#i am of course always ready to educate people about why we can’t wipe out any one species

[shouldbepersephone]

goodness gracious i hate talking to people who think that nature is some small part of life. like you can just tell that 90% of the pile of shit aspic they call a brain is occupied with things only humans do and experience. like did you actually know that humans are animals that fit into the ecosystems they exist in? and aren’t a separate entity from all other life we know of?

there is no man vs. nature. bugs aren’t evil. we should not have the power to wipe out a species just cuz it’s annoying. eating animals is not morally wrong, even though it is morally difficult. can you guys get a fucking grip and realize that we belong to the earth just like our other life forms.

this is brought to you by the disgusting amount of people who look down on me for defending mosquitoes. and hating lawns. like i’m sooo radical because i understand numerically and logically that bugs and other animals and plants and fungi will always outnumber us and deserve a place on this planet, not because humans decided it but because nature decided it by creating them.

nature is not a hobby, or an interest. it is everything that exists. it surrounds us. don’t get me wrong i love video games but like people who aren’t on the level of consciousness where they realize how truly narrow our modern way of living is are like, the enemy and so painfully boring.

[iceeckos12]

A time travel au. angst and h/c. inspired by this post

Warnings: jon’s very low self-esteem

“What do you think of him?” Jon suddenly asks, staring blankly at the wall of the breakroom.

Tim pauses in the middle of chewing his sandwich to give him a long, considering look.

He’s mostly decided to suspend his disbelief until further notice, simply to keep from losing his mind. What else is one supposed to do when future versions of Jon and Martin, who are also apparently dating, tell you that your workplace is currently involved in a plot to end the world? Ideally he would’ve processed one big revelation at a time, but apparently they don’t have time for that, so goodbye grip on reality, it was nice knowing you. I’ll hit the restart button as soon as things start making sense again.

Tim wipes his hand across his mouth, swallows, and asks, “You mean Jon II?”

Jon rolls his eyes, like Tim’s being obtuse on purpose just to annoy him. “Yes, I mean...him. Me. Jon II.” Then his nose wrinkles amusingly, the same way it always does whenever he says the moniker. He’s hated it since the beginning, but it was a battle he quickly lost, what with all three of his assistants opposing him.

Normally, Tim wouldn’t have thought twice about shrugging and answering, but...Jon’s been uncharacteristically quiet lately. Oh sure, he’d blushed up a storm upon learning that his future self and Martin were dating, and he’d expressed his own misgivings at the beginning, but...since then he’s been eerily, silently watchful. In Tim’s experience, when presented with this sort of puzzle Jon generally buries himself in research, and doesn’t emerge until he’s good and ready to do so.

There’s something else on his mind.

So Tim puts down his sandwich and gives himself a moment to think carefully through his response. “I mean...he’s a lot like you, obviously. But he seems…” What’s a polite way to say, the trauma and the boyfriend seems to have made him a little more easygoing? He certainly smiles more freely than he ever has, which...honestly, makes Tim want to cry sometimes. How horrible, that so much abject cruelty had just made him more kind. “...tired. A little less high-strung?”

“I see,” Jon says, turning his mulish gaze to his curry, dragging his spoon through the thick sauce.

Tim waits a beat longer, but when nothing else seems forthcoming he prompts, “Why do you ask?”

Jon’s reaction is only to press his lips into a thin, tight line. Tim knows this mood; he’s weighing how insecure he’ll look if he says whatever’s actually bothering him out loud, versus how much he wants someone else to hear it. Pushing him now will only make him clam up, so Tim just waits.

Tim’s patience is rewarded when Jon blurts, “But you like him. You...you all do.”

“Yes,” Tim says slowly, because it’s true. Martin’s so enamoured with a Jon that actually likes him that he keeps bringing him tea just to get another glimpse of that gentle, thankful smile, just to strike up another conversation about nothing. Sasha has decided that he’s the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to her, and insists on consulting him whenever she reads a new true statement.

Tim’s personally a little unnerved by the awful, sad way future Jon looks at him sometimes, or the way he flinches back whenever someone tries to touch him without warning. But he’d taken Tim aside and quietly explained everything he knew about what happened to Danny, so.

Oh, Tim thinks, feeling like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Jon may be an old hand at fooling others with his grumpy persona, but Tim knows that he’s just using it to hide his massive inferiority complex. “Wait, are you jealous?”

Jon ducks his head, and his ears darken. Gotcha, Tim thinks. 

“Jon, you know that that’s still you, right?” he explains gently, quietly relieved that it’s not something more complicated. “We like him just as much as we like you, because you’re the same person.”

“But he’s not the same, is he?” Jon protests. “Look at the scars on his neck, on his hand. And he has panic attacks, and he flinches at loud noises, and, and—”

He breaks off, biting down hard on his lip, threading a hand through his hair.

Tim stares at him, feeling off-kilter, like he missed a step coming down the stairs. That doesn’t sound like jealousy. “...Jon?”

Jon shakes his head, his breath escaping him in thready, devastated gasps.

He can’t tell what’s going on in Jon’s head, and it’s starting to scare him. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Jon just sits there for a moment long, tugging at his hair, staring sightlessly at the middle distance. Tim gently untangles his fingers, giving him something a little more solid to hold onto.

“You all like him,” he says at last. “You all...he’s so kind, and he’s funny, and you like him, because someone hurt him first. He’s different—we’re different—because someone cut our throat and burned our hand, and you like him better.”

Tim’s horrified. “Jon—”

“Should I accept that?” he continues, the words flooding from him like a dam finally exploding in a shower of groaning wood and weathered stone. “Do I—how do I carry on knowing that I could be the person I want to become, if only I give myself to monstrosity, if only I let myself be hurt like that?”

“Of course we’re not going to let that happen to you!” Tim interrupts, voice higher and more frightened than he meant it to be. He’s applying duct tape to a raging river. He has no fucking idea how to fix this. “You don’t deserve—”

“Don’t I?” Jon demands, whirling on him, eyes flashing. “Don’t I deserve to be happy? Or am I unworthy of even this kind of improvement? Am I doomed to be like this forever?” Tears well in his eyes, spill over. “Don’t I deserve it?”

And then he slowly, inevitably, dissolves into tears, his slim shoulders shaking as he curls over and buries his face in his elbow. Tim drapes an arm across his back, angling his body so he can gently tuck Jon’s head against his shoulder. He doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do. Even if Jon were in any shape to hear it, he has no idea how to fix this.

Tim could tell him that he and Martin and Sasha all think that he’s fine the way he is, and it’s the stress of an apparently eldritch job that’s causing him to push people away, but he doubts Jon would believe it. Words mean nothing when actions have been screaming something entirely different all this time, and Jon’s always been more observant than they give him credit for.

“Oh, Jon,” he whispers when the tears finally start to slow, dropping a kiss onto silver and black hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you felt that way.”

Jon pulls away and shrugs, averting his reddened eyes. Tim squeezes his elbow to prevent him from retreating entirely. They sit like that for a moment, Jon going very still and very tense under Tim’s hand, settling into the vulnerability like an open wound.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says finally, sniffing heavily. He’s aiming for his usual brusque, dry tone, but his voice is shaking, and he’s not fooling anyone. “That was unprofessional of me.”

Before Tim can stop himself, an incredulous laugh rips out of him. “Jon,” he says quickly, “We’re well beyond professional. You know that, right? You don’t have to hide from me.”

Jon flushes. “Yes, well—it was unfair for me to put this on you, as your fr—as…” His expression goes all fragile and uncertain, and Tim’s heart aches.

“It’s not unfair,” Tim corrects gently. “As your friend,” and here he pauses for emphasis, “I want to know when you’re feeling like this.”

“Oh,” Jon murmurs, then straightens and scrubs the teartracks from his cheeks. “Oh.”

Tim nods reassuringly, takes a deep breath, and makes an educated guess. “I know you’re scared, Jon. We all are. This place is...horrible, and seeing what you went through is...terrifying. I can’t imagine how that must be for you.” He lets his eyes flicker up. Jon’s still watching him, rapt, and good, good. I haven’t lost him. “I won’t deny that he’s getting along with Sasha and Martin quite well, but...but that’s not because of what he—you—went through. It’s because….right now, you’re pushing people away because you’re scared, but he’s already done that. He knows that pushing people away just means you end up alone. It doesn’t mean he’s a better person, just that he’s a little wiser.”

“But how can you be sure?” Jon asks, leaning forward, eyes big and desperate.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have become your friend if I didn’t like you,” Tim admits unashamedly.

His bold honesty is rewarded by Jon flushing and ducking his head.

“But even so,” he continues, sobering, “Even if you were the worst person on the planet—and you’re not—you wouldn’t deserve to be hurt like that, no matter what the outcome. Does that make sense?”

Jon looks thoughtful as he says, “I—yes. Yes, that makes sense.”

He can tell though, that Jon doesn’t quite believe him. That’s okay—honestly, it’s what he was expecting. Tim’s been running headfirst into the wall that is Jon’s terrible self-esteem for as long as they’ve been friends. This problem is going to take more than one half-assed pep talk.

That’s okay, though. Jon’s worth the effort.

[urimaginespimp]

How You Get The Girl (This Love Final Part)

Bucky x Reader (elemental witch)

Set on TFATWS last episode

Note: Thank you to everyone that's tuned in, gave feedbacks, and liked/reblogged. I had to so much fun writing these! After this I’ll be working on oneshots completely unrelated to this story of several prompts.

We got a new Cap!

Previous Part: Untouchable

Marvel Masterlist

--------

“I’m serious, Shuri. I am over him.” you groaned as Shuri won’t wipe off the smug, disbelieving look on her face.

“Sure, Jan.” She replied getting up to continue on what’s she’s working on.

“Hey, I know that reference!”

“I’m just saying... Seven years of pinning over the guy – which five of it was when he was practically dead, by the way – and you’re telling me it took one confrontation for you to get over him.” She shrugged.

Some of the Dora Milaje were also in the lab, and you haven’t been vocal about it, but you didn’t miss the knowing looks they’ve been exchanging every time Bucky was brought in the conversation.

“Well, it would really be nice if you’re being supportive right now.” you sulked in your seat. Yeah, who were you kidding. Maybe you’re not completely, completely over him, but now you’re sorting to the fake it ‘til you make it method and so far, you’re doing well.

“Okay, fine. Want me to set you up with someone? My brother has some contacts around the world and I think with some buttering up he’d consider setting you up to bachelor royalties.” She wiggled her brows at you.

“May I suggest the Prince of Brunei? The internet says he’s looking for a wife.” One of the ladies snickered, making the others hum in approval.

“T’Challa knows him?” this piqued your interest. “He’s pretty hot.”

“Well make up your mind. It’ll take me a few business days of persuading my brother.” She raised her brows at you.

“It wouldn’t hurt to start dating. I’ll think about it first.” you muttered, missing how Shuri winked at the other ladies in the room. Ayo had told her in private about Bucky’s little confession to Zemo, and the princess has a few tricks up her sleeve to speed up the matchmaking process.

“I’m only staying for a few days more. It’s been a few weeks and Val’s been complaining from lack of sleep.” She’s been taking over your nightly escapades, and it’s starting to irritate her to be surrounded with so much booze but not being able to indulge.

Just then, Okoye enters the lab. “Check the news. There’s a live coverage of a hostage in New York. Sam and White Wolf are on it.”

--------

Bucky was looking over proudly as Sam was talking to the Senator.

Seeing Sam now walking over to him, he straightened up and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I uh was texting and all I heard was um a black guy in stars and stripes.”

They both chuckled, now walking side by side. “Nice job, Cap.”

“Thanks.”

--------

He’s done it. He told Yori the truth. Though now that might have been the end of their friendship, he knew the old man deserves the closure for his son.

Now back in his apartment, he took the notebook Steve once owned from his pocket, and opened it to the page where his list is. Looking over it, he saw that the only name left uncrossed is yours.

Just then, his phone pinged twice. One message was from Sam, and the other one from Shuri.

Sam’s read:

I wasn’t kidding when I told you

back on the boat that I’d get the

younger ones here to give you a

crash course on romance.

Check your email.

He rolled his eyes and opened the one from Shuri.

Y/N’s explained everything to us.

We saw you save those people,

White Wolf. Wakand is proud of you.

Brother says you’re welcome to

visit anytime. Take care!

p.s.

It’s good to know Y/N and you are

are on good terms. It finally allowed me

to set her up with one of the princes

mother’s been pestering me about. One less

off of mother’s list for me.

“Damn it, Shuri.” he groaned, reading the last part over and over again. He had to move fast. Heading over to his email, he opened the one from Sam.

The subject says:

21st century romance for reformed dummies.

There was an attached 60-second video. Clicking on it, he chuckled when Sam’s voice started booming behind the camera, where it showed two young girls and one boy, all around below 10 years of age.

“Okay, I gathered you here today because a cyborg friend of mine is need of help. I already filled you in the details necessary earlier, and all you have to do now is give him quick tips. Remember, talk slow.”

The boy on the middle spoke up. “Is she an avenger?”

“Not important, but yes. It’s the one with similar powers to an avatar.” Sam answered, followed by the two girls saying they know which one, and the boy to mutter ‘damn it I always had a crush on her...’

“Okay the first step would obviously be to say sorry.” the girl on the right said directly to the camera.

“Oh! Extra points if you do it standing like a ghost outside her door and it’s about to rain.” the other girl from the left perked up.

“I said he’s a cyborg, not a weatherman.” Sam commented, still behind the camera.

“Say you were afraid to tell her what you want.” the first girl spoke again.

“Six months is a long time to be afraid, man.” the boy in the middle spoke up this time.

“Try years.” Sam muttered.

“Then you say you want her for worse or for better!” The cheery girl exclaimed once again.

“You’ve been playing too many fake weddings, but yes, that could work.” Sam told her, making her beam, showing a missing tooth.

“Tell her you could wait forever and ever.” the boy added.

“I mean he’s already old enough to be your great grandpa but go on I guess.” Sam was snickering, causing the camera to slightly shake.

“Remind her of how it used to be. That is if he was good to her.” the more mature girl was pointing out. “Saying you’ll put her heart back together could also work.” she smiled, and the other one fake swooned on where she was standing.

“She’s right!” she exclaimed, while boy nods and says “that’s how it works.” at the same time.

Now turning the camera, Sam was now in frame.

“And that’s how you get the girl, Barnes. Straight from the local’s experts. Don’t fuck it up.”

And three voices scolded him for saying a bad word as the clip ends.

--------

It didn’t take long for him to take a flight straight to Norway where New Asgard was. This time without the aid of Zemo’s jet, he had to find the means to travel from the airport, while trying to calm his nerves.

As if the universe was on his side, a couple claiming to be heading back to Asgard allowed him to hitch a ride with them.

Now on the backseat, he tried to make small talk.

“So, uh, how are you guys settling in the planet?” he asked.

The lady on the passenger seat turned to face him with a smile. “It wasn’t easy, really. But the princess went out of her way to educate us about life here on Midgard. She’s so good at it, you’d forget she hasn’t even been living here a decade.”

He smiled. They claim you as their princess despite only being adopted by Thor. He recalls how you once rambled about being scared that they’d be indifferent towards you once Thor brings you to Asgard, one of the reasons you’ve been making up excuses to go with him.

“Why, would you look at that. We’re just in time before it starts raining.” The man driving commented.

Peeking through the window, sure enough, the sky was getting darker.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” he muttered. He might just take the little girl’s advice after all.

After getting out of the couple’s car, he ran straight to where he remembers your home was, just in time when Val just got out of your house.

“Hi. I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Bucky.” He greeted extending his ahand to her which she took. A skeptical look on her face.

“Call me Val. I’m sorry what are you doing here?”

“I need to speak to Y/N, please.” He answered truthfully.

“Well it’s about night time so she’s getting dolled up.” She answered

“I know, I know, it’s for her date. But that’s why I’m here.”

Val raised a brow, confused about what date he was getting all bummed about when you were only getting ready to go back to looking out for people out and about at night. But then it dawned to her that maybe this was some of your friend’s doing.

“Y-yes... the date.” She decided to play along, holding back a smirk. Just then, rain started slowly pouring, along with thunder. “Well shit, I have to help some folks get their kids back inside their homes now. You’re free to knock on her door.” She excused herself.

His own clothes were starting to get drenched when he finally knocked on your door.

No answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Now footsteps were heard coming to the door, and the knob turned as you opened it.

“Damn it, Val, the door’s not even lo-” You stopped talking, surprised at the figure that greeted you.

“Bucky... are you insane? Don’t just stand there, come in it’s raining hard.” he urged him to get in and closed the door behind you.

Facing each other, he was taking you in. Val wasn’t lying when she said you were getting ready for your date. He can’t believe he was already getting jealous of a faceless punk.

“So uh... what brings you here?” You decided to break the ice, fidgeting where you stood, still barefoot as it looked like you were gonna have to stay at home if it was going to rain this hard all night.

“Don’t go on the date.” he pleaded, confusing you.

“What?”

“Please don’t go on the date.” He repeated, now walking towards you.

There is no date, but now you were wondering why he’s telling you not to.

“Why?”

“I love you.” he answered without missing a beat, now stepping closer to you. Instead of the reaction he was hoping for, you scoffed and took a step back.

“Don’t pull a Laurie on me.” you replied, a frown etched on your face. He was confused.

“A Laurie?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen enough adaptations of Little Women to know that you’re pulling a Laurie on me.” You spat as a matter of fact. “You’re being really mean, stop it.” you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“What? I- I haven’t even thought of that reference!” he defends himself, cheeks reddening from embarrassment. “Amy was gonna get married, Y/N.”

“Oh then by all means, feel free to come back just after he proposes.”

“W- We’re getting sidetracked here, doll. I came here hoping there still an ounce of you that loves me. Please don’t tell me you’ve completely moved on from me.”

“What, like it’s hard?” you replied. It surprised you when his brows shot up from recognition of that line.

“Now you’re pulling an Elle Woods on me!” he pointed at you in an accusatory manner.

“Don’t point that finger at me, Barnes. How was I even supposed to know you’ve seen that movie?” you rolled your eyes, walking past him.

“I watched all the movies you told me about back in Wakanda.” he spoke up, making you stop in your tracks to face him again.

“Yeah, that’s right. I watched every movie, I listened to every song, read every book you recommended, and visited every internet site you once said I might like. I was always listening even when I made it seem like I wasn’t.”

You stared at him for a second looking for any indication that he was lying. Recovering from the mild shock, you pursed your lips. “I hope you know the Porn site was a joke. Sam did it to Steve once and I just thought it was hilarious.”

His mouth twitched. Walking over to you once more he stopped when he was only a step away, not breaking eye contact.

“I’m really sorry, Doll. I know it’s bold of me to even ask you, but please give me the chance to make it up to you. And I don’t care if it’s me that has to wait for you this time. Take all the time you need, just please don’t go on that date.”

“Bucky, there was never a date. I have no idea what date you were referring this entire time.” you confessed, making him bring his hands to his face and groan, muttering Damn it, Shuri.

Hearing Shuri’s name, you put two and two together. “Is this about Shuri trying to set me up with a prince?” he nodded as answer. “Well, I did tell her I was gonna think about it.”

He removed his hands away from his face. “Please say no.” He whispered. “I’d tell you what the kids told me what to say if I have to.”

“What kids?”

“Sam got a bunch of kids on video to teach me how to win you back. I’ve already stood under the rain outside your door just like what one of the girls suggested.” Judging from the grin on your face, he was now regretting even mentioning them.

“Well go on, then.” you urged. “Let me see how much you’ve learned.”

“The first time I saw you at the airport, I got so distracted looking at you just casually sitting on top if the ramps while we were preparing to fight. That wink you sent me that day is still engraved in my mind by the way. Then I was so taken back when you bluntly told me you’re attracted to me. I-”

“I don’t think the kids taught you to remind me of my attempts to flirt with you.” You cut him off, embarrassed at the memory. He chuckled at your expression.

“Okay, okay.” he took a deep breath.

“I think I started catching feelings for you the moment they woke me up from my cryosleep and you were there to be the first one to welcome me back. I didn’t think you were still gonna be there like you told me. But you were there, beaming at me like a ray of sunshine. All my years under HYDRA, every time I was woken up, I was only ever treated as an asset. But you welcomed me like I was a friend.” his eyes were starting to get glassy with tears, as he tried not to choke up.

“And then every time you were near, or even when I’d get a whiff of your perfume, I’d start feeling all warm inside and my entire body would be at ease, knowing you were an arm's reach from me. You were the last one I saw as I disintegrated from the blip, and you were the first one I sought out the moment we came back.” he was surprised when you reached forward to wipe away a tear he didn’t even realize had run down his cheek.

“I lied when I said I made a mistake kissing you. It was the first thing I wanted to do the moment I saw you again. But something inside me was always telling me that all I could ever be is someone grateful for your kindness. That it was impossible for the universe to even grant me someone like you after everything I’ve done." He let out a breath before continuing.

"But it was also you, Steve, Sam, and heck – even Zemo– that made me realize that I am worthy of a chance. And I’m sorry it had to take you telling me you were moving on, to have the courage to accept and take the chance that has been long offered to me by the world." He took your hand and gave the back of it a small kiss.

"I love you, Y/N.” Now it was him that had to wipe away your tears away. “Please don’t cry, doll. That wasn’t-”

“Just fucking kiss me already, James.” you laughed, in between sniffles.

He grinned down before you. “You’re my angel with a potty mouth, and I love you.” he whispered, leaning down.

“I love you too."

---------

You and Bucky were out with the Wilsons on their community's afternoon barbeque.

Sarah and you got along with ease, and she was telling you all about their old family business when Bucky hugged you from behind.

"Sorry to interrup, ladies, but I have to show you something Y/N." he said, kissing your cheek.

"Ew, man. I still can't believe your old ass has a girlfriend." Sam commented beside Sarah who was laughing

"You do know I'm older than him, right?" you chuckled.

