#he has a short buzzcut under that fire

[haharuspex]

my fireborn/fire genasi (depends on the setting, haha) priest :) he doesn't have a name yet, but he's deeply religious and loyal to the higher power he holds dear despite everything

still thinking of a name for him, definitely need something with "r" :p

[multi-lefaiye]

a little bit of writing i did today! completely out of context (the rest is under the cut)

“This is Harriet Jasper Pace,” a woman says in a confident voice that cuts through the ringing in Pavel’s ears, “reporting live from the scene of a devastating fire in downtown Strasport.” She says something else, but Pavel is too busy processing the situation to catch the rest of the details.

It takes him an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that the two people in front of him aren’t moreaus at all. They’re humans.

The one holding the camera and facing him is a young man with brown skin and a short buzzcut, wearing a thick jacket and an oversized pair of headphones. He doesn’t seem to pay Pavel much mind, instead focused on operating the camera perched on one of his shoulders.

The other human--presumably Harriet Jasper Pace--is standing next to Pavel, not quite facing him and instead looking at the camera with a practiced concern on her face. She has dark brown skin and long, black hair styled into elegant curls. In one hand she’s holding a microphone, and in the other hand she’s holding a cell phone.

“I’m here with one of the residents of The Station,” she continues. “This brave young cat risked everything to save another innocent moreau from the blaze.” Harriet Jasper Pace turns her eyes to Pavel and holds the microphone out to him. “Tell me, what’s your name, sir?”

Pavel stares at her for a solid ten seconds before he responds. “Pavel Roswell.” Harriet Jasper Pace nods.

“And what was going through your mind when you decided to rescue Mr. Beecher from his apartment?” she prompted him to continue. Pavel is only a little surprised that the rabbit had a name.

“I, uh,” he says intelligently.

[roosterbruiser]

DUDE MORE LANDSLIDE??? HECK YEAH

anything for you, my darling!!

deleted scene from the bonfire before shit hit the fan.....

I am standing between them now, pulled into myself under my sweater, and we are just far enough away from the fire for the breezy night to kiss my skin. My teeth are on the precipice of chattering and I clutch my paper cup with cold fingers.   

“I was a little wild in college,” Phoenix smiles, biting her lip, “it’s actually where I got the name Phoenix.” 

Bob smiles and I know he’s already heard this story before. I take a drink of the cherry wine and Bob leans in closer to me, chuckling. Warmth blooms in my chest. 

“Because, like a phoenix, she rises from the ashes.” 

It feels like everyone is laughing. The fire has been burning for a few hours now--the sun was still setting when we set the fire up. Everyone has a paper cup in their hands, and the makeshift refill station has had high traffic. Everyone is probably a little tipsy, including me, including Rooster. My belly is aching because I want to be closer to him, want to be tucked up against him. 

Phoenix grins, her hair shining under the moon, slicked into a bun. She’s wearing a turtleneck and a pair of skinny jeans with Bob’s canvas jacket slung over her shoulders. 

“You think you were wild?” I start, nudging Bob, “Bob let his hair get to his shoulders in college!” 

Phoenix grins, almost spilling her beer as she leans forward and pushes his shoulder. Even without the bonfire, I know Bob’s cheeks would still be burning the bright red they are now. He shrugs. 

“I was an English major! What English major doesn’t let their hair grow out to their shoulders,” he defends, “they wouldn’t let you checkout poetry books in the library if you had a buzzcut.” 

This feels good. That is all I can think. It’s cold, sure, and I wish Rooster was standing beside me and listening to Bob be my best friend. But it’s good. I like these people, these people that are on the edge of their seats and waiting for the ball to drop, but still laugh and kid and sing along to Bon Jovi and Tommy James and drink alcohol from paper cups on the beach. We feel like the only people in the world down here. 

“What made you go short?” Phoenix asks, her eyes glassy as she reaches over and ruffled Bob’s pretty brown hair. 

He glances at me. 

“Got gum in my hair at a party. Crimson cut it out. Clover had to fix it,” Bob laughs, “cut my hair in her apartment kitchen.” 

We were hungover when I’d done it. It had been a long time hopping parties at Temple with Maggie--when she visited, she wanted to be out all night and every night. She had cut the gum out of his hair with a pair of nail scissors I carried in my purse. When I’d woken up and seen Bob on the couch, a chunk of hair jaggedly cut from his head, I’d shaken him awake with a pair of scissors already waiting in the kitchen beside a dining table chair. 

To soothe the pain of losing the hair he’d grown out for so long, he picked a record. Our heads were pounding--I had to squint at the sunlight I was letting flood my apartment. Maggie was still sleeping in my dark and quiet room, her head under a pillow. 

He’d turned on my dusty Aretha Now album and dutifully skipped to the second track. As he sat in the lone wooden chair in my kitchen, as I wrapped a towel around his shoulders, I Say a Little Prayer had played. 

“I don’t know who I am without my hair,” he grumbled, wiping his eyes and letting his glasses rest on the counter. 

I’d run my fingers through it a few times. He still smelled like a frat house--like cigarettes, cheap beer. But he also smelled undeniably clean, even if he hadn’t showered yet. 

“Bob,” I answered. 

He rolled his eyes. 

But then I’d cut his hair, plastering a smile to my face even though my brain was pounding to be free of my skull. My lungs still felt weak from laughing, from inhaling all the cigarette smoke. I cut his hair carefully, but danced around him to make sure it was even in the front, grinning at him until he had to smile back at me. 

“He tipped nicely,” I tease, patting Bob’s chest. 

My teeth are chattering now, so I gulp the rest of my cherry wine. My throat is warm and there is a sweet film over my tongue and cheeks. It makes me think of being on this beach with Rooster when we were alone together for the first time. It makes my pulse quicken. 

Something heavy and warm falls onto my shoulders and before I can register what it is, I feel a familiar pair of hands on either of my shoulders. Rooster is behind me, draping the leather bomber over my shoulders. It’s very heavy and warm from his body, his sweet and familiar body, and I instantly feel warmer. He’s squeezing my shoulders gently and I know he wants to be closer to me, know that he wants to hold me, but he stands a few inches away so our bodies aren’t flush against each other’s. 

“Looked cold,” he says and I can hear his smile. 

Phoenix and Bob are smiling their drunk little smiles, eyes beginning to slope in that special way. I know right then and there, somehow, someway, that Bob has told Phoenix about me and Rooster. They look awfully pleased now, watching him touch me, watching my body soften at his touch. My throat feels sticky with admiration. 

“Excuses, excuses,” I whisper, teasing, loving. 

I look up at him and he is already looking down at me, glowing in the dark. He is smiling beneath his mustache, very soft and pink in the light of the bonfire. His hands are still on my shoulders and I want to kiss him. When I look up at him, it feels like we are the only two people here. Everyone dissipates, everything dissipates. It’s just him and I here in this spot in the sand and he’s just put his dead father’s jacket on me. All I can smell is his sweet, sharp scent and the jet fuel that has permanently stained his skin. And all I can see his eyes and I know, yes I know now, that they are filled with love for me. Yes, yes love for me.

More Than A Woman by the Bee Gees snaps me out of Rooster’s gaze. 

“I love this song,” Hangman announces before pointing at me from across the fire. 

I bite my lip, can practically taste what he’s about to ask me, heart picking up a faster rhythm. He’s already sauntering over to me, dropping his third or fourth beer bottle in the sand, his cable knit sweater hugging his biceps almost painfully. His hair isn’t gelled either and he looks irregularly soft right now.

“C’mon, darlin’, let’s give ‘em a show!” 

He sounds like Texas when he’s tipsy. 

Then he’s grabbing my hand and the jacket is falling off and I pause to fix it, but Rooster is faster. 

“Hold your horses,” he laughs at Jake, helping my arms in the oversized sleeves. 

He pats the spot between my shoulderblades and his touch feels like a warm blanket. His touch feels so intimate, so private even if it is literally just a pat on the back.

So Hangman pulls me to the sand and I am laughing, cherry wine warming my throat, my eyes drooping and glassy. His face mirrors mine except the grin on his face is touching every single part of him. 

He does all the work, just like he did at The Hard Deck. 

He takes my hands in his and twirls me a few times, remarkably good at giving me butterflies when he wants to. And I know that if I was someone else, in a different timeline, it would be easy to fall in love with him. He is a legitimate good dancer and cute enough to get away with it.

He’s singing, too, laughing and crooning off-tune. He looks very pretty--and less like his face is perfected with a layer of saran-wrap--when he’s tipsy and his cheeks are rosy. His lips are wet and wrapped around his straight teeth, too. He pulls me to him, his hands on my waist and we fall into an easy two-step.

“And if I lose you now, I think I would die,” Hangman sings dramatically. 

I feel a different kind of light when I’m dancing with Hangman. He is very strong and I know that he, just like Rooster, could lift me without so much as breaking a sweat. And I know that it might be the country in him, but he worships every single woman that walks this planet, flirts like his life depends on it; there is something strangely admirable about that to me. It feels safe to be in his gaze.

“Make some room!” he calls, reprising his favorite line, even though we are alone by the waves and the beach expands on either side of us for at least a mile. 

He brings me close to him and I cross my arms over my body, a waft of Rooster fluttering from the leather jacket and into my nose, and then he spins me out and I dip the same dramatic way I had done before when we danced in The Hard Deck. 

“Ow, ow!” Coyote calls.

“Youch!” Phoenix calls distantly, her voice muffled with laughter. 

It feels strangely safe to be held by Hangman, but not in the same way it feels to be held by Rooster. It feels like I’m in the company of a friend, a protector. Maybe he will hit on me, but he would also puff his chest up around any man that sniffed me at the bar. Hangman is the type of man that will show you off without expecting anything in return. It almost reminds me of my father. The comparison makes me ache. 

“You sure its Bradshaw you want,” Hangman asks, his ego flaring. 

Fuck. I furrow my brows, pretending like my feet didn’t stutter when he said Rooster’s last name. Hangman rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. 

“Darlin’, everyone knows. Even if they don’t,” he says, “they do.”

If I hadn’t drunk half a bottle of cherry wine, I think I would feel more embarrassed than I do right now. I hold onto his sweater and inhale the salt air before I even think about responding. Our bodies move in tandem. 

“Knows what?” I say, turning my nose up slightly. 

“You could always change your mind,” he sing-songs, twirling me again, “you know where to find me, darlin’.” 

[sidespart]

For the fake fic title, if you're still doing it: Why do you hate me? (I honestly don't know where I came up with this lol)

X-Men AU!!! Found Family + Anxceit friendship. TW: child soldiers, child endangerment, abuse etc

(So typical X-men universe set up: some people are born with the X gene, which typically triggers during puberty, giving that person a mutation which normally results in cool powers. Many people hate mutants for their differences (/ bad press of people using their mutant powers for the evilz) and so most mutants live in hiding. The Xavier Institute is a school set up by an extremely powerful mutant which seeks to provide a safe space for young mutants to learn to manage their powers, get a regular education and hopes to see peace between humanity and mutant kind. The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants is a group of mutants who believe humans will never let mutant live in peace and do various anti-human, pro-mutant vaguely terrorist-y actions (there’s like a billion version of the x-men and these details may not be correct for all the versions all of the time because comics but this is the vague idea))

ANYWAY PLOT - Containment breach at the Super Secret Child Soldier Lab (SSCSL) - Subject VII has escaped. Subject VII is only 6-7 years old but his mutations were artificially triggered much younger than is normal. He can warp reality and create very sophisticated illusions, but has very limited control over his powers.

Cut too - Virgil and Dee, a couple of teenage mutants living on the street. They find a little boy with a buzzcut wandering around The Bad Part Of Town and Virgil immediately decides they need to adopt/help him (Dee makes more of a fuss about how this is not their responsibility and the kids barely even talking and do you know how hard I work just to keep you and now you wanna add another mouth to feed?? Huhh?? but obviously does not actually say no) (Dee is like. Barely any older than Virgil he’s just dramatic). 

Naturally, just as the three of them have had time to bond, the SSCSL and other assorted bad guys show up to try and take VII back. There’s a big fight, Virgil and Dee have a lot more experience with flight and would probably have ended up dead if the X-men (Patton and Logan) hadn't shown up to save them. 

But they lose VII.

Patton and Logan take them back to the Xavier institute to recuperate and offer to let them stay. They can go to school there, get some training and help the X-men track down VII and the whole SSCSL. Virgil says yes, Dee says no.

(So, reasoning - Virgil's mutation developed when he was 12. It was not pleasant. Various students at his school were injured and the media set up a which hunt for the mutant that caused the chaos. Virgil ran away from home because he was worried about the backlash on his family and about hurting anyone else again. So to him, this school full of mutants who can help him control his power, can offer him stability and a return to normal structures and routines, who are promising to help him get in contact with his parents if and when he’s ready?? This is like every fantasy he’s ever had come true

Unlike the other characters, Dee’s primary mutation is physical. He was born with it, its very obvious and its resulted in him being rejected for most of his life. He bounced around increasingly disturbing foster homes before running away when he was very young, so most of his memories are of living on the streets and surviving on his own. So, to him, number one: all adults are inherently untrustworthy idiots and number two: stay at a school? where they expect him to have a curfew? and, what - write essays? follow all their random arbitrary rules? rely on them for food and heat and all that shit? Completely ludicrous.)

It doesn't occur to either of them that the other one isn't going to agree with them. The resulting argument is epic and cruel, both hurling accusations at the other (Ungrateful /controlling are two of the big ones..) and both basically feeling hateful and 100% betrayed. Dee leaves and although they look for him, he’s got a lifetime experience of hiding and they cant find him.

CUT TO - 5 years later. Virgil is a (semi) well adjusted 19 year old junior X-men. He’s still a bit withdrawn, but is very close with Patton and Logan. He’s still holding out hope of finding VII one day and still firmly pretending he’s not listing out for any possible news of Dee (there were rumours some years ago of him joining the brother hood of evil mutants but then it all went quiet) who he, of course, hates for his betrayal. 

BUT THEN - mysterious knocking at the door in the night. Dee, now wearing a hat and cape and calling himself Janus, has returned. And he’s brought with him a little boy with a buzzcut and a tattoo of XXII on his foot.

Janus and Virgil need to put aside their resentment and work together to help XXII, who really does not seem interested in helping them, and hopefully use any clues he can give them about the SSCSL to track down VII. But that's difficult when they’re both still struggling with their own trauma and have no idea how to reconnect - both of them want to ask why do you hate me but are a bit too scared of the answer. ...

This already got way to long so mutant power/ extra back story descriptions under cut!

Patton - 22/27 years old. An extremely powerful telepath/empath. It takes him serious concentration and focus to not hear peoples thoughts and its almost impossible to not feel their feelings. Some people dislike him because of this as they feel he's spying on them. Grew up in the Xavier institute and 100% believes in and is committed to the future where humans and mutants live in harmony. Has pretty limited life experience in the real world. Sometimes floats. (inspired by professor X)

Logan - 21/26 years old. Fires destructive laser beams from his eyes. Was in a car accident when he was younger leaving him with permanent but apparently harmless brain damage - until his mutation developed and he slowly realised that no matter how much he trained he just couldn't control his power. Has to wear specialised eye guards at all times to keep himself from accidentally destroying everything around him. Had big plans to go to university and was angry at his mutation for a long time for getting in the way of that. Eventually enrolled online and is now a very dedicated teacher at the Institute. (inspired by cyclops) 

Janus - 15(?) / 20(?) His primary mutation is  lizard/snake like scales over most of his body, but especially the left side. Has oversized fangs, and yellow eye and a short lizard tail. His secondary mutation makes him immune to almost any sort of mental based mutation (so Logan could still knock him on his ass with his lasers, but Patton cant sense anything form him and Virgil cant whammy him). Spent a lot of his life on his own and got by being sneaky, cunning and charming. Initially took Virgil in because he saw that his powers could be useful for keeping them both safe, but eventually Virgil became his first real friend.

Virgil - 14/19. Shadow manipulation and ‘draining’. Virgil can make himself (and with practice, people he touches) literally disappear into the shadows. He can also direct shadows as powerful energy ‘blasts’, but in order to do so he has to drain any surrounding living things of their energy. When his mutation first developed  he took out half of the school hall where his exam was being held, leaving 15 students in a coma. (inspired by rouge/shadow cat)

VII - 6? / 11? Reality warping/illusion powers. One of the institutes first successful subjects. He was able to escape by changing the wall of his cell into a door. He finds it hard to talk but can project his ideas as lifelike illusions who can talk for him. One of his best is the image a handsome grown up Prince and he will often use this Illusion as an avatar to communicate. When he was 6 he did have some hazy memories of outside the SSCSL and expressed a desire to go home. Current status is unknown. 

XXI - 7.  Illusion powers  (reality warping has been removed from the program by his time as subjects proved too difficult to control). Has no memories of outside the institute and is extremely uncooperative with his new captors/guardians. He does not understand the affection they’re trying to show him and lashes out a lot, often by creating a lot of extremely disturbing and graphic illusions. Bites. 

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 7 - New York State of Mind

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 

Summary: Your first mission goes wrong and you have to face the consequences. While at the same time trying not to lose your sanity around Neil.

Warnings: Cursing.

Author’s Notes: Back to extremely long chapters! This one was a but more tricky to write due to action scenes but hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think

One could expect that after such an unexpected prelude to the meeting, you would both have difficulties staying in the roles. But surprisingly, it worked to your advantage. From the moment you stepped inside Benny’s, you were eager to do anything else but act. Your head was still a mess, and you were grateful for the distraction. Neil had to smooth his hair (thanks to you) and made sure not to touch you. You hoped that your slightly smeared lipstick would not raise any suspicious glances. In summary, it seemed as though the kiss gave you an upper hand even though you were not sure about the cost. That was until you realised what kind of person your target for the evening was.

Steiner was a rather short man with a grey buzzcut, and a permanent snarl etched on his face. He was constantly supervised by two burly, muscular bodyguards who looked like retired WWE fighters. You were pretty sure that if you were to face them, it would be the end. And Neil with his brains but insignificant physical strength would not be much better. So you said a silent prayer and sat next to your business partner at the table, facing Steiner.

The weapons dealer has led the conversation, asking you both about the most intricate details of your business and the deals you have made with the top players in the nuclear arena. He was very prepared. At first, the conversation flowed smoothly with Neil explaining your roles and what kind of enterprise you have led. But soon, the little advantage you had started to wane. Another question thrown your way made you focus your attention on the moment:

“So, this deal you have struck with Russians and Koreans” he spoke with a thick Austrian accent that reminded you of cartoon villains “How threatening is it to the US government?” he stared at you with a steel-like glare.

You shifted nervously on the seat before trying to put on your best neutral face:

“Quite threatening, I’d say” you smirked “But we’re not allowed to discuss any details for the sake of our clients. I’m sure a man like you would understand” you bated your eyelashes, hoping to use your charm.

He eyed you somewhat sleazily, and you instantly regretted the decision

“What miss Sloane means is that we can’t disclose more than we’ve already told you” your partner spoke with his deep British accent, and you stole a glance at him.

He looked tense; you could tell that he also sensed your failure.

“I need to know how the piece we’re discussing here can fit in with all this” Steiner interjected “I’ve got some big names in the weapons industry after it and wouldn’t want to anger them by selling it to somebody else” he shrugged “I have to admit that I don’t believe a word of what you’re trying to sell me” he smiled but it was more like a cruel sneer.

You felt a spike of anxiety. Watching Steiner turn towards his bodyguards, you knew that you were losing. Impulsively you reached out for Neil’s knee and squeezed it under the table. If it was not for the increasing panic, you would have noticed that he shuddered when you touched him. His eyes met yours, and you did your best to share the worry you felt. He understood, nodded, and grabbed your hand before addressing Steiner:

“If you don’t want to sell the piece to us, it’s your loss really”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the bodyguards ushering people out of the room. Fuck. You quickly reached for the clutch bag in your lap. Soon it was just the five of you left in the bar.

“Who do you work for?” the Austrian got up and leaned on the table “MI6? FBI? Huh?” his cold gaze somehow got even icier.

That was it. You have royally fucked it, so to speak. Clutching Neil’s hand, you leaped up from your seat and trained your eyes on the bodyguards. Their hands were ready on the guns.

“Do you really think that top intelligence organisations would be interested in this?” Neil clung to his charm as one does to a lifeline “You’re making a very stupid decision right now. I just want you to think about that for a moment”

“I’m done thinking”

Steiner turned towards the henchmen again. Neil met your gaze with a serious expression and pushed you behind him, reaching for the gun hidden underneath the jacket.

“Kill them both. They’re spies” the Austrian barked out the order at his bodyguards.

