’re cute when you blush,” Ice said. Maverick felt his face get hotter. “Come on, pants off,” Ice said in his officer voice. 

“Well shit, yes sir, commander sir,” Maverick said as he scrambled to pull his own pants off and situate himself on the bed. Iceman laughed at him again. 

“Boxers, too,” Ice said, and Maverick quickly complied. He was already half hard and knew it wouldn’t take long for him to be aching. Ice stripped his own without much fanfare and seemed to be in the same position as Maverick. 

Ice didn’t say anything but sat down near the head of the bed and motioned for Maverick to sit on his lap again, mimicking the same position they were in on the couch. The skin to skin contact made Maverick hiss, his cock pressing against Ice’s without hesitation. 

They sat like that for a bit, grinding against each other and kissing. Ice was still dominant with the kiss, more so than he was on the couch. He was making each kiss deeper than the last, leaning back to pull Maverick’s bottom lip with his teeth every so often. Maverick would let out a sound akin to a whimper whenever Ice would grab a handful of his ass and squeeze. 

After a bit, Ice pushed Maverick back and motioned for him to turn around. Maverick obliged and got on his hands and knees. 

“I’m going to open you up, okay?” Ice told him. Maverick nodded and waited for the click of a lube bottle and the blunt pressure of fingers prodding at his hole. He was breathing heavily but more than ready for what was to come.

Ice pulled his knees up and Maverick assumed he was reaching for the lube, but Maverick felt large hands grab his hips and a hot breath on his hole. 

“Fuck,” was all he had time to whisper before Ice licked a stripe from sweet spot behind his balls up to his hole. He sucked in a breath as Ice went to town opening him up. 

He speared his tongue and worked Maverick open quickly. Maverick’s breathing was getting quicker but he kept it under control as much as he could, his face now pressed into the mattress.. He was fully hard and aching now and nearly dripping precome onto the bedspread, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, he had other things to worry about. 

After Ice had him sufficiently open with just his tongue, Ice started to work a finger into Maverick. It was almost too much for Maverick, he bit into the blanket underneath him and tried to keep from crying out. The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar but it had been a while and the stretch was just on the right side of hurting too much. 

“Come on, Mav,” Ice whispered from behind him. “Let me hear you.” He added another finger alongside the first one and Maverick let out a long moan. 

Ice made quick work of getting Maverick open. He worked his way up to three fingers and Maverick was panting and screaming into the bed. He was trying (and failing) to grind his hips into something, anything, but all he could find was empty air. 

“Fuck Ice, please just fuck me now,” Maverick begged. He wasn’t much for begging but for Ice he would. “Please, please, please, now.”

“Well baby, when you ask like that, how can I say no?” Ice chuckled and leaned back against the headboard. Before Maverick could turn around and situate himself, Ice grabbed a hold of the back of Maverick’s neck and pulled him backwards. 

Maverick let out a surprised sound and tried to keep his balance, but Ice caught him smoothly and let him down gently. He was hovering just over Ice’s cock, his thighs threatening to shake with the strain to hold himself up. With Ice trying to line everything up, Maverick had the upper hand for a moment. He took the time to grab Ice’s hands with one of his own and held them against his chest. 

“Mav, what,” was all Ice could get out before Maverick snaked his free hand behind him and lined up Ice’s cock with his hole. “There’s no lube,” Ice tried to protest.

“Don’t care, need you in me,” Maverick said. Ice just snorted a laugh but his humor didn’t laugh long as Maverick started to sink down. 

“Fuck, Mav,” Ice panted. “You’re so fucking tight.” Since Maverick was holding onto his hands, Ice could only sit there, leaning against the headboard, as Maverick started to move himself. 

His mouth was dropped open in a silent moan and it took everything in him to keep moving. Iceman felt so good, he was just on the right side of too big but Maverick wasn’t one to back down and he enjoyed the stretch. He let himself revel in the feeling and gripped Ice’s hands tighter to his chest. With what little room he had to move his hands, Ice wrapped his fingers around Maverick’s and let his head fall forward into Maverick’s back. Maverick could feel how sweaty Ice’s hair was, a great indicator of just how much Maverick was having an effect on him. Ice wasn’t one to be loud in bed, but Maverick made it his mission each time to get him to be loud. Even if it meant he had to stave off his own orgasm so Ice could have his first. After all, the whole goal of tonight was to distract Ice so it was only fair. 