"I know, but you don't look it." he replied, causing Bucky to flip him off.

Excusing yourself, both of you walked by the docs.

"What's up, old man?" you grinned at him.

"You know what, doll. Most couples would have endearing nicknames for each other."

"I'll call you something sweet once you tell me what that thing you call me when we're alone means."

"What, мое солнце?"

"Yeah, that one! Tell me or else I'll keep calling you ridiculous ones." you threatened, trying not to smile.

"Anyway, мое солнце, I just wanted to show you a text I got from Shuri."

I am yet to have any news that you

manned up and told Y/N you love her,

White Wolf. I was joking before, but now

I really might set her up on a date.

You both chuckled at Shuri's threat.

"I got this." you pulled your phone out of your pocket and dialled her number. You placed it on loud speaker once she picked up.

"Y/N! So nice of you to call."

"Hey, Shuri! Listen..." you feigned seriousness in your voice before releasing a deep breath. "I'm finally over Mr. Smokey eye. I think I'm ready to go on that date now." Bucky was playfully glaring at you for the nickname.

There was dead silence from the other side of the line for a second. "Oh! About that... uh turns out he already has a girlfriend. Planning to propose soon, I heard. Oops!"

"Well that's a bummer. How about the other bachelor royalties your family's friends with? I recently found an article with a list. I can send you one right now. Preferably ones that don't look much like blue-eyed grandpa." you grinned at him as he rolled his eyes. He knows what you were trying to get him to do.

"Uh... turns out my brother isn't that friendly after all." She let out an awkward laugh. "Hasn't Barnes contact you at all?" you could hear the frustration in her voice.

"Oh, that discount prophet, I haven-"

"It means my sun." He finally caved, rolling his eyes.

"What?" you asked him, immidiately forgetting that Shuri was still on.

"WHAT?" she screamed through the phone after a second.

"мое солнце means my sun." he grinned at you.

"Is that Barnes with you?! Hellooo?!!!"

"Talk to you later, princess." you turned off the call when she was about to protest. Facing him again, you stepped closer and put your arms around his shoulders, both of you sharing a grin.

"I love you, мое солнце."

"I love you too, minn stjarna."

"You gonna tell me what that means?"

"You wish."

fin.

--------

@eternalharry @iheartsebandchris @lizzarooni @the-ayo-lit @tanyaherondale @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @eliwinchester-barnes @ebxny27 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @fadingdreamersportsmaker @drama-queen-aa

[babymetaldoll]

The bullies of the future (Matthew Gray Gubler/Reader)

Prompt: Imagine school in 300 years

Word count: 2,8K

Summary: Matthew starts rambling about the future over dinner. How do you think school will be in the future... will there be bullies... will our kids be bullied. All the questions reader has no idea how to answer. 

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader 

Category: Fluff

Warnings: mention of bulling and cursing

Masterlist 

- “I'm just saying, when we have kids, they are going to be homeschooled”- Matthew kept stirring the pot and (Y/N) continued chopping veggies, like what they were talking about was no big deal at all.

Of course, 'cos you and your boyfriend of seven years just happen to talk about your future together every once in... seven years, apparently. And it had to happen casually as you cooked dinner together.

So, (Y/N) took a deep breath and played it cool.

- “Home school? you wanna get our kids tutors?”

- “No, no! god no!”- he made a pause and analyzed the idea- “Well, maybe... I don't trust my math, but I was thinking maybe we could both be in charge of their education.”

Matthew was talking about it like it wasn't a big deal. It was: "Which topping do you want on your pizza today, by the way, let's have kids and homeschool them together!". No biggie, right?

- “Other than the fact we were both bullied in school, why do you want to keep them in our little house bubble all day?”- (Y/N) made her best to sound as casual and cool as possible, though she was freaking out inside.

- “'Cos school sucks”- Matthew simply replied, and both of them fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

- “I wonder what school will like in 300 years”- Gubler was thinking out loud, and (Y/N) found herself staring at the ceiling analyzing the idea.

- “I bet it will still suck”- she added and heard him chuckle.

- “And of course, aliens will be the teachers”- he stated and nodded at his own words- “Maybe they can "ET" us, and put all the knowledge inside our brain just with a finger on our forehead.”

- “So you wanna be fingered by an alien in school?”- (Y/N) looked at her boyfriend and frowned pretending to be confused, but making her best not to laugh. He, on the other hand, was laughing so hard she was sure the whole neighborhood could listen.

- “When you put it in those words... I don't know... maybe if they are hot aliens...”

- “I hope they are cool aliens, not the ones who always try to blow up Earth, or end with humankind”

Gubler stared at his girlfriend, she was taking the dough she had already made and had to rest, and started getting ready to prepare their pizza.

- “Is the salsa ready, Gub?”- he nodded and turned off the stove.

- “Do you think there will be bullies in school 300 years in the future?”- the tone of his voice was a little more serious, (Y/N) noticed it right away. Maybe that's where all the homeschooling idea was coming from.

- “It's more likely, people are and will be assholes forever, why?”- he shrugged and moved to the kitchen island, holding the pot with the tomato sauce he had prepared (it was his own personal recipe, and he was proud of it. It might or may not be taken from (Y/N)'s mom, but that was a fight he was never going to quit).

- “Hon, you know you can't keep kids in a bubble just to stop them from being hurt”

- “I know”- he whispered and focused on (Y/N)'s hand kneading the dough. Somehow, cooking with her felt like a place he could hide in.

If he was honest - which he was in his mind, but no as verbally as people might think- he could spend the rest of his life eating everything and anything that she cooked for him. He could gain a hundredth pounds, and he wouldn't care, he loved her home cooking, 'cos it was in fact, his home.

They had been seven years together, and he was now all of a sudden talking about kids. He didn't understand where that thought was coming from, but he knew he was sure she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It wasn't something he had to think about, it was something he felt on the inside every morning when she was the first thing he saw, as soon as he opened his eyes.

- “Wanna talk about what this is really about?”- her words took him from his thoughts, but he shook his head in silence- “Then pick a movie, I'll put the pizza in the oven and we'll be ready in twenty minutes.”

Matthew picked the original Carrie movie for their Saturday lazy date night, and they cuddled on their couch to watch it eating their homemade pizza. They chatted about all their favorite scenes and laughed at the poor special effects, but by the end of it, after an obscene amount of food and a bottle and a half of red wine, Matthew couldn't shake the bully's thoughts away.

- “Would you go all Carrie with your high school bullies if you could?”- his voice was a soft whisper as (Y/N) turned off the tv and the screen went black.

- “I don't think so... I wanted to when I was in school, but I don't think I care so much right now... although who knows what might happen if I get to see one of those assholes again”

The girl turned to her boyfriend, her legs laid on his lap as he sat next to her, covered with the same blanket. He knew he had to admit it, but there was a part of him that kept thinking maybe if he didn't talk about it, it hadn't happened.

- “I bumped into one of my bullies today”- he looked down at his hands, playing with a napkin as he spoke. He didn't want to turn his eyes to her 'cos he knew she would be scared and concerned. Which she was. She couldn't believe something like that had actually happened.

Matthew openly talked about his bullying experience in school in a positive and inspiring way, to help people under the same kind of situation face it and overcome it. But he never let anyone close enough to his trauma so they could understand how bad things had been for him. And it had been bad. The fact no one could call him "Matt", though it was the "go-to" nickname for Matthew was just the tip of that iceberg.

(Y/N) knew most of it after all that time, that's why it shocked her to know her boyfriend had bumped into someone from that dark era of his life.

- “Who?”

- “Chris Sanders...”- Gubler wished he could forget that name, but it was not possible. He didn't have an eidetic memory like his character Reid, but the trauma of years of bullying wasn't easy to erase.

- “Where?”

- “At a coffee shop this morning when I was out getting groceries... it was weird”

- “I bet it was”- (Y/N) moved closer to her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheeks several times- “Do you want me to kill him? ask me to kill for you, Gubler, please do”

She joked and managed to make him chuckle. But it only lasted for a second.

- “I know I have to be the bigger man, but I couldn't”

- “You don't have to be anything, honey”- (Y/N) leaned to him and kissed his cheek a few times. Matthew closed his eyes and sighed, the sensation of her lips against his skin was enough to relax him. But the memories he had buried were too clear in his head now, and there wasn't much he could do to wipe them off.

- “He put me in a fucking locker every day for a whole year”- Gubler closed his eyes tighter and held his breath for a few seconds.

- “Son of a bitch!”- just thought of her boyfriend going through that torture as a kid, hurt (Y/N) deeper than she could explain. She would give anything and everything she had, to travel back in time and kick those mother fucker's bully asses.

- “And today, he approached me like we were long lost friends”- Matthew scoffed- “Can you believe that? he walked to me and hugged me yelling "Matt" like I should be surprised and happy to bump into him!”

- “That asshole! and what did you do?”

- “I didn't know what to do, so I panicked and stayed still for a second, and he continued talking and talking about how great he was doing, and how he had seen me on tv, and... I tried to get my coffee and run away, but one thing he said just... made me snap.”

- “What did he say?”- (Y/N) whispered. Matthew sighed and looked down at his hands. Somehow, he felt guilty about what had happened, somehow he felt responsible for being mean to someone who had been cruel to him for years.

- “He said he saw an interview of me thanking every bully for being mean to me, 'cos they made me who I am today...”- Gubler whispered every word, and (Y/N) held his hands, trying to make him feel safe.

- “You did say that, I remember”

- “Yeah, but I was trying to be a positive... he just...”

Matthew was struggling with his words. He was trying to clear his head, but he was so mad, so upset, so... angry with himself for accepting the abuse for so many years, he couldn't think straight.

- “Hey, hey!”- (Y/N) leaned and kissed the tip of his nose- “I'm here, you are home, everything is ok, so come back”- she smiled at him and watched him smile shyly.

- “Yeah... I'm here”- he moved closer to her, and slowly rested his head on her shoulder. (Y/N) instinctively wrapped her arms around his body, and held him close to her, protecting him from his thoughts.

The couple stayed in silence for a few minutes. Matthew didn't want to make a big deal out of the whole thing, but deep down inside, he had bottled up so many feelings, he was having a hard time hiding them from his girlfriend.

- “He said I owe him”- Gubler murmured so quietly, (Y/N) barely heard him. He was hidden in the crook of her neck, trying to focus only on the smell of her skin instead of all the thoughts that kept hunting his mind.

- “What?”- his girlfriend whispered and clenched her fists behind his back. Of all the things she could have imagined that asshole telling her boyfriend, "you owe me" wasn't one of it. It wasn't even in the top 10. "I'm sorry I was a mother fucker with you back in high school" was something he should have said, but "You owe me"? only a real sociopath could make such sick joke.

- “And I... just... snapped”- Gubler bit his lips as he moved and stared at (Y/N), his puppy eyes were so apologetic, it made her feel he was indeed apologizing to her for something bad he had done.

(Y/N)'s hands caressed his cheeks as she smiled at him kindly. Whatever he had done - even it that included beating the shit out of that asshole - she knew he meant no harm. Matthew was a pacific guy, he wouldn't get mad, he would always be nice to everybody, even with people who were annoying or rude.

- “Gub, whatever happened, he totally asked for it”- she reassured him.

- “Yeah...”- but still, he didn't say a word

- “Did you hit him?”- he shook his head and sighed

- “I should have, though”- his voice was a whisper again.

- “Yeah, he deserved it... actually, let's google that asshole, I wanna go and smash his fucking face against a brick wall”- Matthew chuckled and stared at his girlfriend- “I mean it, I want to”

- “Maybe then we can google Jen Bennet, and avenge your shitty high school years as well”

- “So you really want me to go all Carrie on my high school bullies?”- Gubler shrugged smiling, but his response was a bluff and she knew it, he was never going to endorse any kind of violent behavior. Not like she would.

- “I don't want you to do that, never”- Matthew gave her a sweet peck on the lips and rested his forehead against hers. Silence hung between them for a few seconds, until Gubler finally sighed and whispered.

- “I threw my coffee to his face and yelled he was a narcissist son of bitch”

- “And?”- (Y/N) moved, looking into his eyes as she furrowed her brows, not getting the big deal of it- “He deserved it!”

- “Yeah but... maybe I overreacted?”

- “Did you stab him?”- but Gubler shook his head- “You didn't kick his balls, right?”- and he shook his head again- “Then, what's the whole deal?”

- “I burned his face and neck with hot coffee, not to mention the fact I yelled and cursed right onto his face in front of a lot of people”

- “So?”- (Y/N) wasn't getting what was the big deal. Sanders had been a bully to her boyfriend, he deserved worse. He deserved hell, 'cos he had put Matthew through a nightmare. She would hurt everyone who had done anything bad to him if she could. That's how much she loved him. No question asked.

- “So?!”- Matthew was in shock his girlfriend was taking things so calmly.

- “Honey, though I know you are the perfect guy who thinks being nice is better than anything else in the world, I have to burst that bubble for you: sometimes, people are assholes and we have to kick ass, you don't have to be a unicorn all the time.”

- “I'm not a unicorn!!”- he replied looking almost insulted. Matthew turned to the coffee table, poured what was left of their bottle of wine into their glasses and gave one to his girlfriend, who was smiling playfully.

- “Ok... a teddybear then”- she took a sip and sighed. Gubler stared at her biting his lips, probably trying to find something to say, but thoughts were overwhelming at that minute. He felt guilty and honestly bad about how he had reacted. He thought standing up in front of a bully was going to feel better, but apparently, it sucked.

(Y/N) could read on his face all the struggles happening in his mind. Her finger found his hair, and ran slowly through it, knowing it was something that always managed to relax him.

- “I just feel I'm no better than him after what I did”

- “Don't overthink it, Matthew Gray”- he felt her hands tug his hair softly, as a small chuckle left her lips- “You are better than anyone and everyone I know or might know”

- “Are you going to encourage our kids to kick ass?”

- “Yes!”- she answered not giving the idea a second thought- “But only if someone is messing with them”

- “Them?”- Gubler raised an eyebrow and (Y/N) felt her cheeks burning in no time. Had she said too much? no way.

- “You said kids, plural, them, kids, them...”- she poorly explained almost stuttering. The fact they were talking about kids was still too much for her to handle. It scared and excited her at the very same time. It felt like something she wanted to do, and couldn't wait to do, but never knew it until that day.

- “I see... maybe school 300 in the future will have better anti-bullying policies...”

- “We are not having kids in 300 kids, Matthew”- (Y/N) didn't realize what she had gotten into until it was too late- “I mean... I don't think we will be alive in 300 years.”

She made a pause as they stared at each other quietly. Neither of them knew what to say next, so she quickly looked for a way to change the course of the conversation drastically.

- “Anyway, it was a good pizza”

- “Yeah”- he nodded frenetically and blushed.

- “And a great shitty movie”

- “It ain't shitty”

- “The book is better”

- “Nerd”- (Y/N) gasped pretending to be offended and watched how Gubler bit his lips. She still didn't know if he did that on purpose or not, but whatever it was, it had one hell of an effect on her every single time, even after seven years.

- “Finish that wine and follow me upstairs”- her words were a command. 

- “Why?”- he raised an eyebrow knowing exactly what she was talking about.

- “I wanna cheer you up for beating up that bully”- Gubler didn't argue with that at all, he finished what was left in his glass and stood up.

- “Are you always going to cheer me up with crazy dirty sex?”

- “Yes”- she turned to him and frowned- “Is that a bad thing?”

- “Did you hear me complain?”- he grinned- “We could have done it on the couch, you know”

- “You can't tie me to the couch”- (Y/N) teased and curled his lips to a dirty smile.

- “I love you”

- “I know.”

[urbanqhoul]

Coffee For Your Head [Fallout 4- Nick Valentine & John Hancock]

sSOOO

this is is kinda my first attempt at writing short lil fanfiction, I’ve written before for video’s n such but I’m by no means great at it so plz dun stab me I just wanted to write some fluff for my fav ship quq.

This takes place in my prewar AU- aka fallout 4 companions if they existed before the bombs dropped n all that fun stuff

---

“Think ya really need to work on impulse control, kid.” Nick said flatly as he carefully tried to keep John from falling over in his drunken state well they stumbled back home.

“To hell with that...! Those assholes were practically begging for it...” The smaller man grumbled as he almost tripped over his own feet, causing them both to stumble forward before Nick corrected it. 

They’d both had a painfully long week with a particularly bleak case to solve involving a missing spouse. 

It was by no means out of the ordinary but something about this one specifically had stuck with him and he decided to distract his brain from it with a visit to the local pub.

 As always John insisted on tagging along claiming it was “To help him home” afterwards when they both knew full well who was more likely to get passed out drunk. Predictably the night had proceeded with some banter well Hancock sporadically got side tracked by challenging other patrons to drinking games. 

It was during one of these ventures that ended in Hancock roughed up, bruised with a bloody nose followed by getting kicked out of the bar. 

“...You know I’m pretty used to you getting into a tussle or two- But usually it has a reason. Care to tell me why you tried to knock the daylights out of a stranger?” Valentine prompted, raising an eyebrow.

His response was simply an annoyed groan as he wiped blood from his mouth, “Can we just take a fuckin’ bus or something- its too damn cold and I think the cunt fractured my knee…”

Ignoring it then, alright…

“Think they might call the cops if they see you like this, Really don’t need to end the night in the drunk tank with Danse starting us down like a bunch of roaches. Sides we’re almost home.” Nick said tiredly before carefully taking on more of John’s weight to keep him off his bad leg. 

---

“Sign up now and prepare for the futu-”

The television was promptly turned off leaving the only sound in the room, the gentle buzz of the coffee maker, and a snort of irritation from Hancock as he laid flopped over on the couch.

 Nick had just finished tending to his injuries and left him in the kitchen, well he prepared something to combat the inevitable hangover.

“Can’t tell you how sick I am of seeing vault tecs trash everywhere. Like hiding away in a hole in the ground is an amazing alternative and not a slower, more boring death.” He shuffled through the endtable’s drawer before pulling out a thin can of mentats- only to have it promptly snatched away by Nick and replaced with a warm coffee.

“Really looking to just lose every last bit of grey matter you have left tonight aren't you?” The detective chided as he sat next to him, paying no mind to the glare he received before John reluctantly sipped his drink.

After a moment of silence he spoke up again, “...Are you ready to talk about it?”  He asked slowly. “It isn’t like you to pick fights with folks who didn’t earn it.” “He did.”  Came the sharp reply before being cut off by an irritatingly loud slurp as he chugged the rest of the coffee. “Piece of shit- he was talking a load of garbage about you.” John muttered quietly, indignation clear in his tone. “About Winters and...Jen…”

At the mention of his long passed fiance, Nick felt his heart drop into his stomach. A familiar emptiness that came anytime her and the bastard that took her away were brought back to the forefront of his mind. 

John avoided eye contact, gripping the coffee cup with such force it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. “...He went on and on about how you must’ve been so traumatized by everything to have taken up with some street rat druggie. I can deal with that type of shit towards me- it's basically my entire life but using...everything you went through as some petty fucking insult- You don’t deserve that.” 

Nick started to say something before cutting himself off, his half hungover brain trying to process everything he’d said. 

Thanks to the high publicity of the Eddie Winters case, he’d become well known within diamond city. 

Though he took the high road and ignored it, he knew how much people loved to talk about him. About the broken man who’d lost everything trying to catch Winters only for him to get away scot-free. 

It’d been several years since all of this transpired but the moment he was found to be in a relationship with Mayor Mcdonough’s brother- everyone of course started to talk again. 

A stoic old private eye who lost to a crime boss, taking up with a drugged up vigilante was far too ironic for the public to resist. It baffled him how much free time the tabloids had to waste on him, exploiting the tragedy of his past and ‘scandal’ of his present.  

 Hancock had a way of hiding how much things bothered him. Most who were unfamiliar with him would say he was an overly confident arrogant jackass. And well there was a certain truth to that, those who knew him better would find that it was a façade. 

Nick could see it slipping out right now. The brash part of him that was quick to fight a judgmental prick fading away, revealing the hurt man underneath. The part of him that became tough because life didn’t give him any other choice. The part that needed him right now.

Unsure of what to say, Val reached over and pulled him into a tight hug that seemed to have caught him by surprise. 

“...You know I don’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks right?” John tensed up before relaxing in his embrace, nuzzling tiredly into his shoulder. “I know...It's just- Feel like I’m makin’ life harder for you. You’ve already gotten more than your fair share of bullshit from the world.”

“Doll they can talk all they want. I’m lucky to have you, Mayhem n’ all~ ” Nick couldn’t help a faint smile when Hancock’s hold on him tightened followed by a snort as he peeked up. “Ya need to give yourself more credit, you’ve been the best thing to happen to me in a long time…” 

“You’re real fuckin’ cheesy you know that?” John teased planting a soft kiss on his neck, “Do me a favor and take me to bed already, I need to sleep for at least the next year. That asshole was a shit fighter but he did manage to get a few decent bruises in on my legs.” He insisted, letting himself fall over into Nick's arms. “Think you just might be lookin’ for an excuse to not walk a few feet.” With a tired chuckle, Nick lifted Hancock up with what seemed like no effort at all.

“Ya know you’re surprisingly strong for being such an old fuck~” 

“Mm, think it might have more to do with you having the body weight of a starving cat, but that's just an educated guess.. “ 

[petersasteria]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧? - 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

Pairing: Manservant!Haz Osterfield x CEO!Single mom!Reader

HO Masterlist || Ultimate Masterlist || Inspired by the Disney request from a while back

DISCLAIMER: *This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either products or the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After being unsuccessful in getting acting jobs, Harrison looks for a job to pay his bills. You’re a spoiled rich kid who abruptly becomes the CEO of your family’s company after your parents decided to retire early.

Special thanks to @fancyxholland​​ for the banner 🤍

2,323 words

“Haz, what’re you doing?” Tom, Harrison’s best friend asked him. Tom Holland has been best friends with Harrison since they were 15. Both of them were aspiring actors, but they’re both struggling to get the parts that they want. Eventually, Harrison decided to find a real job. Thus, looking through the ad section on the newspaper.