At his words, all hell broke loose. All four of you reached for the guns, with fingers ready on the triggers. The bodyguard was quickest, and before you could react, you were pushed to the ground by Neil. The gunshot rang in the quiet room, and you looked around fervently to see who has been hit. Your eyes fell on your partner, who has doubled over with a pained expression. You saw a small crimson stain spread through the white of his shirt on the side of the torso. Your eyes widened with realisation. You have been stood in the exact spot before Neil shielded you. Another salve of gunshots echoed with bullets raining down. Neil kept his post, but you could tell that he was suffering. You jumped back on your feet and aimed the gun at the bodyguard closest to you. You fired and watched as the bullet hit him square in the the chest. He fell dead. Steiner was not expecting that. He stared at you with a panicked expression before being dragged out of the room by the only henchman left. You breathed out. That was probably your only chance at escape.

“Are you okay?” Neil’s worried voice and his hand on your shoulder threw you out of the stupor.

“It’s not me who has been shot” you glanced at the spreading bloody stain on his side and frowned “We should leave before they come back”

“Right” he squeezed your shoulder before reaching down to take your hand in his.

You stared at him surprised, but before you could ask, he led you out of the bar and into the street. Outside you stopped to look at him, searching for any signs of pain. He met your gaze with uncertainty. You briefly wondered if things between you have changed for the worse irrevocably.

“Are you alright?” you finally asked, echoing him from only minutes prior.

“Of course” he attempted a sly grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes “Never been better” the hand that was still holding yours tightened the hold “We should go”

Reluctantly, you let him lead you back to the hotel. After a few minutes of awkward silence, you could not help but point out:

“You shouldn’t have shielded me back there. I can shoot well” you glared but refused to meet his eye.

Your joined hands were like a harsh reminder of what happened tonight. You felt his thumb brush over your knuckles and inhaled sharply.

“I know you can, but I didn’t want you to be shot” his raw tone surprised you “And please don’t ask why because I’m not sure I could explain”

You stopped in your tracks to stare at him. He dropped your hand. This evening can’t get harder, can it?

“Neil…” you started, unsure of what you wanted to say.

“Please not now” he was looking at you with fondness “We’ll talk, but first we need to get back to the hotel” he moved too fast and flinched from pain.

In an instant, you were at his side, brushing away the lapel to look at the state of his shirt. It was slick from blood, and it started to seep through the jacket as well. That was all you needed to pick up your pace and withhold any questions. When you got to the hotel, it became clear that you would need to create a distraction to get through the lobby. Stopping just a few paces away from the door, you turned to him.

“I’ve got an idea, but I’m not sure you’ll like it” you announced, feeling panic even at the thought itself.

“Fire away” his face was quite pale “I’m sure it’s brilliant”

You took a deep breath before blurting out the terrible plan that somehow formed in your head:

“Just embrace me so that your wound is obscured by my dress. If you wrap your arms around my waist, they’ll think we’re just… too cosy and won’t ask questions” you were pretty sure you will regret it soon enough.

Neil stared at you, clearly considering it, before asking:

“Are you sure that’s okay?” he stepped a bit closer as if trying to assess your level of sanity.

“Yeah” you shrugged and met his gaze “It was my idea after all”

After another few seconds of scrutiny, he smiled lightly and pulled you closer by placing his hands on your waist. The touch was too familiar. You shivered at the contact, immediately cursing yourself for coming up with the plan. But there was no time to suffer, so you just wrapped your arm around his neck and started toying with the hair ends at the nape of his neck. Hugging each other like that, you walked into the hotel lobby. There, naturally, only to be more believable, you allowed yourself to rest your head on Neil’s shoulder. Breathing in his scent, you felt his hands brush over your back and stomach. He leaned down to place a small kiss on your temple, and you felt your cheeks grow warmer. That moment was doing nothing to help clear your head. It was, in fact, the worst idea that you ever came up with.

No-one stopped you on the way to the lift, where once the door shut, you quickly entangled yourself from Neil and took a step away. Now your dress too was stained with blood. You did not dare look at him until you were absolutely forced to. You felt his gaze burning into the side of your head and roaming over your figure.

“Sorry about the dress” he said finally, just as you disembarked the lift.

“Don’t worry about it” you managed a small smile and met his gaze.

You stared at each for a short while, but this time you both were cautious. You felt strange, only now fully realising what happened tonight. Everything, beginning with the kiss, was like a fevered dream. Somewhere on the verge of your consciousness, you remembered that you killed a man tonight. But you knew that the reality of the situation will only dawn on you later. Now all you cared about was Neil and his shirt soaked with blood. Sobering up, you took his hand and started leading him down the corridor. Then you both went into his room, and you let go of his hand, desperately trying to control the situation.

“Shouldn’t we call for the emergency team?”

But before you managed to finish the question, your eyes widened. Neil just stripped his jacket, followed by the tie and shirt. The clothes landed on a pile on the floor, and he met your astounded look with a smirk:

“Why are you so shocked? It’s not like you’ve not seen me like this before” he winked, enjoying your startled state.

“Do you always have to be such an arse?” you focused on glaring at him to avoid looking at anything else.

“Only for you, my dear” with that he disappeared into the bathroom.

Right… maybe things are not quite so different.

You gave yourself a mental slap to the face before following Neil. He was looking at the gunshot wound in the mirror as you tentatively approached him. It looked rather bad with a significant blood loss. Pushing away the rising concern, you took one of the spare towels, dipped it in water, and begun to clean the wound. You surprised him with your actions, and he visibly tensed when the cloth touched the wound. Briefly, you wondered whether it was because of you or from the pain.

Once all of the dried blood was removed from the area, it was clear that the bullet was still inside. It has most certainly missed any vital organs, and that was good news. You took a step back to assess his state and was met with a very intense look from Neil. You had a feeling that if it was not for the gravity of the situation, you would not be able to stop yourself from making another mistake. But now was certainly not the time.

“We really should call for a doctor” your voice was weirdly hoarse “Someone needs to take out the bullet”

“There’s no need, I’ve done it before” you watched with horror as he reached for a pair of tweezers.

Slapping his hand away, you glared:

“Neil”

“What? You don’t have to look while I do it” he shrugged and once again tried to pick at the wound with the metal instrument.

You grabbed his wrist in a tight grip and met his gaze with defiance.

“Even if you’ll somehow manage to extract the bullet, someone should see it” you hated how close to pleading you were “You could get an infection”

For the first time, he seemed speechless, thinking hard about the next counterargument. Then, as his eyes lit up with the well-known smug smile on his lips, you knew what was coming.

“You must really care about my well-being” he mused, looking way too pleased.

“Yes. I do” you replied seriously “So please, stop this alpha male self-reliance bullshit, and let me get help” you let go of his wrist and looked into his eyes, not hiding the annoyance and worry you felt.

He searched your eyes for a moment before nodding.

“Thank you” you whispered.

Before you could leave the bathroom to dial the number, Neil quickly grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed your knuckles while looking into your eyes with fondness and admiration. It was too much too soon. You drew your hand away and left the room without looking behind.

*** The emergency team just had to know your exact location, mission code, and an answer to the set secret question, which was a way of assuring your identity. They registered your call and promised to arrive within fifteen minutes.

You were not ready to face Neil again, so you just changed into comfortable clothes, discarding the bloodied dress in the bathroom corner. You felt impossibly tired, with a pounding headache and aching body. Just as you considered collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep in an instant, you heard a knock on the connecting doors. You sighed and called out:

“Come in”

The door creaked, and you could see Neil’s silhouette leaning on the wooden frame.

“They should come soon” you announced, feeling the awkwardness settle between you.

It was only fair, you thought. At some point, you both had to understand what happened, and surely it would mean that things would be somewhat different.

“Sorry about earlier. I know I can be annoying sometimes” you turned to look at him at the admission.

“Yeah, you really can” you frowned, and he smiled at the sight.

You observed each other in silence. You were grateful that he kept his distance so you could keep your sanity intact for the moment.

“I wish I understood why the mission failed” he mused out loud “I would’ve sworn we had him figured out”

“Not everyone falls victim to your charm, Neil” you glanced up at him with a tired smile.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the knock echoing from his room interrupted him. He seemed hesitant so you just nodded. He took one last look at you before leaving to open the door.

Once it was clear that it was the emergency team that arrived, you made an effort to show up and have a look at them. It was a small group consisting of one woman and three men, all familiar with Neil and rather indifferent towards you. Nothing new then. After they made sure you were perfectly fine and you have logged in the mission into the system, it was made clear that you were no longer needed.

Perhaps it was for the better. You managed to steal one last glance at Neil through the bathroom door left cracked open. His wound was being stitched, and he looked a bit worse for wear. But he was alive, and that was what mattered. With that knowledge, you quietly retired to your own room and locked the door.

Sighing, you finally got into the bed and tried to relax. Soon enough, the images from the bar began flashing before your eyes. You always expected your first kill to be harsh, but the events of the day made it worse. You just hoped for a little rest during the night. And no nightmares.

*** A journey back to Boston could be summed up with one word – awkward. The emergency team took you back in their minivan, which meant spending 4 hours in silence or risking small talk. You preferred to stay quiet and look out through the window, worried that the conversation with strangers could prove to be difficult. Even talking to Neil seemed like a hard achievement at the moment. Apart from exchanging a rather stiff ‘good morning’ upon meeting, you did not speak with each other at all. And it did hurt. The only consolation were the few looks you stole from him when everyone else seemed distracted.

By the time you arrived at the HQs, the prospect of the post-mission briefing with TP seemed almost exciting. You followed Neil to the conference room, where the boss was already waiting for you. You watched as him and Neil embraced and smiled at the sight.

“It’s good to see you both back… almost intact” the Protagonist warily eyed Neil’s side “How are you?”

“Oh it’s nothing” Neil waved his hand dismissively before looking at you pointedly “If it wasn’t for someone’s panic, I wouldn’t even need the doctor’s help”

You glared and tried to control your emotions, not to make a scene in front of someone else. But TP just chuckled, eyeing you both with interest.

“You should thank Y/N for potentially saving your ass” he joked, and you smiled, glad someone stood up for you.

“Yeah exactly, I never got a thank you” feeling braver, you approached them and joined the small circle in the centre of the room.

“In which case, apologies m’lady” Neil took a step towards you and took your hand in his “And thank you” he kissed the back of your hand, all the while maintaining eye contact.

You blushed and quickly took a step back.

“No worries” you looked back at the Protagonist warily, but he only grinned. It did seem like he was used to moments like that involving his colleague. The thought made you feel strange, and you were not sure if it was due to jealousy or something else.

“Okay, tell me what happened with Steiner”

You all sat down at the table, and Neil began to summarise the mission:

“We contacted Raul, who helped us set up the meeting with Steiner. The pretext was that we’re dealing with nuclear weapons and are intrigued by his newest offer. We prepared our roles rather well, I think” he glanced at you as though trying to ascertain what you remembered from the day.

You looked down, suddenly overwhelmed with the images and feelings. The flirting, the persisting touch on your knee, the way he looked at you just before the kiss. You swallowed hard and tried to compose yourself as Neil continued the story.

“The beginning of the meeting went well, but then he started getting suspicious, and nothing was working on him. Once he started giving signs to his bodyguards, we knew that the mission has been compromised so we prepared for the showdown. I got shot in the side before Y/N took out one of the minions. Steiner then left with the other one, and we evacuated” he finished and took a sip from the glass of water.

You stared at him, wondering why he omitted the detail about the bullet being meant for you. But he only acknowledged your gaze with a curt nod. Clearly now was not the time for important conversations. TPs voice brought you out of the thoughts:

“Do you think he has been warned?”

“Maybe” you spoke up, and they both looked at you “But to me, it seemed more like he was scared of disappointing a client to whom he promised the piece” you tried to remember the exact things said “He definitely mentioned something about powerful people being after the plutonium and that he doesn’t want to anger them”

“Good point” Neil nodded “I wish we could have gotten a name out of him”

“I have a few candidates” the Protagonist’s dark gaze stared into space with confidence “But it’s too early to share their names” he smiled apologetically.

Neil sighed and commented:

“It’s always too early for you to share anything” he glared at his friend.

“I know, and as usual, I’m sorry” you observed them both with interest “Soon you’ll know why I’m keeping all those secrets from you”

“I fucking hope so because I’m getting tired of all those half-truths” Neil’s gaze grew darker, and you wanted to reach out and take his hand.

Instead, you only stared as he got up and started pacing the room.

“What’s next in store then?” he asked after a short tense silence.

Before TP could answer, an agent burst into the room:

“I’m sorry boss, but Neil, you’re needed in the field” he looked panicked.

“Right now?” Neil’s gaze quickly flitted between all of you present in the room.

“Yes, it’s urgent” with that the agent left the room.

Then you watched curiously as Neil and the Protagonist exchanged a short conversation without speaking out loud. Then TP focused on the laptop screen with his back turned, while Neil approached you:

“I’m sorry about this” he looked into your eyes earnestly.

Once again, he meant everything, and you nodded. There was not much point in being angry at the universe, was there?

“It’s okay. We’ll talk when you’re back” gently, you reached out to brush away a stray strand that was falling into his eyes “Just be safe out there and… come back to me” you forced a small smile, tracing the sharp outline of his jaw.

Even though you were acutely aware of not being alone in the room, for once you did not care. Things were far from clear between you, but now there was no time to focus on all that you did not understand.

“Always” Neil beamed back “Wouldn’t want you to suffer life without me for too long” he smirked.

You lightly smacked him in the chest, not hiding the feelings that could be seen in your eyes. Neil understood; you were sure of that. A sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment, and he sighed.

“I’ll text you” he squeezed your hand for goodbye and left the room without a further word.

Does he even have my number?, you wondered before remembering about TPs presence in the room. He was watching you quietly with a small smile on his face. His expression made you braver.

“You know something you haven’t told us” you mused out loud “About me and him” you added.

He shrugged while still looking at you with an amused gleam in his eyes.

“I only know that while Neil can be an annoying piece of shit sometimes, you do like him. Despite yourself” he chuckled at your horrified expression “Now, why don’t we have a little something to eat while we talk?”

[expertofpossession]

Your imaginary friends come back to haunt you - REPOST

*I don’t own any of it* Can be request to be removed.

Josh parked his car, stepped out and looked at the house before him. “I’m home again” he said. It had been a while since 25 year old Josh had visited his old home after going to college. He hadn’t seen his dad or his two brothers in all this time but now it was summer break and Josh was all too keen to take the time to travel back to his old stomping grounds. He rang the doorbell and a moment later the door was opened by Josh’s dad Marcus; a rather muscular and beefy gentleman with a buzzcut.

“Joshua! How are you? Come in, come in. Your brothers are just in the den.” Marcus’ excitement was infectious. “Thanks dad. I’m great and it’s good to see you! Can’t wait to see Danny and Travis” Josh replied. “Go on ahead. I’ll bring your bag in for you.” Marcus said cheerfully. The house was just as Josh remembered it; rustic, wooden but charming and cozy, and Josh easily found his way to the den as if he’d never left. Once there he was greeted by his brothers playing video games. There was Danny, the middle brother, sitting down in a tight red tank showing off his guns and his pecs that were nicely emphasised. “Yo little Joshy back from college! Check it out Travis. Josh’s arrived!”

Travis sat up from lying on a mattress. Travis was the oldest and most manly looking brother. He was shirtless, exposing his hairy chest and beefy arms. On his lower body, he was wearing sweatpants which hid his tight butt but revealed a thick dick hiding beneath, something that Josh couldn’t help but notice. “Well hey little bro. How’re you doing!?” said Travis as he wrapped his arm around Josh and gave him a friendly noogie. “Great to see you again bro!” Josh said as he took himself out from under Travis’s sweaty arm. Marcus then appeared in the doorway. “Alright you rowdy kids, settle down. We’re just gonna have lunch in a while so feel free to freshen up in your old room and set your stuff out” “Will do dad” and with that, Josh headed upstairs into his old room. Once there, Josh stepped into his bathroom, stripped his clothes and started up the shower. Now Josh was left alone with his thoughts…which wasn’t great. Now that Josh was here, he felt a bit depressed. The reason Josh had been so eager to see his father and brothers again was…because he kind of had a thing for them. For a young gay man like himself, his family were the epitome of manliness and studliness that Josh had only dreamed of. But he knew he could never have his dream. Josh finished cleaning his bod and stepped out of the shower with a sigh. Well there wasn’t much to do but just try to enjoy being with family, he thought. He took his personal can of deodorant, gave his underarms a good spray then slipped on some shorts and a tanktop. He wasn’t as buff as any of him family members but for a young boy, Josh was a pretty handsome, fit and clean dude, and hey, if he couldn’t enjoy his family members bods, at least he could enjoy his own. “Niiice” he purred to his reflection. “Thank you” came a cackling reply from out of nowhere. Josh could see a thin ghost’s face pop through his own, laughing as it’s hands reached around and jiggled Josh’s pecs through his top. Startled, Josh backed away, out into his bedroom and fell back onto his bed. He could only stare as a trio of ghosts followed and hovered over him. “Well well well, look at our Josh now. Not such a little fleshie anymore. He’s gotten bigger now.” said the tallest and thinnest ghost. “Bigger and prettier too. Looks like he might even be able to fit me now, and then I’d be the pretty boy hehehe” bellowed the fattest ghost, jiggling as he laughed. “He could do without the sickly sweet smell though. What happened to the kid that liked rolling around in the mud?” whined the last ghost who was the smelliest. “Wh-who are you!?” cried Josh, afraid of what these…things might do to him. “Whaaaat? You don’t remember us. That hurts Joshy-boy” said the thin ghost. “Yeah, don’t you remember all the great meals we had fleshie?” moaned the fat ghost. “Or all those times in the mud. Remember the mud?” the stinky ghost chimed in. “What are you talking about!? How do you know my name? Who are you?” Josh was so confused. “Let us reintroduce ourselves. We’re the Ghostly Trio. Stretch, Stinky and Fatso” said the thin ghost as he and the others posed together. Suddenly, the names and poses triggered something deep within Josh. Memories bubbled to the surface. Memories of a little boy playing with his trio of imaginary friends, eating cake together, trekking through the rain and getting dirty together. These were them. They were Josh’s imaginary friends. “But…you couldn’t be…you’re not real.” We’re real as the skin on your bones fleshie. Believe it or not” said Stretch. Josh shaked, “ No…n-no you’re not. You’re not real. I made you up” “Don’t be like that. We had such a good time being your friends Josh. Sorry we had to up and leave ya one day but we promise we are real. Honest” pleaded Fatso with a puppy dog eyes. Still Josh sat still in shock and panic. “…Go away.” he said. “Come on Josh” said Stretch softly. Josh yelled, “GO AWAY!” The Ghostly Trio backed off. “I need to think…Leave me alone.” Josh retreated back into his bathroom and closed the door. Left alone, the trio sadly floated down the stairs. “Man, after all this time, he finally comes home. I thought he’d be happy to see us. I know we are.” said Stretch. “Yeah, now that he’s older, we could’ve gone to a buffet or somethin’ like that.” Fatso said sadly. Stinky piped up. “Well it has been forever and he ‘is’ older. What can we do to make him like us again?” Stretch’s expression brightened when he heard Stinky’s words. “You know somethin’? You’re absolutely right. Joshy-boy is older now. And that means we can have some ‘adult’ fun right boys?” Fatso and Stinky looked confused but they caught on quick. “Hehehehe. I’m ready for this.” chuckled Fatso. “You know boys, we never met Josh’s family. Let’s introduce ourselves properly…shall we? Back down in the kitchen, Marcus was dishing up a salad as Danny and Travis set the table. “Hey Danny, mind finishing this bowl up? I’m just going to the outside fridge to get some meat” called Marcus. “Sure thing pops.” Danny said back. Marcus left out the back door as Danny and Travis made their way into the kitchen but something was wrong. “Geez, no offense old man but are you sure this is fresh fruit? Smells like something died in here” muttered Danny to himself. “Maybe it’s your B.O bro? Haven’t been cleaning up after hitting your gains huh?” Travis said grinning. “Whatever man. You’re the one that sweats buckets from your armpits every time we do chest and arms.” fired back Danny. “You’re right though. I’ll see if there’s any more fruit in the fridge.” said Travis as he went over and opened the fridge. Danny leant over and smelled the salad bowl. “Damn, it really does smell rotten” “Sorry bout that but thanks for noticin’” came Stinky’s voice from behind him. Before Danny had any time to even let out a gasp, let alone turn around, he felt something rubbery penetrate his butt through his shorts.

He felt Stinky dive through his tight bum and move into his bod, filling and expanding inside him. Danny jerked around and spasmed as he felt himself lose control of his body to this thing inside him. Stinky moved up through Danny’s tight abs, up into his pecs then filled out his big hunky arms like he was slipping on a suit. Danny his arms swing down and as they did, his leg muscles burst and jiggled as Stinky filled them in. The sensation immediately made him pop a boner which was swiftly filled by Stinky’s ectoplasm. All that was left was for Stinky to fill Danny’s wildly swinging head and once that was done, a boom came from Danny’s stomach and he was in Stinky’s control. “Mmmmmmm yeeeeeaaaaah” he said as he felt his muscles and rubbed his hands underneath his tanktop. Finally Travis turned around with a bag of fruit in hand to see Danny feeling himself. “Bro, what the hell are you doing?” At that moment, Stretch burst out of the bag. “Don’t worry about him. Worry about yourself bonebag.” he cackled. Travis dropped the bag, stunned as Stretch flew around him, circling him around his head, down around his torso until he got to his waist, where he dived into his underwear and started to pump into Travis’s dick.