Head still against Maverick’s back, Ice’s breath started to pick up and his grip on Maverick’s fingers tightened once again. 

“Are you close, baby?” Maverick asked him, somewhat rhetorically. “Come on, Ice, come for me.”

Maverick could feel his own orgasm coming and his thighs were starting to shake with the effort, but he kept up a steady rhythm of riding Ice. He was dripping down the front of his own cock, some of it landing on Ice’s legs, but he didn’t think he cared. 

Iceman nodded, but let his head fall back against the headboard as he started to pant louder. 

“Mav, please, please,” he nearly cried. He was trying to move his hands, but Mav had an iron grip on them for leverage. Ice’s legs tensed and he cried out while Maverick rode him through his orgasm. Maverick felt impossibly full and started to slow his pace as Iceman tried to slow his breathing. Even the slow pace was almost too much for Maverick, he could feel warmth pooling low in his gut. He had never come untouched, but it was looking like a possibility at this point. “That’s it, Ice,” Maverick cooed. He kept going ever so slowly until Ice’s body felt loose beneath him. Maverick let Ice’s hands go and they immediately landed on Maverick’s hips and worked small circles into the sides. Maverick was still ever so slightly shifting his hips back and forth and trying to chase his release. Ice, despite seeming to be entirely fucked out, was always the people pleaser and moved his hands to wrap one around Maverick’s cock. 

His rough hand moved slowly up and down at a brutal pace that left Maverick panting. There was a bead of sweat running down the side of his face with the effort to hold himself up and with the desire to come. 

“Come on, Mav,” Ice whispered into Maverick’s ear. It didn’t take long for Maverick’s small hip movements and Ice’s calloused hands to finally bring him over the edge. His head fell back on to Ice’s shoulder and Ice pressed small kisses into the side of his neck as he slowed his pace. 

Maverick slowly pulled off Ice and moved to press himself up against Ice’s side. He felt warm and fuzzy and full. He didn’t know what this whole thing with Ice was, them coming to each other for comfort or to blow off steam whenever they needed it. It was like they knew what the other needed without ever having to say it out loud. There was never any awkward moment afterward, both of them content to stay laying together until they were ready to go, each time before this having ended the next morning. 

As far as Maverick’s subconscious could tell, it wasn’t just sex, it wasn’t just a friendly rivalry with one extra way to get under each other’s skin. It definitely wasn’t something Maverick felt like talking about at the moment. He was content to just lay with his head on Ice’s chest and listen to his heartbeat steadying. 

“So, are you going to call your grandma?” Maverick asked him after a few minutes. 

With the little room he had, Ice moved his head down to look at Maverick. “Mav you are insufferable,” he said. “And tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow.” Before Maverick could get another word in, Ice got up to go to the bathroom. Maverick let out a small grunt and Ice turned around and laughed at him. 

He came back after a minute with a wet washcloth and maneuvered Maverick’s legs around so he could wipe him off. Maverick let his eyes close, sleep was close to overtaking him.

“Ah,” Ice chided and when Maverick opened his eyes he was extending a glass of water. “Drink. Your throat will hurt in the morning if you don’t.”

Maverick hummed but took the glass anyway. His cheeks felt warm at Ice’s mention of knowing how Maverick’s morning would go. There was something so familiar about it all. He was glad they were friends now. 

Ice finished up what he was doing to clean up the room and got back into bed. The soiled comforter was thrown to the floor, but the sheets were still intact. He pulled the top sheet over the two of them as Maverick wrapped himself around Ice’s body like he was a tree branch and Maverick was a koala. 

Maverick fell asleep that night feeling a contentment he hadn’t felt in a long time. He loved his job and he loved his friends. Maybe he even loved Iceman. 

[sugdenlovesdingle]

post US election hangover WIP Wednesday

thanks for tagging me @nisbanisba @carlos-in-glasses @captain-gillian

this whole US election mess is giving me war flashbacks to the Dutch election from last year with unfortunately a similar outcome... and the less said about that the better. I'm normally a news junkie, but today I turned off the breaking news notifications. I've had enough of things happening for now.

I'm also a big fan of sticking my head in the sand and pretending certain things don't exist so I've been writing ficlets all day - mainly for bucktommy (the brainrot is real at the moment) but here's a little something for tarlos with Judd that's been living in my drafts for a while. I don't really remember where I was going with it but maybe this will get the creative juices flowing enough to finish it.