“I’m looking for a job.” He shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal, really. He just wants to help his mum in paying the bills and since his acting career is dormant, he figured it’d be best to pursue something realistic and something quick.

Tom looked at him dumbfounded. He was in shock. Tom never thought Harrison, his best mate, would actually look for a job. “Um.. why? You have an audition to prepare for.” Tom pointed out.

“So?” Harrison said, not looking up from the newspaper.

“So?” Tom mocked and rolled his eyes. “It means you have no time to look for a job. You have to run your lines, memorize them, and internalize. Maybe get into character like a method actor or something, I don’t know! So, you can’t look for a job.”

“Joke’s on you because I just found one!” Harrison smiled and took off the cap of the marker with his teeth. He encircled the ad for working at a restobar as a waiter. He covered the marker again and put it on the table. He stood up from his seat and quickly went to his room to prepare his resume.

Tom quickly followed him and asked, “Aren’t you going to tell me what job you’re planning to apply for?”

“A waiter.” Harrison said simply as he typed away on his laptop.

Tom raised his eyebrows and nodded, “Okay. Well, good luck.”

“You should find a job too, Tom. We’re 20 for fuck’s sake. We’ve been auditioning for roles since we were 15 and nothing seems to be happening. Let’s just get a job, mate.” Harrison sighed in defeat. 

“Fine.” Tom said, crossing his arms. “But let me just get through this audition I have tomorrow and then I’ll look for a job straight after that. I’m starting to go broke anyway and I’ll honestly panic if butterflies come out of my wallet instead of money.”

“Same.” Harrison laughed.

-

Harrison got the job. The restobar was desperate for people, so Harrison convinced Tom to apply there too and Tom got in as well. Now, they’re both working there.

The restobar was always busy and the customers tipped generously. It was great for Harrison and Tom. The restobar was more packed in the evening and during the day, families would have lunch there. The food was delicious and the staff is very accommodating. The restobar only had two floors and at the back, was the outdoor area where people could eat and have a cigarette. It was also there that jamming sessions would happen every night. It was awesome.

It’s late in the afternoon and Harrison was wiping a table clean after clearing the dishes. Tom was currently sitting on the bar stool at the bar counter while watching the news. At this hour, the restobar was low on customers and that gave the whole staff time to relax a bit.

Tom rubbed the drowsiness from his eyes and blinked when he saw the news about you; Y/N Y/L/N. Tom read the headline and his eyes widened. He turned to Charles, the bartender, and said, “Hey mate, could you turn it up a bit? Thank you.”

Charles turned up the volume a little causing all of the staff to pay attention to the news. Harrison, who just finished cleaning the table, was carrying the plastic box they put the plates in when he joined in to watch the news. He stood next to where Tom was sitting as the reporter rambled about you being the newest CEO of Y/L/N Inc.

Tom snorted, “Was it just last week that Y/N was found blackout drunk somewhere?”

“Yeah.” Charles laughed. “One of my mates told me that they saw her smoking weed once.”

Harrison looked at the two of them and shook his head, “That’s not very CEO-like, innit?”

“Sounds like a spoiled rich kid to me.” Jessica, the hostess, said. “If you Google her name, you’ll find endless articles about her lavish vacations and she’s profligate.”

“What does profligate even mean?” Tom asked as he turned to Jessica.

“It means she’s extravagant; she spends her money a lot on useless things.” Chazia explained and Tom nodded, satisfied with the answer.

“She’s filthy rich, though. She recently bought a small house in the Hamptons as a birthday gift for herself.” Elouise chimed in as she scrolled through her phone after Googling Y/N.

“These rich people will never learn, I swear. They think stuff is just handed to them because they’re rich. They’re all the same.” Hritz shook her head in annoyance.

“She’d never marry a poor bloke that’s for sure.” Luke said with a chuckle. “What a shame, though. She’s hot.”

“True.” Charles nodded in agreement.

“I mean, we shouldn’t judge her. What Elouise is seeing on Google right now are assumptions and one side of the story which means everything the tabloids say about her are just the side of the people who make those articles. We don’t know her story. For all we know, she doesn’t want to be a CEO. And while I agree that she’s spoiled, we should keep in mind that she was born into a rich family and she had no choice to be born into that family. With that being said, we should just let her be.” Harrison said before going to the kitchen to drop off the box of dirty plates.

“What’s up with him?” Charles asked Tom.

Tom shrugged and got out of the bar stool to check on Harrison. Tom entered the kitchen just as Harrison was about to go back out in the main area.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked and Harrison nodded. “Then what was all that rant about? Are you secretly Y/N?” He joked causing Harrison to break into a smile and chuckle.

“Nah. If I were Y/N, I wouldn’t be here right now.” Harrison said. “I’m okay, though. I really am. It’s just that I feel kind of bad for her, y’know? Everyone’s always watching her every move and judging her for it. She’s young too; she’s our age! She’s 20 and she’s a CEO already. I personally think that the reason why she’s being so reckless and extravagant is because she knew about her fate. She knew that she’ll be a CEO and that’s why she’s already living her life to the extreme. Because she knows that when she’s a CEO already, she won’t have time for anything else, not even herself.���

“I guess you’re right.” Tom trailed off.

“Of course I am. When was I ever wrong?” Harrison asked.

“When you dated Lea Berry. You were wrong about her.” Tom laughed and Harrison rolled his eyes at the mention of his ex.

“Yeah, fuck off.” Harrison shook his head and left the kitchen as Tom followed while laughing his ass off.

-

Being born into a rich family was definitely a blessing. You were an only child and growing up, you got everything you wanted. As you grew, you realized that it was rather lonely living in a mansion. Your only best friend was your personal maid, Angela and she was as old as your mum. Angela played with you everyday and she took care of you. While your parents loved you very much, they were never really around often. You were like Richie Rich basically. Maybe that’s why you loved that movie so much.

Your education was very… fancy. You studied at an international school for your whole life and you decided that you didn’t want to go to university because you didn’t know what you wanted to do. Your parents supported your decision and because of that, they’ve decided to retire early and leave the company to you. Now, you’re the youngest CEO.

In terms of your love life, you only had flings. Relationships weren’t your thing. In fact, your relationship with your first boyfriend only lasted for two months. After that, you had endless flings here and there. You also do one night stands because it was easy. You kept safe, though. Protection is always important.

Your friends were really nice people. They weren’t snobs and you adored that about them. You loved the fact that you were associated with people like them. They would give to charities often and they would do outreach programs in third world countries. Sometimes, you’d tag along if your parents aren’t dragging you to a boring fancy event.

You and your friends would go to different countries just to get drunk and forget about your rich kid lives. All of you loved running away from what society expected of you. Like every normal person, you loved letting loose. That’s why it pisses you off when people call you out for going out a lot because you’re a normal person like them.

“Y/N, darling, I hope you’re ready to take over.” Your mum told you. She was excited for you to replace your father in the business. She’s been waiting for it ever since you were born. Your father was kind of bittersweet because he wasn’t ready to step down yet, but at the same time he knew he had to let go at some point.

“Just promise me you’ll take care of the business.” You dad smiled sadly. You eagerly nodded and said, “I won’t let you down, dad. I’ll do my best.”

“I trust you, sweetheart.” Your dad hugged you and kissed the top of your head. He pulled away and you bid your parents goodbye. You looked around your dad’s old office as you watched your maids pick up box after box of your dad’s stuff. One maid grabbed the picture frame on your dad’s desk and you were able to catch a glimpse of the photo. It was a family picture.

“You can leave that here.” You told the maid and she put back the photo before packing up the last box and leaving you all alone.

You took a deep breath and sat down on your dad’s chair. You exhaled through your mouth and grabbed the picture frame. It was an old photo of you and your parents. You could remember that day like it was yesterday.

You and your parents were in New York for your dad’s business trip. You were only seven years old and it was your first time abroad. Of course, you didn’t want to stay in the office at all. You wanted to explore. So, you and your mum walked around the city and you arrived at Central Park.

Your mum bought you a hotdog and for some reason that made you really happy. About thirty minutes later, your dad joined both of you. All three of you played tag and somehow your dad ended up giving you a piggyback ride whilst your mum stood beside your dad, throwing her head back in laughter.

A college student who was studying photography was nearby and captured the moment. They approached the three of you and instead of getting angry for taking your picture without permission, your dad bought it from them. Now, that picture stays in his office.

It’s been years and your dad didn’t have the heart to replace the wholesome family picture. To him, he’ll always remember you as his little girl who loved adventure and meeting new people.

You rummaged through the drawers and saw an unopened envelope that had your name on it. You brows furrowed in confusion as you grabbed and opened it.

To my little girl,

The time has come for you to replace me and I can’t believe that time came early. I have to remind myself that you’re not little anymore, but I know you’re still the same girl I raised and darling, I raised you right. Your mother and I raised you right.

I won’t lie… this job is hard and tiring, but I know you’ll be able to push through. You’re strong and smart and tough. I trust that you’ll make the right decisions and I’m confident that our company is in good hands. One day there’ll come a time when you’ll step down and pass it on to your child and I’ll be gone by then. Just know that when the time comes, you did an excellent job.

My father wasn’t there for me when I needed him because he passed on and I had no one because my mother was busy taking care of my younger siblings. What I’m trying to say is that I’m here for you whenever you need me. Call me anytime.

Love, dad

Your heart warmed at your dad’s letter as you put it on top of your desk. You shook off your nerves, got up from your seat and walked out of your office. You stood outside your office and watched the staff as they did their job. You cleared your throat and said, “Excuse me? May I have your attention please?”

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at you. You gave them a nervous smile and said, “Hi everyone! As you may know, my father has decided to retire early. I’m his daughter, Y/N, and I will be replacing him. I’m not like my father and I know all of you loved him, but I’ll do my best and hopefully, we can all get along.”

Everyone just stared at you until one person spoke up, “You have some big shoes to fill in, sweetheart. Big shoes.”

You nodded and coughed awkwardly, “Alright, back to work people.”

This was going to be harder than you thought.

* * * *

After I post this, I’m removing everyone on my taglist and I’m making a new one. It’s 2021 and I gotta renew that shit. New year, new taglist.

𝐇𝐀𝐙 𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @abrielleholland​ @silencetheslaves​ @imeanlifesabitshit​ @joyleenl​ @hjoficrecs​ @blueleatherbag​ @poguesholland​ @harryismysunflower​ @lonikje​ @lizzyosterfield​ @turtoix​ @badreputationlove​ @starlight-starks​ @swiftmind​ @sovereignparker​ @pearce14 @justanamesstuff​ @chewymoustachio​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @hotforharrison​ @euphorichxlland​ @givebuckyhisplumsnow​

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:  @justasmisunderstoodasloki​ @allyz​ @miraclesoflove​ @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​ @drie-the-derp @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen​ @call-me-baby-gir1​ @the-panwitch​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @geminiparkers​ @holland-styles​ @calltothewild​ @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual​ @theonly1outof-a-billion​ @piscesparker​ @unsaidholland​ @musicalkeys​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @hufflepuffprincess24​ @hollanddolanfangirl​ @parkerpeter24​ @bellelittleoff​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @aqiise @lexirv​ @blairscott​ @pearly-pisces​ @u-rrose​ @speedymaximoff​ @theliterarymess​ @beequeen8020  @justafangirlduh​ @sarcasticallywitty15​

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 20

First  -  Previous  -  Next

Been a busy week! I’ll let you know if I need to slow down updates! So how about we visit Virgil, see what’s up with him?

cw: a n g s t, panic attack

~

Virgil couldn't move. Roman had helped him into bed, then sat in the room for a while, trying to talk to him. When Virgil didn't respond, he eventually left, stating that he would be back later.

His world was crashing down around him.

Could he believe that just yesterday, he'd smiled? He'd laughed? Now it was all background noise, mindless buzzing that felt totally inconsequential. There was only one thing that mattered now. Patton.

Therapy had been rough, and Virgil had expected it to be. What he hadn't expected was to go over every meaningful interaction he had with Patton. The doctor had said she was “doing some tests”, so Virgil struggled to keep himself together as he talked about the one person he missed most in the world.

Then, she'd had the audacity—she'd dared to—

Virgil took a deep breath, blood boiling as he remembered that it was she who encouraged these breathing exercises. What if he didn't want to calm down? He deserved to feel, remember, Patton needed him to—

Virgil's legs started quaking, but he paid it no mind. He could not be wrong, admitting he was wrong would be abandoning Patton, he couldn't do that, he wasn't dead, he wasn't gone, he'd always been there and always would.

His breathing quickened, coming in short, shallow breaths. His entire body was shaking, and Virgil nearly puked when he realized he could smell rubbing alcohol. He hadn't had a flashback all week, he'd been doing so well!

As if summoned, there were gentle fingers on his wrist. Calm, the fingers traced. It's okay. I'm here.

“Patton,” Virgil croaked. “I—I knew it, you're here, you're here, I knew it—”

V breathe slow. Safe.

Virgil got his breathing under control after a dozen rounds of exercises. His legs were still quivering, but he knew where he was. He was in his room, in Roman's house, and he was going to be okay, and Patton—

Virgil choked.

His own hand gripped his wrist. His own hand was tracing soothing words.

“She was right,” Virgil whispered. His mind frantically grasped at straws, trying to explain what had just happened, as Virgil felt an overwhelming amount of despair.

“Virgil, you talk a lot about Patton. In every instance you told me about, however, you never hear him. You can't see him. Based on your time alone at the beginning of your imprisonment, it seems unlikely that they would suddenly decide to move you into a room with another person.”

Virgil's body had been completely out of energy, lax and unable to move, but now he was stiff as a board, locked in place. It couldn't be. It couldn't.

“We haven't been able to find out what that book was, based on your description of it.”

No. No no no no no.

“And I've seen you trace words onto yourself, in times when you need comfort. An interesting coping habit, one that might appear when a person is locked in a room with no outside stimulation.”

Virgil sobbed, full on weeping as his body couldn't move. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real.

And that was exactly the problem, wasn't it?

“Virgil, I think Patton may have been a hallucination that your brain fabricated in order to keep you comfort during the year that you were alone. I may be wrong, but everything you've told me about Patton points to it. Virgil, can you be absolutely certain that Patton was real?”

He'd said yes, he'd said that there was no other option. He'd stormed out of the office five minutes later. He'd refused to talk to Roman in the car. He'd gone straight to his room and curled up on top of his blankets.

Patton had to be real, didn't he? He couldn't have made up a person so complex, so loving, so wonderful. And, more realistically, he couldn't have created something so solid it had washed his clothes on days he felt too ill. Unless he'd imagined it. Anything was possible if it came from his head, wasn't it?

One part of him was screaming, begging him to not abandon his best friend. The other part of him was mourning the loss of Patton. Virgil wasn't sure what to do, torn this way. He had to be real. He was real—but was he? Where was the evidence?

The world was crumbling. Virgil choked on his tears, crying for Patton, crying for himself, crying for the loss he'd just suffered. Patton wasn't real, Patton had to be real, Patton couldn't be real.

Roman knocked on the door, asking cautiously if Virgil wanted to come down for dinner. Virgil pretended to not hear him, feigned sleep when Roman opened the door to look in. He buried his eyes in his pillow as he heard the door quietly shut, then Roman's footsteps retreating. He was alone, isolated, and the one person he'd truly loved had probably never even existed.

What was Virgil supposed to do?

-

“Dude, what does it say?”

A long silence. Virgil groaned. Apparently he'd gotten an email as well as a letter, but Roman had insisted on reading it to him. Screen-readers were 'too impersonal' now. It wasn't like he was going to get his information any other way.

“Virgil, I . . . I'm sorry.”

Virgil's heart dropped. Roman sounded lost for words, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence. There was no way whatever the letter said was good news.

“You . . . you got in!”

In a shot of adrenaline, Virgil smacked him. Probably on the arm.

“Ow! That was my face, you heathen!”

Oops.

“Roman! Don't—why—” Virgil could barely speak. He'd gotten in? He was certain he wouldn't get in the first time, let alone twice . He got in!

“It's my job, as your adopted older brother!” Roman said, the false hurt completely gone from his tone. “I have to bully you a bit! You should've seen the look on your face, it was priceless!”

Virgil frowned, his heart still racing. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it a bit. “I'm . . . older than you?”

“Doesn't matter! I am, by proxy, older!”

Virgil snorted. “That makes no sense, dude.”

“Doesn't have to!” Roman proclaimed. Virgil could practically see him doing some dramatic arm thing. “I'm the older brother, and therefore, I don't have to make sense!”

Virgil tilted his head back in an approximation of rolling his eyes. According to Roman, it looked pretty creepy when he actually rolled his eyes, and it stung a little. Still, he would probably roll his eyes once he was around people who weren't Roman's parents.

He was really going back.

He sniffed, his nose burning. It had been so, so long. Had the campus changed? Would he be in a different dorm? Would he and Roman still share, since they were in different grades now?

He knew everything about their accessibility and whatever, about how they would accommodate disabled people. The school had actually reached out to him, informing him that he could finish his degree no problem, they had four or five visually impaired students already and could easily make it possible for him to continue his education. Virgil had been in contact with various foundations in order to work things out with his university, and he'd gotten a few scholarships—not to mention, the handful of scholarships he'd already had had gladly reinstated themselves. In fact, Virgil had pretty much already known that he'd be going back. There'd been very little room to doubt, as his therapist had told him several times.

This was real, though. Right there, in Roman's hands, was proof. He was allowed back, and would see teachers and classmates he hadn't seen in over a year. He was starting spring semester, which was still a few months away—Roman, despite his protests, had also put off starting his junior year until spring semester.

“Virge? Are . . . you okay?”

Virgil sniffed again, wiping his cheek to find a few tears there. “Yeah, I'm fine,” he said, with an attempt at a laugh. “I just . . . didn't think this would ever happen, y'know?”

Roman also laughed, albeit much more nervously. “With the way admissions was basically begging you to come back? Of course it happened!”

Neither of them acknowledged what Virgil really meant.

“So, packing?” Roman said, after several seconds of silence. “I know it's a while away, but is there anything specific you want to bring?”

With a pang, Virgil thought back to his hand-stitched hoodie. Hopefully it was bringing Patton as much comfort as it had always brought him. He'd had it for years, made it in Home Ec in high school. Until recently, he'd never been without it. It was bittersweet, in a way. Sure, it was gone, but it was with Patton. Like . . . like a piece of his heart would always be with Patton.

Virgil shook himself. That's stupid. And cheesy, he told himself. Grow up. Move on. He doesn't exist.

There was an ASL club on campus, one that Virgil planned on becoming a part of. Roman wanted to as well, making up something about having always wanted to learn sign, but Virgil knew it was just protectiveness. Virgil was pretty sure Roman had been about to rearrange his entire schedule so that they could have the same classes, despite the fact that Roman was a year ahead and in a different program of study. After a long evening of Virgil sitting in his room anxiously while Roman talked to his parents in the living room downstairs, Roman had come to the conclusion that it was best for him to continue with his intended major. Virgil was relieved—he was a grown adult, after all. He didn't really want someone trailing after him everywhere, insisting on helping him with every little thing.

Did he?

“Am I ready for this?” he wondered aloud. Roman gripped his shoulder tightly.

“I think so.” The words were soft, but no less powerful than Roman's usual loud tone. “You're so strong, Virgil. You're the strongest person I know.”

Virgil couldn't help but cringe. He knew someone much stronger. Whether that person was real or not was up for debate.

His most recent therapy sessions had involved a lot of tears, but Virgil had agreed to acknowledge that Patton might not exist. In turn, the doctor agreed to not make a formal assessment on Patton for the time being. It was still devastating, of course. It was still as if his entire world was falling apart. But Virgil was finding it easier to smile, more natural to joke with Roman.

He was healing.

Did he want to heal?

Yes, of course Virgil wanted to heal. He wanted to move on. He wanted to lead a normal life, without hurt and flashbacks and hallucinations.

But not without Patton.

There was a fork in the road approaching, Virgil was sure of it. He was going to have to choose between waiting for, hoping for Patton, and moving on. He wasn't sure what would happen when he reached that point.

But it scared him that he would have to make that decision alone.

~

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pencils @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog  @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides

[slowly-writing]

Part of the Family: Part 6

Avengers x Kid!Reader

Part 1   Part 7

Word Count: 2274

a/n: Hey y’all! Here’s part 6! I wanted to let y’all know I have a few pretty important tests this week so I’m not sure how active I’ll be, but I’ll try to still get some stuff out for you guys. Have a great day!

After that day you started hanging out with Peter more at school, you and MJ merging in with him and Ned to form one friend group. You even stayed with Peter and his aunt when the whole team had to go to Sokovia. You had begged them to let you come but they refused. It was too high profile of a mission with too much room for injury. Your parents were still just a little too protective for your liking, so for now you had to watch the news and wait for them to come back.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts as you hear people yelling down the hall.

“Hey! It’s Penis Parker!” Flash yells as Peter walks into school.

You walk up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “hey buddy. Leave him alone, alright?”

You tower over him but Flash doesn’t know how to be intimidated apparently, and he refuses to back down, “why do you hang out with that loser anyway?”

“Because unlike you, he has a personality outside of being a dick. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to be anywhere but here,” you smirk as Flash’s friends laugh and walk back towards MJ.

“Hey, thanks y/n,” Peter says as he and Ned walk over, “I’m trying to keep the whole, uh, internship on the downlow.” You nod, acknowledging that he doesn’t want to say the truth with so many people around.

“I get it. That ship sailed for me a while ago, but you’re a part of the team now. We’ve got each other’s backs. If he keeps bugging you, let me know, yeah?”

Peter nods before walking off to class, you smile after him, he’s kind of turning into the brother you never had. He’s part of the family now, and you always take care of your family.

“You’re a good person, you know that?” MJ asks and you blush.