 Travis groaned as he felt his dick expand and grow. It was such a erotic and pleasurable moment. Soon Stretch had sucked his tail into Travis’s body and began filling him up. Travis’s voice became muffled as his mouth filled with ectoplasm.  “MMMMMMFFFFFF” moaned Travis as he felt Stretch get big and hard inside his muscular bod. He felt his pecs expand with ectoplasm and his legs and arms shot out as Stretch filled them up. Travis tried to remain in control but his body just spun and shook wildly as Stretch took him over. With another boom, Travis was no longer in control. His face wore Stretch’s signature smirk. “Yeaaaahh. Check out this hunky fleshie.” Stretch moved over and smacked Stinky’s sexy butt. “Turn around so I can get a good look at ya.” Stinky smiled and turned.

He then pulled Stretch in and kissed him passionately. “Mmmmm, soooo sweaty and big. Just the way I like em.” Stinky said. Stretch pulled off Stinky’s tanktop and stuck his hands down Stinky’s shorts rubbing and pulling his dick while Stinky rubbed Stretch’s buff, hairy chest. At that moment, Marcus walked back in carrying a large roast chicken and saw his two boys making out. “What the hell is going on here!!?” And then the chicken was lifted out of his hands as Fatso appeared. “What’s going on is that you’ve bought a snack” He said as he devoured the chicken whole. “And now to move on the main course. Heheheheh” Marcus started to scream and Fatso took that oppourtunity to dive his fat form into his gaping mouth.  “MMMMFFFGMMMFF” Fatso bounced and jiggled as he tried to pump himself into Marcus’s body as Marcus could only groan and try to push him back. It was useless as Fatso sucked in his gut and slid down Marcus’s throat creating a large bulge as he went. Booming all through Marcus’s jiggling and bouncing body, it didn’t take long for Fatso to possess him and soon Marcus’s buff bod was all Fatso’s.

 “Now come on guys, let me join in the fun.” And as Fatso took off his clothes, he started to make out with his fellow fleshies. Meanwhile, Josh was coming downstairs having heard the commotion. He just now saw the incredible sight of his family, naked, jacking each other off and making out. 

[nothingunrealistic]

naturally was going "hmm what kind of fins (fish) would young taylor in the bathtub wish for. how would we know what they think would be the best fish tail to have" & then was just thinking of Younger Taylor Hcs just in general. got any you'd wanna share, or like, any faves from what's been provided either as unofficial ideas or via those glimpses of info in the show's text. Fave can be in a "truly enjoy this" way & or simply more of a "truly Thinking About This An Extra Lot" sense lol. They

Boy Do I… first, a listing of everything we Know from canon about their childhood / early life / family:

taylor grew up in “a place like” connerty’s small apartment where “the heat pipes bang practically all night” in the winter [2x11]

taylor’s mom would deem the apartment they rented for her & douglas too expensive, and if she & douglas were shopping for furniture, they’d argue about how much things cost [4x07]

taylor never thought they’d be thinking about living a life where they book private jets [2x09]

the masons’ home is hundreds of miles from any body of water (as shown here) and douglas had to fly to nyc to see taylor [4x03]

douglas figures taylor’s mom won’t miss him getting in her way back home [4x03]

taylor has a sister; when she gets married, in michigan, taylor is part of the wedding party [2x09]

at a young age, taylor was always measuring information around them, and sweet / affectionate, especially toward douglas [4x03]

taylor’s favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes [4x09]

taylor was never really douglas’s “little girl” like he claims [4x03]

the first time douglas brought taylor to his lab, it meant a lot to them, and the next day they gave him designs to remake it [4x06]

douglas taught taylor: “don’t just have an idea, build the model that proves it” [4x07]

according to douglas, taylor gets the “unyielding compulsion to get it right” from him, and their relationship was best when they “kept things mathematical” [4x03]

douglas wishes he could have built real wealth / success and given it all to taylor [4x03]

wendy mentions to taylor that douglas has “exploited your need for his approval,” and taylor agrees that douglas only cares about his own advancement rather than being a father first [4x07]

douglas dislikes the military / the government [4x06]

taylor is surprised by douglas quoting a pop song [4x07]

when taylor was younger, the bathtub was the only place they could go to be alone and think, and they’d press their legs against the sides hard enough to make them go numb [3x11]

taylor started playing online poker at age 12 under the screen name ZackCody892 and played up to 16 tables at a time (and for thousands of hours) [2x03]

douglas was fired from his job at an aerospace firm when taylor was in 7th grade. this firing damaged their relationship with him and “affected the home life.” for years, taylor thought douglas had been fired so that the firm could steal his invention, and only found out the truth from his personnel file [2x11, 4x05, 4x06]

taylor has had 927 hours of therapy prior to their session with dr. gus, and that number hasn’t changed at their first session with wendy [2x03, 2x08]

douglas, in bringing taylor food and coffee, claims they rarely take the time to look after themself [4x04]

taylor used to lie to themself and others but is now past that, and knows “how hard it is to have things inside you that you can’t communicate” and “what it’s like to face public scrutiny over who you are” [2x08, 3x02, 4x04]

when taylor reminds douglas about their pronouns, he says “this talk again?”, implying it’s a discussion they’ve had before [4x03]

taylor once got into a bar fight with a high school classmate (it’s unclear whether they were still in high school at the time) after seeing y tu mamá también in a theater [5x07]

taylor was active in occupy wall street in college [2x10]

taylor played poker in college against classmates, grad students, & professors, but their opponents kicked them out for winning too much; additionally, the competitive aspect made them sick (described as “malaise” or “vertigo-like symptoms”) [2x03, 4x12]

taylor planned to go to chicago for grad school and study with eugene fama [2x02]

mafee picked taylor as his intern because they were the only applicant who wasn’t boring / didn’t care about the same bullshit that everyone from wharton or harvard did [5x04]

douglas initiated the visit to taylor, claiming it was because he’d missed them, after not being ready to see them even though taylor’s mother wanted to visit countless times [4x03, 4x07]

taylor is trying to be “everything to their father” in funding his company, and neither of them will be able to come back from taylor being forced to betray him [4x06, 4x07]

wow that’s a long list. and now, my own thoughts and extrapolations:

taylor grew up somewhere in the west / midwest with their parents and sister, who’s a few years older than them, in a house small enough that they had to share a bedroom with her. hence, needing to hide out in the bathtub to get any space & time alone.

from very early on, taylor was douglas’s favorite child and he was their favorite parent — douglas saw taylor’s intelligence & insight (and saw himself in them) and chose to put time & effort into teaching / guiding / molding them, hoping they’d one day follow in his footsteps / support his ambitions, and taylor liked that attention & recognition. (douglas’s attitude toward taylor’s sister is essentially “well she’s here too i guess.”)

douglas taught taylor enough about aerospace engineering & mathematics for them to understand the value of his lattice fin concept, and to generally have a better grasp of engineering concepts than your average (even very well-read) business major / financier. (remember how rebecca knew a robot’s “proprietary” power source was a combustion engine because her father was a mechanic? same deal here. see also: the “smash electronics apart to find the microchips inside and figure out who makes them” strategy; taylor comparing losing grigor’s money to building a turbo engine and having the nitrous tank blow up in their face.) this manifested in both directly teaching them in his lab and in playing games like the silverware-stacking game we see in 4x03, or like douglas throwing out math problems for taylor to solve on the spot, or the two of them solving math problems together.

douglas also imparted his taste in music (which does not include anything new / popular) to taylor, though their taste as an adult (or even as, like, a teenager) isn’t identical to his. this is how they discovered rush in the first place and why they have such strong opinions about The Best Rush Albums. (if douglas had such a ranking, it’d be closer to axe’s than to taylor’s.)

listening to rush helped make taylor a libertarian 😔 that’s just life when you’re a neil peart stan, which of course they are. they admire his lyrics + his drumming talent + his absolute poker face in performances.

douglas also taught taylor to play blackjack, which inspired them to go and learn poker on their own and start playing online. they tried to keep it a secret, but it's hard to be secretive about spending hours a day playing online poker on the family computer. (this is 2006 or so, after all.)

taylor figured out that they were Not A Girl (or at least had thoughts of “hm i don’t enjoy being addressed / perceived as A Girl”) fairly young but didn’t acquire a concrete vocabulary for / specific understanding of that for some time. (if douglas is calling they/them pronouns “that woke stuff” in 2019, he sure wasn’t saying anything clear or favorable about trans people in 2009 or 1999. ditto for online poker sites.)

douglas’s firing exacerbated every negative aspect of the mason family dynamic. he doubled down on pushing taylor toward his field, urging them to succeed where he’d failed, and warning them against letting anyone Steal Their Value. money got tighter, taylor’s parents argued more, and any activities taylor was in (like, say, swimming at the ymca) that required payment got cut; they may have figured out how to make money (illegally!) from online poker at this point. the combined stress of financial instability, being torn between pursuing their own ambitions and fulfilling douglas’s expectations for them, and increasing Gendered Expectations in general — plus the whole “playing online poker for hours a day” thing — probably put taylor in therapy within a few months, if they weren’t in therapy already. (how did their parents pay for it? i don’t know either.)

stealing this from that interview asia & brian & david did in 2017: if taylor had not already taught themself to think and speak directly & incisively and look people in the eye when they talk, et cetera, it started here, whether in therapy or on their own time.

taylor went to college in new york city. douglas did not want them to do this, for a number of reasons, and would have preferred they stick closer to home (and study something other than finance), but doing so would have made them miserable.

by the time they finished high school (circa 2012), taylor had properly heard of trans people and figured that they were somehow One Of Them, but not until college did they hear of people being nonbinary and go “ohhhh yeah that’s me.” (they’d also gotten a Short Haircut in high school, but didn’t go full buzzcut until college. unsurprisingly, they got some shit in high school for being Visibly gnc.)

for some period of time while figuring out their gender situation, taylor went by the name neil as a nod to neil peart. (it’s fun to imagine that they still have a faceless twitter / tumblr account where they go by neil. doubles as a way to prevent anyone connecting it to their real life.)

taylor came out to their family while in college. their mom and sister had fairly similar reactions of “well i don’t Get this exactly, but i love you and want to support you and i’m sure you know what you're talking about better than i do and you did clearly hate it every time i urged you to conform to Standards Of Womanhood so sure i can call you Them and my [child / sibling] :)” given some time to think about it. douglas… well. if he’s starting from a place of “i don’t get this,” he’ll end up at “so it must be wrong and stupid, because i’m always right,” especially if This = his favorite child being different in some significant way from who / what he thought they were. obviously he doesn’t react well or supportively, and the strain in his relationship with taylor tips over into full-blown estrangement. bad times for everyone.

if taylor’s bar fight happened when they were old enough to legally enter a bar, it happened after coming out to their family (also after the live poker fiasco), and before making plans for grad school / internships. most likely it was on a summer break they were spending back in their hometown. (another fun thought: taylor seeing the video of axe punching a guy, just weeks after they punched a guy, and going “well maybe i should work for him.”)

if douglas was at taylor’s sister’s wedding (and maybe he wasn’t!), it was awkward for everyone when he and taylor crossed paths again. barest of pleasantries, passive-aggressive comments, et cetera. naturally, it took a few more years — and douglas realizing that taylor, now being fairly wealthy and successful, could probably fund his dream project if they didn’t hate him — for him to decide to visit them.

[themadauthorshatter]

TOPPAT! CHARLES! PART! 11!

RECAP: Charles is back on Earth, safe and sound, but his recovery is starting on shaky ground. Henry is on the top of Dmitri's hit list and the CCC wants Henry and the government to take out the Toppat Clan. Charles and Henry reunite and so begins Charles's recovery.

If you want to catch up fully, be sure to check out the previous parts here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

I will also be bringing in a headcanon that I made a while back.

With that said and done, let's go on with the story:

Charles is sleeping in his bed, finally feeling safe and rested after so long, until he wakes up at the feeling of water on his skin. He panics as the water continues to rise, but can't really swim up because he is being held and pulled down by his ankle by Right, who smiles at him. He manages to break the surface and grab onto a ledge, which he uses to try and pull himself out.

Henry stands at this ledge as well, only to kneel and shove Charles's headback below the water.

THANKFULLY, Charles is just dreaming, as Henry is trying to wake him up.

Charles does wake up, but he's so delirious he barely notices he's still restrained to his bed.

He eventually calms down and relaxes in front of Henry.

"H-Hey. Morning," he says as normally as possible, even though he's on the brink of tears.

Henry rubs his head, wordlessly encouraging his friend to not hold back how he feels, and Charles calms down.

The medic gets him checked up and out of bed, he's been there for a week, and Henry gives Charles something he's too happy for words to have: His medicine for his ADD. (Sort of explains a lot, if you think about it.)

"Thanks."

Henry nods and helps Charles stand up and walk to the showers; he hasn't showered in a while, even though he was allowed to the restroom.

There are a lot of eyes on them, but it's quick glances, which Charles really tries to ignore.

When they get to the showers, Henry signs, 'If you want, I'll wait outside for you.'

"You don't have to." Charles stands very shakily in front of Henry and smiles both to his friend and himself. "See? I... I can stand on my own."

Henry nods, but leans against the wall. 'I'll still stand here, just in case. Okay?'

Charles nods and goes to take his shower.

IT'S NOT PEACEFUL OR CALMING AT ALL.

Remember that mind fuck from Right in Part 4? Well, it stuck. As did the torture inflicted upon him.

He tries to feel a bit of calmness, tries to relax because he's safe. He has a moment of calm and numbness as he examines his hand, where Galedorce shot him, but panics when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"Like being home, kid? D'you really think you'll be staying here?"

Charles wheels around fast enough to slip and fall down, but only looks behind him.

No one's there.

Charles puts a hand on his chest and realizes he's breathing really hard and his heart is POUNDING in his chest.

Yeah he's a little more fucked up than he thought.

Henry knocks on the divider of the shower, that shhet of plastic that's kind of like the plastic in public bathrooms.

"I-I'm fine. Just slipped."

Charles stays on the floor for a minute before quickly finishing up and turning off the water.

Henry has more decency Right, because he passes Charles the towel through a gap in the curtain and woth his back turned; regardless of if they were roommates, privacy is still privacy and it's a boundary Henry will not cross. He's missed his friend, but hasn't missed not that badly.

Charles dries off and gets dressed from clothes Henry passed him.

There's two more surprises waiting for Charles when he walks out of the shower.

When he rejoins Henry, Henry holds something out for him: his red headset.

Charles slips those on, and starts feeling like himself again, but one thing's still off.

Henry lightly taps on his shoulder and shows Charles a pair of scissors, which accidentally sends Charles into a panic.

"Wait! You don't have to-"

Henry quickly pockets the scissors and signs an apology before making a pair of scissors with his fingers and pretends to cut his hair; 'Need a haircut?'

Charles examines his long hair and calms down a little bit. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be... Yeah."

Henry nods and they walk over to the sinks.

It takes a little bit, and some memory, but eventually Charles looks like himself again, short haired, headsetted, and donned in his pilot gear. It is the most natural he's looked and felt and he doesn't know how to process it, aside from, 'what happened to you?'

Henry ruffles his hair as he fights a laugh.

"What's so funny?"

'Scruffy.'

Charles turns to him and lets a grin grow on his face as he points to Henry's buzzcut. "That's funny, coming from you."

Henry just lightly flicks Charles on the arm, giving a him a, "You fucker." smile and messing with his hair.

Charles waves away his hand and gasps as he almost falls down again.

Henry catches him and puts his arm over his shoulders.

"Sorry. Guess I'm... not in the best shape."

Henry helps him out of the showers and the two walk to Galeforce's office.

Turns out, Ellie happens to be there as well.

"Charles!" She cries as she goes to hug him, because it's good to have him back.

Charles flinches back, out of Henry's grip, and into the door, which makes her freeze in her steps.

"Oh! I-I'm sorry, I just-"

"It's fine," Charles replies. "I'm... I'm glad to see you, too."

Ellie smiles at him and he smiles back.

"Nice reunion, but can we focus?" Rupert asks.

The three turn their attention to Galeforce, who gives Rupert a very, 'stop with the salt' look.

"I know it's been a while since you three saw each other, but you'll have to save it for later. We've got work to do."

Henry nods, Ellie pulls up a chair, and Charles stands up a little straighter.

"We don't know how long we have until the Toppat Clan makes another move, so we better start moving so we're ready. I'm guessing you two have some ideas?" Galeforce points between Ellie and Henry.

"I don't, but Henry does."

And Henry tries to hold back a smirk as he takes out a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to Galeforce.

It's a crude sketch of the orbital station, but there's a sort of pill shape on the inside of it with a question mark next to it and fire coming out of the thrusters. Next to that is the station pointed at Earth.

Galeforce smirks at this. "Take out the core, and send the whole send thing back down."

Charles gulps at the idea, and fights the urge to throw up.

"But all the pilots we sent in the destroyers are dead," Rupert argues. "How do we get to the core, then?"

Ellie humms a, "Weeeellll..." and turns her eyes to Charles, who looks between her, a skeptical Henry, and Galeforce, who returns with an apologetic look on his face.

"No," Charles says as he backs into the door again, which Rupert locks with a button under Galeforce's desk. "No, I'm not... I-I'm not doing it"

"Charlie, I know it scares you, but we need-"

"SCARES me!?" Charles snaps. "I was locked up there-" He points upward, to the the sky, more specifically the orbital station(I almost typed 'moon,' lmao). "-For almost a year! I saw each and every one of those pilots you sent die. I was-" Charles lowers his head and hand before hugging himself. "After everything... After everything they did to me, you really think I'm just scared to go back?" He holds his wounded hand to his chest, cradling it as he curls forward. "I...I can't do it."

"Charlie-"

"I can't! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!"

With a really good kick he remembered from military training, Charles breaks his way out and makes a run for it.

"Wait, Charles!" Ellie shouts as Henry races after him.

Henry is in peak physical condition and Charles is malnourished and weak, so it's easy for Henry to catch up to and tackle down Charles, though he still tries to be careful.

"Stop! Let me go!" Charles cries as he tries to break free. "I'm not going back there! You can't make me! LET GO OF ME, HENRY!"

Henry just holds him tighter and hums, "Mm-mm!"

"I CAN'T GO BACK THERE! THEY'LL KILL ME! I CAN'T GO BACK! LET GO!"

"NO!"

The shout silences Charles instantly.

"I can't... I'm not letting you run away." Henry holds Charles as close as he can, vaguely feeling how thin his body is under his clothes. "I don't want to go back, either. I don't want you to go through it all again. I'm sorry. We need to get to that core and navigation, and you know how it all looks inside. We need you, Charles."

Charles holds on to Henry's arms, his friend trembling as he fights a sob of his own.

"Ellie and I will be on the station with you, no matter what. We won't let you go. I won't let him take you away again. I swear."

Even though Henry's voice gives out at that last part, Charles sniffles and nods, Henry letting him turn so they can hug for real.

Ellie catches up to them, having been spoken to by Galeforce and Rupert before catching up.

The two look up at her and she joins them in a group hug, Triple Threat officially reuniting after nearly a year apart.

AND BEFORE YOU THINK CHARLES'S SHIFT FROM HOSTILE TO 'GLAD I'M HOME' IS TOO SUDDEN:

Charles is in his own room and bed, tossing and turning as he has another nightmare. This time, he sees himself in the mirror, the one from Toppat-ing, glaring at him.

"You're worse than both of them put together. First you joined the Clan, now you're back with the government. Who's the real traitor here?"

"That's not true," Charles barks with a cough. "I didn't want to join, but what choice did I have?"

"Do you really think they'd just take you back after you STOLE for the Toppat Clan? You know what the General does to traitors."

Charles throws a punch into the mirror, shattering it to pieces.

He freezes as a pair of arms wrap around him from behind, one from under his arm and holding his shoulder while the other holds his chin.

"Face it: You're a tool for both of them to use. They're going to do it again, use you to get to the orbital station until you've done your job. You know how much the General hates liabilities."

Charles bites back a groan as he feels his toppat self turn his head to the point ot causes more than a little discomfort.

"Useless and a traitor."

He yelps at the vertebrae in his neck popping.

"Why did you bother coming back?"

As he hears his neck snap, Charles screams as he wakes up and jolts off of his back.

His heart's racing and he's covered in sweat. With a gulp and a few deep breaths, he calms himslef enough to leave the room he's in and walk to Henry's and Ellie's room.

He sees himself a lot, but tries to ignore him.

He freezes when he sees Right standing by a window and staring up at the sky.

"Hmmm. Yeah. Not that impressive from down 'ere." Right turns his head to Charles, the cybernetic eye piercing right through him. "Kinda starting to miss you, kid. You were fun."

Charles's breathing picks up and he shakes his head before sort of smacking himself with his hands, just enough to snap himself out of seeing Right.

And it works.

