#i got a new tablet!! a proper one with a screen and god it’s so much easier to draw on this thing

[dzknik]

ok yes i’ve been gone for a while because work and uni are KILLING me but season 2 of the magnus protocol is coming and i’m subbed to the patreon and you bet i Will be back with the weekly little title cards. i miss making those

[raendown]

Fandom: Marvel Pairing: SamBucky Word count: 2070 Rated: T+ Summary: Steve had only just been thinking about how much he missed his best friend when his phone started ringing. Great minds think alike! Except apparently Bucky had meant to call someone else entirely and Steve was not at all prepared for the discovery of this baffling - but adorable - secret.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

From Where You Are

He may have staunchly denied it every time Tony or Natasha or anyone else teased him for it but Steve knew damn well that he had a - very slight! - penchant for dramatics. Dramatics like slamming an entire plane down in to the icy ocean rather than just turning the damn thing around and flying in circles until Peggy or Howard came up with the latest madcap rescue plan. Yeah. He was a self aware guy. Which meant he knew exactly how much teasing he would get if he so much as dared to open his mouth and complain about life on the run. 

Because as well as Steve knew himself, his friends knew him better. He might be lucky to get a whole three words in to his sentence before any of the people he currently had available to listen would guess exactly what he was really complaining about. He missed Bucky. So sue him! He’d already spent seventy years thinking his best friend was dead and then another two knowing he was out there but not exactly all there. Now finally he knew exactly where Bucky was. He knew that Bucky knew exactly who he was. They could be best friends again. 

Through video calls only. 

Steve clenched his jaw against the urge to close both eyes and whine at the unfairness of it all. Leaving Bucky in Wakanda had been the right choice for everyone but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Could the world maybe stop being so unfair for just five damn minutes? Give a guy a chance to reunite properly with the one thing that had centered the first couple decades of his life? Maybe get a hug or two in while Bucky was only one-armed and half defenseless against a few rounds of proper manly affection? It didn’t sound like too much to ask. Yet here he was sitting up just past midnight trying to calculate time zones to figure out if maybe he could get a quick call in now that Sam and Natasha were falling asleep. If he snuck out on to the balcony he might be able to avoid waking them and therefore avoid the inevitable teasing over his ‘very obvious pining’.

So lost in his own head was he that Steve nearly threw his phone against the wall when it began signing in his hand. It took a slow blink or two for his thoughts to clear enough that he understood no, he had not called Bucky out of rote habit, Bucky was calling him. Score one for that mental best friend bond he’d heard the other two joking about the other day. Steve was smiling as he accepted the call and held it up at an angle he hoped would get his face properly. 

“Hey, Buc- oh my god, are you okay?” 

Small on the screen and folding in to himself like he was trying to be just as small in person, Bucky’s eyes were wild where they stared somewhat just over top of whatever device he’d used to call from. He took several ragged breaths in and let them all out a little too heavily before he could speak. 

“No.”

“I’m here, pal, what’s up?”

“Can you- where’s Sam?”

Steve felt his eyebrows lift up together. “Uh, Sam? Is in the next room. Why?”

A good question, he felt, since in the eight or so months since they had all last been together in Wakanda, Bucky had never once so much as breathed Sam’s name during these scattered video calls. Steve had seen them have maybe two conversations in the palace and both of those had been stilted as hell. Two men dancing around the fact that they’d both tried to kill each other on several occasions. Now here was Bucky jerking his eyes over to look directly at the camera and Steve had never seen him look so haunted before. Which, really, was saying something.

“I want to talk to Sam,” he said, voice quiet, aching with something Steve hadn’t heard before. They had talked about Bucky having nightmares. He’d just never seen one, not even the aftermath. Bucky had been a keep-it-close-to-the-chest guy long before what happened with HYDRA.

“Uh, okay. Sure. He might be asleep but I’ll just- yeah.”

Feeling more than a little confused, he did just that. Stood and marched to the door with a single minded purpose that could only come with being given a mission. Bucky wanted to talk to Sam and he might not understand why but he was going to make that happen even if he had to wake the man up. 

Thankfully, he did not have to wake the man up, although if he’d waited even a single full minute longer that might have been the case. Sam hadn’t even taken the time to undress or properly get in to what passed as his bed for tonight. He was still sitting half slumped against the wall on a little nest of blankets, carefully positioned in exactly the opposite corner from Natasha because one simply did not sleep next to a Russian super spy knowing that the slightest disturbance would send her in to full mission mode in less than five seconds. Besides, Sam had laughed when he pointed that out, I’m a serial sleep cuddler and I don’t think that’s a great idea here. Who knows how many knives she’s got under her pillow? 