“It’s uh...the serum. I can’t help it,” you try to brush it off but she grabs your hand looking up at you.

“No it’s not. You and I both know that serum just brings out what’s already inside you. You’re a good person, and that’s all you.” She says and you smile down at her, “now c’mon. Let’s get to class, loser.”

You laugh, “you’re incapable of showing feelings for more than 30 seconds at a time, huh?”

“Shut up, Jr,” she teases and you roll your eyes.

xxxxx

“Thank you for dinner Miss Parker. And thank you again for letting me stay here while my parents are out of town,” you say and Peter’s aunt smiles at you.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me May? And of course, you’re welcome here anytime, y/n.”

“Thank you, May.”

“So what did you say your parents do?” She asks and you look to Peter who shrugs.

“You can tell her if you want.”

“Tell me what?” She asks and you smile.

“They’re, um…they’re Avengers. Black Widow and Captain America. I kinda am too. They had to leave on a mission. Normally I’d stay in the tower with whoever was left, but this was kind of a whole team sort of situation,” you explain and her eyes get wide.

“Wow, I knew I recognized your last name from somewhere. If it was a whole team thing why aren’t you with them?” she says and you smile.

“Yeah I get that a lot. They’re a bit protective. They don’t like to admit that I can help. I’ve been training with them since I was twelve and I think sometimes they still see me as a little kid,” you say with a laugh.

“That makes sense. I don’t know how I’d handle it if Peter was off doing what you do. That’s very admirable of you,” she says and you and Peter exchange a look.

“Um...yeah. Thank you,” you say softly.

xxxxx

“Come on Parker, one more rep!” You encourage Peter as he finishes his workout. You had come to the tower to use the training room. People looked at you funny when you bench pressed hundreds of pounds at the gym.

“Man, I may have the strength, but you definitely have the stamina y/n.” Peter says and you groan.

“Please don’t start that whole strongest Avenger fight right now. It never ends. My dad and I have been arguing about it since before he was my dad,” you say rolling your eyes. MJ laughs from her spot next to you. She’s sitting criss cross on an empty bench reading a book. You’ve long since stopped trying to get her to participate in your workouts but she always comes to keep you company.

“You were raised around way too much testosterone, y/n,” MJ stays and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t I know it. I swear heightened testosterone levels were a requirement to live here. I don’t know how mom and I survived.”

“By being the smartest people here,” your mom says from the door and you grin.

“Hell yeah we are!” You say, running over to hug her. “How was the mission?”

“The mission went fine. It was a tough one but we made it out, we always do,” she says and you smile at her. “Also, don’t let your dad hear you talk like that, he’ll yell ‘language’ at you,” she jokes and you laugh.

“I know he’s from the 40s but he really needs to get with the times.”

“Who needs to get with the times?” Steve walks through the door and you shake your head.

“Oh great, it’s a family affair. Did you guys need something?” You tease, but really you’re glad that they’re both home safe. You always get a little stressed when they’re gone. Your dad puts a hand over his heart.

“Our little girl is all grown up, she doesn’t need us anymore,” your mom says, wiping fake tears from under her eyes.

“They grow up so fast. It feels like just yesterday she was taking her first steps,” your dad joins in and you can hear Peter and MJ laughing behind you.

“You do realize you didn’t meet me until I was twelve, right? Is the old age finally getting to you dad?” You tease and he laughs.

“Very funny. Anyway, we were coming to tell you guys that we’re all home and dinner's almost ready, unless of course you don’t want food,” your dad goes to leave and both you and Peter jump to stop him.

“No!” You yell in unison cause the other three to laugh.

“We just gotta hit the showers real fast, we’ll be down in a minute!” You say and Peter looks at you.

“Race you!” He yells before taking off toward the locker room.

“You’re going down, Parker!” You yell, running after him.

“Miss Romanoff, I really think all that testosterone is getting to her,” MJ says with a laugh and your mom places a hand on her shoulder.

“You’ve got no idea, kid.”

xxxxxxx

“Hey guys!” Clint walks in to dinner a few minutes late, “I come bearing our newest recruit! She helped us out in Sokovia.” He says as a girl with brown hair and a shy smile step out from behind him.

“Hello, everyone. I didn’t really have time to introduce myself in all the chaos. I’m Wanda,” the girl says, with a thick accent.

“What is this, teenager recruitment week? Can MJ join up, too?” You tease and Clint rolls his eyes.

“We’re not making your girlfriend an Avenger because you think it’d be cute.” Tony says and you blush looking away.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you grumble and MJ laughs.

“Only cause you won’t ask me out,” she says with a smirk and your jaw drops .

“Wait, what?” You look at her with wide eyes.

“Y/n, flirt later. Introduce yourself now,” your mom cuts in, snapping you out of your stupor.

“Huh? Oh yeah. Hey Wanda, I’m y/n. I’m the resident teenager around here. This is Peter, he’s on the team with us, and this is my friend MJ.”

“Your potential girlfriend if I heard correctly,” Wanda cuts you off and you glare.

“Yeah she’s gonna fit in fine,” you say rolling your eyes as she laughs. “Anyway! Neither of them live here, but they’re here all the time.  Everyone else stays here and they’re all members of the team. My parents Natasha and Steve, and that is Tony and Bruce. You’ve obviously met Clint.”

“That’s a lot of names,” Wanda laughs nervously and you smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ve had years to get this down. You’ll get there. Are you moving in?” You ask and she nods, “cool! Well, how about you join us for dinner and then Peter, MJ, and I can give you the tour. You three are lucky by the way! I only had all the old guys to show me around. They didn’t tell me that you could play video games on the screens in the lab or about the secret passageway to the roof.”

“Secret what now?”

“Nothing, mom!” You say, avoiding eye contact, causing everyone else to laugh.

xxxxx

“Hey, now that there’s more teenagers here can I drop out of school again?” You ask the next morning at breakfast and your dad laughs.

“Nice try, kid” Tony says and you sigh.

“Again?” Wanda asks and you nod.

“I dropped out when I first got here. I didn’t quite have control of my strength and they were trying this whole joint parenting thing. With 5 parents I could pretty much always convince one of them to give me my way. Then they adopted me and dad went on a power trip and put me back in school,” you tease and your dad rolls his eyes.

“Since when is making sure you get an education a power trip?” Steve asks.

“Since I could’ve been training and making sure I was ready for any danger that could arise.”

“Like wrenches?” Your mom teases as she walks in and you groan.

“When are you gonna let that go? I was a little kid!”

“Wrenches?” Wanda asks and you sigh.

“There was an accident in the lab when I first moved in. Long story short, I was helping Tony and he wasn’t paying enough attention leading to me getting hit in the face with a wrench and needing stitches,” you explain and she tries to hide her laugh.

“They won’t let me live it down,” you groan.

“Are you complaining about the wrench again?” Tony asks and you throw your hands in the air.

“Mom brought it up again. It wasn’t me!”

“Sure, y/n. Whatever you say,” he teases and you roll your eyes.

“You know what? I take it back. I don’t want to drop out. I’m going to school to get away from you crazy people!” You yell, grabbing your bag and heading for the door.

“Wait!” Your dad calls, “Wanda is going to start at your school today. Show her around, okay?”

“Yeah sure, welcome to the American education system kid,” you say leading her out the door.

“It surely can’t be as weird as they say it is, can it?” She asks and you laugh.

“It’s worse, there’s videos of my dad for almost every subject. You’ll hate it, let’s go.”

xxxxxx

“So how do you wanna play this?” You ask as you climb off your dirt bike, since you had turned 16 your mom finally let you drive it to school. Luckily she was a little groggy this morning and didn’t have time to put together that you don’t have a spare helmet. It’s not like you really need one anyway, you always give it to MJ when you sneak out to take her on rides.

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks as you lead her into school.

“Do you want to tell people you’re joining the Avengers? Everyone knows about me, but Peter keeps it a secret,” you explain and she nods.

“They’ll all find out eventually, right?” she says and you nod. “Then we can tell them. It’s okay.”

“It’ll hopefully help you get made fun of less,” you say and her eyes get wide, “Don’t worry. Most of them are scared of me. Stick with me and you’ll be good.”

“Hey, Captain Widow!” Somebody yells as you walk in and you nod in their general direction. That had become your sort of unofficial superhero name, but you kind of enjoyed it.

“Who’s the new kid?” Flash says stepping in front of you.

“This is Wanda, she’s joining the Avengers with me,” you say and he smirks.

“New teenager kick, I like it. Can I join?” he asks and you roll your eyes.

“You have to have some actual talent for that one, now, if you don’t mind, I’m pretty sure being in your presence is killing my brain cells,” you say stepping around him.

“Flash bugging you again?” Peter asks as you walk up and you shrug.

“He just wants to seem cool, he doesn’t do a very good job of it though.”

“You can say that again,” Ned says and you laugh.

“Oh, right! Wanda this is Ned, Ned this is Wanda, she just moved into the tower,” you introduce.

“Nice to meet you!” Ned says and Wanda smiles at him.

“Are you coming over today?” you ask MJ softly and before she can respond Peter cuts in.

“When does she not? She’s there more than I am and I’m on the team!”

“Watch it spiderboy,” you say and he raises his hands in surrender.

Tag list: @rvgrsbrns

Series Tag list: @hannahsairwave

[thatsallotadamage]

An interview with a promising Hero (Fic)

Relationships nonromantic: Aizawa and Toga. Toga and the league

Warnings: small mention of suicide

Description: Toga Himiko has been captured. Nezu has a "Reforming Villians" program set up that would fit Toga perfectly. The only problem is they need to get her to talk about her story but she refuses to speak to anyone, except Aizawa for some reason.

_____

Preface this by saying in this AU Toga hasn't killed anyone. She attacks but leaves them alive, unless of course it's an attacker. )

Aizawa sat in a little room with a two way mirror and a table in front of him. It was an interviewing room, why was he here? Well for Toga Himiko of course, Nezu had a little god complex memory and started a program to reform young villians around the time Toga Himiko was captured. But the issue was the only person she was willing to talk to about her past was Aizawa. So he had to squeeze every bit if information he could from her.

He watched with interest as they brought her in. Just a week ago she was sitting in his Livingroom with a cup of hot chocolate looking just like any other teenage girl. But when they dragged her in she looked bitter and surprisingly scared. Her hands were bound, nails had been clipped and she had a dog muzzle over her mouth. "I can walk myself to the damn chair!" She snarled as she was escorted to her seat across from Aizawa. The guard let out a quick "good luck" before hurrying out and closing the door.

They sat in silence for a few minutes "Toga" he said.

She looked up at him "Don't be that way Shouta! You know you can call me Himiko" she said, her usual smile returning to her face "Now, why'd they muzzle me? You know I'm not going to bite you" she said with a pout "I really don't like being muzzled".

He raised his eyebrows and started the recording "Well, they dint trust you it know you like I do, I was pretty angry when they muzzled you" he said and yawned. "Alright let's cut to the chase already, you know Nezu wants to reform you" he sipped his coffee.

"Yep! And I know you want any information you can get in the league right?" She asked.

Aizawa nodded "But right now let's talk about you, not much known about your early life other than you ran away at the age of thirteen" he said "Mind opening up about it?".

Toga pondered for awhile "Sure, no use in hiding it anyways, it's just a classic normal villain story really" she stretched and yawned. "Mommy and daddy didn't love each other, they fought about that, they thought my quirk was gross, they fought about that, they thought my tendencies were disgusting so they fought about that" she paused and shifted in her seat. "They just fought a lot and at the end of it mom would get really violent and tell me it was my fault so one day I snapped, I'm sure you've heard of the accident where I attacked my classmate". She seemed hesitant when remembering it. "I ran away with the intent of killing myself, I was going to jump off a bridge but i couldn't go through with it, there was a guy there and he took me in and that was Dabi, he became like my big brother and I never looked back" she stopped.

Aizawa took awhile to process it all. It was difficult for home to think of the villain Dabi helping a little girl who was about to jump off a bridge back onto her feet. Hell it was difficult to imagine a parent telling their child it was all their fault and that their quirk was disgusting. Then again he had adopted Hitoshi and his background wasn't all sunshine and rainbows either. "Wasn't really sure what I was expecting but certainly not that" he said. Toga merrily laughed "Yeah I know it's weird to think about but Dabi is actually a big softie when it comes to kids and me" she smiled fondly at memories of years past.

Aizawa took a long sip of his coffee thermos, mumbling to himself how it was almost empty. "Alright, speaking of Dabi can you tell me about this league?" He asked.

She grinned "Yeah! We're like a family really" she said happily

Aizawa raised his eyebrows, he never thought a gang of criminals would ever call themselves a family so to sat he was curious wouldn't even cover it "How so?" He asked.

"Well, I told you Dabi is like a big brother but he's like the one that shows up randomly for gas money, he comes and goes" she pouted. "Shiggy is like a big brother too but the one that lives in the basement and games all day, hes a meanie" she said and tugged against her hand restraints "I itch" she complained.

"Keep talking and I'll take your cuffs off" he said. He didn't know how to feel about Toga talking about them like this, giving them nicknames and humanizing them. He was reminded Shigaraki was just a kid just a bit older than Mirio.

"Well, Kurogiri is like our dad" she giggled "He gets mad when we forget to eat or the dishwasher isn't loaded right...in fact the last thing we talked about before I got captured was him asking what I wanted for dinner and he'd have it ready when we got home" she tried not to look emotional but it was difficult. One moment she was going about her day, looking forward to a hot chicken tender meal and the next she was cuffed and muzzled at the police station being fed a bag of carrot sticks. Aizawa hated it, he hated seeing kids upset and no matter how people put it Toga was still just that, a kid, a child.

"Um" she sniffled and wiped her eyes with her wrist. "Compress and Spinner are like the fun uncles, Compress with his magic shows, he loves doing tricks and Spinner is just fun to be around when he's not brooding...those two even homeschooled me so I don't have the education level of a twelve year old" she said and couldn't look him in the eye. "I don't know what I would call Jin, he's like family but doesn't fit anywhere, hes my best friend...Twice is fun though he's my partner in crime- one time we swapped out Dabi's hair dye shampoo with normal shampoo, his hair is white" she snickered. Seemingly in a better mood talking about the rest if her 'family'. "What about you Shouta? You got family right?".

He wasn't expecting her to be asking him questions. But he knew if he didn't answer she's just get upset and refuse to talk. "Yeah I got people like that. Twenty three problem children...well twenty four if I count Mirio" he couldn't help but smile with fondness thinking about his students and kids "I got Present Mic, he's my best friend, my guy if you will" he said and downed the rest of his coffee. "That thinking you said about Kurogiri? I am the tired dad that is sick of asking all the kids if they remembered to eat, it's annoying when they don't" he said. Toga laughed and proceeded to call him a big softie. "Yeah yeah I know the kids say that every day, is there anyone else you want to add to your family?" He asked.

Without hesitation Himiko replied with "Hawksie!". Aizawa took a moment to process that, he knew Hawks had been gathering Intel for the HPSC on the league for some time now, but had it really gotten to the point that Toga thought of him as family "What?" He asked.

"Hawksie! He’s like the fun uncle, he takes me places and I've time he held me and we flew!" She laughed "He won't let me bite him though because he's a meanie, like I know his little secrets like the gloves and the chirping thing, what's the big deal?" She said. Aizawa just stared. She frowned "What? You feel bad because he's a spy don't you?" she asked.

Aizawa didn't make any movement, he shrugged and continued looking. She groaned "Look we know he's a spy already but Dabi is his friend and Shiggy cares about him, I know he thinks about me as a sibling and Kurogiri cares about him way to much, like he made him a dinner to take home once because of the stupid punishments" she said. "He and Spinner get along great and you should see when he plays Twice and Jin during go fish" she smiled a little. "He tells those Thots at the HPSC what they need to know but he hates them just as much as we do, I can't say anything else since he wouldn't appreciate me saying anymore but Hawksie is my friend and I can't wait to see him".

Aizawa listened attentively to what she had to say, It was a shock to say the least. "I see, well I won't ask about that anymore okay? How about anew topic like" he pulled out a stick note " How do you feel about this while reforming thing?" Hs asked.

Her features dropped and she started thinking "Hopeless" she said. "You can take a villain out of the league but you cant take the league our of the villain ya know?" She said. "They're always going to be my family because I had no one else... they raised me into the girl I am today" she said. "Hawksie always talked out reforming me and I doubt he didn't pull any strings to make sure I didn't wind up at Tartarus or Nanba". She looked like she was lost in thought, she took a deep breath and swung her feet back and forth. "Hawks always said the villain route is no place for a kid but what choice do I have with a blood quirk that makes me literally crazy?!" She teared up. "The only blood quirk hero I can think of is Vlad King...he's so cool but he doesn't drink blood he just expels it" she said.

Aizawa was surprised to head her call a hero cool. "To-" he stopped himself "Himiko, people with quirks labeled villainous can make the greatest heroes, I should know that since I'm trading one right now" he said. "My son is adopted, he was given up because of his quirk, he can mind control people and he's going to be the best Hero because of it" he said. "And I want to remind you not all heroes wear capes, some wear lab coats, others are first responders and therapists, a Hero's job is to help people and you don't have to have a flashy or conventionally heroic quirk to do it" he lectured.

"...Yep, 100% dad material" she said before bursting into a fit of laughter "You even got the 'please understand my lecture' face!" She wheezed.

Aizawa rolled his eyes "I get that a lot, okay last question why did you choose me of all people to interview you? You seem close with Hawks so why not him?" He asked.

Toga shrugged "Like I said, Hawks is like my uncle, besides he knows all this stuff already" he said "When they brought me to the UA place you were the first person that treated me like a person so I appreciate that" she smiled.

The buzzer sounded letting them know time was up. Toga sighed "Aw man!" She pouted. Aizawa grabbed his empty cup and stood up "I'll see you around kid, you'll find a family and make a great hero okay?" He truly believed she had potential "I better see you in my class or in Vlad's in a week or two" he said. Himiko groaned as the escorts walked in to take her away "Alright whatever Dadzawa I'll see you later" she teased.

___

"Dadzawa huh?" Hizashi asked from his spot on the couch.

"Yeah" Shouta chuckled "it has a nice ring to it".

[sootcloak]

Day 14: Commend

Admiral Merlwyb Bloefiswyn looks for a path forward regarding one of her officers, whose repeated sacrifices have left her more machine than aught else.

Roughly 1800 words.

AO3 Link

    The Rhotano is calm, the sun bright, and the skies clear. The fair winds off the ocean makes sails and flags billow. Down below, the Admiral can see her people going about their lives. Traders shouting from their stands, noiseless from here. Artisans working diligently, sharing brief words with their guild colleagues. Travelers, new to the city and veterans of her winding, spiraling streets both, arriving at the docks. Adventurers near the Aetheryte, enjoying the sun and one another’s company. Another peaceful, quiet day.

    There’s a knock at the door. Merlwyb glances away from her city and people to the signed forms on her desk. She hesitates, a moment. But then, loud and clear, she says,

    “Enter.”

    The doors swing open noiselessly, the guard directly outside speaking firmly.

    “Admiral. Captain Aceris, as requested.” He gives a sharp salute, and stands stiff as a board.

    “At ease. Leave us.” She says, arms folded behind her back as she gazes out the windows of her office. He says nothing, simply steps outside and closes the doors behind him.

    Vavara stands loosely, waiting with an easy patience. Merlwyb continues to stare out over the Rhotano.

    “Ma’am?” Vavara asks, a quiet familiarity there.

    “Forgive me.” She turns her head to look over at the soldier, “Have a seat.”

    Vavara moves on of the chairs slightly closer to the desk, and then sits with both her knees under her, giving her just enough height to have her shoulders rest above the edge of the desk. She takes her hat off, and rests it in her lap, and pulls the loose hair from inside it into a loose tail. She quickly ties it off with a length of black ribbon. Merlwyb lets out a thin, long breath, and then sits down at her desk and faces Vavara.

    “Something need doing, Ma’am?” The earnest way Vavara always asks sends a cold chill running through Merlwyb’s chest - is it guilt? Shame? Either way, it doesn’t show. 

    “No. You outdid yourself at Paglth’an, and by all reports deserve nothing less of a medal.” A restrained, convincing smile works its way onto the Admiral’s face. “Or some other reward.”

    “Last we had this conversation was Ghimlyt, Ma’am. Respectfully, I decline.” A weight slides off Vara’s shoulders. Barely-concealed relief. “I would prefer to have my name appear on as few official documents as possible, for all our sakes.”

    “I remember.” She says, sagely nodding. Her eyes close a moment, and she seems to gird herself. When they open, her face is steely. 

“Captain Vavara Aceris,” The authority in her voice shakes Vavara from the comfortable banter she’d begun to slip into. Her eyes widen a moment, and then she straightens and listens.

    “You are hereby removed from service, effective immediately. I had wished to send you off with honors, but if that is not your desire, so be it.” The shock on Vavara’s face stings, the betrayal written in her eyes cuts deeper. “You are discharged of all privilege, authority, and responsibility granted to you by your rank.” The Admiral pauses for a breath, and Vavara swiftly cuts in.

    “Ma’am!” There’s a desperation there, raw and open, “I swore to follow you until I could go no farther, I have served faithfully and-”

    “Any possessions granted to you by the Maelstrom for your service are yours to keep.” She stands suddenly, her chair squeaking on the floor. “From this moment forward, you are a civilian in the eyes of Lominsan law.”

    Vavara sits still as death, eyes glimmering with unsteady light. Her hands are balled into her coat, and her jaw is clenched. Her body trembles, here and there. Merlwyb closes her eyes, and takes a breath in.

    “Why…?”

    The answer is there, tangible and present in Merlwyb’s mind, but her voice falters a moment, and she does not speak. Instead, the air hangs heavy and bitter.

    “I never failed you. I always, always returned with reports of success, of victory.” Vavara speaks between sharp cuts in her voice, as though she were trying to take a breath though she has no lungs. “Have I angered you, Ma’am?”