He walks into Ellie's and Henry's room and hesitantly shakes Henry awake, which gets him up easily.

'What's wrong?'

"Is... Is it okay if I... If I sleep with you?"

Henry taps his forehead and shakes his hand a little. 'Nightmare?'

Charles looks away from him and nods. "I know it's dumb, but I can't go back to sleep. I'll just have another one and then the medic has to come to my room and check on me and it's late at night and I don-"

Henry shushes Charles and scoots over a little in his bed, making enough room for Charles to slip in, which he does.

They're back to back at first, but Henry puts an arm around Charles when he feels him shaking.

"Thank you," Charles murmurs as Henry holds him close.

Henry lets out a small sigh when he sees Charles sleeping and dozes off himself, holding Charles as he sleeps.

AND THAT'S PART 11!!! A lot Stickvin in this part, and a lot of reminders for Charles of what he went through. AND NO REST FOR THE WICKED.

I hope you guys enjoyed this part, I tried to make it longer and Charles may be going through this quickly, but I figured since he was already part of the government and knows how to get through stuff a little easier- well, as long as it isn't like this.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed!!!!!!

[nicodiangelone]

lesbians do exist

y’all remember this post? well i wrote it! 1.6k words of Thalia gay panicking to Annabeth, now on ao3! enjoy :) 

ps Annabeth is bi in this fic she just don’t know it yet 

-

Thalia has mixed feelings about Camp Half-Blood. 

She loves the strawberry fields and the freedom to run wild in the woods and kill shit whenever she feels the urge. She likes the friendly animosity between the Hunters and the campers. She likes getting to stay in the Artemis cabin when she visits. It isn’t particularly welcoming, like the Zeus cabin, but at least it has beds, unlike the Zeus cabin. She hates the Zeus cabin and that stupid fucking statue. 

On the flip side, she hates the strange looks she gets from campers who know she used to be a tree, and she isn’t particularly fond of the memories associated with that time of her life. 

Right now, though, she’s never seen a thing more beautiful than the owl carving over the door to the Athena cabin. She takes a moment to talk strategy with herself and evaluates her options: to be sneaky or not to be sneaky. Both options are equally likely to end in violence. She decides that not being sneaky will at least give her the advantage of being able to see, and throws open the door with enough force that it slams into the wall with a satisfying bang. 

Theres a shuffle, several thumps, and a very loud thud. The lights come on. 

Annabeth is still in bed, propped up on her elbow while her free hand holds her dagger. One of her siblings is on the floor, legs tangled up in their bedsheets. Two more of them are standing in front of their beds, weapons ready. 

Annabeth squints at the doorway. “Thalia?”

“Hi,” Thalia says. 

Annabeth starts kicking free of her sheets, confusion giving way to concern. She gets herself upright and hops around as she tries to put on socks. “What’s wrong?”

This question gets a few more of the Athena kids moving. They start pulling on sweatshirts and reaching for weapons, which is really very unnecessary, so Thalia throws up her hands as a sign for them to stop.  

“Nothing is wrong,” she says. “Just need to talk to Annabeth.” 

Annabeth has pulled on a sweatshirt and hiking boots and is strapping her dagger to her thigh. Her pajama shorts have cartoon spiders on them. Thalia is amused. 

“What’s wrong,” Annabeth repeats. 

“Nothing,” Thalia insists. “Just wanted to talk.”

Annabeth stares at her, then looks to the sky for guidance. “Alright,” she says. “False alarm, everyone, back in bed.” 

“Alarm?” Thalia says, offended.

“Yes,” Annabeth says. “We’ll just be outside.” She grabs Thalia’s arm and drags her out the door, pulling it shut behind them. At the bottom of the porch stairs, Annabeth lets go of her arm and turns to face Thalia. “Okay, seriously, what’s wrong?” 

Thalia frowns. “Nothing, is everything okay here?”

“Camp is fine. Is Artemis okay? Where are the rest of the Hunters?”

“What? She’s fine, I think, and I left them in Wyoming.” 

“Wyoming?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?”

“I needed to talk to you.” 

“Thalia,” Annabeth rubs at her forehead, “Not that it isn’t good to see you, but it’s the middle of the night.”

“Oh. Sorry. This is as fast as I could get here.” 

“Okay. What did you want to talk about?” 

And isn’t that the kicker. “I think I like girls,” Thalia says. 

“What?” Annabeth says. 

“Girls,” Thalia says. “Did you know girls could kiss other girls? And date them?”

“Thalia,” Annabeth says. “Did you not know that?”

“Annabeth,” Thalia says. “How was I supposed to know that?”

“Thalia,” Annabeth says. 

“I was a tree for my tweens, Annie, and then I joined the Hunt. When was I supposed to learn that?”

“Thalia,” Annabeth says. She starts cracking up. So much, in fact, that she has to sit down on the bottom step. 

Thalia’s face burns. “This isn’t funny, Annabeth.” 

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth says between laughs. “It’s just, you showed up with no warning in the middle of the night and broke down my cabin door to ask me if I knew about lesbians.” 

“There’s a word for it?” 

Annabeth’s laughter fades. She nods. 

“Lesbians,” Thalia says. She sits down next to Annabeth on the stairs. “What does it mean, exactly.” 

“A lesbian is a girl who likes other girls. Romantically. Plural, lesbians.” 

“Huh,” Thalia stares out at the commons. 

“So,” Annabeth says. “You think that’s you?”

“I don’t know,” Thalia says honestly. Because she doesn’t. She just knows that several months ago, Artemis told them stories of an ancient Greek poet named Sappho. She wrote love poems about women. The idea of that took up an increasing amount of space in Thalia’s brain over the months that followed, until they ended up in Seattle chasing rumors of the manticore. That’s where she saw rainbow crosswalks and learned the word pride, let it soak into her body and echo around her brain, where they stayed with Phoebe’s aunt and her wife. 

Phoebe’s aunt had a buzzcut and wore bermuda shorts and tank tops that made it easy to see how muscular her arms were. She had an abstract tattoo of a naked women on her calf. She held her wife’s hand in the living room after dinner while the Hunters sat around listening to Phoebe recount their adventures. 

They left the next morning, heading for Wyoming. Thalia spent the trip thinking about that tattoo. When they set up camp that night, she sat staring at the fire, thinking, and thinking, asking Phoebe questions about her aunt and her wife, until Phoebe had asked why she was so interested and Thalia brushed it off even as Kill Bill sirens went off in her head. 

She found herself heading for Camp Half Blood a few hours later. 

“It’s okay if that is you,” Annabeth says softly. 

Thalia frowns. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

It’s hard to know for sure, in the dark, but she thinks Annabeth’s face changes into something sadder. “Nevermind,” she says. 

“Sorry to show up like this,” Thalia says quietly. “I wasn’t thinking. I just--I didn’t know who else to go to.” 

Annabeth shifts over and presses her shoulder against Thalia’s. “It’s okay. It’s just late, I jumped to conclusions. We never get good surprises around here. But I’m glad you came.”

Thalia lets her head rest on Annabeth’s shoulder. “Thank you.” 

“You can always talk to me, you know,” Annabeth says. 

“I know,” Thalia says. “Thank you.” 

Annabeth takes her hand and squeezes it. Thalia loves her. Her little sister, older than her now, a counselor, giving her worldly advice on her front stoop at ass o’clock in the morning. She feels lucky to have a friend like this, lucky that Annabeth still cares for her even though she’s never around. 

“I love you,” she whispers. 

Annabeth squeezes her hand again. “I love you too.” 

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Thalia can’t hear Annabeth thinking, but it’s a close thing. 

Eventually, Annabeth says, “You know, there are gay campers that might be more help than me. You can stick around, talk to them.”

Thalia winces. “I should get back to the Hunters.”

“They won’t be fine without you?” 

“I left abruptly. I should go back, check in.”

“How abruptly?”

“In the middle of the night abruptly?”

“Thalia,” Annabeth says. “Did you leave without telling anyone?”

“No! I told Phoebe, my second in command.”

“What, exactly, did you tell her?” 

She lifts her head off Annabeth’s shoulder and stares at the ground. “I told her Artemis had an errand for me to run.” 

“Thalia!”

“I couldn’t just tell her the truth!” 

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, Annabeth, maybe because we all swore off romance? And I thought that was fine because I’ve never liked a boy in my life, but now that I know there are other options I’m not sure anymore? I just didn’t know what to say to her. So I lied. And Phoebe is kind of a snitch.” 

Annabeth snorts. “Bitch.” 

“Yeah. Love and respect her, but she’d totally tell Artemis. And then what?”

“Thalia,” Annabeth says, voice soft again. “And then what?”

“What?”

“You can’t just go back to the Hunters and pretend this never happened.” 

“Sure I can,” Thalia says easily. 

“But do you want to?” 

Thalia kicks at the dirt with her toes. “No, I guess not. But I don’t think I’m ready to just leave the Hunters. And I don’t want to live in cabin one, it’s fucking depressing.” 

“It can’t be that bad.” 

“There’s a big statue of Zeus and no beds.” 

“There aren’t any beds?” Annabeth exclaims.

“Nope. Just the big man himself and a bunch of eagle statues.”  

Annabeth mutters something rude under her breath. “Well, then you can stay in the Big House.” She bumps her shoulder against Thalia and grins. “Or in Percy’s cabin, gods know he has extra room.”

“Gods, no,” Thalia groans, but a small part of her brain is telling her it might not be that bad. “I’ll think about it,” she says. 

“No beds,” Annabeth grumbles. “Who fucking decided that?” 

“I think we know,” Thalia scoffs, and Annabeth scowls.

“Fuckers,” Annabeth says. Thalia smiles and leans her head back on Annabeth’s shoulder. 

“But really, Thals,” Annabeth says. “What are you going to do?”

Thalia takes a moment to think. “Go back to the Hunters. Sort my shit out. Talk to Artemis, probably.” 

“Get your affairs in order?”

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“Well, you know where to find me if you need me,” Annabeth says. 

“Yeah,” Thalia smiles. “I do.” 

[tgai-spock]

Lines of ice from rolling waves and subtle villains

The chaotic boy who won’t shut up

tw: mentions of a ‘r*pe alarm’ but its actually a slightly different personal alarm. Nothing to do with r*pe this is pg. I just use the word so I’m giving you a heads up.

Chapter 5

Have you ever walked into a fancy house you had to pay to visit? There’s always those weird spiky plants on chairs, and urgent messages saying ‘do not sit’, as if you don’t have the common sense to knock the plant on the floor before sitting down. The common room reminded Spock of that. Red walls, seats everywhere with carved wooden legs, and big puffed cushions. To the left of the room 3 sofas faced each other around a coffee table on a rug. They looked out of a window, which on this second floor gave a view across the field, up to the beginnings of the not too distant forest. 

The right side of the room had another dark red rug, with a table  on it low to the ground, cushions on the floor around it. Elsewhere around the room, snuggly hidden were several other tables, with cushioned chairs. Tyler walked to the wall nearest the door they had just entered and tapped the cabinet with the sink.

“This is the drinks station, you can drink all the water from the tap, use the kettle, and any of the teas” He opens a mini-fridge below the table where several different types of milk were stored “milks all good, but if you see sweets they belong to someone. Do not eat the sweets. And clear up after yourself, or I will beat your arse. I mean, report you, and you will be on cleaning duty for a week. That means you get to clean the toilet. If you refuse the punishment you get expelled.” 

“Upstairs belongs to the elder years, don’t go up there, it’s mostly just dorms” he said pointing to a small twirly stairs next to the window. They walked through a door on the right side of the room. It was stacked with a bookcases, and several dozen bean bags.

“This is the bean bag zone. A lot of people come in here when they get cramps, apparently. It might have something to do with the real fire, or the way the bean bags eat you. First years are not allowed to touch the fire. You gotta get your fire license first. Might seem annoying but apparently a few years ago some kid set himself on fire, which personally, I don’t know how you’d even manage - a burn sure, your whole face on fire? Ridiculous. Don’t put anything near the fire. I’d say flammable, but y’all dumbass’s so don’t put anything near it. Especially illegal alcohol. Alcohols not allowed on site, it’s the one thing me and the other prefects have agreed not to tattle on, but if I catch you puking anywhere in the common rooms I’m going to throw you out a window.” Tyler said and they walked into the next room. Tyler, was a confusing guy, was he serious? He was threatening yet also, he smiled. Smile means happy, and friendly, Spock thought. 

“This room is split in to 14 mini segments it’s a quiet zone. Whatever you do in their you gotta be quiet. Some folks just need a moment alone introverts and all, or want to do their  homework in peace. Do not masturbate in the segments. I need one room I know I can lay down in, without getting gunk on me. My own beds no good because thats where I masturbate. Jokes! Thats where I f*ck.”

“Is there… a room to do that then? The set wank room?” One boy asked, and he was pushed around by the blokes around him laughing.

“The fucking toilet, whats your name?” Tyler asked.

“Scotty.”

“It’s wanker now. Wi-fi reaches the toilet, don’t wank in the showers. Last year I took my money into my own hands and started DNA testing the shower, will I ever recover? No. But now I can  shower in peace, and if someone has a complaint I have money and DNA tests I will freely give. Anyway, enough about wankers. I’ve made out with someone in each segment.” He points back out the door, the way they came from “down that hallway is all of your dorms. Have fun finding yours.”

There were six, huge bedrooms, each room had a bit of paper stuck to it. Spock searched each room for his name but couldn’t find it, he and Pavel carried their bags with a bunch of other kids to the end of the hallway. Where Spock at last found his room. The room was blue. The floor wooden, and the single bed frames silver. Spock walked to the end of the room, seeing the bed he wanted immediately at the end, close to the large window. Pavel followed and put their bag on the bed opposite him. Pavel frowned as they put their bag on their bed.

“Is this okay?” Pavel asked him and glanced towards the others, what from appearances alone looked like 4 boys, and 3 other girls “or like are we dividing the room between girls and boys and.. non-binary… are any of you non-binary?”

“I’m agendered” said a person who appeared asian short black hair, and big circular glasses “although I just use he/him pronouns.”

“Cool, I’m Pavel, what’s your name?”

“Hikaru. I heard someone call you Moriarty what’s that about?” Pavel put his head back and sighed.

“A mistake. I’m sorry I forgot my name. My name is Pavel, please I just panicked.”

“I wondered how the dorms were going to be split” Nyota, with hair cropped in a wavy bob, and hooped silver earrings said as she placed her bag on the bed next to Spock’s “not to sound sexist but I’m a little worried that someone who doesn’t have tits might stare at mine in my sleep, I mean, a lot of the teenage boys I’ve been around are just the worst. Not to accuse any of you anything but I doubt everyone in this school’s an angel, it’s mathematically impossible.”

“I get what you mean” Pavel nodded.

“Well” Sulu said “what if someone stares at my dick while I’m sleeping?”

“Thats not the same, I mean, its always under covers, it’s not like your duvets going to outline your dick.” Nyota said, Sulu raised his eyebrows and his eyes darted to Spock, and the boy on the bed next to him. The boy next to him was Charlie, a large sized boy with brown hair and a look of confusion. On the other side of Charlie was a girl with blonde hair called Janice with a buzzcut and lightening shapes in her hair. She seemed amused by the conversation, but didn’t look like she agreed. On the bed beside Nyota close to the dorm door, was Christine, the girl who had called Tyler a slut. She was opposite Charlie. It was during the moment of awkward looking about that Tyler bursted into their dorm room.

“Oh don’t tell me you fucked someone in this bed too” Christine immediately yelled.

“I did not fuck anyone in that bed. But I think pissy Jax slept there last year so good luck with that.” Tyler said hands firmly on his hips.

“Oh you must be joking? Someone swap with me, Janice?”

“Why? You sleep in Jax’s piss, piss girl.” Janice said.

“I’m sure it got washed” Tyler said rolling his eyes, then he shook his head in Nyota’s direction.

“Have you all found your privacy barriers?” Tyler asked.

“The what?” Nyota asked.

“I’m about to save your life.” Tyler said walking over to her “just slide your hand down over that black thing behind you.” 

Nyota turned behind her. There was a 1cm wide, 20cm long black stick, outlined by silver metal on the wall. 30cm to the right of it was a small square black box. Nyota waved her hand over it, and down from the ceiling fell a black curtain. There was one of these sticks behind all of their beds. The ends of the curtain stuck to a silver metal line that went around the whole of the outside of the bed leaving enough room for her legs.

“Neat” Nyota said from inside her curtain.

“Pretty cool right? Watch this” Tyler said and pushed the black curtain, almost immediately a quiet, but loud enough to be easily heard beeping began, almost like the ringing of a phone.

“Thats the rape alarm. The goto rule is, if the curtains are down, you’re not allowed to clown, also you gotta yell at them to get up. Except me of course I’ve got this” Tyler said and pulled out a card and waved it next to the silver box. The curtain began to raise by itself and the alarm cut off.

“My brother goes here” Janice said “he said it was to stop kids dragging the mattresses on to the roof whilst they were asleep.”

“You say, de-pranker, I say rape alarm, tomato tomatoe.” Tyler shrugged with a grin.

“Why is there an alarm?” Nyota asked.

“It’s mostly incase someone gets stuck in their curtain, or they’re having a medical emergency. Surprisingly getting tangled and sucked up into the curtain happens more often than you’d think. Honestly theres nothing wrong with having some hand pulled curtains but then the rooms don’t look minimalistic y’know? If you think theres an issue with someone, like you can hear them breathing real funny and they won’t respond you just run upstairs and find a prefect. However I’ve adjusted that rule, you put up someone else's curtains, you set of the rape alarm, then you get me. Then I’ll help your friend while a teacher is already on the way.”

“How long do the teachers take to respond?” Spock asked.

“They - nice hat kid” Tyler said with a slowing grin, and then a blink “been meaning to say that the whole tour. Shit what was I saying? If your personal alarm stays on for more than 30 seconds, it starts getting louder, after two minutes you’ll have a teacher come in. Last year, the third years drew up this really elaborate murder prank and set it off at 3 in the morning, turns out those pranks aren’t as funny as you’d think because apparently the teachers will straight up bring a stun-gun into your room, and I’m pretty sure that shits illegal.”

“You set of an alarm and think its bad the teacher would come to your rescue with a stun-gun?” Nyota asked

“Well… whatever. You folks all good now? Can I go catch up with my friends. Oh, and just so you know. There’s no bell you just have to manage yourself. You’ve probably all got your timetables already, the next thing you go to is lunch, which is in an hour or so, and then you will have to head to your last two lessons. For lunch, just go back to where you came from.” Tyler said and then left. Spock took a deep breath in, this was a lot of good news, but the personal alarms seemed a bit much, still given his history with classmates, at least he’d be able to sleep peacefully, he had already been planning to go find somewhere else to sleep like on the roof for a week or so before he made the brake from school. The bed was now a better option.

“I’ve got no idea how we got here” Pavel sighed “let alone finding the lunch room.”

“Me neither” Charlie said “but at least I know every room Tyler’s fucked in.”

Note:

Listen most people have direct hair cuts when their a kid. The reason for Janice Rands long elaborate hair is because she used to shave it off all the time because punk, but later she learns to be a gentle punk and love pink without fear. Nyota hair is similar. Chapels is similar. Was thinking about giving sulu long hair but he can stick with short.... leaves a lot of wiggle room incase I think of something cool to do with it. 

[Chapter 1]         [Chapter 2]         [Chapter 3]          [Chapter 4]

[Chapter 5]         [Chapter 6]

[snowstories]

heyo! *yeets into inbox* paninya headcanons about her life? (parents, home life before dominic, sexuality, pet peeves, etc) tHAnk YOu! *yeets out of your inbox*

THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME RAMBLE ABOUT PANINYA I HAVE SO MANY HEADCANONS

She’s half Ishvalan, half Amestrian. She and her parents were on their way to visit relatives in Ishval for the first time in a while when the train they were on derailed and almost everyone on board died. 

Because she was so young when they died, she doesn’t really remember her parents properly. It’s more a bunch of impressions, like a smile, or a hug, things like that. She doesn’t necessarily miss them (it’s hard to miss people you don’t even really know, especially if you’ve got a found family to serve as your family), but she does feel sad that she doesn’t and never will get to know them any better, and feels guilty for not remembering them.

She does know she has relatives in Ishval, but little!Paninya wasn’t entirely sure what their names were, and after the genocide, she isn’t sure if they’re even alive enough to track down. She hasn’t decided whether or not she’ll try to find them anyway.

Her surname is a traditionally Ishvalan one, but for safety reasons she pretended to have Dominic’s surname during the Ishvalan genocide, even if it turned out to be mostly unnecessary since the military didn’t bother searching for Ishvalans outside Ishval or the military much. She eventually decides to go by her original name again post-canon. 

Anyway three guesses why she has no love or respect for the military. 

She’s got brown eyes like she did in the 2003 anime, not that weird dark blue colour Bones decided to give her in Brotherhood for some reason.

She loses an arm post-canon and puts a flamethrower in her automail. Winry has no idea how Dominic managed to do that without making the arm overheat, and neither Dominic or Paninya will tell her, and it drives her nuts. Paninya finds this absolutely hilarious.