---

“Whose face are you picturing?”

Judd looked up and saw TK leaning against one of the machines in the firehouse gym.

“My own. But I’m not in the mood to talk.”

“Ok.” TK shrugged and sat down on a bench with the weights. “I’ll just sit here and watch then.”

“You want to watch me work out?”

“No, not you. My dad is trying to convince Carlos he’s allowed to use the gym here instead of paying for the one down town.” He explained. “And I do want to watch him work out.” He grinned and winked at Judd.

“Can’t a man just work out in peace here without you making eyes at your fiancé?”

“Sorry, not today.”

Judd rolled his eyes and focused on getting a few more punches in on the bag. If he could just work through his frustrations in peace, the world would be a better place.

“Yes Carlos I’m sure. I’m the captain here and I officially give you permission. You’ll be my son in law in just a few weeks, you’re family.” Owen said, gently pushing Carlos into the gym.

“It’ll only be a few weeks. Just until the gym at the station is done. It’ll be done when we get back from our honeymoon.”

“You can just keep using it after that too, nobody here minds. And like I said, you’re family.” Owen turned him around and patted his shoulder. “Have fun.” He said and left, leaving Carlos standing in the doorway.

TK got up and walked over to him, slipping his arms around his waist.

“If dad says it’s ok, it’s ok.” He insisted. “Come on, we can work out together.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow.

“What? Here? Now?”

“Not that kind of work out. We can do that in the bunk room.” TK teased, a little too loud so Judd would overhear.

“As long as you do it on your own bed and not when I want to sleep, I don’t care.” Judd told them and turned back to the punching bag.

“You alright Judd?” Carlos asked, walking further into the gym and somewhat timidly setting up one of the treadmills.

“Judd is in a mood but he doesn’t want to talk.” TK explained, sitting back down on the weights bench.

“Judd just wants to work out in peace without some smart ass know it all bothering him.” Judd snapped but TK ignored him.

“I can go…” Carlos trailed off.

“No you’re alright. It’s your fiancé that doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”

“I’m not doing anything! I’m just sitting here admiring my future husband in his workout clothes.”

---

tagging: anyone who wants to share something to make the sucky parts of life suck a little less today.

And also my askbox is always open for prompts! (for tarlos or bucktommy - but please no crossovers because i suck at those)

[aclowntiny]

🦉 Seventeen as Hogwarts Students 🏰

This picture filled me with so much serotonin 🥹 y’all can refer to these headcanons as the basis for all the Hogwarts AU fics I’m going to be writing 😌👀 get ready I can’t believe I held out this long 😂

S.Coups

☆ When the sorting hat was placed on his head, it paused in thought for a moment as it decided between Slytherin and Gryffindor. In the end, though… “Must be Gryffindor!” His caring heart won out the ambitious houses’ battle! At least, that’s what the hat said, and Seungcheol is determined to prove it right!

☆ Seungcheol is a Half-Blood, but both of his parents are wizards, so he grows up pretty chill on all the purity stuff but not knowing much about how people with no powers live. It’s definitely a curiosity for him, though.

☆ His favorite subjects are Defense Against the Dark Arts because he likes the idea of being able to protect others from harm and Charms because he likes small, quick, useful spells.

☆ He signs up for Ancient Runes because it sounds cool then highkey regrets it. It just kind of goes over his head.

☆ Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team right here 😌 Athletic and a great leader, Seungcheol is honored to receive this role even though it’s so obviously well-suited.

☆ Intimidating AND adorable. Seungcheol’s Patronus can do it all! His guardian takes the form of a Rottweiler dog: brave, loyal, protective, sweet to those who it cares for 😌

Jeonghan

☆ When the Sorting Hat hits his head, it immediately rumples in confusion. “Oh, you’re an interesting one, aren’t you?” It waffles between Hufflepuff and Slytherin before finally declaring… “Can you hear him trying to bargain? Must be a Slytherin!” Jeonghan, for his part, just laughs.

☆ The Yoons are an old wizarding family and their son knows next to nothing about the Muggle world. Thusly Jeonghan makes up a bunch of bullshit at school about Muggle life to convince everyone he totally does. It works every time…so long as no Muggleborns are present at least.