    It stings the Admiral, that she’s directing blame back at herself. The wounded look, the jittering trembles. This hurt her, and she’s trying to find what she did wrong. In her head, she feels this justifies the measure, that she’s right to do it. In her heart, it burns and aches.

    “Victory has a price.” She says, quietly and steadily. She has to force her words out evenly. “But I willingly allowed you, my subordinate, to pay it in full. I saw you pay it again, and again. Each time, returning beaten and broken, a report written in blood landing on my desk. After Ghimlyt, I decided it would not happen even once more.”

    “I wasn’t injured, and even if I’m damaged I won’t be a liability! If you’re worried of me falling into enemy hands, I prepared a-”

    “Stop. Please.” Merlwyb looks away and out to sea. “I took advantage of you, knowing you would bear that weight gladly. But I cannot send you to Garlemald or beyond, knowing I would send you to die for me again. Possibly for the last time.” She turns and stares back into Vavara’s eyes. It’s a piercing, intense look. “You aren’t a ship, to be damaged and repaired as a necessity demands, eventually consigned to sink. And I’ve asked you on more than one occasion to not treat yourself as such.”

    “I wish for you to retire. To take a well-deserved rest. You’ve died more than once for the Maelstrom, for me, and each time you did so willingly. I will not lean upon you again.” The Admiral leans on her desk with one arm, pushing a small sheaf of papers forward towards her.

    “Ma’am.” Vavara straightens her back, the temperamental, unsteady trembling steadying bit by bit. Her hand moves to her eyes, as though to wipe away a tear, but stops halfway through the gesture. Muscle memory, realization. “Regardless of whether you order it or not, I can’t retire. Not yet, maybe not ever. Even as a civilian, my path leads me back to Garlemald. Whether I do so alone or not has yet to be determined.” She pushes off the chair and slowly stands. She brushes off the top of her cap, and holds it gently in both hands.

    “When I was found-” She steps lightly around the Admiral’s desk, and looks out to sea. Merlwyb turns away, grimacing. “As an Imperial, I mean. Detained and questioned. My future was uncertain. I was scared. And then you and I shared words. I had seen Vlybrand by then, of course. The troubles of its people. The shadows made by the sins of your past. I had thought to myself you were ‘Another pretender, claiming hers is the righteous cause’. I had few options, at the time, though. And so I took your deal. Kept my freedom. Lent you my aid.”

    “I remember. You’ve stood by us since then. Though I did not know you thought so poorly of me.” The Admiral says.

    “Aye. But there was a point, both a long while ago and rather recently, at which my mind changed. Do you remember the Crystal Braves? The banquet?”

    She nods.

    “You stood by them, and helped me hide and recover when I was presumed dead.” Her gaze is unbroken on the horizon, body steadier now. The ease with which she holds herself, working its way back into her stance. “You proved me somewhat wrong, there. I had thought you shortsighted, more concerned with your own power and influence. But those decisions cost you. They cost you time, reputation, and coin. But it was what was best for the realm, for those other than yourself.”

    “And then you upstaged yourself. Reckoned with those looming shadows, faced your own mistakes and those of your forefathers. Were ready to pay for it all, too.” She glances up at Merlwyb’s belt, where the pistols hang, “I do not regret joining the Legion - much in the same way you cannot regret being caught in a landslide. It was the wrong choice, but it was the only one left to me.” Her eyes trace down to the city itself.

    “But the Maelstrom? This was the right choice. If you wish me to leave, I will abide by your orders. But I cannot retire. If you would have me, though, I would prefer to continue on with you. Although, I would not complain if my missions in the future are less dangerous, or not as solitary.”

    “What, then? Am I supposed to send you back into the storm? Accept that eventually, I’ll send you out to never return?” Merlwyb’s eyes could bore holes into the papers on her desk, and the wood beneath them. “Am I supposed to accept that, when I’ve been given a chance to repay you for your deeds?”

    “We all have to play it by ear. Have to keep the faith.”

    “If you die, it will have been-” Her hands slam down onto the wood.

    “Who says I’ll die again?”

    “An educated guess. You’re certain? We could set you up with a workshop, a home on the Rhotano. You could leave the rest to us.” Her voice is leaden with frustration left to sit and tangle. The dismissal forms and property deeds sit neatly stacked between her planted fists.

    “I’d certainly be leaving things in good hands. But no. I’ve chosen my path, Merlwyb. I don’t intend on straying from it so late in the journey.”

    She turns from her desk, and follows Vavara’s gaze into the city. It’s high sea pillars and white stone bridges nearly glisten in the sunlight. She listens to the tiny sounds of gear and cogs ticking, the soft omni-present hum of her core. Dimly, some part of her has a realization.

    In the deafening quiet, in the peace, her whole body sings. Not a corpse, fetid and possesed. Not a thing created of violence and death alone. A music-box, the spirit of its creator alive within. It would be cruel to disregard her wishes. Would it be crueler to let them go unopposed? In her position, what would Raubahn have done? Or the Seedseer? What would her father have done?

    Answers rush forward, but none of them find purchase.

    “Very well. I’ll see the dismissal redacted.” She concedes. It feels like all the wind rushes out from her, a fatigue setting in immediately. “But afterwards, I’ll see you take that rest.”

    “As you say, Ma’am.”

[pixieminutes]

Adoration | HJS

genre: slight angst, fluff

members: han jisung x reader, lee minho, seo changbin, lee felix, bang chan, hwang hyunjin

warnings: drug use, cigarette use, swearing

Y/N의 일요일 [아침 9:00]

“y/n, could you go and get some more milk?” mina asked, looking in the fridge.

“we just got some though?” you said, going to your bedroom doorway.

the curtains in the living room had been opened by mina for her early morning yoga, letting the natural light stream through your apartment. the smell of your lemonbalm oil diffuser left your room and dispursed into the living room, mina smiling and following the smell with her nose.

“no i mean flavoured,” she said, “and while you’re at it could you pick us up some breakfast?”

“ready made pancakes?” you said, pulling on your shoes.

she clicked her fingers, winking at you, “you know it. call me immediately if anything happens!”

you hummed in response, taking in a deep breath as you left your apartment, looking around at the big open sky. it was light blue, a slight haze of white and yellow clouds strewn across the bottom, near where the sun was rising up.

“pancakes, check,” you mumbled, throwing the pancakes into the basket you picked up on the way in. making your way over to the fridge you smiled upon seeing all the flavours of milk, “aha! mina’s gonna be so happ—”

a hand reached in front of you and grabbed all of the bottles of strawberry milk. mina’s favourite.

“um, excuse me, you can’t just—“ you stopped as the boy turned around, “jisung?”

(Y/N와/과 지성의 일요일 [아침 9:16] ?)

“y/n,” jisung said, looking guiltily at all the bottles of milk in his arms before looking back to you, “i’m sorry.”

“why do you need that many?” you giggled.

“my roomate, hyunjin. he– he works his way through it,” jisung said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“oh,” you nodded, “well could i just have one? maybe? it’s for my roommate.”

“well there’s other milk,” jisung said, nodding to the fridge.

“yeah but,” you stopped, hesitating, “that’s her favourite.”

jisung sighed, “well, i don’t—”

“and why don’t you have a basket? you’re such an idiot sometimes,” you said, shaking your head as you took the pancakes out of your basket and put all of the bottles of milk that were in jisung’s arms into it, not without taking one first, of course.

jisung smiled at you slightly, watching as you got one of each flavour and walked over to the counter to pay.

you and jisung had met years ago, though the interaction was short. and ever since then, you’d run into the boy several times on several different occasions. the most recent: he’d saved you from a man who definitely had bad intentions.

though when most people looked at the two of you, they thought it was the most unlikely friendship. jisung with his long blonde hair, always wearing black clothes, tattoos up his neck (and a few dotted around his arms), and a lip ring, compared to, well, you.

but you liked having jisung as a friend. even short moments spent with him made you feel protected.

“just these please,” you smiled, before picking up a bag of mini cookies from the front of the counter and placing them on the top.

“₩15,000 please,” the worker said, placing all your items in a bag as you reached into your pocket to get your purse.

“oh my god,” you whispered, “i- i’m so sorry i—”

“we’ll take these as well,” jisung said, putting a few bottles of strawberry milk on the top, along with a pack of cigarettes.

“jisung,” you whined.

jisung shrugged, getting out his wallet and trying to hide a sigh as he handed over his last two ₩10,000 bills.

the worker nodded, adding the items onto the bill and taking jisung’s money. you both bowed, taking your items and leaving the shop.

you laughed, linking your arm with his, “come on, come back to my place and i’ll give you the money.”

he looked back to you, staring at him with big hopeful eyes, and he sighed, nodding, “i suppose i should walk you home anyway, right?”

“it’s not night time, you don’t need to. we’re doing this for you,” you said.

“hmm,” jisung said unconvincingly, laughing afterwards.

~

“mina!” you exclaimed, “i’m home!”

jisung’s head almost hurt as he walked in. there was so much sunlight streaming through the open windows. there were plants all decoratively laid about, letting in a fresh flow of oxygen. the small of frying bacon and sickly sweet vanilla flavoured coffee filled the apartment.

“i’ll get your money, okay?” you smiled at jisung, “take a seat!”

jisung took off his mucky doc marten boots, walking into your living room. there was a yoga mat on the floor and the sofas were made. jisung’s didn’t even have cushions.

“here. ₩25,000,” you nodded, handing jisung the money.

“n-no, y/n it was ₩15,000.”

“yeah, but you gave the man ₩20,000—”

“and recieved ₩5,000 back, please, y/n—”

“just take it! jisung you saved my life. oh! i know, me and mina should take you and your friends out for dinner!”

“n-no, you don’t wanna do that,” jisung said, shaking his head in slightly panic, “i should be going. th-thank you for this. bye.”

you turned to mina, noting her wide eyes as jisung scuttled out your apartment.

“what was that about? he never acts like that,” you chuckled, turning to mina with a shrug.

“y/n. that’s han jisung.”

you arched an eyebrow, nodding. you knew that already.

“he lives downtown. is he the boy you always talk about? who lives with seven other boys?”

you nodded.

“none of them have an education, y/n. they’re known as stray kids.”

“stray kids? seriously?” you said, rolling your eyes at the name.

mina bit her lip, “i heard their parents kicked them out and in retaliation they take their anger out on people.”

“but i know jisung. he’s lovely!”

“he’s still a stray kid, y/n,” mina sighed, “come on, let’s eat.”

지성의 일요일 [오후 16:07]

“minho, are you up yet?” jisung asked, walking into one of the only two bedrooms that were shared among eight boys.

minho groaned as jisung rolled his eyes, climbing in the bed beside his friend.

“i saw you last night,” minho said, his voice raspy as he squinted against the light.

the curtains hung up over the window was an old sheet, red wine and vomit stains all over it. but when shopping, the boys had found you had to pay a lot for curtains, and decided this to be the best option, even if it didn’t really do it’s job.

“saw me doing what?” jisung asked, looking to minho with furrowed eyebrows.

“you were with some girl,” minho said, rubbing his face, “i mean, i think it was you. i was surprised, but it looked a lot like you. want one?”

minho reached over to the bedside table, grabbing a cigarette and a lighter, propping the cigarette in his mouth. he covered it over with his hand and lit it with only one flick.

“nah,” jisung smiled as he rembered the walk the two of you had taken last night after jisung had saved you from that man, he beat him up as well, not that you’d been there for that, “i– i don’t feel well.”

minho shrugged, climbing out the bed and stretching his arms up, “suit yourself.”

jisung sighed, getting up and laying on the sofa in the middle of the living room. ‘sofa’. it was an old one, the actual sofa cushions replaced with one child’s mattress.

“changbin?” jisung said, “can i ask you something?”

the older male was using a rundown weight machine that stayed in the middle of the living room. it was a bit inconvenient, but it kept changbin fit, and they’d managed to buy it for only ₩3000.

changbin grunted as he stopped exercising, “what?”

“what do you think of people who live uptown?” jisung asked.

changbin shrugged, grabbing a towel off the side and wiping down his sweat, “depends. my family live up there so i know some dicks, but others are alright.”

“they’re all posh,” felix sighed, kicking jisung’s legs out the way and sitting on the sofa, his bowl of honey nut cornflakes spilling over the side.

“but... how would they feel about us?” jisung asked carefully.

“jisung they hate us, you know that,” changbin sighed, “why are you so fascinated with them suddenly, anyway? you hate them the most.”

jisung sighed, shaking his head as he went into the bedroom again, “minho, chuck me one.”

minho rolled his eyes.

“i just bought some more! give me one.”

minho chucked jisung the packet of cigarettes without a word, jisung lighting the tobacco and going coming back into the living room.

“i’m gonna do something,” jisung nodded, “with my life.”

“finally,” chan chuckled, “join our college.”

“jisung wouldn’t survive,” changbin said, rolling his eyes.

“i will!” jisung exclaimed, “i fucking will. i am over this shit! why am i like this?! why can’t i be more like her?!”

“who?” chan asked.

“jisung you sound like you’re down to get drunk, want to come with me tonight?” minho called.

“yes.”

“no,” chan said, “whoever you’re talking about, whatever has inspired you to do something with your life, you can’t start that plan by getting shit faced off stolen money.”

jisung dug into his wallet and pulled out the money you gave him this morning.

he sighed, chan was right. and after seeing you two days in a row he was reminded how much he really, really loved spending time with you.

“i have to go somewhere,” jisung said hurriedly, putting his wallet back in his pocket and running out the apartment, cigarette balancing in the corner of his mouth.

“guys i dropped my sandwiches off the balcony, do you think jisung will be able to throw them up?” hyunjin asked, a blunt in his hand.

changbin smacked him round the head, “jisung’s not going anywhere.”

“yes i am!”

“fucking sleep on it, dickwad!”

지성과 Y/N의 월요일 [아침 11:21]

“jisung! oh my god, i’m so glad you’re here, i was so worried when you ran off yesterday!” you exclaimed, “i thought i scared you or something.”

jisung laughed nervously, “i mean, o-of course not!”

“you alright? you don’t look well,” you said, putting the back of your hand to jisung’s head.

he scrunched up his face, removing your hand, “y/n, i’m fine.”

you smiled, rolling your eyes as you let him in your apartment.

“ji, have you been smoking again?” you asked as he took off his jacket.

“i- n– well– i—”

you glared at him and he sighed, “i had one on the way over.”

“come on, let’s go into my room,” you said, nodding your head in the direction of the room, “so why did you come back?”

“i just– i wanted to take you up on that offer of dinner,” jisung nodded, “i think that’d be nice. and we’ve known each other long enough time that i think it’s right you meet some of the most important people in my life.”

“that’s alright. but, jisung,” you laughed, “we’ve known each other for a long time, and i barely know anything about you.”

“well... where to start? um, my name’s han jisung. born 14th september, 2000.”

you smiled, “y/n y/l/n. born y/b/d.”

jisung paused for a moment before sighing, “i live downtown with seven of my friends. i don’t have a job, i dropped out of high school, i do... um, how to put this... criminal things.”

you looked at jisung for a moment before bursting out laughing.

“i’m serious, y/n.”

“i know you are! that’s the worst part! jisung, you really shouldn’t advertise that!” you laughed, before eventually pulling yourself together, “but, thank you for being honest.”

jisung shrugged, “you deserve to know.”

you smiled, “well, i do have a job, i work in a dog café down the road. not much, but i can pay rent each month so it’s alright. i live with mina, she’s studying physical and mental health at university at the moment.”

jisung nodded, “i see. very different to my friends. just yesterday hyunjin got high and threw 12 sandwiches off the balcony.”

you laughed, “is that why he needed so much milk as well?”

“uh, maybe?” jisung chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

the boy sat in front of you was different to how you’d ever seen him. you’d known jisung for a long time, but never spent enough time with him for it to come to anything. but seeing him for the past three days straight, it was life-changing in a strange kind of way.

Y/N과(와) 지성의 화요일 [아침 00:20]

“oh, mina’s just texted me,” you said, sitting up from jisung’s arms, “she’s coming home now.”

“oop, the club?” jisung laughed.

you rolled your eyes, “it’s showing so clearly that you do not know mina. absolutely not, she’s been at the library, lost track of time while studying.”

“i didn’t tell you but changbin and chan are actually studying,” jisung said, watching you walk to the kitchen, bending down to look in the fridge.

“oh, really? at uni?”

jisung shook his head, “the college downtown. they’re doing art and hoping to open their own tattoo parlor.”

“good for them!” you exclaimed, finally pulling out two bottles of beer and walking back to the sofa where you and jisung had migrated to in order to watch netflix, “what do you want to do?”

jisung rolled his eyes, “how am i supposed to know?”

you chuckled, taking a swig of beer, “do you not have a dream?”

jisung shook his head, “not one.”

“how do you get up in the morning?” you said, a clearly judging tone in your voice.

jisung rolled his eyes, “fine, what’s yours?”

“to find my soulmate,” you said, “i’m allergic to dogs. i’m only working in that place because everyone likes dogs.”

jisung’s mouth dropped open slightly, “y/n, are you kidding me? there are cat people, hamster people, horse people and you choose the animal you’re allergic to?! are you alright? how do you not die everyday?!”

you laughed, “i have meds that i take everyday before work. i’m fine, really. and i’ve tried working at stables, and cat cafés and i don’t think they have hamster cafés. but dogs just... like me? i guess? so i feel connected to them.”

jisung chuckled, shaking his head, “unbelievable.”

“so what do you do with your unemployed time?” you said, putting your beer on the table and bringing your knees up to your chest.

“i told you.”

“criminal things?” you asked, rolling your eyes, “go on then, scare me, like what?”

jisung sighed, “like... drugs, violence. to get money i steal.”

you furrowed your eyebrows slightly, noticing jisung’s figure shrink inwards as his gaze fell to the floor. this wasn’t normal, jisung was such a confident person all the time.

“ji,” you breathed, “i don’t mind. i mean, i’m not encouraging it, but i’m not going anywhere. it’s clear you just have no other options.”

“but what if i do? but i don’t even know because i’m spending all my time being a fucking idiot and beating up dicks i see on the street,” jisung sighed, bringing his, now watery, eyeline back up to you.

“can i have a couple requests?”

jisung looked up to you, confused, but hummed for you to continue.

“please stop doing drugs,” you whispered, “and don’t beat up somebody unless you’re 100% sure that they don’t have any weapons on them.”

a tear spilled from jisung’s eye as he nodded, “i promise.”

you smiled, wrapping your arms around his shaking body, holding him to your chest.

“shall we go to bed?” you whispered, burying your face in his hair.

he nodded, letting you help him up and lead him into your room.

“i– i don’t have any clothes,” jisung sniffed.

“you could borrow a hoodie? i stole one from my dad when i was younger,” you said, heading to your wardrobe, “and just... stay in your pants, i don’t mind.”

jisung chuckled, taking the hoodie from you and thanking you quietly.

you climbed into your double bed, squeezing up to the wall and sitting so that you weren’t looking at jisung, before patting the bed next to you.

“let’s sleep,” you said, a smile on your face.

jisung smiled too, climbing in beside you.

“thank you,” he whispered, turning to face you as you closed your eyes.

you whined slightly, fumbling your hand around before you found jisung’s, taking it in yours and intertwining them, holding them against your stomach.

“don’t thank me, ji. i’m just being nice,” you said, “that says to me that everyone else in your life has been a dick.”

he laughed dryly, “you wouldn’t be wrong.”

you sighed, turning onto your side and cuddling jisung close to your body, “then that’s behind you now. i’ll be there for you in future, okay?”

jisung’s eyes welled with tears again. why were you doing this? this feeling of comfort, of love. he adored it, he couldn’t help but want more and more of it, but at the same time, it terrifyed him. what if you left? then what? no more comfort? no more pain?

“okay?” you urged, “because i want to be there. for you.”

jisung took a shaky breath, breathing in your sweet scent. why was he like this? why couldn’t he trust anyone?

“okay,” jisung said, repositioning so he was mire comfortable against your chest, “i love you, y/n.”

your heart pounded, butterflies flapping their wings in your stomach. do you think he could feel that?! he was pressed against your chest, after all. no, no, it’s fine. he didn’t mean it like that anyway! or... no. can’t be.

you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “i love you too, ji. i just wish i found you sooner.”

[i-am-here-with-fanfic]

Love at first sight? Please, love at first kindness (Toshinori x Reader)

For @smollilbeano because we need more smol toshi fluff. Excuse my titles cuz I honestly just want to avoid the cheesy lines lmao.

“Please Toshi, just one time and I won’t ask again.” pleaded Nemuri, standing so close to Toshinori as he was at his computer finishing up some self-report. 

“I don’t know Nemuri…I…I’ve never really considered dating.”

“Then this is perfect, trust me she is nothing like me.” She grins and he, for some reason, imagined this girl like Nemuri, this hard shelled-girl that would be perverted on the outside but on the inside to be a sweet and caring person. 

“So…she’s horrible mean, and inconsiderate?” He asked, turning in his seat slightly to look at her. She chuckled and shook her head softly, “No no, that’s not what I mean. She’s so sweet, she’s a nurse for the elder at the nursing home. She’s dedicated her life to help people. I shouldn’t be giving so many details away, but Toshinori pleeease!! You two would be so cute together, at least one chance. One chance is all I’m begging for- I’ll even go on my knees-”

“Please don’t. She takes care of the elder, hm?” He asked, ready to ask her a specific question to which he was curious to know.

She nods, “Yeah, she would have gone towards the kids, but there were less nurses in the elderly field.”

“So…Nemuri, are you basically hooking me up with a lady that would take care of this old man?” He pointed at himself with a soft finger which made her gasp.

“No- nonono! Ah damn, that’s not it at all. Trust me, once you go on that date with her you’re going to call me and thank me.” 