My headcanon on her exact gender and sexuality keeps shifting, but she’s definitely queer and transfeminine. 

She tried growing out her hair when she first found out she was trans, because it was just kind of the Thing To Do, you know? But she didn’t really like it, so she cut it to the length she has in canon. Post-canon, she cuts it even shorter, into a buzzcut, but that turns out to be too short for her. She eventually settles on an undercut.

I headcanon Rush Valley to have a well developed LGBT+ community, which she found a lot of refuge in when she was questioning and coming to terms with stuff, and in which she stays active throughout her life.

She gets into a romantic relationship with Winry post-canon + a queerplatonic triad with her and Ed. Because you physically cannot stop me. 

After Winry and Ed move back to Resembool, she initially tries to move with them, but finds she can’t settle in such a small, quiet, uneventful village, and gets very homesick for Rush Valley. Moves back on her own eventually and settles into a long distance relationship with them.

Winry spends a couple months each year in Rush Valley promoting her shop and running a smaller one in Rush Valley, and she and Paninya live together then. Ed mostly stays in Resembool with the kids if they can’t come along, so he comes over less, but he does accompany her sometimes.

Because their relationship is mostly long distance, Paninya becomes less of a parent and more of a fun aunt for the kids, which she doesn’t mind, because it means the kids adore her, and she doesn’t ever have to be strict with them like Ed and Winry. 

She and Ed travel together for a short while post-canon, and she turns out to be the Absolute Worst travel companion. Constantly asking if she’s there yet, constantly complaining about everything, getting in trouble with corrupt authorities for stealing from them non-stop, etc. It drives Ed nuts and their trip doesn’t last very long.

Al has a good laugh when he hears Ed’s complaining, because finally, brother, karma has caught up with you. Suffer like I did.

She and Al maintain a casual relationship, and he eventually ends up introducing her to Mei. They get along like a house on fire.

It turns out she’s a natural at alkahestry. Mei is still trying to teach Al the basics, and she walks into one of their lessons, and just gets it within a few minutes. Mei is absolutely delighted and Al is both proud of her and INCREDIBLY offended that she picked it up five times faster than him. 

She doesn’t really end up doing anything with it, but she does learn the basics, and finds that it’s surprisingly helpful with parkour if she can change the track from a few meters away. 

She stops stealing stuff (mostly. She robin hoods sometimes when dealing with corrupt officials, but even Dominic doesn’t mind that much), but keeps parkour as a hobby of hers, and becomes even better at it than she was in canon.

She sets up a shop of her own in Rush Valley sometime post-canon. What the shop is actually selling changes every few months with Paninya’s interests, but it always does good business because she knows how to find rare items of whatever it is she’s selling, has a keen business instinct, and because she’s a staple of the Rush Valley community and they all want to support her. 

As for pet peeves, I think she probably hates rain, not just because it makes her automail ache, but because she just plain doesn’t like it too. 

She doesn’t like cold, either. Although she doesn’t remember it, winter used to be the only time she stayed in the house as a kid. The one time she experienced snow that she can remember properly, during her short-lived period in Resembool, she turns into an absolute drama queen, muddling in blankets and grumbling to anyone who tries to get her outside. 

As for more serious stuff: I used to headcanon her as the type to fall asleep on trains, but after remembering that she’s got Trauma attached to it, I changed my mind. I think she’s probably really nervous around trains, and although she’s got her fear mostly under control, she refuses to ride them and doesn’t really like it when others do, although she can’t stop them.

Pays Dominic back sometime in her forties, and is absolutely unbearably smug about it. 

[scaryscarecrows]

Hi! I love all your work, especially with the militia. Do you think you could give a physical description (hair & eye color, height, etc.) of all the members of the militia? My brain can’t seem to decide how they all look. Thank you! ❤️

I can try! Weirdly enough, physical appearances aren’t always there for me. I don’t make the writing rules, fam. I JUST SEE THE SOULS.

Antoine

5′8, blue eyes, blond hair that curls to the point of making him look like a cherub (which his family rolled with until he was about seven) unless he keeps it short. And he absolutely keeps it short. He doesn’t want to be a cherub. :p

He had a beard for a while, but his nephew started yanking on it as a baby, resulting in him shaving it off forever. (Getting a cough drop stuck in it once was also a motivation.) He burns easily (why does he like hot places? I don’t know.), but he’s not the pasty-what-is-sun skin tone that Jimmy is, he’s just averagely pale. He’s got his fair share of scars; mostly knife wounds on his arms and torso, but he’s got a bullet scar on his right calf, a gash up on his hairline from a broken bottle, and a crooked nose courtesy of Batman’s Elbow of Justice. He’s also got a faded scar on his left cheek that he says is from a Cool Thing but is actually from him shaving off the beard. Like the others, he’s in unfairly good shape, for Batman-killing reasons. He’s a little more of a wiry person than, say, Jason or Frank, narrow shoulders and poky elbows, which landed him on Vent Infiltration before they got Riley, who’s smaller and better at it than he is.

Riley

5′5, black hair (usually a buzzcut so it’s not in his way), those really pretty brown eyes that are practically black. Riley is Japanese-American.

He’s 5′5 of solid muscle, partly because when literally everyone around you is taller, you have to climb. You have to, occasionally, punch them to make sure they respect you. He’s good at both of these things. (He’s also good at Rube Goldberg Devices. Go ahead. Take his stuff. See what happens.) The most notable thing about him is the charred stump of his tongue (a tale for which the world is not yet prepared), but he’s also got burn marks around his mouth from, well, losing it. That time of his life also left him with needle scars on his elbows, from being drugged to keep him nice and pliable.

He does not have a beard, partly because the scarring on his face has made that kind of painful. Y’know. Like Antoine, he’s more of a slender build, but he’s also an oddly flexible person; not full-on triple-jointed-horror-show, but that supposed ‘can’t reach it!’ spot in the middle of the back? He can reach that just fine. 

Trent

Big. Near 7’, wide as fuck, generally built like Godzilla. Shaved head, beardless, brown eyes. Ambiguously tan in skin tone, but he does not turn into a tomato when exposed to the light. He just darkens further.

Interestingly, he is not a mass of scar tissue. He does have a gnarly one under his chin from where someone tried to slit his throat (that person is no longer with us), and a bullet scar on his upper right shoulder, but that’s it. What he DOES have is a half-sleeve of tattoos: butterflies of all colors, on his left forearm. When he flexes it, they move and it’s cool.

Mark

5’11, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes like Riley has. Mark is some sort of ambiguous brown in skin tone; I live near the US-Mexican border, so we have a high Mexican population, and there’s a lot of Indians (as in, from India, not Native Americans but they’re here too!) here as well, so think of a combo of those two races, if that makes sense? This guy does not burn. The sun doesn’t dare inconvenience him like that.

Mark’s been shot three times in his life, probably in part because he’s a dick (but I love him and it’s okay); once in the left thigh, once in the left shoulder, and once in the stomach. He has the scars to show for those. He also has the scars from self-surgery around the one on his stomach. His right middle finger is crooked from a childhood break, but that has yet to stop him from flipping people off with it. He does not have a beard, because his scowl is more effective without one, but sometimes he’ll embrace a little stubble.

He’s a slender sort, with weirdly long fingers. The rest of him is, like, normally-proportioned, but he has Slenderman fingers.

Frank

6’0, black hair (buzzcut), brown eyes, black skin. Frank absolutely has a dad-beard. He has to. He is the dad.

The car accident that cost him his son and the lower half of his right leg also left him with scarring on that side in general, but mostly on his arm. He usually has a Practical Prosthesis, because literally nobody cares, but he does have an Aesthetic One that looks like his original leg that he wears for Events...or to play jokes on the others. (The main squad is wise to this. Newbies, not so much.)

His job as a drone pilot means he’s usually out of the direct line of fire, and as a result he has avoided being shot, like, ever. (Though that’s partly me feeling bad because of the car accident.) Frank is built like the world’s best teddy bear; strong arms that are optimized for hugging and a wide-but-not-terrifyingly-wide chest to make the hug experience the best. (Does he have a ‘Free Hugs’ shirt? Yes. Does he wear it? Always. Will he blast your ass to Kingdom Come if you violate human rights? Oh yeah.)

Jimmy

5’9, pale as shit, ginger. Like every ginger I have ever met in my life, he so much as sticks one toe into the sun and he turns to ash. Gondor calls for aid, indeed.

Jimmy has a beard, but it’s...more of a sad, scraggly goatee that probably breaks every regulation known to man, BUT he may or may not have hacked the Pentagon in ‘07, so he’s allowed to keep it. He has green eyes that are nice and safe and magnified behind coke-bottle glasses (the ladies LOVE the glasses, this isn’t even a joke, they DO). He also has freckles. Alllllll the freckles.

He might spend most of his time surrounded by glowing screens, but he’s a muscley guy. (Again...kill Batman…) He also has unreasonably long arms that he uses to reach keyboards and drinks, and also to slap at people getting too close to his stuff. Don’t touch. He has. A system.

Like Frank, Jimmy’s main job means he’s avoided too many major injuries, BUT he’s got a bad burn scar on his chest from a monitor that somehow managed to catch fire.

[nevillelongsbottom]

microwave meals and math student meltdowns pairing: rowan khanna x andre egwu x charlie weasley word count: 2,597 links: ao3 for the @rowanprotectionsquad june ships event

Here is Rowan Khanna’s predicament.

There is a fraternity house three blocks down hosting the party of the year – red solo cups, booming bass, sex on the dishevelled heap of coats – but Ben Copper has just asked Rowan if he’d do Ben a solid and cover his shift down at the 24-hour library, where apparently the math majors have set up tents trying to cram for their finals. Rowan’s curiosity is piqued. He wants to know what kinds of snacks math majors eat to keep them alive, and fuck, he’d just like to spend a night in the library and pretend he’s Night at the fucking Museum.

But Bill Weasley is at that party, and Rowan has spent the past year of his college life losing his shit and discovering his sexuality over Bill Weasley.

Whichever option he chooses, he is absolutely fucked. If he decides to whittle away his almost-blossoming college life by taking a free shift at the library, he will miss out on Bill Weasley (but not miss out on the joy of inhaling book-smell, an activity Rowan doesn’t get to do so much now that he can’t even afford a book a month unless it’s digital and on sale). If he goes to the party, he is going to have a terrible time because he can barely stand the burn of alcohol in the back of his throat and because he can also barely stand anybody else at the college. He should’ve gone somewhere better. He should’ve done Harvard – but he can barely afford this run-of-the-mill state college, so where the hell else could he have gone?

Doesn’t stop him regretting, though. He’ll never be Bill Gates now.

Spinning around on the barstool behind the desk of the record store he works in, he decides to consult Tumblr. Rowan is startlingly popular on the website, yawning out his thoughts about every franchise that takes off everywhere across the social media spectrum and smashing out a fanfic now and then. Occasionally a fanfic involving copious amounts of sex, because Rowan has to make up for his saint-like lifestyle somehow, and he’s never going to manage enough food to eat more than microwaveable pasta for the rest of his student life. People also keep sending him asks about college. He’s not sure how to answer, because the real answer to surviving college is never sleeping, making sure to eat three meals a day even if they’re all Pot Noodle, and studying so hard he’s started getting migraines.

anonymous asked you: be a good Samaritan and go help your friend at the library xx

anonymous asked you: you’ll get other chances with that guy you like. parties are shit anyway

Rowan groans so loudly at the messages that a patron whose entrance he hadn’t noticed gives him a frightened look, and he shoots an apologetic look back. It’s certainly not his job or his prerogative to scare customers off from his own stresses, and he tries to shift the thought as he asks if the customer is looking for anything specific –

and joyfully enough for Rowan, he is indeed. So the predicament gets to sit a little longer in the back of his brain.

By the time he’s finished work and has consumed a dinner of grilled cheese, he’s long since given up on the idea of the party. He doesn’t feel damn near sociable enough, and just the thought of drinking alcohol makes his stomach churn; Rowan’s not so good at surviving an entire day without a nap, and he wonders if it’d be acceptable just to doze off behind the front desk to the lull of weeping students. Or maybe he could just read.

Maybe write a chapter or two of his ongoing no-powers high school Spiderman and Deadpool romance epic.

The library’s pretty quiet for all the myths he’s heard: when he arrives, there are indeed actual camping tents set up where some tables used to be and a good selection of about ten math majors all camped out inside and a couple milling about with packets of crisps. One boy is eating a pot of pasta in the doorway to the library kitchen; Rowan figures that the anarchy has already been installed, so brews himself a cup of tea and takes his spot at the library front desk, picking at the various knickknacks and tchotchkes.

He’s slight enough from his pasta-related malnutrition to be able to fit into the bucket chair with his legs crossed, and he serves an hour in peace with his cup of tea and his Kindle and a trashy gay romance novel he bought for a dollar on the Kindle store. He used to feel guilty, but he can’t find it in himself to even summon a single piece of guilt shrapnel; he spends so much time reading textbooks with sentences he has to decipher like he’s a codebreaker not a student that he needs some kind of switch-off, and who’s to say he isn’t allowed a bit of mind-numbing reading?  

And, all in all, Rowan’s having a pretty decent conclusion to his dilemma when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching and glances up from between the pages of unabashedly shameful sensual pottery. It’s a math student. His cheeks are tear-stained.

“Got any tissues?” he asks nervously. Rowan does not, but he can’t say the same for his well-stocked maze of a temporary desk, and he finds a packet in one of the jam-packed drawers, handing it over to the student, whose arms are surprisingly muscular for a math geek. Rowan wonders if he’s in the soccer team; he’s too short for basketball. He asks. The math boy laughs. “Oh, no, I’m not in a big sport. I’m on the lacrosse team, but I’ve taken a break for the math stakeout.”

“Have you considered that studying at home might be more relaxing?” Rowan asks, offering the math boy a stress ball; he declines, likely on the fact that it’s the grottiest thing Rowan’s ever had the misfortune of picking up and he immediately counters it with a choking amount of hand sanitiser.

“I work best under stressful conditions,” math boy elaborates. “And since I’m living in a tent, I don’t have time to worry about all the stupid things I usually worry about, like plucking my eyebrows or what clothes I’m wearing or how my hair looks.”

Math boy has little more than a buzzcut. Rowan raises his eyebrows, but says nothing, and avoids letting his eyes linger for too long on the math boy’s incredibly extra outfit of a striped turtleneck and wide leg red corduroy pants with some on-trend ugly Nikes. Rowan has to admit that he’s good-looking, and he does like math boy’s dedication, and he hasn’t had sex since that time with his best friend in the back of a rental in high school. So. He wouldn’t mind.

“I’m Andre,” math boy says. Shit. He’s likely noticed Rowan’s unsubtle idea of checking him out, but the name drop can only be a good sign.

Rowan goes in for the handshake. He’s so thirsty that he practically gets flushed from that alone. “Rowan. Khanna. History.”

And, with that, Andre returns to his inevitable doom and Rowan returns merely to imagining the fires of passion. It’s not that he’s ever been particularly interested in sex, or romance, or any of that - but it’s been way too long, and he’s going to cry if he eats any more microwave meals, and he wants someone to distract him from the call of the void that seems to follow being a single college student with at least two crushes. He groans.

“Problem?” an inquiring voice laughs. Rowan recognises the accent: it’s Southern and hillbilly but too gentle to belong to an actual hillbilly, and his head snaps up, expecting Bill Weasley and his tousled hair and his fang earring and his accepting attitude and his lax alternative style–

but it’s just an amused Charlie, and Charlie’s no Bill. He’s shorter, with a shaved head, an explosion of freckles, and a dragon tattoo. But God, Rowan thinks. As handsome as Bill. Just less outgoing. Charlie purportedly just lets things happen.

“I hate being a student,” Rowan sighs, and Charlie concurs. Their eyes meet long enough for Rowan’s heart to skip a beat. He looks like Bill.

Charlie leans in.

“Bathroom?”

“Oh, Christ, please.”

Rowan doesn’t bother making a sign explaining his absence; nobody seems to want to speak to him, and that’s probably because it’s eleven at night and the only people in the library are the math crew, those lacking in the will to live, and him.

And he’s now backed up against the wall of the disabled toilet with Charlie under his waistband, so he’s not sure he gets to stack up well anymore.

Charlie makes short work of Rowan and lets him sink to the floor, breathless. He sets himself up, legs wrapped around Rowan, but sits still anyway. It’s a shit vantage point.

“Math?” Charlie asks.

“History.”

“Cryptozoology.”

“What the hell’s that?”

“I get to go on field trips to find wendigos.”

“Oh, my fiery feet! My burning feet of fire!”

“That’s the one. Can you get on all fours?”

Rowan does, resisting the familiar urge to gasp as Charlie pushes himself between Rowan’s thighs and lets this follow with tumbling expletives. Rowan can feel Charlie’s hands shaking a little where they hold his waist, and doesn’t think he’s worth that much, honestly.

Charlie starts moving, slowly at first but unable to temper himself. “Oh, God, I can’t,” he stutters, pushing faster and faster until Rowan’s thighs ache and he thinks he might come again just from the sounds of Charlie slipping over the edge and him grabbing Rowan’s hair as he thrusts.

Rowan’s so easy.

Charlie spills over his legs and then flips him round to finish Rowan off again until he can’t see straight anymore and is lying enjoying the last of his ethereal moments before he comes back into the realisation that he’s lying on the floor of a bathroom stall and his stomach is sticky and his hair is so out of order that he looks like he hasn’t brushed it in weeks.

He groans, and starts a little when he feels something soft run across his snail trail and down to his legs.

Charlie’s cleaning him up with a wet wipe.

“Do you carry those around with you everywhere?”

“Listen, do you want to try and clean yourself up with one-ply?”

Rowan supposes not. “Thanks.”

“You volunteer librarians. You always look like you’re desperate for it.”

“I’m covering for my friend Ben.”

“Even more desperate.”

“Have you and Ben ever…?”

“No. He kinda looks like he’d fall apart. I’ve got a bit of a thing going with Tonks, though. She’s amazing.”

“So, Charlie, what exactly started you on your path of having bathroom sex with all the student librarians?”

“I don’t know, really. It happened once and then I just kept going for it. Makes me feel a little less like I want to drive away and never come back.”

Charlie runs a hand across Rowan’s cheek and tucks some of his hair behind his ear. Rowan looks back at him.

“I get that,” Rowan says, and stands up.

--

Rowan is not very pleasantly woken from his slumber at seven in the morning by the next student volunteer, who seems entirely nonplussed by the fact that Rowan has slept through the majority of his cover shift.

He decides to be cordial enough to return the mug he’d borrowed to the kitchen, and of course, just to ensure that Rowan Khanna never gets any peace and is always living a life of predicaments, Andre and Charlie are kissing in the corner.

“I know this library is twenty-four-hour, but you can go home,” Rowan sniffs. “You can wait before your next conquest.”

“I was waiting for you,” Andre clarifies, and he laughs awkwardly for a moment. “I hate being in that fucking tent. I’m not learning anything. It’s not even a political stance; the board don’t care. I saw you two go into the bathroom yesterday, and- goddammit, I just want to be free to do what I want to do and not eat their idea of fucking meals which have no nutritional value whatsoever!”

“If we’re having sex, we’re going to breakfast first,” Rowan says. Charlie laughs.

“I’ll pay,” he says.

They have a slightly crappy breakfast in Starbucks, but the caffeine hits Rowan like a sledgehammer, righting all the wrongs in his system like the ultimate pill. Charlie has a roll and a hot chocolate and seems at an almost eerie bliss at his corner of the table, as if the stress of student life has entirely evaded him. Andre’s still got that math student vibe of being permanently jittered. He takes two toilet breaks in the time it takes them to eat breakfast.

“Don’t you drink coffee, Charlie?” Rowan asks. He has to ask. He doesn’t even understand how someone could survive a day in college without being fuelled through it by caffeine highs and bathroom blowjob crashes. Andre’s drinking tea, but that’s still caffeine.

“No,” he says. “I don’t like it.”

Rowan is hit by a wave of newfound respect for Charlie: under the influence of no stimulants, he survives daily college life, from lessons to screwing in library bathrooms, and he never once seems to look out of place. He almost wants to think fuck Bill. Bill might be cool, but Rowan’s seen him disheveled and grumpy in sweatpants: Charlie doesn’t seem to know how to be a mess, and though Andre is clearly an emotional wreck, he’s an emotional wreck in good trousers.

“I don’t want to have sex,” he says suddenly, and Charlie looks up so quickly that Rowan is hit by the urge to retract the statement; but it’s true, so he ploughs on. “I’m tired. And I want to just – watch Netflix with you guys.”

“If I’d known you’d say that, I’d have let Charlie do me in that kitchen,” Andre huffs, but concedes. Rowan’s correctly gauged that he also doesn’t have the energy left in him for any sort of vigorous physical exercise, or even any mental exercise. Rowan wonders what would happen if he asked Andre to read a book; perhaps he’d explode. “Depends on what you’re watching.”