☆ Jeonghan adores Charms class because it paves the way for so many useful spells and gives him a whole arsenal of things to use. He also loves Divination aka bullshitting class because he thrives, duh 😌 the professor loves him, too, because he participates so much and knows what to say, but somehow it escapes his notice how often his predictions are actually accurate.

☆ History of Magic is a lot to remember and not an interesting enough class to give him the drive to study hard, so it’s his hardest subject.

☆ He plays on the Quidditch team because his friend convince him to, but man does it turn out he’s a skilled Beater. This man is a menace with a Bludger.

☆ Thinking of his happiest memory, Jeonghan exclaims “Expecto Patronum!”, unsure what to expect until he sees the burst of light come flying out, taking the shape of a little crow that lands on his shoulder. Not what he was expecting, but the bird charms him immediately with the way it playfully tries to get his attention.

Joshua

☆ “Oh, aren’t you a fun one?” Joshua, frankly, isn’t sure how to take that. Try and be more fun? “What are you planning?” The hat chides, bringing a slight flush of embarrassment to his face. “Lot of crafty ones this year, eh? We have another Slytherin!”

☆ Joshua’s a Muggleborn, so sometimes he feels like a fish out of water, but man is he liking the air. He wants to see it all, understand all that’s moving around him, and use magic to his advantage and enjoyment as much as possible!

☆ Being skilled at languages, Joshua takes up Ancient Runes as an elective and actually really likes it. Decoding is fun and it could prove useful if he decides to become a Curse-Breaker. He also likes Potions because it’s a nice, calm class.

☆ Transfiguration lowkey stresses him out, like what if he goes to transform his stuff and it never comes back??? Or a person?

☆ Slytherin’s Keeper. Good luck trying to score when Joshua is on the pitch 😌

☆ A bunch of other students ooh and ah at Joshua’s stag Patronus because that’s the one famous people get. Or something like that. The tall, antlered figure is elegant, imposing, and yet with a gentle side as it bows its head to its caster regally.

Jun

☆ “You spend a lot of time thinking about others.” Junhui’s eyes widen- he wasn’t expecting to have so much revealed through the hat. “I- I try to,” he replied modestly, at which the hat chuckles. “An innocent mind. Hufflepuff it is!” He’s still trying to wrap his head around how the hat read him and what it meant as they help him off the stool.

☆ He’s a Half-Blood, his mother being a witch and his father a Muggle. He got more experience with Muggle culture than his brother did, so he ended up getting to bond over showing him non-magical inventions 🥹

☆ Care of Magical Creatures is absolutely his favorite class, like Jun gets so excited every day they meet wondering what amazing being he’ll interact with next. The day they had a kneazle cat was pretty much his favorite day at school ever. He also enjoys Muggle Studies because it gives him lots of materials for letters home to his lil bro 🫶🏻

☆ Doesn’t really have a class he hates, but Arithmancy takes the most work so 🤷🏻‍♀️

☆ He tries out to be a Hufflepuff Chaser, but doesn’t make the cut 💀 avid fan and watcher of Hogwarts matches who sometimes tries to follow the commentator up to his post.

☆ Can’t suppress a grin in Defense Against the Dark Arts when a cute little striped cat bursts from his wand, turning around to rub against his legs.

Hoshi

☆ “Bravery aplenty!” Exclaims the Sorting Hat, which makes Soonyoung grin even wider, his excitement growing, “Eager too. A hard worker, sure, but this one’s too daring for Hufflepuff. Better be Gryffindor!” “Yes!” Soonyoung knew he’d be happy anywhere, but he wanted to be sorted with the lions and it looks like he got his wish!

☆ Soonyoung is a Half-Blood. Pretty much all of the Kwons are wizards, but somewhere up the family tree are some Muggleborns, maybe even a Muggle or two. All are welcome in Soonyoung’s family, so he grows up with little understanding how anyone could care about things like that!

☆ Loves to fly! It’s his favorite thing ever, like good luck getting him out of the sky. He also likes Defense Against the Dark Arts because it’s an active class, one where he can move, duel, and practice being in a real-life situation.

☆ Feels like History of Magic is all in one ear, out the other 🤕 that class is a cram before the test vibe for sure.