Present Mic was eavesdropping and couldn’t help but to try and comfort his friend and nudging him to say yes to the proposal of their mutual friend and coworker, “Toshi buddy, ladies nowadays like older men- you should really go incognito on the internet.” He whispered that last part to him, hand covering his mouth slightly so Nemuri wouldn’t hear. 

Toshi blushed softly and waved his hand lightly to shoo off Present Mic. He sighed in defeat, “I guess it would be nice to go out with someone…” He rubbed his neck shyly and Nemuri cheered (and a Present Mic fisting the air as he pridefully rubbed his fist on his chest, taking credit for convincing his friend). 

Of course, while they cheered and Nemuri reassured that he was going to have fun, internally he was already nervous. He’s rarely been on a date, he can’t even recall a date. It had been so long, but also the determination and motivation he had to be a hero limited his social life, his anxieties about his lover being injured because of his connections and the possibility of ruining him. 

He must’ve been dwelling so much on the past and his anxieties now that when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he flinched and whipped his head over his shoulder, even rolling over with his chair to look at Aizawa respectively after he removed his hand, “Aizawa, I have my plans ready for today’s lesson-”

“That’s good, but I saw the two idiots meddling with something and even if you just reluctantly say yes, it’s a good thing you did say yes.”

Confused, Toshinori asked, “You think so?”

Aizawa nodded as he held the yellow sleeping bag, “It’s not everyday you get set up on a date and potentially meeting a fine lady, I personally choose not to date, but you deserve some time off and meet someone. Don’t hit rock bottom, she’s indeed a good person.”

“Wait a minute, you know her?” He asked, couldn’t help but think of Aizawa going on a date with her but he said he chose not to go to that route.

“Yeah, Nemuri brought her out to have a drink with Yamada and I, if I did want to go on a date, it’d be with her. You’re in good hands, just be yourself and everything will be okay.”

Nodding, Toshinori thanked him for his words and watched him make his way out, most likely to nap or look for cats to feed. 