“My vote’s on a Stranger Things marathon,” Charlie says.

This is how Rowan finds himself making out with his crush’s brother on a math student’s sofa whilst Barb finds herself left on her own at the pool. He bloody likes Stranger Things, too, but Charlie’s handsy. He can barely catch a breath because Charlie’s made it his mission to steal them all. Andre is content with Netflix.

Doesn’t stop him from nabbing a kiss or two.

Rowan’s not sure if this was the ideal answer to his initial predicament: after all, Charlie isn’t Bill, and he now seems to have acquired two boyfriends that his parents will disapprove of and whom he barely knows at all. But he guesses that he’s probably chosen right, because he’s not hungover, and he does have two boyfriends, one of whom is kind of the supreme Bill, the other a sobbing math student with an infectious smile and a sharp sense of style.

He could’ve had worse. And this is his reflection of the day that makes it to Tumblr, right after Peter Parker’s confession of love to Wade Wilson, a true slow burn at Chapter 52.

[ohthathurt]

Hey babe , for the prompt thing how about " Seduce Liam with love notes so Zayn stop pining" ?

Hope I did this justice babe xx

We follow a chilly winter’s morning, the atmosphere wasstill buzzing with the week-past New Year’s Eve celebrations as hopefulresolution-keepers bounded back and forth with promises of activity.

The scene is modern-time New York, the streets covered inwhite, slippery ice; cars grounded and parked under heaps of settled snow,people trudging through inches of ice in sturdy boots and water-proof pants. Alonesome coffee shop stands tucked into the corner of a brownstone, its whiteand red shop sign glistening with ice under the faint sunlight.

The four members of the shop’s founding crew were dashingabout busily, their coffee concoctions and warm pastries a hit with theholiday-exhausted crowd. Customers were ducking into the warmth of the shop,just to escape the bite of the snow-chilled air, only to be comforted by theintoxicating scent of brewing coffee and fresh baked goods.

The marble counter span an entire side of the shop; it was aglass-covered counter at the end where all their pastries, breads, pies, cakes,cheesecakes, croissants and buttery, sticky varieties of baklava.

The busy lines were branching out from the middle of thecounter, where a loud, mouthy man with piercing blue eyes and a Yorkshireaccent, stood accepting money and shouting out orders.

Behind him, a blond man with an infectious grin was boundingback and forth from the espresso machine and the syrup station, deftlyswitching coffee cups around with nimble, seasoned fingers.

Another man came out from behind the hidden door in thecorner of the shop, where the baked goods were kept, with a proud, dimpledsmile and a tray full of hot biscuits.

And right at the back of the shop, far away from the crowdsand his manically busy friends, sat a quiet but observant man, who looked likehe wanted to be elsewhere, like he wanted to escape into his mind.

His name was Zayn, a boy who had once come to New York as avery young 19 year-old with his three other friends, looking to write out hisdreams. This was a boy who had failed miserably at achieving his dreams, enoughto fall on hard times. The solution was soon decided simple: get a loan andopen a coffee shop, supplying the one thing New Yorkers could survive anapocalypse with.

It had worked, tremendously so, and while Louis, Harry andNiall had been ecstatic at the success of their conjoined business, Zayn hadstill felt an ache of regret.

Currently, he sat doodling idly on a napkin, which belongedto their shop, the name ‘Just Brew It’ etched in a cursive brown font overwhite. Niall had been the one to come up with the name, claiming Shia LaBeoufas inspiration.

**

Back at the end of the line was stood a frazzled and verylate Liam Payne. Usually, he couldn’t give a rat’s arse about being early, hisPA gracious enough to handle any problems before he lazily popped in at 11am.But today was different. He was supposed to be at a meeting with an importantclient, the sort who’d happily invest millions of dollars into Liam’s companyif he was buttered just the right way.

But he needed to be charming, and in order to be charming,he needed coffee. Desperately.

And that is why he was stood on a Tuesday morning, detestingthe loud crowds around him who were enjoying the cold in a coffee shop thatlooked ordinary enough. But, it was the closest to his office right now andLiam didn’t want to risk a 10 minute drive to his favourite coffee place withthe risk of getting stuck in traffic.

A child was crying loudly next to him, sat on a chair besidea stressed-looking mum and Liam was sure he going to join the crying child soonif he didn’t get his caffeine fix.

He loosened his tie, before changing his mind and doing itup again, he can’t look even a tiny bit off, he was dressed to impress. He scannedthe large interior of the shop, eyes roving casually over the baristas and atall man who was holding a tray of what looked like biscuits.

Liam froze to a stop, as his eyes locked onto the silhouetteof a young man. He couldn’t see much of the man; his head full of shock blackhair was ducked down, arms littered in numerous tattoos, shown off by ashort-sleeved work tee. A light scruff on his jaw was all Liam could make ofhis face until –

His breath was taken away, quite literally, when the man,the boy, looked up to face hiscoworker who came over to him. And when the boy smiled, a sweet and serenething, beautifully glinting eyes crinkling up and a perfectly angled nose thatheld a hint of scrunch, Liam’s jaw weakened and he feared he was about to startdrooling.

The boy’s face was enough to stir something up inside ofLiam, something that had been silenced a long time ago, an urge to possess, anurge to ruin but in the mostdelicious way possible.

God, was heactually stood here in a coffee shop lusting after a random barista? He fannedhimself with his suit jacket inconspicuously, looking around to make sure noone saw that.

He edged slowly up the line, people in front of him leavingone by one, but he kept his eyes trained on the boy, he couldn’t help himself.Seconds turned into minutes and yet Liam still couldn’t take his eyes off him.

***

“Zaynie!” Niall rushed up to him as he was doodling still,and he looked up at his friend, gracing him with a small smile. Niall’sliveliness was always infectious, his cackling laughter some of the best noisesZayn has ever heard.

“What’s up?”

“Louis wants to know why you’re brooding again.” Niallstated bluntly, head tilting backwards where Louis was pretending not tolisten.

With a huff, Zayn replied, “I’m not brooding – no, honestlyI’m not.” He emphasized as his friendlooked doubtful.

“Just, I feel like there’s nothing to look forward to thisyear. I dunno, is this what seasonal depression feels like?”

Louis, who had given up all pretense of not listening, cameover and tapped Niall on the shoulder to let him take over the orders. Hisperceived stare bore through Zayn, the latter of whom squirmed uncomfortablyunder the scrutiny.

“Listen, mate, how about we use that money we saved and getyou to – “

Zayn hastily replied with a resounding no, that money was for when it all went balls up, and he wasn’tgoing to waste it just because he felt homesick or bored.

“Oi, Louis! Here’s a Midlander for ya!” Niall called outfrom his position at the cash register, a wide grin threatening to split hisface as he chatted merrily with a customer.

Louis turned around with a confused expression, “What, issomeone cosplaying again?”

Zayn snorted and got up from his seat, determined to end theuncomfortably deep conversation he was having with Louis. He walked towardsNiall with a smile, “Nah, it just means the person is from –“

But the rest of his sentence never made it out of his throatbecause apparently someone ran away with his tongue. Someone who looked a lot like the man standing in front of him;regarding Zayn with calculating yet warm brown eyes.

Zayn took a few seconds to take him in, he seemed to beolder than him, late 30s maybe? He hadthose aforementioned gentle brown eyes, an adorably appropriate button nose andlips that were made to sin.

How were they so red? –

A loud clearing of the throat snapped him out of his reverieand he winced and realized he had been staring at the customer’s lips. Hischeeks flushed heavily and he ducked down behind Niall who was turningviolently purple from holding in his laughter. The dick.

A deep voice brought his attention back to the man who onlyamusedly murmured, “That’s Outlander, actually,” in a familiar yet foreignaccent. He was English and his accent was maybe close to where Louis and Zaynoriginated from, but it had a slight tang of New York phasing out of it.

So, he was someone who has lived here long, Zayn thoughtabsently as he kept his eyes trained on the cup in front of him, uncapping amarker before looking up at the man again.

“Your name?” He rasped out, clearing his throat andhopefully his thoughts of anything too inappropriate.

…Is what you’ll shoutwhen I finally get you under me, Liam thought, before mentally giving hisbrain a slap. He was here for coffee not to pick a barista up.

“Liam,” he assuredly stated, a bit of his lost confidence inthe face of beauty (literally)returning to his demeanour.

He was confident and assertive in the way he uttered his name, and Liamwas a name Zayn felt he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. He blushed lightly at hisown thoughts and got to work quickly, unknowingly tugging at the heart stringsof a man who thought that love was lost to him.

***

Right, so Zayn was definitely, properly, gone for Liam. Everything about the man endeared and sethim on fire simultaneously. Those eyes as they crinkled up in a rare laugh atsomething Zayn said, that cute button nose that always takes the time to sniffat Harry’s baked goods appreciatively, and those lips that curve perfectlyaround his name.

Liam had been coming round to the coffee shop for over amonth now and with the weather slowly warming up and Valentine’s Day fastapproaching, Zayn was adamant to date Liam.

He’s got this coffee coloured birthmark that he feels is somesort of fated clue; Liam was always dressed professionally and ratherdeliciously in suits with perfectly knotted ties. Zayn’s favourite was the greycheck-patterned suit paired with a white shirt and a pink silk pocket square.

Liam had been going to a charity gala wearing that suit,he’d informed Zayn , as he stood idly in front of the marble counter, on a lessbusy evening while Zayn waited for the espresso to brew.

Zayn remembered he could hardly keep his eyes off the man, hishair shorn down to a buzzcut with the slightest hint of silver around histemples. But he was soon caught, as amused brown eyes met his as Zayn finallyfinished doing a body scan on Liam.

The boy had blushed intensely before turning his back onLiam, pretending to keep busy with the espresso, even though he had to do nothing;the machine was doing all the work.

A slight chuckle was all he heard before the machine drippedthe dark brown liquid down into the waiting shot glass. A few minutes later, hefinished preparing the man’s drink and handed it over to him with a smallsmile.

“Thank you,” was all Liam murmured to him before he wasgraced with a wink and the man soon left after.

And that isexactly why Zayn is confused; Liam seems to show interest in the way he regardsZayn, the way his stare makes the boy’s cheeks flame, the little flirty momentsand smirks Liam throws his way.

A month of flirtyconversations and suggestive looks and yet not even an invitation to a drink?

Yeah, he was confused.

So he did what any person in a confusing situation might do,he turned to his friends. But as he filled his three friends in on histroubles, three very sly, almost Cheshire cat-like grins awaited him. He couldpractically see Louis rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

What the fuck did hejust get himself into?

***

Harry opted to help him out first, which was rather helpfulof his friend, Zayn thought, but all that ground to a halt when he heard hisfriend’s idea.

“A love note?”Zayn all but exclaimed incredulously as he lounged on their shared couch in thelittle apartment they shared not a long way away from the shop.

Harry who was currently perched on Louis’ lap (“My baby may have outgrown me, but he’s stillmy baby!”) nodded enthusiastically at him, jostling his boyfriend’s grip onhis beer bottle.

“Watch it!”

Harry only frowned down at Louis before turning back toZayn, ignoring his boyfriend’s irritated huff.

“Trust me, Liam’s gonna love it and he’s going to be beggingto know who it’s from!”

Zayn sighed quietly, mulling over the proposed idea.

The television blared loudly as Niall sat on the carpetedfloor in front of it, staring unblinkingly at Tiger Woods moving around on agolf course. Louis looked like he was close to dozing off, his head alreadyleaning against Harry’s shoulder and his beer bottle now lying empty on thefloor.

Great, so thosetwo were no help.

He remained unconvinced by the idea of an unsigned love notefor Liam but Harry’s dimples deepened invitingly and those trustworthy, greeneyes finally groaned an agreement out of him.

God help him.

The next morning, Harry was acting like someone hadwillingly handed a baby over to him and named him Mick; he was dashing about,throwing smug grins at Zayn who only rolled his eyes at the impish behaviour.

When Zayn had asked him that morning, before the doors tothe shop were opened, what he had written in the love note, Harry had onlyshaken his head in a scolding manner before ordering him to start the service.

Soon, Liam was stood in front of the cash register, orderinghis usual coffee to-go, grinning at Louis as they made small talk. Zayn wastucked in the shadows at the end of the shop, keeping an eye on Harry as he boundedup to Liam with a pastry package. He shoved it at a perplexed Liam beforerather loudly proclaiming, “From a secret admirer!”

Zayn groaned internally and hid his head in his hands, trustMr. “I’m a baker!” to want to seduce a man with a baked pastry. When he lookedback up, Liam was stood a little way down the marble counter to the side wherethere were no customers. He was preoccupied with the pastry bag, those adorablebushy eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he pulled out a card. His eyes roveover the card before he pursed his lips in an odd expression.

Oh wow, this was Liam trying to hold in his laughter.

Wait –

He was laughing atthe card, oh God, what did Harry do?

Mind made up, he casually strolled past the cash register,pretending to straighten up the syrup station before he noticed Liam.

“Oh! Liam, didn’t see you there, mate. What’s that you’vegot?” He asked as nonchalantly as possible, although going by Louis’ scoff hemay have come across as too eager.

But the man didn’t mind sharing the ridiculous card, a largegrin gracing his usually subdued features. He flipped the card towards Zayn andheld it up. The boy took a look; it was a pink and white Valentine’s card witha smiling cartooned hammer and a nail looking at each other. The caption said:“I want to nail you! Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Zayn paled considerably as Liam took his expression ashorrified judgment and laughed loudly.

“This is properly hilarious, and kind of unnecessary.” Liamsaid, casually looking up at Zayn but his attention still on the god-awfulcard.

“Unnecessary?” Zayn stuttered out.

“Yeah, it’s just whoever this is clearly wants no-stringsattached and I mean at this point in my life, I’m not looking for that. I’mlooking for something permanent.” He proclaimed, the words hanging meaningfullybetween them before Liam rapped the counter with his knuckles and headed outwith a goodbye.

Zayn stood there, utterly embarrassed yet still determined,if he was to judge Liam’s intent gaze towards him as he stated his wish for afuture.

And yes, he wanted exactly that. He wanted a future withLiam, where instead of sharing small smiles and awkward small talk over themarble counter, he shared soft, gentle pecks and warm hugs with a murmured good morning.

He sighed heavily and banged his forehead against themarble.

Right, time to break out the big guns. Tommo to the rescue.

***

Louis was very secretive about his idea, even went as far asto claim it was a gift. Now that confused Zayn, because Louis had packed the‘gift’ into a very thin brown bag to go with Liam’s Sunday coffee and breakfastthat he always took at the shop.

Sundays were also pretty stressful for Zayn; not just thatcustomers were milling in by the tens, rather a very intense looking Liam Paynesat in close proximity to where Zayn usually stood behind the counter. Hisknees felt weak every time they made eye contact, something hot and stormybrewing in those brown orbs.

But as Liam reached for his breakfast sandwich, somethingheavy like a booklet falls out of the brown packaging. Confusedly, he reacheddown for the long booklet that looked more like a cheque book but the vibrantpink and purple colours assured him it wasn’t.

He raised his head and looked around, maybe someone slippedit in or left it accidentally, but he paused as he flipped it around to readwhat was written on it.

Across the shop, Zayn held his breath as Liam looked aroundhim at the customers chatting away before finally zeroing in on Louis.

Zayn frowned as he watched Liam stand up from his chair andstride determinedly towards Louis before seeming hesitant to talk to him.

“Mate?” Louis has noticed now that Liam is stood in front ofhim, but he doesn’t see the cheque book like gift clutched in Liam’s fist.

The older man clears his throat uncomfortably, beforeraising the booklet to Louis’ eye level.

“Um, Louis, I appreciate the gift but, um, I’m not sure youand I – “

But Zayn zoned out of what Liam was saying, no his attentionwas on the booklet that Liam was waving around.

“Sex Favours for You,” it proclaimed in a loud, black textas Zayn felt like he needed to change state into a liquid form so he couldgladly sink down a drain.

Shamefaced, his cheeks burned red as he watched Liamcontinue his speech apparently letting Louis down gently.

But his friend only chuckled, causing Liam to stop and raisehis eyebrows.

“Mate! It’s not from me,it’s from your secret admirer.” Louis set the record straight, with a smugexpression fixed on his face.

Liam’s face cleared itself of the discomfort, and he laughedlightly and flapped the book around comically. For some reason, he snuck a lookat Zayn, who hurried to look busy and not like he was shamelesslyeavesdropping.

The man cleared his throat and went to a nearby bin,dropping the booklet unceremoniously and without any doubts. Zayn held hisbreath; what did this mean for him? Sure, Liam said he wasn’t interested inonly sex but had looked at him rather significantly before throwing the giftaway.

Seriously, what was he going to do now?

***

Zayn flopped onto his belly with a groan on his bed. Niallpatted his leg affectionately before falling silent; the only sounds in theroom were Zayn’s heavy breathing and Niall’s constant munching on crisps.

“Zaynie…” Niall started gently, before sighing anddiscarding his packet of snacks to the side before manhandling Zayn to facehim.

“Stop it,” he warned him, flicking Zayn’s nose. “You’reoverthinking this, mate. You like him right? Just tell him! Or if it’s easierfor you, write it down and give it to him.”

Zayn’s voice wobbled as he managed a, “Niall, I think I lovehim.” The boy turned back onto his belly, hiding his face in his pillow, eyesfilled with tears.

But Niall jumped up off the bed landing with a thump on thefloor.

“That’s it!” He reached over to Zayn’s work desk, a mess ofscripts and unfinished works, before taking out a writing pad and offering itto Zayn with a pen.

“Write what you love about him,” Niall ordered Zayn who onlystared at his friend in a daze before he was sitting up and accepting the padand pen.

“What’s that gonna do?” Zayn’s voice rasped out, tears stillevident in his tone.

“Solve your fecking problems!” Niall turned ratherdramatically and marched out of Zayn’s bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Words were his thing, had always been his specialty, evenwhen they failed to get him his dream career. That’s what he did best. So Zaynput pen to paper and started writing, loopy handwriting shaping out the profoundsort of love he felt for Liam.

***

The next day Liam doesn’t show up until the evening; clad ina black tux this time, hair grown out and artfully styled, a small smilegracing his features as he greeted Zayn.

The boy was subdued Liam noticed, more so than usual, andhis odd behaviour worried the man who didn’t like seeing Zayn like this, likesomeone had snuffed out the light inside of him.

Zayn was chewing incessantly on his bottom lip, refusing tomake eye contact with Liam but soon Niall brought his order out with a biggrin.

Liam accepted it with and absent-minded thanks, and turnedaround to leave before he realized something was wrong halfway out of the shop.His coffee cup was empty; rather it was full of papers, he realized perplexedly,as he shook it back and forth and heard a rustling.

Confused beyond belief and fearing something inappropriateyet again, he slowly edged the lid off and stared down at the messy mound ofchits, loopy handwriting staring up at him.

The first chit was unrolled and it read, “I love the way hesmirks at me with those unbelievable looking lips.”

Liam huffed at the sentence, bizarre as it was, he couldn’thelp but notice the word ‘love’. His heart skipped a beat and he reached foranother chit, oblivious to the four sets of eyes on him, one particular setbelonged to a rather nervous and teary-eyed boy.

The second one read, “I love the way he always says goodmorning even if he’s having a shit day.”

A third chit said, “I love the way his eyes twinkle when hetalks about his family.”

“I love the little coffee-coloured birthmark on his neck.”

“I love that he always takes the time to get to knowpeople.”

“I love the suits he wears almost every day.”

“I love the fact that even though he doesn’t love me, healways makes sure I’m okay.”

At the last one, Liam furrowed his eyebrows, emotionsflitting from happiness to complete confusion. Who was this person? And how didthey know him so well? He was about to look up to ask Niall, when he noticed afinal chit at the bottom of the empty cup.

“I love you, Liam. Always.

          - Zayn xx”

Liam’s breath whooshed out of him, and he looked up at theboy with his mouth agape.

Zayn loved him? Him?

Finally, the last puzzle piece shifted into place; the boyhe was head over heels for was actually interested in him, in Liam. He could scarcely believe hisluck, not only was he under the impression that Zayn wasn’t interested in him,Liam was always aware of the significant age gap between them.

He huffed out a breath incredulously before forcing himselfto move. But he didn’t make his way towards Zayn like his heart was pushing himto.

He forced himself to walk out the door determinedly.

Zayn watched the love of his life walk out of the coffeeshop, possibly to never return. The coffee shop was completely empty ofcustomers and Zayn couldn’t help but let out a wounded noise as he sank to theground, arms wrapped around himself.

He felt hands on him, comforting words murmured into hishair, but he didn’t care. Liam had taken one look at the person behind thesilly notes and decided he didn’t want any of it. All of his fears had cometrue.

He doesn’t know how long he sat there, knees aching, cryinginto his friends’ embraces, before a loud bang jolted him.

Footsteps hurried towards them, and he heard Louis shoutout, “What the fuck do you want now?”

All of a sudden, he felt the warmth of Harry leave him, andZayn felt shocked at the loss before it was replaced by another person. Liam.