☆ One of Gryffindor’s Beaters. A little too excited about it, so some accidents have nearly happened but hey, it makes for an exciting game 🤷🏻‍♀️

☆ When that time comes in Defense Against the Dark Arts, a bunch of his friends tease him that he’ll have a small Patronus like a hamster or something, but he insists it’s going to be a powerful tiger, and he’s right 😌 is too overjoyed at the sight of the glowing tiger to rub it in their faces, though 🐅 big memories and emotions = big Patronus??? Not guaranteed, but in Soonyoung’s case certainly!

Wonwoo

☆ “Smart kid,” the Sorting Hat comments when it’s set upon Wonwoo, “sure, you’ve got a bravery about you, you’re kind, but you’re a Ravenclaw!” Wonwoo just nods, thanking the hat- he agrees with the verdict, happily joining his table.

☆ Being a Muggleborn, Wonwoo has a drive to learn about how magic works. Why do some people have it? Why don’t witches and wizards seem to know this or care, especially if they care about bloodlines so much? He also wants to be one of the best just to put the people who doubt him in their place.

☆ One of the few Hogwarts students who actually enjoys Arithmancy and History of Magic. To him, they’re just calm subjects he can focus on and pore over, which is kinda his study method anyway tbh. It kinda works out though because then they go to him for tutoring.

☆ Boy is good at everything, none of the classes are really a struggle for him. Divination seems like the biggest waste of time, though, once he gets in there.

☆ Joins Quidditch as one of Ravenclaw’s chasers. He isn’t sure how much he’s going to like it, but he loves being part of the team! Quite an adept scorer.

☆ People all assume it’s going to be a cat, but Wonwoo casts a polecat Patronus. So, you know, he gets it in the name even though it’s more rodent. Polecats are crafty, comfortable in their home groups, and probably more similar to their caster than everyone might have originally suspected.

Woozi

☆ “Someone’s a hard worker,” comes the Sorting Hat’s teasing comment upon touching Jihoon’s head, “you’ll study well, won’t you? But that dedication…that’s Hufflepuff for you!” Jihoon is a bit surprised, his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape at the news, but he likes to think the hat is right: he’s dedicated to his dreams, hardworking. Maybe that is his home.

☆ Being a Muggleborn, Jihoon has a bit of a tough time adjusting to magic. In some ways, he’s almost a bit resistant simply because he doesn’t want to rely on waving a wand for every little thing he could handle himself.

☆ There’s something so inspiring to him about looking at the stars, so he looks forward to Astronomy class. He also enjoys Transfiguration, the ability to make something new totally amazing him. He wonders what it feels like to transform like that.

☆ Defense Against the Dark Arts is kind of a boisterous, stressful class in his mind. All the running around and fighting isn’t really his style.

☆ Has enough other extracurricular stuff going on that he passes on Quidditch tryouts, but enough good friends play that he tries to make it to every game he can!

☆ At first, he isn’t sure why a bat Patronus would suit him, especially when everyone thought he was going to get a cat, but bats are known for using their voices to guide their way. They rely on their music and take time to trust, and Jihoon sees that as he bonds with his little guardian. Both of them take time to themselves, but thrive best in their circles when they come out of their shells.

DK

☆ “Bad thoughts don’t often cross your mind, do they?” The voice of the hat muses upon its placement atop Seokmin’s head. “And you’ve a big heart, yes, indeed… most definitely a Hufflepuff!” Seokmin claps, happy to be in a house with some friendly-looking people and a bit shy to hear the hat say such nice things.

☆ Seokmin is a Muggleborn, both of his parents so proud to have magical children. He thinks it’s super cool too and always says he knew all along his family was magical 🥲 all the magical stuff absolutely amazes him, even the most tedious things are things he wants to experience!

☆ He loves Care of Magical Creatures because omg look! A unicorn! A real-life hippogryph!!! Bowtruckles! It’s all so unbelievable, yet so real, like dreams have been laid out before him. That’s the same reason he looks forward to Herbology, like where else can you see sentient plants?

☆ Loves every class! They are all exciting! *Ancient Runes has entered the chat* Ok, maybe classes can be stressful.

☆ He wants to get over his nerves on a broomstick, so to do that he tried out for Quidditch and makes Seeker. He likes that position because it’s a little removed from the pandemonium of the game and he can think like a Snitch 😌

☆ He’s honestly expecting a small animal, not feeling very brave as he shouts “Expecto Patronum!” but well aware he’ll just be ecstatic if he gets any animal form. Imagine his surprise when he gets a magical creature, a beautiful unicorn leaping from his wand! “I- I made that???” He grins, immediately reaching up to try to stroke its mane, awestruck at the beautiful, pure creature even if he doesn’t realize how perfectly it suits his heart.