Aizawa was hard person to please, and even he liked you (technically platonically, but same difference no?). He released a heavy sigh and rubbed his face softly. He was so nervous for the date.

~~~~

Today was the day, he was suppose to meet you in the park at 12:30 pm, but it was currently 12:40 pm and he sat against the bench, wearing his beige trenchcoat above a light blue shirt and black pants. His hair was sort of brushed, but we all know those hairs were meant to be untamed. 

He couldn’t help but think that you probably spotted him and thought he was wasted. He thought of himself that way. He was so entranced in thoughts that he did not see a lady walk up to him, panting softly and blushing lightly from the run she had to take, “Uhm, excuse me, are you…Are you Yagi Toshinori?” You stood up straight to breath clearly and watched him stare at the grass. Gently getting closer and rubbing his shoulder softly, you softly say, “Excuse me?” 

He was slightly surprised and he jolted softly before raising hize gaze to the lovely woman in front of him. She wore a cute pastel pink button-up shirt with a beige blzaer on top. Her hair was spectacular the way it shine from the sun's rays. He blushed lightly, but he responded to avoid being rude, "I'm sorry?" He asked, making her smile soft in return.

"I'm sorry to interuppt you, but are you perhaps Yagi Toshinori?" You asked, "My friend, Nemuri Kayama told me so much about you I thought I made an educated guess." You smiled shyly now while raising your hand to rub the side of your neck in an embarrassed move.

Yagi was now speechless. This is (L/N) (Y/N)? His expectations were trampled over, now he was embarrassed to have such thoughts when Nemuri was talking about you yesterday. He simply nodded, "Y-yes, I am..." The way she lit up made him lit up as well that it took him by surprise.

The way she smiled so brightly brought a certain lightness to his soul. You sat down on the bench next time and stared ahead, taking a deep breath and sighed softly with a small smile, "I am so glad today is a wonderful day. It isn't always I get a day off to be able to date someone so handsome." She commented, then glanced at the man beside you.

Toshinori couldn't help but stiff from her compliment. Handsome? Him? For a small moment, it offended him to be call such an adjective, but he remained courteous, "It is a wonderful day, but...it may not be for others." You nod profoundly, "Yeah, I know. You must be a great philosopher, oh great Socrates." You dramatically posed, with your right fingertips pressing lightly on your sternum while the left hand, in an elegant hand pose, pointed at the man beside you.

Toshinori chuckled lightly in an awkward way before asking, "Philosopher?" You turned to face him as you left arm rested on the top of the bench, "It was a simple comment, yet you considered the world's feelings. It's not always I see that in the men I go dates with."

Confused, Toshinori tilted his head slightly, "Would you clarify?" "Yes, the men I dated were...uhm...thinking of themselves before others. I do understand that sometimes it is okay to feel that way, but to no longer be considerate? It's...disturbing."

Now Toshinori understood, she liked men who are considerate and worrying, "So selfishness is out of the list of your liking?" You nodded,

"Yeah, when Nemuri told me you are a hero, part of me was hoping that you weren't like those heroes interested in fame and money. Maybe...maybe that was inconsiderate of me as well, huh?" You looked down, almost ashamed of your liking. He shook his head in disagreement, "No, that is not inconsiderate. What Nemuri has told me about you was that you work for the elderly, and well...if you don't have a family, it is because you very dedicated in your job and I for one know what it's like to be passionate about it and...forgetting to treat yourself. You deserve someone of your liking, it's a way of treating yourself."

Now you looked up to notice something in his eyes, something you've seen in many patients. "Are you telling me that...you also haven't been taking care of yourself?"

He slowed his head nodded in response, "Yeah, and it's...why I was so nervous to say yes to our date.." "You were nervous overall." You explained and he sighed softly, "Yeah, I was."

You noticed the subtle tremble in his hand and you tenderly grabbed it, "There is no need to be nervous around me. To be honest, I was kind of nervous as well...seeing as you are All Might, I thought you would say I was just a mere woman that seeks fame and money, and I was extremely nervous that I hadn't realized the time, but I still got her because...I thought you were here."

Toshinori blushed at the contact, but listened intently, "So, you didn't want to come?" You shook your head, "At the end, I did. Because I wanted to find out who Yagi Toshinori is, not All Might." Eyes widen and heart accelerated, Toshinori blushed even more so that he coughed, which forced his hand removal to cover his mouth. You noticed the panic the man went through and stood up when he did, backing up a few steps. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-- I'm so sorry."

"W-wait, Wait!" You tried to stop him, "Hold still, please!" Toshinori flinched when you got closer and he instinctively stepped back. You furrowed your eyebrows as you held onto his arm reluctantly while your free arm held a cloth, "You are going to stain your clothes, please use this." You reached closer to his mouth, "Hunch over slightly, please."

You softened your expression and he was surprised that he complied, leaning forward and letting your hands wipe the blood stains on his lips and cheeks, smeared from his hands.

"You cough out blood, have you gone to the hospital?" You asked with genuine concern, "If what you say is that you can't take care of yourself, then allow me to help you."

Still speechless, Toshinori let you wipe his hands, the cloth completely covered by his blood, "Your cloth..." He commented and you smiled small, "It's just a cloth, do not worry about it. There...you look good as new now."

Toshinori was now shy, withholding any actions to speak, but he slowly began: "Perhaps...we could start over...because... I'd like to know you as well, and, sorry about that."

You seemed surprised for a moment before you smiled, "Sure, and don’t feel embarrassed about this, it’s okay. Also, if we were to start now, do we not mention Nemuri?" When he responded yes then an awkward no, you lit up, "Perfect! Then First thing- I like ice cream." and you pointed lightly at the ice cream truck.

 When Toshinori turned to looked at the ice cream cart a chuckled, "Alright, shall we then?" You intertwined your fingers with his and nodded, "We shall." and began to walk together to the cart. Needless to say, you both continued to date and treat each other with the best moments.

((I am so sorry for the delay of this request, I have my chapter but I rather not waste on here. I hope you enjoy this and stay safe everybody.))

[redstarwriting]

Home

Avengers x Platonic!Non-Binary!Reader

Request: “I’m feeling really shitty lately so could you write something with a Non Binary reader. Where the reader’s in the closet and they change clothes when they leave the tower on their way to school, as to not disappoint their hero’s. And one day the avengers see the reader in public and they notice them looking more masculine so later that day the avengers talk to reader and it’s just basically all fluff and love. ( with a little bitch of angst thrown in)”

Word Count: 1,615

Genre: Platonic | Some Angst

Warnings: swearing, coming out but not on your terms, lots of worrying, MJ almost kills an ant

A/N: Okay, I hope I did this justice! I personally am not non-binary, but I have many friends who are, so I hope I did this right and didn’t offend anyone! If I did, please let me know and I will adjust this fic immediately. Also if anyone ever needs to just talk or vent or anything my asks and messages are always open! I hope this fic makes you feel better, anon, I know it’s a little late (and I am so sorry for that) but I hope it makes you smile! :) Please enjoy! Also sorry for the gif but CHRIST that scene was so good okay anyways

───────────────────────────────────

“We’ll see you after school then!” you hear Steve yell after you. You give him a smile, and wave goodbye as the elevator doors close and you begin your descend down Avengers Tower. You’re only in high school, but similarly to Peter, you’re highly intelligent. Since you and Peter happen to be friends, Tony reached out to you to become an intern on a project that he was conducting. To be specific, he was training you to be the next engineer that would build and fix Iron Man suits and improve upon them at all times. Because of this, you became very close with the Earth’s mightiest heroes, so close that you considered them your family. Which is why it makes it so hard for you to let them know how you really feel. See, you’re non-binary. You’ve known for quite a while now, but you don’t really know how to tell them. It’s not that you think they’d hate you or anything, they’re some of the most loving and accepting people you know. You just don’t want to… disappoint them? Although you know they would probably love the fact that you’re embracing who you are, there’s always that doubt in the back of your mind asking the horrible question of “what if they don’t??” I mean, Steve and Bucky are from the 40s. You don’t think they wouldn’t support you, but the FORTIES. It’s just easier to look more feminine and wear mostly feminine around them, it doesn’t draw attention. Even though it sucks.

You sigh, going into your favorite coffee shop and heading to the bathroom to change. You throw on clothes that are way more comfortable for you, ditching the clothes that scream femininity into your gym bag. You grab a quick coffee and head off to school. As soon as you get there you run up to Peter, Ned, and MJ. Now, of course Peter knows how you identify and how you dress, and while he’s a bumbling nervous idiot when it comes to Tony and the others, you know he would never tell them. Not unless you told him you were okay with it. Mainly because you would kill him. And get away with it. Oh, and MJ would kill him again after you killed him. Ned would cry.

“Hey loser,” MJ greets you with her usual term of endearment. “Hey,” you say, taking a swig of your coffee. “Nice outfit, (Y/N). I really like that shirt, it’s awesome! Where’d you get it?” Peter asks, and you grin. “Goodwill. Duh.” Then the bell rang to signify homeroom, and off you went. It seemed like today would be a normal day, just like any other. Unknown to you though, the Avengers were monitoring Peter as they were worried about this new black suit he’d acquired out if the blue. Which meant by default, they were monitoring you. So, at lunch, the damage was done. “Hey, Pete,” you say sitting down across from him. He gives a small wave, not looking up from his food. “Slow down there, tiger, you’re about to eat your tray,” MJ says to him, a little laugh escaping her. Peter goes red, and gulps. “Sorry, I’ve just been crazy hungry recently. Dunno why.”

“Probably because you’re out until like 3 AM fighting crime every night and don’t eat enough,” Ned says, and MJ coughs up her water. “THREE IN THE MORNING?!”

“N-No!... yes...” You watch as MJ scolds him, and laugh to yourself, and while all of this commotion is going on, Scott‘s Antoplane lands on the end of your lunch table, camera projecting the scene to the Avengers in the Tower. “He’s eating an unusual amount of food,” Tony says, and Steve nods his head in agreement. “Fast, too,” he adds, and then Natasha cocks her head to the side. “Wait a second... is that (Y/N) with him?” The others focus in on you, along with Antoplane. Unfortunately, this small movement causes you and your friends to look. “Ew, an ant! Kill it, Peter!” Ned basically screams and Peter gives him a look that reads, “Seriously, dude?” MJ sighs, getting ready to swat it before you stop her. “No! Don’t kill ants, Scott might know this one!”

“They’re right,” Peter says, backing you up. “Thank you, Peter. Now let the ant live. Ant’s not hurting anyone,” you say, taking a bite of your food.

“Did Peter just refer to (Y/N) as ‘they?’” Bruce asks. The Avengers are quiet for a moment before Tony speaks, “JARVIS, look up they/them pronouns, please.”

“Right away, sir.” Tony turns to the others and shrugs. “We can ask (Y/N) about this when... they get home- JARVIS did I say that correctly?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Now, I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I have plenty of non-binary employees at Stark Industries and some of them go by they and don’t necessarily stick to ‘gender norms.’ I recommend we all read up on this before (Y/N) returns home and we ask about it, yeah?”

While everyone in Avengers Tower begins educating themselves, you finish your school day like it’s any other. At the end of the day, you go to Peter’s locker to talk with MJ and Ned before heading back to the Tower. “I swear to God, Parker, if you’re out past midnight tonight New York will have one less superhero.”

“But MJ!”

“Nope. Home, 11:30, sleep, eat. I have May’s phone number.”

“Well, I hope it’s okay if he goes to the Tower with me today. Tony wanted to talk to him about this new suit he’s been wearing,” you interrupt, saving Peter from MJ’s relentless worrying. “Yeah, of course. Where’d you get that new suit anyways, Pete?” MJ asks and he shrugs. “I just found it in my room one day, I don’t know it’s... weird but it looks pretty cool, right?”

“What do you mean you just found it? Is there another guy in the chair I should know about?!” Ned says, obviously shocked and betrayed. “Yeah, Ned. His name is Tony Stark,” Peter says, closing his locker and beginning to walk towards the exit closest to the Avengers Tower. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” Peter yells at them, and they wave, heading to their respective exits. “Why didn’t you tell them it’s a suit you got when we were in space?” you ask, and he shakes his head. “Ned would have passed out, (Y/N/N). I’ll let them know another time.” You two make your way back to Avengers Tower, making sure to stop somewhere so you could change back into your more “gendered” clothes. When you walk through the elevator doors and onto the floor where the Avengers’ bedrooms and other rooms typically found in houses where you were met with all of them. Literally, Tony, Steve, Buck, Sam, Nat, Bruce, Piet, Wanda, Clint, even Scott! They were all there with the exception of Thor as he was currently in Asgard. “Hey, y’all,” you greet them, and Tony stops you before you can head back to your room. “(Y/N).”

“Tony.”

“What are you wearing?” he asks, and you go pale. “Um... what I wore to school... the clothes I always wear...?”

“Then explain this?” he pulls up a picture of you at lunch, wearing the clothes you like wearing and you gulp. “I um...” You just stare at him. You’ve been found out. Your greatest fears are coming true. You can’t help the tears from falling from your eyes. You only looked at the floor, you couldn’t meet their gazes. You could only imagine the disappointment in everyone’s expression, causing more tears to fall. You’re expecting Tony to say something derogatory, but then you hear him again.

“So, (Y/N), I ask again, where are your clothes?” The emphasis on the “your” makes you look up at him, and he has a gentle smile on his face. He walks over to you, putting his hand on your shoulder and pulling you into a comforting hug. The shock you’re going through keeps you from speaking, so Tony does it for you. “Why are you wearing this? What happened to the clothes you were wearing earlier?”

You bite your lip, wiping a tear from your cheek before muttering out, “I um... I changed back into these because I thought you would all be disappointed in me if I didn’t look like I was... ‘supposed’ to.”

“Disappointed? Why would we be disappointed?” you hear Steve ask and you shrug, looking at the floor again. “I... I don’t know, it’s just not the norm for someone to be like me yet... someone who’s uh... non-binary... I was just scared,” you say, and Nat walks over to you. “(Y/N/N), you don’t have to be scared to tell us who you really are. We’ll always accept you, I promise,” she says to you, and the tears start falling again, but this time, they’re happy. You hug Nat, and she smiles, along with the other Avengers. “So, does this mean they can stop going into that coffee shop and changing in the bathroom? That makes them nearly late to school sometimes,” Peter says and Tony chuckles. “Yes, (Y/N) no longer needs to do that. They can dress as they please here in the Tower. They’re home, after all.” The rest of the day was amazing for you. You answered any and all questions anyone had about what non-binary is and changed into something a lot more you. Of course, there were some slip ups with your gender pronouns, but you knew none of them were malicious. You could finally be who you were all the time, and like Tony said, you were finally home.

[caterinawriting]

The Cost of a Legacy (3)

Summary: He sees her and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, everything perfect. Well except the fact that they’re growing up during the revolutionary war. Their love will hit many hurtles and what the future has in store may not be what they planned. 

Pairing: John Laurens x Reader

Words: 1,576

Still 1771

“John Laurens what did we talk about! You need to focus on your education, not some girl.” His mother scolded him at the dinner table. “She’s not just some girl mom, she's actually agreed for me to start courting her.” He said in a matter of fact way, his father stiffened “And Mr. Gavalanch agreed to this courting? Even after you gave him my resignation?”

“Well I didn’t actually ask Gavalanch but (y/n)-” A snort from across the table, “Of course you didn’t ask cause Gavalanch thinks were trash and would never let you court his pristine daughter.” Henry Jr laughed at his older brother, “Shut up Henry.” He didn’t understand his brothers cruelness. “John, first of all, she is too young to begin courting, secondly you are going to school.” He huffed “Mother she is leaving for Switzerland for who knows how long, I’m going to go.”

“John I said you will n-” His father interrupted “Eleanor let the boy go, he’s right who knows when the girl will be back.” John let out a sigh of relief, at least someone was on his side. “Henry-” His mother ready to argue.

“John if we let you go to Manhattan Friday when you come back you will be fully focused on your schoolwork, those are my conditions.” He eagerly nodded “Thank you, father thank you! And yes my studies will be the most important thing after this, thank you!” He side hugged his father leaving his food half-eaten on the table and ran up to his room to pack.

“Henry sometimes I think you give that boy to much freedom.” Eleanor shook her head, Henry only shrugging continuing his meal.

“Me to mom, me too.” Henry Jr. commented.

Friday Manhattan

“John you’re here earlier then I thought” (Y/n) opened the door letting an excited John in. “Well, we’ve got 45 hours before you leave, not counting the 7 hours each night for sleep.” He dropped his bag and hugged her tightly, “You really have this whole weekend planned don’t you?” She laughed “Yes I meant it you’re all mine for the weekend, you promised.”

“Did I? I don’t remember that.” She joked “Oh you’ll remember in a moment” He began poking at her sides while he still had her captive in his arms “Ahh John!” She laughed trying to get out of his grip, “Do you remember now” He yelled over her laughter still poking her. “Well isn’t this a sight to see.” The loud voice made them pull apart immediately John looking up to Gavalanch.

“3 feet Laurens, you know that. Now what are you doing here on a Friday, I thought you did weekends” He questioned looking for an answer from  either of them. “(Y/n) told me you were sending her off to an all-girls school in Switzerland so I decided to spend her last 3 days with her.” He explained, (y/n) nodded. “Yeah daddy you know how the girls threw me that soiree.”

“Okay, but you’ll be back by curfew.”

“Of course daddy, we’ll go soon. John let me just go up and grab my coat.” He nodded and watched her escalate the stairs to her room. “Son am I correct to assume you were the one who gave my daughter that necklace?” Shit, he did not want to have this talk right now. “Yes sir, just like the one you gave your wife all those years ago.” No point in hiding anything now, she was leaving. “My girl loves to tell that story doesn’t she?”

“I can practically see it taking place in front of me.” He heard (y/n) tell it a thousand times and he wouldn’t mind listening to it another thousand times because every time she told it her eyes lit up with such wonder. “So am I to assume that the necklace has the same meaning as mine did?” Here it was the burning question, what Gavalanch warned him about all those years ago.  

“Yes sir, it does.” He stayed stoned face, trying not to show the fear he had for the older man. “Son let me tell you something, she’s going away for a long time. By the time you see her again, if you get a chance, she’ll be a full-grown woman who can’t even remember how to pronounce your name. Not to mention she’ll be in high-end society for that time, with men better educated than you or your father. Don’t take it personal son but I warned you. She is a treasure and will marry a man deserving of her.” (Y/n) ran down the stair with her coat zipped “What are you guys talking about?” She looked at John who quickly changed his facial expression from shocked to excited.

“Nothing princess just how Johnny here is going to take you to the docks on Sunday since I have a meeting that day, right son?” He patted Johns’s shoulder “Yes, Mr. Gavalanch”

“Oh! Daddy why can’t you come too?” She whined, “Princess I have a very important meeting but don’t worry Ill meet you in Switzerland 2 weeks from now.” She nodded hugging her father before moving to loop her arms with John. “Show my daughter a good weekend son, and make your final goodbye good.” He whispered to John before leading them out the door and closing it.

“Daddy seemed to like you today.”She commented as they left her property. “Yea, he did” John replied still stuck in his thoughts.

“So what’s the first thing on our list?”

Later

“Your quiet.” They ended up having a picnic in the woods but it didn’t take a genius to realize something was bothering John. She ran her finger through Johns’s hair, his head in her lap, a new form of intimacy they developed the past hour. She wondered when she would next get to do this with him, a month, 6 months, a year?

“What?” He looked up at her, he knew he was being quiet but he couldn’t shake what Gavalanch had said to him, was she really going to be gone for that long? Would she even care for him in 5 yea- “John did my father say something to you?”

He gulped, of course she could tell something was bothering him, sometimes he wondered if she could read his mind. He sat up pulling himself from her grasp, he pulled her hands into his, “Do you still want this? Your life is going to change so fast and I don’t want you to be burdened at the thought of me. Youll be so far meeting new people, friends… New men.”

“Joh-”

“Let me finish- I want this, I want you, all of you for the rest of my life. And I know right now you feel the same but in 5 years? My feeling for you can’t change because everywhere I go all there is, is you. But you’ll be in a whole other country meeting new men. Smarter, richer, stronger men. Love, what I’m trying to say is I don’t want to keep you chained, so if you want to be freed just say the word.” (Y/n) was speechless, where had all his confidence gone, had her father really made John feel so small. “John I don’t care how far apart we are in this huge world, I want you. I don’t care what my father said to you, I choose you. You are what I want for the rest of my life too.” He smiled connecting their foreheads.

“Just know that if you ever want to be set free, Ill grant it to you, okay.” He whispered looking deep into her eyes. “I can assure you I will never ask you that.”

Sunday

“3 days went by pretty quick, don’t ya think?” (Y/n) laughed as they walked hand in hand to the boarding dock. “I savored every moment of it John, thank you.” They stood in silence neither knowing what to say to make this moment less depressing, she turned to look at the huge boat behind her.

“You know I’ve never traveled on my own? Daddy’s always with me, its a little nerve-racking going on my own.” She confessed, “Well what’s to stop me from joining you on that boat then? Id hate for you to go alone so I could come with you.” She laughed at him, “Oh John I wish you could, honestly.” “I could you know I have enough to buy a ticket for the boat and I still have my weekend clothes in my bag.” He gestured to his old satchel hanging off his arm. “John-”

“No for real I could come and accompany you in Switzerland, wouldn’t it be nice to know someone there? And I could get a job to provide for myself, for us and we can be together there.” He stopped when he saw (y/n) eyes brimming with tears “John you have to stay, for your family.” She chocked out, she truly wanted nothing more than to agree to his crazy plan, but 16? Too young to give up his life, his shot to become something great. “They don’t need me, my love you need me. I need you.”

“I need you to stay here John.” He sighed reaching down to wipe her glassy eyes. “VIa Albarelle 106 in Geneva right?” She smiled “Yes write every chance you get John.”

“I’ll be waiting for you, my love.” She smiled planting a small peck on his cheek, before turning and boarding the ship.

----

Part 3, edited

[talesofpanem]

The Interview

Author: @xerxia31

Rating: T for potty language, adult situations, mentions of substance abuse and minor character death.

Summary: This has all the makings of the most uncomfortable job interview of all time.

Author’s note: This is for the prompt ‘work’, but I just couldn’t get it done on time. Thank goodness for make-up week!

————

It feels like entering another world, driving through the grounds of the west campus. Everything is wide open, lush, green, alive, a huge contrast to the dirty and crowded city where I’ve been living for the past two years.

There are young people everywhere on the expansive lawns, throwing frisbees or leaning against trees with books or binders in hand, and not a cellphone to be seen. It’s like a utopian fantasy world, on the surface.

But I know better.

I pull up to the building where my appointment will be. Grey stone, old, but not yet old enough to be considered classic. Its architectural failings have been compensated for by brightly-painted window trim and shutters, and climbing vines clinging to the stones, bursting with purple flowers. Elegant, but only if you don’t look too closely. For all of its window dressing, it’s an institution.

I’d been instructed to wait in the lobby, arranged as a waiting room of sorts. It’s little more than a dozen chairs ringing the area, facing the double set of interior doors, faded industrial carpet underfoot. I settle into one, the sun-hardened vinyl squeaks in protest. The walls are covered with inspirational posters, pictures of sunsets and mountaintops with words of wisdom in bold print underneath. Motivation. Persistence. Achievement. 

“Mr. Mellark?” 

I jump to my feet as a young woman with glossy black ringlets enters the room where I’ve been cooling my heels for twenty minutes. She smiles at me. “They’re ready for you now.”

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I wipe my hands on my suit pants before picking up my portfolio. I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous about anything. Young Peeta Mellark was an outgoing, gregarious fellow. But I haven’t been that guy in a very long time.

The doors close behind me, electronic locks snapping ominously. 

The young woman, Rue, she tells me her name is, leads me along a dim corridor, the floors polished to gleaming, reflecting scattered pools of light. “We only use emergency lighting in the offices on the weekends,” she confides. “Budget…” I nod. The schools where I worked while finishing my master’s degrees had all struggled with budgets too. Education is not a career that is steeped in money.

But working with children is what I’ve chosen. And this job, at this particular school, is the one I want more than anything.

Art therapist at the Panem Institute.

The Panem Institute is the preeminent residential facility for kids in trouble, kids struggling with substance abuse issues or mental health disorders. And unlike most centres of its kind, lack of funds is not a barrier to admission.

I can’t help wondering how different my life might have turned out if I’d had access to a place like this when I was a teen. Would I be established now, with a life I could be proud of? A wife, maybe even a family of my own?

Instead, I’m thirty, with a shiny new double MA in social work and art therapy, and precious little in the way of resumé experience. That the institute is even meeting with me is almost miraculous. Apart from student placements and volunteer work, I have almost nothing to show for my life.

But I want this job so badly I can almost taste it. This job, this place– this is why I’ve worked so hard the past six years, for the chance to make up for my own failings.

My childhood wasn’t fantastic, but it was typical by most measures. The youngest of three children, I was born upstate, in a quintessential white-washed all-American small town where everyone knew everyone else. My parents didn’t get along, but they stuck it out for the sake of us boys, which is retrospect was probably far, far worse for us than if they’d simply split.

Instead, beaten down by a life she hated and a town she couldn’t escape, my mother was cold, and often rough with us. Rye, Brann and I learned young to hide from her temper. She, in turn, hid in a bottle.

My dad, though, was my hero, mine and my brothers’ too. He coached our little league teams, came to every one of our wrestling matches, filled our lives with cookies and hugs. Shielded us from mother’s ever-increasing drunken and violent episodes.

Then midway through my senior year of high school, the unthinkable happened. My father, my kind, generous father, was murdered. Shot by some punk barely older than I was, killed for nothing more than the two hundred dollars in the cash register of the small family bakery my father owned.

I was devastated.

There was no one left to moderate my mother’s behaviour with my father gone and my brothers away at school. Down to one final obligation, freedom in sight, she made it her sole purpose in life to be rid of me as well. Or maybe she was just drowning in grief and alcoholism and wasn’t even aware of how she was acting, a theory my brother broached at the time. Whatever the reason, life at home deteriorated. Badly.

And like my mother, I sought refuge in a bottle. Or many, many bottles.

I’d already been offered a college wrestling scholarship based on my earlier performances. A good thing since I showed up at the state wrestling championship - my last ever high school wrestling meet and the first one where my father wasn’t a spectator - hungover as hell, or maybe still a little drunk, and ended up placing second.

College was supposed to be my escape, but by the time I got to State that September, I was far more interested in getting bombed than in studying or practicing. 

Over the course of a year, I destroyed every dream I’d ever had, every hope, every plan, every relationship. I alienated every friend, every mentor, even, eventually, my own brothers.

And I hadn’t even cared.

Twelve years later, I’ve clawed my way back, one sober day at a time, through more ups and downs than I can even remember. Fought to become a man my father would have been proud of. But I didn’t do it alone. Therapists and counsellors helped me heal, and in doing so showed me how satisfying it could be to guide someone back from the brink, to help set them on the right path.

And that’s why I’m here now, standing sweaty-palmed but hopeful at the door of a boardroom. Interviewing for a job where I could change the lives of troubled young people like I once was.

My escort, Rue, pulls the door open and gestures for me to enter. The room is small and much brighter than the hallway, with a pair of large windows and pale wood reflecting the warm afternoon light. It takes me a moment to adjust to the brightness, to focus on the group of people waiting for me.

Then the bottom drops out of my stomach, and out of my world.

I never got blackout drunk. Consequently, I remember every stupid decision I made, every assholish word I said. And the recipient of one of the tirades I regret most is sitting across the table, her ebony hair pulled back in an elegant chignon. 

Katniss Everdeen.

She and I went to school together, from kindergarten all the way through until I ruined my life. I had the worst crush on her back then. But until after we graduated from high school, she didn’t even know I was alive.

Imagine my shock when, a few months into my ill-fated college career, I ran into her at a party on campus. I’d had no idea she went to the same school. But I was well into a bottle of Bombay that night, and what should have been the start of an epic relationship, or at least a chance for me to talk to the girl I’d lusted after always, turned into a nightmare.

I was already slipping then, already on academic probation, already suspended from the wrestling team and constantly in trouble with my coaches. I was weeks away from losing everything - my scholarship, my sport, my friends. And every encounter with my professors, with my academic advisor, with the counsellor the athletic department had insisted on, every single one had impressed on me that I wasn’t good enough, though I am, in retrospect, certain that’s not what any of them had meant. But I’d had so much anger in my system then, so much loathing. 

And Katniss, beautiful, seemingly unattainable Katniss, for some reason seeing her there triggered the deepest well of self pity to open in my chest. She was, in that moment, the embodiment of everything I’d been told I could never have. My gut clenches and my heart hurts as I remember the vitriol I’d spewed at her that night, the accusations about her character and motivations, every one of them utterly untrue. I’d called her stuck-up, selfish, a bitch, among so many other words. Katniss, beautiful, stoic Katniss hadn’t reacted at all, apart from a widening of her eyes and maybe a slight trembling of her lower lip. When I’d run out of filth to throw her way, she’d simply blinked and said softly, “This isn’t you, Peeta.” Then she’d walked away.

I have heard those words in my head a thousand times since that night. 

It had taken another three years of couch-surfing and homelessness, of lying and begging and stealing to feed my addiction, before I finally hit rock-bottom. In an alley in the Capitol, with a bunch of other low-life scum just like me, I’d listened as they made plans to rob a convenience store a few blocks away. So desperate was I for the few bucks it would have garnered me that I was ready to go along with them… until I saw the gun.

The idea of robbing a little mom-and-pop convenience store at gunpoint was my come to Jesus moment. I was hunched in filth, hungry and so desperate for a drink that I was steps away from becoming the man who had killed my father.

The road back from that point wasn’t straight, and it wasn’t easy. I’d like to say that I never had another drink after that, but it’d be a lie. But I’ve been sober now for seven years and forty-four days, a purple medallion in my pocket reminds me every day how far I’ve come.

As does Katniss’s voice in my head, reminding me when I feel weak, when the cravings hit hard, that I’m not that person.

But she doesn’t know that. Looking across the table, she must be seeing the asshole who treated everyone, and especially her, like dirt.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Mellark,” an older, balding man says, smiling. I recognize his voice, Plutarch Heavensbee, the institute’s director, with whom I’ve spoken on the phone several times before today. I hesitate though, steeling myself to meet Katniss’s eyes. If she looks uncomfortable I’ll leave. It wouldn’t be fair to her if I stayed. As disappointing as it’ll be to walk away from this opportunity that I want so damned badly, I have only myself to blame.

I catch her gaze, silver pools in the sunlight, expecting her to be glaring at me. She’s not though, her expression is carefully neutral. But as if she sees the question in my glance, she nods.

Plutarch introduces the others in turn; Reza Seder, head of counselling services, Dr. Lavinia DeSantis, head of medical services, Alma Coin, head of security. “And of course you know Ms. Everdeen,” Plutarch says, his smile widening, and I can feel my eyebrows crawling up to my hairline. She knew I was coming, told the others that she knew me, and yet I’m still here. They’re still going to interview me.

“Hello, Peeta,” she says, in that smoky smooth bourbon voice that has acted as my conscience for years. And, okay, has narrated my fantasies too, if I’m being honest.

“I’ve already disclosed to the board that we grew up together,” she continues, “and they’re okay with my presence. But of course I’ll leave if it makes you uncomfortable having me here.” Her words and delivery are coolly professional, but beneath them I hear a faint note of pleading. She wants to be here, I just know it. And though I’m likely signing the death warrant on this job, I find myself asking her to stay.

This has all the makings of the most uncomfortable job interview of all time. But if I’ve learned anything from my primary therapist, Dr. Aurelius, it’s that I can’t run from my past. And if I’ve learned anything from AA, it’s that I can’t ignore my shortcomings.

Each member questions me, softballs to start - my education, my job experiences, my plans. I pull out my portfolio, walk them through the educational and therapeutic programs I’ve developed, outline what worked during my previous placements, what innovations I’d like to employ. They seem impressed, and I start to relax. 

“You didn’t go to college right after high school, Mr. Mellark?” Alma Coin asks, her strange, pale eyes cold and judgemental. I stiffen; this is where previous interviews have gone off the rails. I’d never outright lie about my addiction, but I’m not keen to bring it up either. Even seven years sober, people are reluctant to entrust an alcoholic to watch over children.