“Darling, don’t cry,” Liam cooed in his ear, lips pressinggently onto his tear-stained cheeks.

Zayn let out a confused sob as he cautiously looked up atLiam, who only tutted quietly at him, cupping his cheeks with large hands. Afleeting kiss was pressed into his forehead and Zayn leaned into the wonderfulfeeling before Liam was wiping his tears for him.

Still sitting on the floor like a dolt, Zayn attempted tosort himself out as best he could, scrubbing his face clean of tears andrunning a haphazard hand through his hair.

Liam gazed patiently at Zayn before murmuring to the boy, “Now,I still have an event to get to, darling, but I was wondering if you were freetomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Why?” The boy asked with an adorably confused expressionon his face.

Liam beamed at him, “Yeah, there’s this art gallery openingI want to take you to.”

Zayn’s mouth gaped open, eyes wide as they gazed up at Liam,“You – you’re taking me to an art show? Like – on a date?”

The man nodded and chuckled at Zayn’s answering grin,pressing more lingering kisses onto the boy’s cheeks before moving away tostand up.

Zayn stood up with him, noting how his friends had alreadyleft, probably to grace him with the last shred of dignity he had left. Liamreached over to the marble counter, where he picked up a beautiful bouquet ofwhite roses and offered it gently to Zayn.

“White roses for my Yorkshire boy.”

Liam leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth softly,before smiling at him and turning away to the doors of the shop. He stopped atthe doors and turned back to Zayn and called out.

“See you tomorrow, darling. I’ll pick you up.”

And with that final sentence, the love of Zayn’s life walkedout again, this time leaving the boy with a heart bursting full of joy and asmile that lasted for hours as he buried his nose in the beautiful flowers allnight.

[bxcketbarnes]

Memories

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Author: @ninja-stiles

Words: 4880

Author’s Note: So, I had wrote this for Steff’s competition and wanted to post it, because I absolutely loved this fic so fucking much and I hope you do too. :)

Stiles Stilinski.

 The boy who stole my heart.

I walked into the kitchen, finding Stiles looking out the sliding door in a pair of his boxers, sipping his coffee. I played with the ends of his flannel, stalking towards him, feeling the cold tile under my feet as I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head against his shoulder blade.

 “Morning, baby,” Stiles’ husky voice rang out, internally groaning. God, his voice is sexy as fuck. His hand landed on mine, rubbing the back of it with his thumb, turning around, greeting me with a chaste kiss to my lips. His eyes glanced down to what I was wearing, a groan erupting from the back of his throat.

 “I take it you like what you see?” I smirked, pressing a kiss to his chest before looking up at him. He licks his lips, taking my left hand into his, his thumb moving the engagement ring that’s on my finger. My smirk turns into a grin, remembering the night Stiles asked me to marry him, getting butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it.

 “I always loved you in my clothes,” He whispered, leaning his forehead against mine. He placed the coffee mug on the table, wrapping his arms around my lower back as we stand in each other’s arms for what seems like forever. “As much as I’d love to stay in your arms today, we have an engagement party to throw and someone needs to cook,” He mentioned and my eyes widened.

 “W-Why can’t we just order out or something?” I questioned, leaning my head against his chest, hearing his chuckle vibrating through his chest. “I guess I can get my mom’s cookbook out and whip something up,” I muttered, walking over to the cupboard, reaching for the book on the top shelf, just a hair out of reach. “Baby?” I asked, turning around, seeing Stiles’ eyes glued to my ass. I snapped my fingers in his face, snapping him out of his daze as his cheeks turn pink.

 “W-What?” He stuttered and I shook my head, taking my lip between my teeth. I pointed towards the cookbook and he nods his head, understanding that I couldn’t reach it and he walked over, easily grabbing it, placing it on the countertop. “Here you go, baby,” He kissed my head, walking towards the bedroom, letting me know that he was going to take a shower. I decided that I should probably put some pants on and I walked into our room, seeing Stiles’ naked ass waltzing into the bathroom. Damn. I pulled on a pair of leggings, heading back into the kitchen as I turned on some music, glancing through the cookbook, trying to find something everyone would like.

 “Chicken parmesan? Yummy,” I muttered, gathering the ingredients together, glancing down at the ring once more. Stiles is the greatest guy. I put the chicken breast in the pan, covering it with the cover so it’ll cook all the way through when I found a picture of Stiles and I from high school. Memories of the past played in my head like a slide show.

 I had moved to Beacon Hills my sophomore year, fearing that I would be the only girl that was new, but I wasn’t. There was another girl who had started her first day in a new town, her name was Allison and she was absolutely gorgeous. I felt a little intimidated by her beauty since I always thought that I was just an average girl. The principle had introduced us to our first class and I saw everyone’s eyes on her, no surprise there. I looked to the ground, holding my books to my chest as I felt a gaze on me, picking my head up, I look around trying to find the person who was looking at me. My breath hitched as I saw a boy my age, who has a buzzcut, honey brown eyes, pink lips, and adorable moles that plattered across his left cheek. He’s so cute. I gave him a small smile and his eyes widened, looking surprised that I smiled at him and he returned it.

 The first time I talked to him was a couple days after meeting him, after I worked up the courage to approach him. I saw him at his locker by himself, the perfect time to say something so I don’t embarrass myself, and I walked up to him, tapping his shoulder. He jumped, turning quickly, facing me, his cheeks darken a bit. He looked around, seeing no one else around us as he faced me once more.

 “H-Hi. Did you need something? Notes? Ca-Cause I can give them to you.” He stuttered, rummaging through his locker, trying to find his english notes and I chuckled, taking his arm in my hand. He froze, glancing down at my hand on his arm.

 “Stiles, I don’t need any notes. I-I wanted to talk to you, maybe even be friends?” I questioned and he nodded his head repeatedly. I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck, giving him a tight hug.

 That year I had learned about the impossible, the supernatural. Stiles’ best friend, Scott, had been bitten by a werewolf the night before school started. The entire school year we had been running from an Alpha werewolf. I was hanging out with Stiles one night, weeks away from the winter formal, which I still didn’t have a date to, but he promised me that he would do anything in his power to protect me, from anything.

 Stiles had ran towards me one morning as I put in the combination to my locker, glancing over at him as I see him panting, like he ran a mile. I raised my eyebrow at him as he held up a finger, taking a minute to catch his breath. I handed him a water that was in my locker, smiling at the spastic boy as he chugged it. “Y-Y/N, I wanted to ask you something.” He panted, standing up straight as he let out a loud groan, making me chuckle. I took my bottom lip between my teeth, giving him my undivided attention as he let out a breath, mentally preparing himself. “W-Would you, maybe, want to go to the formal… with me?” He nervously asked, rubbing the back of his neck as my eyes widened, my heart pounding against my ribcage.

 “Really?” I questioned, butterflies filling my stomach as he nodded his head, giving me a grin. “Oh my god, I’d love to!” I squealed, bringing him into a hug, inhaling his scent. Vanilla. He huffed out a breath, his arm wrapping around my lower back.

 “Oh thank god. I was nervous you were going to say no,” He chuckled, his hand rubbing my back gently and I pulled away from him, looking up at him, making a bold move by pressing my lips to his cheek.

 “I’ll see you later Stiles,” I smiled, walking down the hallway, looking back, Stiles’ hand pressed against the cheek I had kissed, a goofy grin on his lips.

 I nervously ran around the house, trying to find the hair curler, but not having any luck. I groaned, glancing at the pinkish dress laid out on my bed. Tonight’s the winter formal and my nerves have flown through the roof, especially since I’m going with Stiles and I just want to impress him. I straightened my hair instead, putting on some light makeup before putting on the semi-short dress. Once I put my shoes on, there was a honk outside, signaling that Stiles has arrived. I ran down the staircase yelling to my parents that I’m leaving as I head out the door, stopping in my tracks as I noticed Stiles standing at the end of the walkway. Holy fuck. My hands became sweaty as I walked over to him, giving him a shy smile as his eyes looked me over.

 “W-Wow, Y/N. You look absolutely gorgeous,” He muttered, a blush on his cheeks and I smiled at him, biting my lip.

 “T-Thanks, Stiles,” I whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “You look absolutely handsome.” I smiled and he smirked, smoothing out his jacket and I let out a giggle. I placed a soft kiss to his cheek before he leads me to the jeep, opening the door for me. I muttered a thank you, hopping in and he slams the door shut, making me jump a bit.

 Once we arrived at the school, we met up with Allison, Jackson, and Lydia. Stiles told me Scott was sneaking in so he’ll meet us inside. Stiles and I sat at the table a lot, stealing little glances as our friends we’re dancing with their dates. A few slow songs had come on, wishing Stiles would’ve asked me to dance, but he didn’t. The last slow song of the night began playing and I glanced over at him, his eyes already on me as he stood up, standing in front of me with his hand out towards me.

 “Would… would you like to dance?” He asked nervously and I nodded my head, taking his hand in mine as he led me onto the dance floor. His arms laid against my hips as I wrapped mine around his neck, resting my head against his shoulder, swaying slowly to the beat. I smiled into his shoulder, heat radiating off his body as I felt safe in his arms. When the song had ended, we pulled away a little, staring into each other’s eyes as his face leans closer to mine. My heart pounds against my chest, my eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed mine, a breath hitching in my throat.

 “S-Stiles…” I whispered against his lips, glancing up at him. One of his hands moved to my face, rubbing my cheekbone with his thumb. “P-Please, kiss me,” His eyes widened, taking my cheeks in both his hands, pressing his lips to mine softly. I moved my lips against his, tilting my head to the side as some people had cheered for Stiles. I smiled into the kiss, pulling away from him as he had a lazy grin on his lips, his eyes on me.

 That night, was the night that he had taken my first kiss, which he didn’t know. That kiss had sparked a fire in both of us. You’d be surprised at how many supernatural creatures we’d encounter in the past six years. I remember after the winter formal kiss, it took Stiles almost a year and a half to actually ask me out.

 Ever since Scott, Stiles, and Allison had been surrogate sacrifices for their parents, I’d stay as close to Stiles as I possibly can. Sometimes his dad would call me in the middle of the night, asking me to come over to help calm Stiles down. Whenever I had stayed over at his house, he would sleep perfectly. Then he started sleep walking, to the point where he called Scott, telling him he was in a basement of some kind when in reality, he was in the den that Malia stayed in when she was in coyote form.

 Sheriff had called me one night, telling me to meet him and Stiles at Eichen and I rushed over immediately. I quickly got out of the car, seeing Stiles and his dad at the gate, Stiles’ arms laid against his dad’s arms.

 “Stiles!” I yelled out and he turned around before glaring at his dad.

 “You called her? I don’t want anyone near me!” He yelled and I attacked him in a hug, tears sliding down my face. Stiles wrapped his arms around me, holding me against him tightly. “Y/N, you shouldn’t be here.” He whispered into my ear, pressing a kiss to my head.

 “I don’t care, Stiles. Y-You can’t just admit yourself into this madhouse and not tell your girlfriend about it. I-I know that you want to protect everyone and I’m all for it, but please. Talk to me next time.” I grabbed his face, pressing our lips together in a quick kiss.

 “I-I love you.” He whispered and I looked up at him, my lips parted. That’s the first time he’s said the ‘L’ word. Stiles wiped the tears that had started sliding down my face. “I love you so much.”

 “I love you too, Stiles. Always have, always will. We’re going to get through this.” I quietly told him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

 The nogitsune had taken over his body while he was in Eichen and declared to cause chaos on Beacon Hills. Void ended up kidnapping me when Stiles had been duplicated and the real Stiles went absolutely crazy, trying everything in his might to find me. Once they tracked Void and I down at an old concentration camp, the pack had ended up fighting the Oni, which were no longer in Kira’s mom’s possession. Allison ended up dying that night and it devastated everyone. Especially Scott. Turns out that Stiles was dying as well and I didn’t take that lightly. I couldn’t sleep a wink during the next few days. The pack managed to beat the nogitsune and Stiles had turned back to normal, slightly. He still gets nightmares every once and awhile.

 I frowned, remembering the time that we had actually broken up, thinking we’d never get back together. It was the hardest six months of my life. I’m really surprised that we had actually gotten back together.

 Stiles had become obsessed with figuring out what Theo was up to and why he seemed different than he was in fourth grade. At first I was fine with it because he’d ask me to help him and I’d totally be down, cause I’d be with him. But, when he stopped asking for my help and became a little distant, I began to worry. He got so obsessed that he didn’t have time for me anymore and one night, when I decided to confront him about it, he just brushed me off, saying he was tired. The last straw was when Theo himself, came up to me and told me that Stiles wasn’t the guy I had known, that he had a dark secret. Theo told me that Stiles had killed Donovan and I was livid. I stormed to Stiles’ house, barging into the house without knocking as I angrily stomped towards his room. I opened the door, seeing him on his bed and I snapped.

 “Stiles fucking Stilinski. How dare you,” I yelled, pacing around his room as he looked up at me, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “H-How can you live with yourself, keeping secrets from your best friend and girlfriend, especially when I tell you everything,” I cried, tears rapidly sliding down my flushed cheeks. He stood up, standing in front of me as he reached for my hand and I pulled it away, backing away from him. “You killed Donovan and you didn’t even tell me about it. I-I don’t even care that you killed him because I’m sure there was a reason behind it. I’m mad that you didn’t tell me. What happened to our trust? What happened to us, Stiles?” I asked quietly, staring at him as his eyes pooled with tears.

 “I-I didn’t want you to get hurt. I wanted to keep you safe,” Stiles muttered and I glared at him.

 “Well, Stiles. I am hurt. My heart has been breaking for weeks. I-I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I swallowed and his face paled, the look of heartbreak in his eyes and I look away. “I’m sorry, Stiles,” I sobbed, running out of his house, hearing him begging for me to come back.

 If I wasn’t sleeping before, I was sleeping a whole lot now. I’d cry myself to sleep every night, staring at pictures of Stiles and I. Crying has always made me tired, so every time I’d cry, I’d end up falling asleep. My phone would be going off the hook with text messages and calls from Stiles and our friends. I haven’t left my room in weeks, until one night. Scott had begged me to help them rescue Lydia from Valek and I agreed, since she was one of my best friends.

 We had fought our way into Eichen, Theo and his pack also trying to get Lydia. Stiles rushed past me, running into the room as his hands rested on both sides of her face. I witnessed the gesture from outside the doorway, my heart breaking as he stared at her longingly. One of the creatures from Theo’s pack had knocked me on the ground, attempting to attack me as I try to push them off me, screaming at the top of my lungs for anyone to help me.

 As I looked towards the pack, I noticed Stiles leading Lydia out of the ward, tears slipping from my eyes as it seemed I had been replaced. Should I just end the pain now? My eyes closed as I stopped fighting, waiting for the blow of impact and I opened my eyes when it didn’t deliver. Scott helped me up, pulling me into a hug as I let out a sob, gripping his shirt in my hands.

 “C’mon, Y/N. We gotta go,” He ushered and I shook my head.

 “Just leave me to die. I lost the one thing that was good in my life,” I muttered, sliding down the wall, sobbing uncontrollably. Stiles noticed that all but two of his friends had come out of the building. His arms were still wrapped around Lydia as he watched the building, waiting for the love of his life to come out of it. Scott wrapped his arms around me, carrying me bridal style out of the building.

 “It’s going to be okay, alright?” He cooed, running out of the building. I saw Stiles, who was still wrapped around Lydia, his face washed in relief when he saw Scott and I come out safely. Stiles handed Lydia to Malia, rushing over to me once Scott had put me down, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. I let out a sob, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my face in his neck.

 “Oh my god. I’m so glad you’re okay,” He muttered, petting the back of my head and I push him away, limping towards the entrance, feeling his eyes on my back. I stopped, turning around to face him.

 “If you would’ve fucking noticed that I was in trouble, I wouldn’t be in this condition. You were so fucking worried about Lydia,” I fumed, sniffling as I left, going back home, back to where I can feel safe. Stiles looked over to Scott and Scott gives him a small smile, patting him on the back.

 “What took you guys so long?” Stiles questioned and Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair.

 “She didn’t want to leave. She said ‘just leave me to die. I lost the one thing that was good in my life.’” Scott frowned and Stiles’ heart broke, looking back to where I was just standing. “You have to get her back, dude. She’s miserable. Hell, you’re miserable,” Scott mentioned before grabbing Lydia, bringing her to Deaton's.

 Another threat had came to town, known as the Ghost Riders, who erase people from existence. That night at Eichen, Stiles came over to my house so we could talk and decided to become friends for now. Senior year had started and Stiles and I walked into the school together, laughing about something that happened on our favorite show the night before. Scott smiled at us, happy that we’re finally somewhat together. There are times where I’ll look at him and want to just kiss him until we pass out from lack of oxygen. I was walking with Lydia as the police were investigating the school.

 “Lydia, have you seen Stiles?” I asked, looking around for the spastic boy, not having any luck finding him.

 “Who?” She asked, looking over at me with her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion and I raised my eyebrow. She’s kidding right?

 “C’mon, Lydia,” I chuckled, “You know Stiles. My ex boyfriend who I’m madly in love with,” She stopped in her tracks, tilting her head at me and the smile on my face drops.

 “Sorry, I have no idea who you’re talking about,” She kept walking and I tensed up, figuring out who’s next; Stiles. I ran out the door, looking around the entire school, trying to find him and I fish my phone out of my pocket, dialing his number as I ran out another door, running into someone. I looked up, seeing Stiles standing in front of me and I wrap my arms around him. “S-Stiles…”

 “You remember me?” He asked and I nodded my head, taking his head in my hands, looking over his features. He looked behind me, seeing the horseman and he grabs my hand running. “We gotta go,” He rushed, leading me towards the jeep. “Can you see them?” He yelled and I looked around, finding nobody around as my eyes pool with tears.

 “N-No. Stiles, I-I…” I started but stopped as we got to the jeep, both of us jumping in as he shoved the key into the ignition. He paused, looking around the windshield before turning his attention on me.

 “Y/N,” He paused, taking his hands into mine and tears slide down my cheeks, shaking my head. “They’re going to take me. Y-You’re going to forget me,” He whispered.

 “N-No, I won’t. I can never forget you Stiles,” I sobbed and he wiped the tears off my cheeks, giving me a sad smile.

 “You were the best thing in my life. Y-You acknowledged me, became my best friend, you were my first kiss,” My eyes widened, I squeezed his hands, one of them going up to his hair, running my fingers through it.

 “You were mine, too. P-Please don’t go. I-I need you, Stiles,” I cried and he pressed his lips to mine, dying to feel my lips against his. I pulled him closer to me, lightning cracking in the background. He pulled away, our lips brushing together and he looked into my eyes.

 “Remember, I love you. I love you so much,” He gave me a tight lipped smile and as I was about to say it back, he was pulled out of the driver’s seat. I stared at the spot, whispering ‘remember’ to myself.

 For months, I desperately tried to find clues that could lead to Stiles and nothing. I was beginning to lose hope until I went back to the Stilinski’s, something was drawing me there after I found a loose wallpaper a few weeks ago. I walked into the house, seeing a giant hole in the wall and I walk in, seeing Sheriff standing in the middle of the room, looking around. I let out sob, gaining his attention as I noticed the chair I would always sit in, a lacrosse jersey draped over it as I walk over to it, picking it up in my hands, inhaling his vanilla scent. I cover my mouth with my hand, a few sobs escaping my lips as his dad walked over to me, rubbing my back.

 “You can’t see it, can you,” I whispered, looking up at him and he shook his head. I toss him the jersey and he actually catches it, the fabric appearing in his hands. His lips parted, analyzing the shirt. “You need to remember…”

 Scott and I had found his jeep in the school parking lot, flashes of memory of that night running through my mind as we paid the man to not tow it. We both got into it, smiling a bit, running my hands against his dashboard. The police scanner makes a noise, both of us jumping and we look at each other before I take the radio into my hand.

 “H-Hello?” I talked into it, hearing his voice coming out the other end.

 “Y/N?!” Stiles asked and my heart skipped a beat, looking to Scott and I push down the button before speaking.

 “Stiles? Is that really you?” Tears pooling in my eyes, sniffling slightly.

 “It’s me. Do you remember the last thing I said to you?” I laughed, nodding my head, biting my lip.

 “Y-Yeah. You said ‘remember I love you. I love you so much,” I cried and he smiled, sitting at the table the radio was on.

 Ever since the night at the jeep, Scott, Malia, Lydia, and I have done everything in our power to figure out how to bring Stiles back, and we finally found something, a clue. According to Lydia, the power to bringing Stiles back was me, since I’m the person who has the strongest connection to him. She had hypnotized me and I remember a lot of memories of the two of us. The one that had changed it all was after we broke up, the night he was taken. I never said it back. The rift had opened and we waited for someone to walk out, but no one did.

 “W-What… why didn’t it work,” I cried, looking back at my friends, frowns on all their faces.