Mingyu

☆ “You’re a bit bold, aren’t you?” Mingyu nods, thinking he’s supposed to answer the hat. “Not exactly the most courageous…” “Hey!” “Confident, confident certainly…” “M-hm,” he nods again. “You believe you have skills to offer Hogwarts.” “Yes,” Mingyu agrees. “Send this one to Slytherin!” The hat chuckles.

☆ The Kims are an long line of wizards, Mingyu one of many Pure-Blood sons. He doesn’t know much about Muggle culture, frankly, but has more privilege in lifestyle than he does prejudice against people with different blood.

☆ Potions ace. So good at it sometimes the other students are salty at him, but he just shrugs. It comes naturally for him, whether it’s preparing the ingredients or knowing just how much to add. He also likes Divination just because it’s fun. What do his tea leaves say? He legitimately wants to know.

☆ He does have a fear of flying, so broom lessons are not his favorite 😅 he’ll stay on the ground, thank you.

☆ Obviously does not join the Quidditch team, but is on the stands cheering super loud at every game!

☆ Everyone can’t help but tell Mingyu how perfect his husky Patronus is once it manifests, the goofy, vocal, affectionate dog running around practically looking like his twin!

The8

☆ As if drawn in by his aura, the hat muses as it rests upon Minghao’s head. “An artist, eh? Kind, forgiving, wise, and very calm too. A bright one. Ravenclaw, certainly Ravenclaw!” Between what he felt was a suitable sorting despite telling himself he’d be happy with anything and all the attention, Minghao practically glows at the hat’s words.

☆ The Xus are a Pure-Blood family, but Minghao’s parents are both avid Muggle Studies enthusiasts, so their son grew up with lots of knowledge and no prejudice. They all see magic as a chance to help others with less.

☆ Nature is important to this boy here, so Herbology is where his gifts lie. He’s so gentle with the plants and genuinely appreciative of them all, it’s a rewarding class to be able to track their lives. Following the movement of the stars is another joy of his as well as sketching the sky and making star charts, so Minghao does great in Astronomy too.

☆ There’s no class he really hates, but his magic isn’t as Charms-suited as it is focused on creative magic, so those quick spells actually take him more time.

☆ Because he likes flying, he tries out to be Ravenclaw’s new Seeker when the position opens up and earns it 😌 he’s so calm yet fast as he flies, it looks like he always knows exactly where his little gold friend is!

☆ People make jokes about his Patronus being a frog or something of the like, but they’re sure proven wrong by the beautiful swan that slides out, skating gracefully on the air around Minghao.

Seungkwan

☆ The moment the Sorting Hat hits Seungkwan’s head, it shouts out “Oh, we have a loyal one here. This one is a Hufflepuff!” A very decided ceremony for Mr. Boo 😌 he’s both shook at how little time it takes and happy the hat thinks he’s loyal.

☆ A Half-Blood! His mom is actually Pure-Blood, his father a Muggleborn. He loves magic, but also really enjoys learning about the Muggle world. Totally open to differences. Would even consider marrying a Muggle.

☆ LOVES Care of Magical Creatures. One of the students who almost always volunteers for demonstrations because he wants to touch all the animals! Unless they’re, like, giant bugs or something that’ll try to kill him, of course. Muggle Studies is really fun because it’s a way to connect with a part of his heritage and understand others. It gives him social ground with Muggleborns and even non-magical people he’ll interact with in life.

☆ Who made Arithmancy a class??? It stresses him out just to look at 💀 You’re allowed to drop electives, so he straight-up nopes out of Arithmancy and signs up for Divination instead.

☆ He enjoys flying, but being up that high and being chased by sporting goods that want to break your bones? Nah, he’s good, thanks. It’s much more fun to watch and offer comment, so Seungkwan becomes the school Quidditch commentator…and often gets chastised by professors for sassing rival times and whining about missed shots that were so easy, come on.

☆ Really really hopes his Patronus is strong enough to take an animal form, so when it comes out looking big he’s kind of proud yet shook. The light forms a dolphin that bobs back over to his owner, leaping in circles in the air around him and bringing a smile to his face.