“That’s correct,” I tell her. “I didn’t start my undergrad until I was twenty-four.”

“Why is that?” I could tell her that I couldn’t afford it until then, that’s true, or about my father’s death throwing a spanner in my plans, also true.

Katniss is looking at me, grey eyes wide and guileless. She nods again, and it feels like encouragement. I know what I have to say.

“I’m an alcoholic,” I tell them, bracing for their reactions. But nobody flinches. “I’ve been sober for seven years. But I started drinking in high school, and I lost a lot of years to the disease.” Across from me, a hint of a smile graces Katniss’s pouty peach lips. I take it as my cue to keep going. “That’s why I went into social work, and why I want to work here so much. To help kids like me. To maybe save some of them from the mistakes I made.”

There are nods around the table, no one looks particularly surprised. I don’t know whether Katniss has told them, or if it came up in my background check.

“And you’re not concerned that working with addicted children might trigger you to revisit your own demons? Your CV is completely lacking in experience with troubled youth.” It’s true, my field placements were all in middle schools, my experience as an art therapist mostly with kids with ADHD or autism spectrum disorders. The kids here by and large have much more complex issues, abuse and addiction and mental illness all compounded, often violent and criminal backgrounds too. 

“I’ve spent years in therapy learning to cope with my triggers,” I tell Coin.

“That’s not the same as real-world experience,” Seder interjects. “These kids, the things they tell you, the things they’ve seen. It’s gutting.”

“I realize that,” I tell her, affecting the most professional tone I’m capable of despite the cavern that’s opened in my stomach, the knowledge that I’m nowhere near qualified enough in their eyes. “I completed a research project on intergenerational addiction in college and interviewed hundreds of young addicts.”

“That’s really not the same as interacting with them day to day,” Seder says, and it’s not cruel, but it feels dismissive.

“I also observed troubled youth in counselling during my practicum while I was in graduate school.” They know this, it’s in my resumé, along with letters of reference from the clinician supervisors. But Seder is shaking her head and Coin looks unimpressed and I can feel the opportunity slipping away.

“Peeta has volunteered as a mentor at the Children’s Hospital’s substance abuse treatment program for more than three years,” Katniss interjects, and every hair on my body stands on end. Because while that’s true, it’s also something that’s not in my resumé, something I’ve avoided self-reporting because it’s common knowledge that the program volunteers are all addicts in recovery themselves.

I have no idea how she knows that.

My gaze snaps to Katniss. Her expression remains carefully neutral, but there is the barest hint of a smile in her silver eyes.

“That’s an excellent program,” Dr. De Santis says, looking up from her notes for the first time. “They’re incredibly selective about who they choose to work with their clients.” 

“They are,” I agree. The screening had been brutal, but it had been necessary, so many of those kids have lead lives that make mine look like a walk in the park and many are not shy about sharing all of the horrific details. “They can’t risk having the volunteers drop out or relapse. The kids need the stability of knowing that they can’t scare away their mentors. So many of them have had everyone else in their lives give up on them.” I swallow hard; it’s the reason I volunteer there. I’ve seen myself in so many of their faces, kids who use alcohol and drugs to escape the pain, kids who lash out and push away the people around them before those people can abandon them. Like I’d done to my teachers and coaches, my friends and my brothers.

Like I’d done to Katniss, all of those years ago.

“How do you find your personal experiences impact your work with those children?” Katniss asks, a gently leading question, and one for which I am so grateful.

“I can empathise with them in ways that their doctors and case workers often can’t,” I say, mostly tamping down the waver in my voice. Four sets of eyes watch me intently. “It’s the whole basis for the program, giving these kids not only guidance, but hope for their future. If I can succeed after all of my mistakes, after all I’ve done, then they can too.”

“And you intend on continuing to volunteer there?” Coin asks.

“I do.” I’ve already checked with the hospital about whether this job would constitute a conflict of interest, they assured me it would not.

Across the table, each of the interviewers smiles, even Coin, though her smile looks a little less genuine. But I only have eyes for Katniss. Because her smile feels like forgiveness. And though this is my dream job, I feel like even if I don’t get it I’ve accomplished something monumental here. I’ve shown Katniss that she was right, that nasty boy who hurt her, who made her feel small and alone, that person wasn’t me.

Plutarch claps his hands. “Excellent, my boy,” he says. “Now let’s talk salary.”

“I… what?” 

“For the position.” At my expression, he laughs. “The interview is really just a formality,” he says, mirth twinkling in his eyes. “The job is yours if you want it.” He pushes a couple of papers across the table. A contract. “I know it’s a little less in salary than you’d make in private practice, but we offer a comprehensive benefits package. Take a couple of days to look it over and let us know.”

I don’t need a couple of days. I don’t need a couple of minutes. “I want the job,” I tell him firmly.

“Well then,” Plutarch booms with evident pleasure. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Mellark.” He reaches across to shake my hand firmly, and I can’t help my goofy grin. I got the job!

Plutarch informs me that their admin will get in touch with me over the next few days to file the tax and legal paperwork they need, and then I’ll begin at the start of the new term, some four weeks away. And I nod in all the right places, but my mind is spinning so fast I’m almost dizzy with it.

I shake each of their hands in turn, lingering just a bit longer to squeeze Katniss’s hand tightly. I thank each of them, but my gratitude to her means more. I think she can tell.

“Could you see Mr. Mellark out?” Plutarch asks Katniss, and she agrees, though she doesn’t meet my eyes. 

I follow her silently down the corridor, towards the exit, the delicate tapping of her heels on linoleum almost drowned out by the pounding of my pulse in my ears. Katniss was a cute kid, tiny and scrappy, and she had morphed into a fierce and self-possessed young woman  by the time we’d graduated high school. But now, at thirty, she’s an absolute bombshell. Still lean, but with delicate curves that her pencil skirt and blouse highlight perfectly. She walks with confidence, back straight, head held high. She’s more intimidating than ever.

At the electronic doors, she pauses, hand poised just above the lever that would release the locks. Then she sighs, and glances back at me over her shoulder. “Would you like to have a cup of tea with me? Catch up?” I’m nearly rendered speechless; not only is Katniss Everdeen willing to work with me, she’s willing to talk with me too. 

“I’d like that,” I rasp, the first words I’ve spoken directly to her in twelve long years.

She leads me back into the building and up a set of stairs. Another corridor stretches in front of us, windowless doors set close together. “Our offices,” she says. Partway down the hall, she stops and pulls a set of keys from her pocket. A small brass plate on the door reads Katniss Everdeen, Lead Addictions Therapist.

Her office is small, and appears to be set up for both paperwork and individual counselling sessions with a tiny desk tucked back into the corner but comfortable looking couches dominating the space. She confirms my guess. “I see the lower risk kids here,” she says. “It feels less institutional that way.”

I can only stare, stunned, as she unlocks a cabinet and withdraws a tea kettle. I knew Katniss’s title here from Plutarch’s introduction of course. But until now, it hadn’t really sunk in, what she does. She’s an addictions counsellor. How utterly incredible that she went into the very field that eventually inspired my own career path.

“Sit, please,” she says over her shoulder. I slip off my blazer, draping it over the arm of the couch, then sink into plush microfibre. The ceramic clink of teacups and spoons and the sultry sway of her perfect posterior as she putters, preparing tea and humming just faintly are almost hypnotic. For all of the times I’d thought about Katniss Everdeen, I never imagined I’d ever actually see her again, and good lord she’s so much hotter than even my edgiest fantasies. “Black, right?” she says, snapping me out of my lurid thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” I say after a moment’s pause where I try to pull myself together and remember that she’s making tea, so that we can talk. So that I can apologize to her. As glorious as her ass is, I have no business looking at her that way. I lost any possible chance I might have had a dozen years ago.

But she knows how I take my tea. The last time I saw her, gin was the only thing I was drinking.

She sets a red mug in front of me, on the low table between the couches. But she herself sits beside me, instead of across from me, which surprises me. Though maybe it shouldn’t, since she’s a therapist. Knowing how to set someone at ease is part of her training. It’s backfiring in my case though, since her closeness feels intimate. I catch a hint of her scent, something fresh and green but with a little bit of spice, like a campfire in the woods. So perfectly Katniss. “How have you been?” she says, sipping from her own mug.

“Better,” I tell her, because she’s not asking to make small talk. In addition to knowing everything I confessed in the interview, she was there when my world fell apart, she saw first hand how shitty I was.

“I’m glad,” she says softly, and she smiles, and it’s so beautiful and sweet it nearly breaks my heart.

“I am so sorry,” I tell her, but the words are completely inadequate. How do you tell someone that they are not only your biggest regret, but also your biggest inspiration? “For how I treated you when I was drinking. You didn’t deserve any of that, and I have regretted it every day.”

“I know,” she says. 

“And what you did for me today,” I continue before my nerve runs out. “I can’t begin to thank you. You not only gave me this chance when you could have told any of them I wasn’t worth considering, but you actively helped me in the interview.”

“You earned the job, Peeta. Plutarch was already convinced before you even walked in the door.”

“The others weren’t.”

She laughs. “I knew Lavinia would love you. And Alma, well, she doesn’t really like anyone, but I have a feeling you’ll win her over eventually.”

“What about you?” I can’t help asking. She’s treating me so kindly, but she can’t possibly have forgiven me. I know she hasn’t forgotten. 

“I believe in second chances.” Her smile is softer, a little pained. “I knew you’d find your way back.”

“I was such a dick.”

“You were,” she agrees. “But I knew that wasn’t you.”

“You said that back then too,” I tell her, my tea forgotten. “I, uhm.” My neck feels hot and I rub it distractedly. “I hear you saying that, when I’m having a difficult day. It’s helped me so much over the years. You’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know.” It’s embarrassing as hell to admit that. But she deserves the truth.

She snorts, and it’s a sound so at odds with her elegant presentation and with the seriousness of our conversation. My gaze snaps up to her face, she looks amused and abashed. 

“You’re the reason I went into psychology,” she says, and my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “I was a biology major first year. But seeing how everyone failed you after your dad died, and how easy it was for you to fall…” she trails off. “And then when you came back to school to try again, sober and working so hard, I knew I’d made the right choice.”

“You were there?” 

She nods. “Just for a semester. I was finishing my masters. I saw you a couple of times on campus, but you never noticed me.”

Honestly, that’s probably for the best. That early in my recovery I was still so fragile, just getting through classes took every bit of effort I had, and I spent so many hours with my sponsor and therapist back then I had no time for anyone else. “I wish I’d known,” I tell her. “But I had my head pretty far up my own ass.”

“You didn’t though.” She looks away, towards the tiny, narrow window on the exterior wall, barred, like all of the windows I’ve seen in this building. “I watched you. I’ve kept track of you over the years, when I could. Even then you were already working so hard to make amends.”

I was. And I can tell by that specific word that she knows why. One of the steps in AA is making amends for the shitty things we’ve done, at least where doing so won’t cause any further damage. In those early years, I’d concentrated mostly on my brothers, and earning their trust again. But I also spent time speaking with professors and coaches who I had alienated. It would have been far easier to start over at a different college, and likely would have been less triggering. But it’d have been a coward’s way.

“I never got a chance before now to apologize to you,” I whisper. She’d kept track of me, but I hadn’t made the same effort. Before the booze, Katniss Everdeen was that perfect, unattainable fantasy woman I put on a pedestal and never approached. And after, I locked her away, so terribly ashamed by my actions that I never sought her out, even though she would have been easy to find. I was terrified by how she might look at me.

But she’s clearly a much bigger person than I could ever be.

“I think the time wouldn’t have been right before now,” she says. “For either of us.”

We lapse into silence, Katniss still staring out the window, me fiddling with the mug I’ve picked up again. “Can I ask you something?” she says, and there’s something in her tone that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Of course.”

“That night… why me?” She’s trying to keep her voice even, I can tell, but the slight waver slays me. 

“You were there, and I was a drunken asshole,” I rasp, but she shakes her head, glancing at me.

“It was more than that. The things you said…” she looks away, but not before I see the shine in her eyes. Not before I see the hurt I had been expecting all along. The knowledge that even all of these years later, my words continue to bother her is gut-wrenching. I feel like the biggest piece of shit.

“It was all bullshit, Katniss, the ramblings of an absolute lowlife shit of a human.”

“There’s always truth, even in ramblings,” she says softly. “It certainly wasn’t the first time I’d been called those things. But we’d never even spoken before then. I didn’t know you even knew my name.”

“I knew you, Katniss. I’d always been watching you.” She turns back to me eyebrows raised, confusion in every line of her beautiful face. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, and I don’t want to make excuses for my absolutely inexcusable behaviour. But she deserves the whole truth. I drop my gaze to my lap. “The truth is, I had a huge crush on you, nearly the whole way through high school.” 

She makes a little choking sound, and I can’t bear to look at her. I know I’m doing unfathomable damage to our potential working relationship, confessing like this. I’ll decline Plutarch’s offer, if being here will hurt her. But I can’t let her think that any of the awful things I said had even a speck of truth to them. I can’t let her take any blame. 

“In senior year,” I continue, “I had finally convinced myself that I was going to talk to you, to ask you to the Valentine’s dance. But then…” I trail off. My father had died at the end of January, and everything else in my life had fallen away, sucked into the black pit of grief.

A soft, cool hand lands on my forearm, and I glance up. Far from looking disgusted, as I was expecting, Katniss is looking at me with compassion, even through her confusion. “When I saw you that night,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out. “I had already screwed up everything else in my life. I was just so angry at the world, but mostly at myself. I was drowning in regret and self-loathing. And you were there, and you were every bit as beautiful as you had always been. And you just represented everything I wanted so badly and had fucked up. My father was gone, my sport was gone, and the girl of my dreams was completely out of my league. And I lost it, lashed out at you instead of at the person who really deserved it. Me.”

“You didn’t deserve it either,” she whispers, and her eyes shine silver under a film of moisture.

I place my hand over hers where it still rests on my arm, and she doesn’t pull away. “I’m truly sorry, Katniss. Hurting you is the biggest regret of my life.” 

“I accept your apology.” I squeeze her hand in gratitude, and a sad half smile ticks at her lips.

“I won’t take the offer,” I murmur, and her brow furrows again. “This is your career, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, being here.”

She shakes her head. “You won’t,” she says. “I’ve been watching you for so long, cheering for you from the sidelines. I feel like I know you. And I know you won’t ever repeat that mistake.”

“I won’t,” I swear. “I’ll always be an alcoholic, and there will always be a risk that I’ll relapse. But I’ve learned so much in therapy, about communication and managing my emotions. About coping. I have better mechanisms now, and a really great support group behind me.” It had taken a long time to make things right with my brothers, but they are my staunchest supporters now. And my sponsor, Haymitch, is a crusty old bastard, but he’d rip out someone’s throat before letting me down.

“Then stay,” she says. “I’d like to start again, if it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. Build up that friendship we should have had.” She looks down at our hands. At some point, she’d flipped her palm and I’d entwined my fingers with hers.

“Always,” I whisper in awe, and she smiles, that beautiful, elusive smile that I know will be the stuff of all of my future fantasies. And maybe, just maybe, the stuff of my future reality too.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Pure (10/14)

Summary: Belle wanted to wait until marriage before she had sex for the first time. It was the one thing that still stuck in her mind after leaving her small town upbringing steeped in religious doctrine and abstinence culture. When her wedding night comes, however, the purity ideals of Storybrooke’s sex education are hard to shake off, and making the transition from virgin to sexually active is more difficult than she anticipated. With the help of a patient husband, Belle begins an intimate journey into understanding her body, her desires, and her identity as a woman.

Rated: E

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[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [AO3]

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Pure

Ten

Belle had hoped that a night out with the girls would take her mind off everything. If she was thinking about having fun and getting tipsy off overpriced cocktails, then she wouldn’t be thinking about Aiden. Or about sex. She wouldn’t be thinking about any of the things she shouldn’t be thinking about, even though she knew that logically, there was absolutely no reason why she shouldn’t be thinking about them.

Unfortunately, her ploy wasn’t working.

They were in Aesop’s, a favourite haunt for the three of them that they had quickly found just after Belle had moved to Boston and fallen in with their group at college, and many happy times had been shared there. It was not a place that she had ever come to with Aiden, preferring to keep it as a girls’ only thing. There were plenty of other wonderful places that she had discovered with him, after all.

She twirled the straw around the ice in the bottom of her empty mojito glass, wondering if it would be too soon to go and get another. She was already on her second, and Ruby and Mulan were still on their first drinks.

“What’s up?” Mulan touched her arm gently, her face full of concern. “You haven’t smiled at all since we got here. Are you still worried about your dad?”

Belle shook her head. “No, I know that he’s fine.” Although she had not actually spoken to him since she left Storybrooke, she’d had regular updates from the nurse who had informed her that he was recovering well but was rather put out at having been told that he would have to give up alcohol for the foreseeable future if not forever.

“So, what’s the problem, then? This is supposed to be a happy girls’ night out, and no offence, but you’re looking like a wet weekend. Come on, let’s see if we can’t get a smile on that face.”

Belle managed a weak smile, but she knew that it would not be enough to appease Mulan, who was quite possibly the shrewdest person she’d ever met. Sure enough, Mulan just raised an eyebrow.

“Please, Belle, you know that you can talk to us about anything. Is it Aiden?”

“No. Yes. No. I don’t know. I don’t think that the problem’s with Aiden, he’s being a perfect gentleman about the whole thing. Maybe too much of a gentleman if I’m honest. I think that the problem��s with me, can I get another one of these things? I think I’m going to need it.”

Mulan went over to where Ruby was flirting outrageously and not at all seriously with the bartender, ordering another round of drinks in and collecting her girlfriend for a full-on crisis conference in one corner of the bar.

“So, it’s definitely a relationship problem, then?”

Belle nodded. “It’s not so much a relationship problem as a lack of relationship problem.”

“You’re not having sex.”

Belle spluttered on her cocktail. “What? Yes! No! Yes! How?”

“Look, when a relationship runs into problems, intimacy is always the first thing to go.” Mulan shrugged. “It’s just one of those facts.”

“Our relationship hasn’t run into problems.” Belle sighed. “Intimacy is the problem. I just… I should never have gone back to Storybrooke. All of the hard work that I put in with Aiden to overcome everything that I learned there has all been undone, and it’s all my fault.”

“Belle, I don’t think that anyone can say that the weirdness you had to put up with whilst you grew up is your fault.” Ruby wrapped her arms around her, stroking her hair. “You did so well to break out of it, you can’t give that up now.”

“I know!” Belle exclaimed. “I don’t want to feel like this, I don’t even know why I’m feeling like this, I just am, and I can’t make it go away. I don’t want to want him, but I do.”

“Belle, wanting to have sex with a man you’re married to is hardly a crime.”

Belle huffed. “Tell that to the nuns.”

“They’re nuns, Belle, what the hell do they know about sex, and what right do they have to be passing moral judgements on anyone else?”

“I don’t know. They’re nuns. They can’t lie or they’ll get smited. Smote? Smooted?” Good grief, she probably should have eaten a bit more before she’d come out if this was how tongue-tied she got after two and a half mojitos. “Smeeted? Whatever. They can’t lie or God will get angry at them.”

“Look, just because they believe something’s true doesn’t necessarily follow that it is. You’ve got to trust your gut in these situations.”

“That’s great, but I don’t know what my gut is telling me at the moment; I’m getting mixed signals from it and I really don’t think that’s down to the amount of rum I’ve just drunk.”

“So, the nuns say you shouldn’t be having sex, even though you’re married, and you agree with them?”

“Yes. No. I don’t want to agree with them, who wants to agree with a nun? I just don’t want to be a whore either.”

Mulan and Ruby looked at each other and then at Belle.

“I think you’ve had one too many of those,” Mulan said, pulling Belle’s glass away from her a little. “Belle, you’re not a whore, why would you be? You’re a married woman.”

“I know that! But I don’t know who I am anymore! It’s like I’ve lost my entire identity! I was always the good little virgin girl and now I’m not. Now I’m not anything. I just am. People look at me and think ‘what is she?’ I’m not worth anything anymore now that I’ve lost my virginity. I have no value to society anymore until I become a mother and I’m not ready for that and if that means I can’t have sex until I am and if that means Aiden leaves me then I’m going to have to accept that.”

Belle looked in horror at the mojito glass. She hadn’t expected to pour out all her thoughts quite so volubly. When she looked up Ruby and Mulan were looking at her with what she assumed were shocked expressions similar to her own.

Ruby shook her head. “Belle, that’s… I don’t think that there are even words to describe that.”

“What happened in Storybrooke?” Mulan coaxed softly. “You were fine before you went back there to see your dad. What happened to change that? You were enjoying married life; you were enjoying having sex with Aiden. At least, I assume you were. You seemed fine about it when you were telling us about the honeymoon; I know it’s not a topic that you discuss often unless you’ve had a lot of rum.”

“It was nothing,” Belle mumbled. “It was so stupid, and I shouldn’t have let it get under my skin, but now it’s there and it won’t come out. Like the rhino in the just-so stories.”

“Belle, it’s got to be something if it’s made you so miserable that you think your marriage is ending.”

Belle sighed, grabbing her glass back from Mulan and taking a long gulp of it before telling them the whole story – her dad treating her as another man’s wife instead of his daughter because she’d had sex now, and of course, Mother Superior’s cutting words. By the time she’d finished, Mulan was ready to take the next greyhound bus to Maine and personally dismember everyone in Storybrooke apart from Rory.

“Oh Belle…” Ruby gave her another hug. “No wonder you don’t know who you are anymore. But we know who you are. Aiden knows who you are. You’re our friend, and you’re the love of his life. Surely he can reassure you that you have an identity beyond your virginity if no one else can.”

Belle sighed, and Ruby gave her a look. “You have talked to Aiden about this, right?”

“How can I?” Belle shrugged. “What can I say? How do I even start that conversation? And it’s not like he’s talking about it either, he just started sleeping in the spare room. He’s furious with me, I can tell.”

“Aiden’s a lovely guy, Belle. I know he’s absolutely terrifying on the outside to a stranger and I was ready to beat him with a stick when I first met him, but now that I’ve got to know him, I know how desperately devoted to you he is. He’s not the kind of guy to get angry with you for not wanting sex.”

“Then why isn’t he talking about it!”

“Maybe for the same reason you’re not talking about it? Maybe he’s waiting for you to bring it up, and he’s just giving you space until you feel ready for that?”

Belle could feel hot, angry tears pricking at her eyes, and she wiped them away before they could fall.

“I don’t know how to talk about it,” she said. “I need him to start that conversation because I’ve never had to start it before.”

“It’s very easy, honestly. All you have to do is begin with ‘hey, can we talk about the fact we haven’t had sex for weeks and you’re not even sleeping in the same bed as me anymore?’”

“Yeah, but…”

“Belle.” Ruby took her shoulders in a firm grip, forcing her to look up at her. “Belle, you need help. You can’t muddle through this on your own. Mulan and I can help you as much as we can, but you need to talk to Aiden about this, he’s the other person in your relationship. You still have Archie’s number, right?”

“I don’t need a psychiatrist, I’m not crazy.” Although, the more she thought about it, the more Belle wondered if she might actually be going mad. Listening to some of the things that she’d been saying over the course of the evening, they certainly wouldn’t have made sense to an outsider, even if inside her own brain, they conformed to a twisted and horrible sort of logic.

“No.” Ruby sighed. “No, you’re not crazy. No one’s saying that you are. But you need help. You need someone to talk to who can offer you proper, practical advice on how to overcome this. Because you can’t stay like this, Belle. You can’t live the entire rest of your life with the thoughts that you’re thinking now. You’re not worthless, you have value, the rest of the world doesn’t give a damn whether you’re having sex or not, and to be honest, anyone who sets that much store by your sex life or lack of it, anyone who is that damn interested in policing what you get up to between the sheets, is a pervert.”

The bald statement shocked Belle out of her increasing hysteria.

“I mean it,” Ruby said, and her expression was so ferocious that Belle couldn’t doubt her veracity. “Why is your sex life so important to that nun? Why is she so interested in it? Why does the state of every woman’s virginity have to be public knowledge in that town?”

In all her years, Belle had never questioned why. She’d despaired of it, she’d hated it, she’d pointed out the inconsistencies and paradoxes, but she’d never questioned why the town found it so incredibly important to, as Ruby put it, police her sexuality.

She stumbled away from the table, the rum and lime juice roiling in her stomach.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

X

Belle was back earlier than he expected. Normally Gold was well asleep by the time she came in from one of her nights out at Aesop’s with Ruby and Mulan. He never begrudged her it; it was good that she had such great friends and that they’d stayed so close even after college had finished.

Tonight, though, it was barely gone eleven o’clock and he was still sitting up in the living room, a documentary about tropical fish keeping him company as he looked over the notes he’d made for the clock restoration. It was a particularly tricky piece and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to leave it alone until he’d worked out all the kinks. He was surprised to hear the taxi pull up outside, and even more surprised to hear the doorbell. Belle was normally a giggly drunk, not a forgetful one.

Nevertheless, he got up and opened the door. Ruby was there with her arm around Belle, who was looking pale and drawn and not at all tipsy. It was enough to alarm him.

“Is everything ok?”

Ruby nodded. “Yeah, too many mojitos too quickly but she’s ok now. Not in the right frame of mind to continue the evening, though.”

Belle stepped into the house. “I need to brush my teeth, but I’ll be back down in a minute. Thanks for looking after me, Ruby.”

“It’s nothing, babe, you know that.”

Belle went upstairs, but Ruby didn’t move away from the door.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked. “It won’t take a sec. Belle’s… Look, you need to talk to her, ok? You need to ask her about what’s going on in her head because she won’t tell you without prompting, and you need to know what’s going on. So please, to save you both anymore heartache, please ask her what’s going on.”

Gold nodded dumbly as Ruby made her way back down the drive to the taxi, and he stood there in the doorway for a long time after it had driven off.

“Aiden?”

Belle’s touch on his shoulder brought him back to reality and he closed the door, following her into the living room.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked. “Ginger tea to settle your stomach?”

“No, I’ll be ok now.”

She sat down on the sofa, moving the clockwork sketches before running her hands through her hair with a groan. Gold thought about Ruby’s words. It was probably better to bring up the subject sooner rather than later, especially if it was still fresh in Belle’s mind having obviously been talking – or perhaps not talking, that was the point – about it with Ruby and Mulan. And of course, if he didn’t bite the bullet and do it now then he’d keep finding excuses to put it off. Like the fact that she was probably a bit drunk and wasn’t feeling well and the middle of the night wasn’t the best time to have this kind of conversation…

He bit off that train of thought and sat down beside Belle. It was now or never.

“Belle… What’s going on? I mean, you know… With us.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he was convinced that he had said the wrong thing, because Belle immediately began to cry. He was about to apologise and try to take it all back when she reached out for him blindly, wrapping her arms around him in a vice-like grip and burying her face in his shoulder. At least the fact that she was seeking him out for comfort felt like a good sign, and he put his arms around her, pulling her in against his chest and trying to soothe her as best he could, without really knowing what had caused her to break down in the first place.

At last she quietened, and after a long period of tense silence, she spoke.

“I want you,” Belle whispered, leaning into Gold’s chest as he held her close. “I miss us being together. I miss us making love, I miss your hands and your lips. I want you so badly I can hardly bear it, but at the same time, every time I think about it and I think about how much I want it, something in my head screams at me that I shouldn’t want it, that it’s a sin to want it, that sex isn’t for me to enjoy, it’s just something that I have to do in order to satisfy you and make a baby. It feels so good and that makes me feel so bad, because it shouldn’t feel so good.”

“Oh Belle…” As much as it was a relief to know that Belle still desired him, even if she didn’t want to act on those desires, Gold had no idea how to get her out of the terrible spiral of shame that she had found herself in. “Belle, you can’t beat yourself up for enjoying sex, that’s…”

He didn’t want to say that it was ridiculous; because it wasn’t. This was the was the way that Belle felt about the whole affair and her feelings were valid, even if he couldn’t hope to get his head around them having never experienced the same kind of feelings that she was wrestling with now.

“I don’t want to!” Belle exclaimed. “Do you think I enjoy feeling like this? It makes me bloody miserable, Aiden! I don’t want to feel like this anymore! Sometimes I wish I’d never done it in the first place, then at least I wouldn’t be feeling like this!”

Her words felt like a slap in the face, and Gold pulled back as the horrific realisation dawned.

It was all his fault, and there was nothing that he could do to make it better because what he had done could not be undone. If he’d just left Belle alone then she’d be fine. He could have lived with a celibate marriage if it meant that Belle was happy. He should never have pushed her, God, he should never even have touched her if he had known just how horrible it was going to make her feel. She hadn’t been ready, and as the more experienced one in their relationship, he should have seen that and respected it.

Fuck, he was a monster.

“I’m sorry.” It was hardly enough to make up for all the pain that he’d caused her, but it was a start. He got up off the sofa, backing off from her. “Belle, I’m so sorry.”

Belle blinked. “Why are you sorry?”

“I pushed you into something that you weren’t ready for. I put my desires above your needs, and that’s something that I can never take back. I’m sorry, I should have waited for you.”

“You did wait for me. You waited for me for three years, I think you’re entitled to expect some output after that.”

“No! I’m not entitled to anything! You don’t owe me anything, Belle. It’s not your duty to be sexually available at my whim.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to the nuns who expect me to open my legs and satisfy my husband whenever he wants and then call me a whore for doing so! I can’t win, Aiden. No matter what I do, I can’t win. They’ll always think the worst of me unless I’m like them. I just can’t win against them. It’s like they want me to be miserable, so they rig the game and make sure that every hand I play, I’m going to lose. I have to have sex, and yet I can’t enjoy it, what kind of fucked up way of thinking is that!”

Belle suddenly went silent, staring down at the floor, and she buried her face in her hands.

“They screwed me up. They got in my head before I got married, and then you managed to get them out again, and I was almost back to normal, and then they got back in. Oh God, Aiden, I need help.”

She burst into tears again then, loud, wracking sobs filled with pain and misery, and Gold couldn’t have stayed away if he’d tried. He had to comfort her, just as he comforted her when she cried in the middle of the night. He had to let her know that it wasn’t her fault, and that he would help her get better even if he couldn’t undo the things he’d done to make her feel this way in the first place.

“I need help,” Belle gasped through her tears. “Christ, I think we both do. I need to get these bloody nuns out of my head. I don’t understand how what they say can make no sense at all and can still make me so fucking upset. I just want to feel normal again. I want to enjoy having sex with you again. Because I did enjoy it, and I don’t regret it. I could never regret that. Making love with you was wonderful. Learning to love you like that… It was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t blame you for me feeling like this. Before we went back there… I’d never been happier than I was when I was with you and I was feeling so much joy that I’d never experienced before.”

Gold took a deep breath, holding Belle close. Maybe it wasn’t his fault after all. Maybe the blame could all be laid squarely at Storybrooke’s door.

“I just wish I knew how to stop feeling like this. I need help.”

Belle fell into silence, and then, in a sudden burst of movement, she grabbed her purse from the floor and rummaged around in it, coming up with a scrap of paper.

Archie Hopper, it read, along with a phone number.

Gold looked at the paper and then at Belle, raising his eyebrows.

“He’s Ruby’s ex,” Belle murmured. “He’s a therapist.”

She turned to Gold and gave him a weak smile. “I think that maybe Ruby and Mulan are right. I think that I need professional help.”