 Stiles let out a gasp, gripping the steering wheel as he looked around. He laughed, patting the steering wheel before driving off, heading towards my house. He jumped out of his jeep, running into my house. “Y/N!? Baby?” He ran upstairs, not finding anyone so he left, heading towards Scott’s to do the same before heading to the school.

 We arrived at the school, seeing the train tracks and we all looked to each other, splitting up. Malia went with Lydia and I went with Scott. I followed him down the hallway, slowing down my run, until I stop in my tracks. I look down the hall towards the locker room, feeling drawn to it and I look towards where Scott was, finding the space empty. I run towards the locker room bursting through the doors, seeing a Ghost Rider and I elbow the glass of the fire extinguisher, grabbing it before hitting the rider on his head, knocking him out. I throw the extinguisher onto the floor, letting out a breath as I look in the direction he was pointing the gun in and my heart jumped. Stiles.

 “I-I never said it back,” I mentioned, staring at him as he shook his head.

 “You didn’t have to,” He muttered, walking over to me, pulling me into a kiss. I ran my hands through his hair, moving my lips against his, putting all the passion I’ve had for him into it, pulling on his flannel, getting him closer to me. He pulls away, resting his forehead against mine, pressing small kisses on my face.

 “P-Please… Never, ever leave me again,” I sobbed for what seemed like the hundredth time in a few months and he chuckles, wrapping his arms around me as I rest my head against his chest.

 “I’m not going anywhere baby. I’m so sorry about before and I need you in my life,” He muttered against my skin.

 Stiles hadn’t heard any singing or voices in the kitchen and the music had stopped about ten minutes ago and he began to worry. He walked into the kitchen, seeing me resting my arms on the countertop, tears streaming down my face as the chicken and noodles were burnt, surprised the smoke detector hasn’t gone off yet. He turned off the burners, placing his hands on my shoulder, making me face him.

 “Baby? Hey, what’s wrong?” Stiles asked and I snapped out of my thoughts, looking around the kitchen as I burned the food. I looked at Stiles, placing my hands on his chest, leaning my head against it.

 “Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” I muttered, “J-Just thinking of old memories of when we were in high school,” I looked back up at him as he wiped the tears of my face. “I love you, Stiles. Never forget that.”

 He smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear as he pecked my lips. “I love you from the bottom of my heart, baby, but I don’t trust your cooking anymore. Stay out of my kitchen,” He chuckled and I rolled my eyes, throwing all the burnt food away, looking towards the clock, seeing that the party was supposed to start in an hour. “Why don’t we just get pizza,” He smiled and I nodded my head, giggling.

 “God, yes. Pizza sounds amazing,” I run my hand through his hair, seeing my ring, smiling. “I can’t wait to get married to you. Maybe you can teach me how to cook and not get distracted.” Leaning on my tippy toes, I press my lips to his, hearing him chuckle, gripping my hips.

 “Yeah, maybe. C’mon Mrs. Stilinski, let’s go pick up the pizza,” He smiled and I began walking towards the door, his hand coming down on my ass cheek, gasping. I looked back at him, seeing a smirk on his lips as I bit my lip, shaking my head.

[owen-jackson]

Slipping || Jackson & Amabella

Date: April 4th, 2019

Location: Amabella’s Cell

Summary: After caving and getting high with drugs that he stole from Noah (self para here), Jackson goes to the only source he knows of to get more: Amabella. After making him beg and agree to do her bidding, Amabella gives Jackson what he needs. 

@amabelladufour

Amabella: Amabella still loathed her sad excuse for a room. However, she had done things in order to make it a little more tolerable. The bunks had been pushed together by Kalani. At the end sat a full set vanity complete with lighting perfect to do her makeup in front of. It had been something she had manipulated a master to obtain her. Truly, if one looked in the cell they could be reminded of Al Capone's cell. The authority that both wielded while still prisoners spoke in volumes. Amabella sat in front of the vanity applying foundation. It was all too easy to see his reflection hovering outside her cell. Oh, her sweet little fire cracker! He was almost adorable when he radiated nervousness. Amabella gave no sign she had seen him. He was here for something he desired and her ego dictated that he be the one to speak first. Ah, finally he spoke her sweet name. With a smirk she turned around on her cushion. "Yes, mon petit pétard?"

Jackson: His head was reeling at the fact that he was even there, but the pale sickliness of his skin and the way the sweat broke out over his forehead showed he was definitely in need of something, anything. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew, he just knew that this was going to happen. He knew he'd fall of the rails, and he knew that the moment Amabella had mentioned being able to get drugs, he was done for. So here he was, moping around the doorway to her cell, the one that looked far less like a cell than most, but he wasn't focused on that. He takes a step into the cell, his eyes glossy and tired, rimmed with dark circles that looked worse than ever. "You know why I'm here." He says through gritted teeth, as if he could get away without her making him beg for it.

Amabella: Even in the reflection at this distance she could see quite clearly how pale and sickly he looked. Truly Amabella did not even need her keen eyes to know that he was suffering from the beginning of withdrawal. What a delight to see such disease in him! Amabella could manipulate him and use him however she pleased now. As she supplied the drugs to him she would only get him more addicted. Then she could use that addiction to further his loyalty to her. Really, Amabella was in need of a good minion. Of course she had other weak willed slaves and masters she had dominated to get as she pleased, but there was no true minion. Jackson could be such a person to her! She turned around and made no move to cover the lingerie she wore with her fine silk robe. How did one ever think she was simply a slave by looking at her? She smirked very dangerously. "Oui, I can guess, mon petit pétard. However you will speak the words out loud."

Jackson: Jackson's breath is laboured, amazed that even after the small amount he'd been able to steal from Noah enough to give him barely two highs, and already his body was craving it like nothing else. He felt cold and hot all at once, staring at the woman with a mixture of hatred and need. He hated the way that she clearly knew what he needed, and yet she needed to hear it. A hand comes up to run over the back of his hair, hating the way the buzzcut feels under his fingers, sharp and scratchy. Fuck. He looks at her with hatred and disgust when she turns around, but the expression probably comes across as more pathetic than anything in his current state. He looks down, defeated, because he knows what he needs, and he knows he's not going to get it without asking, hell, begging probably. "Please. I need a fix. Anything. Coke, pills, anything, fuck if you can get your hands on heroin, please." He says, glossy eyes glance back up looking at her with a pained expression.

Amabella: How pathetic the human body was! Amabella had been one of course, but now she was powerful and the being she was always meant to become. You did not fault someone for being a baby once and shitting itself. So one could not blame her for being human once either. Of course she would make them pay if someone ever tried. Amabella could clearly see his signs of withdrawal. Of course she was curious where he had gotten his fix. Those who worked for Marco were not to sell to Jackson without her permission. “You have had drugs, Oui? Where did you procure them?” Amabella crosses one slim leg over the other. She observed him in a manner that predators did. Hearing him speak brought a smirk to her painted lips. “Oui, of course I can obtain anything you so desire. My connections run very deep indeed. However, my price is not cheap. Those in this organization know not to sell to you without my permission. See, you have been very rude to be before. You have not shown me the respect I deserve. Why should I sell to you?” She smirked and beckoned him closer with a dainty finger. “Convince me.”

Jackson: Jackson looks at Amabella with tired eyes, hating the way she watches him like a kicked dog who's just coming back for more. "I didn't buy them." He says, because he sure as hell isn't going to drag Noah into this. "I stole them. Don't worry I can't get anymore." He says, rubbing a hand over the back of his short hair, hating the way it feels, dropping his hand to his side. Of course she'd made it so that he couldn't get anything elsewhere, and that makes his jaw tense with anger. But the anger drops because what else is there for him to do? He couldn't steal more from Noah, there was no way Mercy was going to supply him with anything, and he sure as hell was in way too deep now. He looks at her, feeling the most broken he's been since he's come here, his body aching and tired. "Because I'm asking nicely." The words were meant to have far more bite behind them, but instead they just sound weak. He takes a step forward, dropping his gaze, running a hand over his face. "Please, I am begging you. I really just need something."

Amabella: His answer was not satisfactory. The simple fact was that he has secured drugs. Of course she had to find out if he had gotten them from the organization Marco left behind. “Where?” She demanded again, her smirk falling away. “Did you steal them from my organization?” If he had would he admit such? He would have to pay if he had stolen from her. How foolish and stupid he must be! Did he think being angry with her would entice her to sell to him? Amabella laughed though it sounded harsh. “Nicely? Non, mon petit pétard, you are not asking nicely. How stupid are you? I hold you only fix in my hands and you dare come here to demand your drugs? Non, you will beg. You will treat me like a queen.” She smirked when he drew closer. Oh how wonderful and alive she felt wielding this power. “I said convince me. Kneel. Beg me for your fix.”

Jackson: "From a friend." He says, shaking his head. "I can't get anymore." He says again, this time his voice a little weaker, because of course he'd rather get what he needed from a different source, but he was out of options and desperate. His gaze shifts upwards, the anger lost and replaced with need, and the pain of knowing he'd have to beg. Of course he'd have to beg. Jackson was prideful, but stripped away as he was, left as nothing more than the shell of a broken man, there was not much else he could do. He looks off to the side for a moment, his expression pained and conflicted before he sniffs, looking back forward. Two more steps forward and Jackson sinks to his knees in front of her, gaze casting down, his usual gruffness lost and replaced with desperation. "Please... I will do anything you want, I just need something, anything to make me stop feeling like this. Please."

Amabella: It seemed he would not give up a name. How sad. However, as she observed him he did not seem to have stolen it from her organization. it was perhaps the tone to his voice that alerted her this was an avenue he could no longer use. That was perfect for her! He surely did not think that she would not make him beg? Not after the respect he had refused to show her in the past. No, he would beg. Jackson would be reduced to her minion in return for his drugs. How delightful it was to watch him kneel! "Anything?" She echoed with a smirk. "Now that is delightful to hear. Still, I am not convinced. You have refused to show me the respect I deserve in the past. How do you intend to make such a slight up to me?"

Jackson: Jackson was a proud and angry person, and there was very little that reduced him to this. He was disgusted by himself, the way that he gave in so easily, so quickly. He'd made a promise and that promise was all but gone, quickly ebbed away by his vices that had a stronger grip on him wanted. He looks at her with wavering eyes when she asks if he'll do anything. "I won't hurt anyone I care about." Because he knew he'd be doing enough of that on his own, he didn't need to be doing it for her. "Other than that. Yes." He knew it would take great lengths to get what he wanted, and he was desperate for it. "I'm sorry." The words taste bitter in his mouth, but his voice is weak. "I'll do whatever you want, and I won't... disrespect you anymore." The last part he has to force past his lips, because in his eyes Amabella definitely did not deserve any of his respect.

Amabella: Oh how she adored seeing him so angry! He was weak and it clearly showed. His addiction would be the downfall of him. Of course she had spotted that during their initial meeting. Amabella has quite the talent for leaning someone’s weaknesses and exploiting them to her advantage. The sight of Jackson kneeling before her delighted her so much! Truly this was the thing of beauty. “Non, I do not think you are in a position to set terms. You will do as I say whenever I give you an order.” She smirked. “In return I will supply you with whatever you desire.” She purred in delight. “That is such a sweet thing to hear, mon cherie. We are about to enter into a wonderful partnership. You will become my little minion.” She leaned forward and tilted his chin up with her finger. “You look so wonderful on your knees.”

Jackson: Jackson could have growled with the way she spoke to him, and looked at him. He knew to her he was nothing more than a possession for her to play with. But for once he knows better than to let his anger take hold, and instead he remains silent, his eyes cast downwards. His jaw clenches when she says she’ll state the terms, and he knows he has nothing left to barter with. He had his limits sure, but those would stretch the more desperate he got. His chin lifts easily under her finger, eyes looking up now to meet her gaze, broken, defeated. She’d won. He wanted to spit in her face and get as far away from her as he could, but he was in too deep now. “Thank you.” He says through gritted teeth because there was no more room for sarcastic comebacks or wise ass remarks.

Amabella: Let him be angry. Sooner rather than later he would learn she held all the power. Soon he would realize that he was lucky, no blessed, that she would supply to him what he needed. So, let him be angry. The stray dog was always angry until it learned who the true master was. Then it became obedient and submissive. Amabella would break him with his addiction to turn him loyal to her. Amabella laughed. How sweet it was to hear him speak like that. “You’re welcome.” She purred. “What is your poison?” Of course she held everything he could ever want.

Jackson: He couldn't look at her too long, his eyes drifting down to avoid her mocking gaze even with the finger pulling his chin up. The laugh from her lips made him want to curse, but instead he stays still, on his knees like an animal. Hell it'd be one thing if she was a mistress, who held real power in this place, but he'd been dwindled down to begging someone else that had a damned collar around their neck, and it all left a sour taste in his mouth. "Heroin." He says, his voice gruff and quiet because this was it, this was his downfall and there was no turning back. He'd tried so many times to get clean, but they never seemed to stick, and he had no hope in hell in a place like this.

Amabella: She laughed. How delightful! He truly thought avoiding her gaze would make this all go away? No, he belonged to her now. He may hate her now but she would get his loyalty in the future. The collar surely meant nothing. Amabella was able to procure power from him. She was above Jackson. “Heroin.” Amabella repeated and nodded. Yes, she could easily procure that for him. “Oui, I can sell you heroin. Of course, my price is very steep. I am not interested in money. Tell me, what can you offer me?”She had demands in mind but would you with him first and hear his ideas.

Jackson: Jackson wasn't sure if he was more disgusted by Amabella or himself at this point, eyes focusing on a spot on the floor while she mulled it all over, of course taking the time to make him squirm. His jaw was clenched, biting back his smart tongue that would threaten to ruin all of this. He glances back up, brows furrowing, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "What do you want?" He says, a pained look on his face. "If you don't want money, what is there? Sex? Someone to boss around? What do you want?" He says, forcing himself to keep his voice from coming out angry or sarcastic.

Amabella: How delightful it was to watch him squirm! She leaned back and smirked at her prey. Yes, he was angry but it was of no bother to her. His jaw clench betrayed him. It was such a simple way to bite back ugly words. However, he was proving to be learning. He was smart enough to know that if he disrespected her again she would make him pay and further delay his drugs. “Non, I asked you what you can offer. I can obtain money from others. Sex as well. Though perhaps some day I would not mind sleeping with you once more. You were quite spirited.” She giggled. “I know what I want. However, what can you offer?”

jackson: Jackson focuses on his breath, looking at her with eyes that are filled with anger, distress and desperation. "I don't have anything. Nothing of value." He says furrowing his brows a little more. "It's just me, that's all I've got." He says, hands rising and falling quickly with a shrug, because he never really thought of himself as someone that had all that much to offer. "I can do whatever you want, okay? Is that what you want? You can boss me around and shit, you can feel like big slave on campus."

Amabella: Amabella was not distressed by the anger in his gaze. Why should she be? She was the one in control who held all the power over him. If he desired his drugs then he would continue to crawl to her. She smirked. Oh, he was sometimes so delightfully foolish at times. Did he not see that it was him that she wanted? Her smile faltered for one fleeting moment. “Remember to respect me. If you do not, I will deny you your drugs.” Amabella did not like his tone as he described her the big slave on campus. “You will serve me in some manners, though. I do need someone to gather information for me. Anything else I ask of you of course.”

Jackson: Jackson nods a little, because what else could he do? He was at her mercy if he wanted what he needed, and fuck, after everything that had happened lately, and the fact that the small amount he had been able to steal from Noah was leaving his system, he knew he needed it. "I'm sorry." He blinks down, knowing he needs to get his anger and his rage in check. He wasn't much of an actor, his fury always shining through at the worst of times, but this was different, and he knew he'd have to behave, even if it was reluctantly. "What kind of information?" He asks, working to keep his tone even and calm.

Amabella: It was so dearly satisfying to see him silent for once! Truly, it proved that any dog could be trained no matter how angry it was. She smirked and saw the desperation take over in order to promote his good behavior. It would be rewarded and then that would only cement in his mind that he would be rewarded when he pleased her. “Good boy.” Amabella purred. She reached for her phone to tell one of the drug deals under her to bring heroin to her cell. He would be here in a few minutes he was not far. “Your heroin is on the way.” She informed Jackson. How delightful this whole arrangement was now! “Whatever I desire to know on whoever I want. I know the power of good information. You will be at my beck and call to do any errand I want. Of course you will be discreet about this whole affair.”

Jackson: He could have screamed with the way that she called him a good boy, like were a dog or something. He half expected her to pat his head like one too. Though when she speaks next his heart lurches slightly fingers curling against his legs as he keeps his gaze low. “Okay.” He says with a curt nod, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. So far it wasn’t too bad. Sure his pride was hurt and he’d have to get over that, but it wasn’t too bad. “Anything else?” He blinks, his gaze not wavering from the spot where he stares on the floor.

Amabella: In time he would accept his place below her. Amabella would train him to be a good little minion for her. How wonderful it was to see the way he reacted to the drugs. Surely it was like one of Pavlov’s dogs. She smirked and leaned back to further survey him. “Do you fully understand that you will not tell anyone of anything you do for me?” He did seem dense at times so she had to make sure. There was a knock on the bar and she glanced up. Ah, there was the dealer. He looked at Jackson kneeling before Amabella and chuckled. “Good luck kid.” He already knew how dangerous Amabella was. Handing her the heroin he then left. She twirled the package in her hands. “Is this what you crave?”

Jackson: It was painful, mentally, to kneel there like an actual slave, especially to someone that had a collar around her neck just like him. He swallows, eyes focused ahead of him, doing everything in his power to keep his cool. "I understand." The words lack his usual punch, his heart rate a little quickened in anticipation of what he knows is on the way. He jumped slightly at the way the knock sounds against the cool metal of the cell bar, eyes shifting from their spot to stare back at the man who walked in. His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring slightly, tongue ready to spit venom, but he keeps his lips shut. Eyes flicker to the small baggy that's handed over to Amabella, fingers curling at his sides, wanting to reach out and grab. And sure, maybe he'd be able to grab it, run, and get away with it this time, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he'd need more, and more, and more. He looks up to Amabella, eyes locking on the bag in between her fingers. "Yes." He breathes, feeling the sweat prickle at the back of his neck. "Please." He manages to spit out because, now, with it in his sights, it is the only thing he can think about, and he needs it.

Amabella: If he was truly upset about kneeling to her he truly needed to understand that Amabella Dufour was no slave. The collar may adorn her neck but that was simply where it ended. She was no weak slave below anyone. Amabella smirked. How pleasant it was to see him like this! As the heroin was delivered she could do nothing but chuckle at his response. It seemed the dealer truly understood Amabella and saw nothing amiss with Jackson kneeling before her. She thanked him and dismissed him as her prey became her focus once more. “You may have it then.” Amabella smirked and held it before him. “I would like information about a certain guard named Ale. What is his schedule everyday. Who does he often talk to. You will report back to me each day.” Amabella dropped the baggy in front of Jackson with a smirk. He belonged to her now.

Jackson: Jackson keeps his eyes low as the other man leaves, and he could have sworn he heard snickering under the other's breath, and it made him want to turn around and pummel the guy into the ground. But it was neither the time nor the place, and his eye focus on the baggy of what he really wanted. Eyes widen when the bag is held out to him, and he hesitates for a moment, because this was just another step in the path he was on, and he was quickly realizing that there was no turning back. "Fine. Okay." He says quickly, nodding, fingers reaching out and snatching the bag before she could decide otherwise as it was dropped onto the floor in front of him. "Is that all? Can I go?" He asks, because his skin is crawling for various reasons and he wanted to be far away from Amabella.

Amabella: If Jackson made trouble for her or any of the people who worked for Marco, he would find himself in trouble. Amabella would be sure of it. Jackson was her minion, her stray dog now. He looked so terribly desperate as she dangled the heroin in front of him. Truly she wanted to laugh! What a treat this was to see him act truly like a begging dog. “Good boy.” She smirked. Amabella leaned back once more. “If you get caught and you ever utter that I supplied you or you were gathering information for me, I will cut you off. I will make sure no one ever sells to you again. You will not approach anyone in my organization for another fix. They are aware that only I will supply you.” She smirked. “You may leave. Say thank you for what I have provided you. I did so enjoy our last tryst. I would so enjoy another go with you. The next time you feel the need to engage in hate sex, you do know where to find me.” She smirked at him and allowed him to go.

Jackson: The good boy was something that almost made him snap. He wasn't a dog, or a child, and yet, here she was treating him as such. "I won't." He grimaces, knowing that right now, she was quite literally his only option, and he hated that with every fibre of his being. He grits his teeth again, the baggy clasped between his fingers tightly, as if she could reach out and grab it away at any second. He knew it wouldn't last forever, and he'd have to return to her again and knowing him, he'd be even more desperate than this time, with how quickly he was slipping. "Thank you." He says, keeping his gaze down because he couldn't bare to see the smugness in her eyes. Appreciation given, no matter how begrudgingly, Jackson pushes himself up to his feet, face flickering with annoyance, because in this moment, sleeping with Amabella again sounded like the worst thing in the world. He gives her no more words as he quickly turns and leaves without looking back, his hands shoving into his pockets as he huffs off to find somewhere more private.