Vernon

☆ “Interesting mind on this one, eh?” Those are the first words the hat speaks when it’s set on Vernon’s head. “A perfect fit for Ravenclaw, this one!” He’s proud. His mother was a Ravenclaw during her Hogwarts days, part of the most artful and creative-minded house. He can’t stop smiling all night!

☆ He’s a Pure-Blood wizard, his maternal grandmother having actually attended Beauxbatons before settling down in England. His father’s side always attended Hogwarts, so the school is really what joined his family. People tend to assume Vernon’s a Muggleborn, though, just because he looks so spaced out or amazed sometimes.

☆ Yet another lover of magical creatures right here! They love him right back too 😌 other students get jealous of how much they approach Vernon. He’s also quite good at Arithmancy, there’s just something about it that clicks in his head.

☆ Accidentally set something on fire in Potions class once. Enough said.

☆ Enjoys playing Quidditch for fun with his friends, but doesn’t try out for the formal team. He’s happy to support Ravenclaw alongside his classmates.

☆ Can’t help but laugh when his Patronus comes out as a small turtle. It’s cute, though, he and others defend it, a good embodiment of happy memories.

Dino

☆ Another pretty fast sort. “You’d make it in Gryffindor, sure,” the hat mutters, “but I believe your place is in Slytherin!” And with that, Chan is off to his table! He’s a bit surprised, having expected Gryffindor, but hey, Slytherins are ambitious, so the hat’s probably right. He’ll do anything to succeed.

☆ The Lees have a whole-ass family tree on display- they’re Pure-Bloods. A little proud of it, but frankly Chan himself doesn’t care, almost feeling that much more like being the one to break the line just to shut them all up about it.

☆ Defense Against the Dark Arts star! That one kid that always gets called up to show everyone how to do it right 😤 such a natural dueler and just really good at dispelling negative vibes 😌 he also enjoys flying a lot, it just helps him feel free to soar into the air!

☆ Conversely, he has a lot of difficulty in Potions class, which makes him want to double down on it so he’s no longer stressing about it!

☆ Slytherin’s Seeker 😌 he’s such a nimble flyer with great control, Chan was born to play this role!

☆ He lowkey wants something big and intimidating like a dragon or a rhino, so when a small burst of light appears he fears he’ll be disappointed. The moment the otter slides into view, though, all he can do is smile and reach for it, taking its hand to run after it and play, too.

[wannab-urs]

Build Me Up, Buttercup | Professor!Joel Miller x Student!Reader

Summary: Reader confronts Dr. Miller about her grade in his class.

Warnings: Not much yet. Reader is of legal age, no less than 22 but not specified, she's about to graduate college. She’s an English major. This is grumpy x grumpy. Lots of snark, eyerolling, etc. Not-Quite-Enemies to Lovers. And no she doesn’t blow him to get a better grade! (I would, but reader is classy). 

Word Count: 1.1k

Why Do You Build Me Up

(Buttercup)

Dr. Miller’s Foundations of Architecture class was supposed to be a fun elective for you. You could learn a little more about architecture, something that has always been a mild interest for you. You like pretty buildings and you think it’s a cool subject. It’s your last semester of college and you deserve to take something fun to fill in that last elective requirement. 

You certainly were not supposed to fail the fucking class.

“He’s so rude, Cooper,”  you tell your friend. Coop looks up at you over their laptop, red curls springing in every direction and glasses sitting on the tip of their nose. They’re feigning interest while they hammer away at some graphic design assignment.

“One time he made a guy who said he liked 432 Park Ave leave the class. Like just kicked him out for the rest of the day! I mean that building is awful, but still!” Coop heaves a sigh and shuts their laptop. 

“Is this that hot professor you told me about or is it the one who always wears really weird outfits?” 

“No! The weird outfits guy is my Chaucer professor,” you choose to ignore the first half of that question. “I have words for him too, actually. He keeps-”

“Focus! Why are you failing Arc?” 

“His essays are insane! Like, this is not English class, my guy, why are you grading me so hard? I’m literally an English major! You’d think my writing would be more than acceptable for a freshman level class.” 

He had given you a D on your paper about gothic architecture. You’d chosen to write about the Santa Maria del Fiore in Italy and he took off THREE letter grades because they finished the construction in the neo-gothic style… which you had made a whole section of your paper about. It’s perfectly valid. It’s not like he really gave you much to go on. 

“Did you follow the prompt? Sometimes your brain takes you places the question didn’t exactly call for…” they give you a knowing look. 

“This isn’t a fanfic writing challenge, Coop, I can follow a damn prompt. He doesn’t give us anything to go on at all for these essays! Or for anything else, really.” 

He is the least verbose professor you have ever had. It’s honestly kind of refreshing for a man to not love the sound of his own voice, but you’re also paying him to teach you something. 

“The essay prompt was literally ‘Gothic Architecture’ and the guidelines were ‘12 pages, double spaced, due March 19th.’" You drop your voice into its lowest register, mimicking Dr. Miller's deep baritone. "And that’s what I wrote!” Someone shushes you from behind a bookshelf. You’re getting a little over excited, borderline yelling in the library about this infuriating man.

“Have you tried going to his office hours?” God why are they always so reasonable?

“Have you tried going to his office hours… No. I have not. He’s rude, remember?” 

“Just try it! What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“He could drop my paper down to an F.”

“And you could report him for unfair grading practices. Go. Shoo,” Coop starts pushing your books toward your bag. 

“Fiiiiiine,” you relent.

Twenty minutes later you find yourself standing in the doorway of his office. Dr. Miller is sitting behind a large wooden desk. It’s very neat, the only things on it a computer, a picture frame turned away from you, and a stack of books. Dr. Miller has one of the books open and is writing something in a notebook, brow furrowed and tongue poking out between his lips. 

“Dr. Miller?” you ask hesitantly. 

He doesn’t look up from his work, just lifts a hand vaguely in your direction for a second and keeps writing. You roll your eyes and look around the office. There are bookshelves lining the walls with architecture textbooks in neat rows. A few covers of Architectural Digest are framed on the wall. Is he in those?

Your eyes land back on him. He’s wearing a dark grey Fleetwood Mac shirt that looks old as hell. The collar is stretched, revealing a bit of his chest. Your eyes trace a line up the column of this throat… He has a nice neck. 

You had called him your hot professor at the beginning of the semester, regardless of how you felt about him now. There’s just something about that fluffy bed head he always has, like he couldn’t be bothered to run a comb through it. And the scruffy beard laced with grey he doesn’t seem keen on trimming. And the way his mustache frames his pouty lips. And his prominent nose that looks straight out of a painting. And okay that’s enough. 

“Dr. Miller, I need to talk to you.” 

“M’busy,” he mumbles out, still not looking up from the textbook. 

“Okay, well it’s your office hours, so technically you have to talk to me.” 

“Technically, little miss, I don’t have to do anything.”

“Excuse me? Let’s not speak to grown women like they’re children, sir.” Is he fucking for real right now?

He closes his notebook and looks at you for the first time since you walked in. Probably the first time all semester. He kind of pauses when he sees you, hopefully realizing he isn’t talking to a freshman. It wouldn’t make the little nickname okay, but it would make more sense at least. 

He looks you up and down and his jaw ticks, “Sit.” His eyes flick to the chair in front of his desk. You drop your bag on the floor and slide into the seat. “So. What can I help you with?”

You take a deep breath. “You gave me a D on my last paper.” 

He just stares at you. 

“And considering our prompt was all of 8 words, I think- I know I met the requirements and that I did a good job. It was thoroughly researched, structured well, copy and content edited, and turned in 2 days before deadline. I would like an explanation-” 

“Enough,” he cuts you off. “I don’t have to justify my gradin’ decisions to you.” 

You let out a frustrated puff of air. This man drives you insane. “Dr. Miller, I’m a senior. I took this class to fulfill an elective requirement and because I like architecture. I would like to understand what is so egregious about my writing that you would have me fail a class in my last semester of college.” 

He considers you for a moment, meeting your eyes. He lowers his brow, screws up his mouth from side to side, like he’s thinking hard about something. “I’ll reread it.” 

Not I’ll reconsider your grade, but at least it’s something. “Thank you.” You grab your bag, moving to leave, and he stops you. 

“Wait!” You pause, arching an eyebrow. “What was your name again?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. 

“Seriously? I’ve been in your class since January. Figure it out.” 

You storm out, slamming the door behind you.  

A/N: This will be my first series! I'm really excited to try some actual characterization and plot, which I've never really played around with before. Constructive criticism in my DMs is always appreciated <3

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