“Sam?” Fond amusement rippled through the layers of worry as Steve watched his friend’s head loll towards him, indolent and exhausted. “Hey, uh, Bucky’s on a call. He wants...to talk to you?” That got a reaction. His eyes cracked open to take in the phone Steve was holding out and his chin lifted faintly in greeting.

“Hey man,” he ground out, voice coarse with near-sleep. “‘Nother nightmare?”

“Can you tell me a story?” Bucky asked. 

Steve very nearly dropped the phone. He almost dropped it again when Sam, without any external reaction whatsoever, immediately launched in with, “So you know that guy Dwayne I was telling you about? From homeroom? God, lemme tell you about how stupid this guy is. We’re at prom, right? And there’s this honey he’s had his eyes on for like three months only she went to prom with Harry Murdock- yeah, you know, the quarterback. Fuckin’ quarterbacks, man.”

It was kind of like watching something his own weird dreams might come up with. A sequence of events that made very little sense once you’d woken up and tried to piece it all back together. Sam’s eyes gradually slid closed again but his mouth just kept going like this was all totally normal, like he often spent his nights sitting up and telling Bucky random stories about the other kids he’d gone to highschool with. And on the opposite end of the call Bucky’s face grew less haunted with every word until the panic had drained out of him entirely and his own eyes were sliding down. He must have been using a tablet or laptop because the camera stayed perfectly centered on him even when his head at last fell gently down against his chest. 

“-and I mean, yeah, I get what he was going for with the ribbons but fuck, it really just made the whole thing worse. Best night of my entire highschool career gone right down the drain because Harry Murdock was too ashamed to tell his parents he wanted to take me to prom and Lisa Furlow was too good of a friend to tell anyone she was just a beard. Obviously the teachers were mad about the horse being there but- ah. He fall asleep?” It took a second for Steve to realize his friend was asking him a question. 

“Yeah. He did.”

“S’good. Good. ‘M gonna too. Night, Steve.” And then he was out too. Sam’s head lolled again, face going slack, and Steve was left standing there with a phone in his hand and several new knots in his chest, all of them shaped like confusion. 

Well. That. Had happened. Lifting his hand, Steve watched the live image of his best friend sleeping peacefully, a direct contrast to the shaken man who had reached out for help. Reached out to someone who wasn’t Steve. He’d be lying if he tried to say some part of that didn’t sting but he was a big enough person to recognize that helping Bucky was so much more important than stroking his own ego even if he did still feel like the ground was shaky between them after everything that had happened. Watching the man now, he certainly couldn’t deny that whatever the hell just happened seemed to have helped. Bucky hadn’t looked so at peace since he’d volunteered to go back in to cryo while the Wakandans figured out a way to help him. 

Movement from the opposite corner of the room drew Steve’s eye and when he glanced over he found Natasha sitting primly with both eyebrows raised in question. Not having much of an explanation, he could only give her a helpless one-shoulder shrug. They held each others’ gazes in matching confusion for several beats until Steve turned to look back at where Sam lay, asleep and content, slumped against the wall. He was definitely going to wake up to an aching back. 

And a whole lot of questions. 

Unfortunately for Steve’s overwhelming curiosity, he was still self-aware enough to know he didn’t have the heart to wake Sam, not knowing that it was ultimately his own fault the other man was so tired. If he hadn’t shown up on Sam’s doorstep that day they wouldn’t both be here, on the run from their own country, unable to call home to the people they cared about, worn to the bone from running and fighting and hiding themselves away in whatever dingy hole they found to crash in for a night or two. No, Steve would not be the one to disturb any rest his friend managed to find. 

“You gonna hang up some time this century?” Natasha’s voice murmured through the shadows. 

“Oh, yeah, I probably should.”

She watched him do so with what was probably an all too obvious reluctance. Then she grinned. “We’re giving him the third degree tomorrow, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“So many questions. I need to know absolutely everything that led to Sam Wilson telling the Winter Soldier bedtime stories. Everything.”

“That was weird, right?” Steve ran a hand through his hair, absently noting a tremble in the fingers. “We should probably get some sleep too. I mean, you try. Don’t think I’ll be able to get any.”

Natasha unfolded herself from the floor with the corners of her mouth curling up in a little smirk he couldn’t bring himself to look away from. “No, I think I’ll be fine. Let’s go get some coffee. We’ll coordinate our plan of attack for when this guy gets back to the land of the living.” She jerked one thumb at Sam’s form and Steve finally had to peel his eyes away just to hold in the laughter that wanted to spill out. 

“Alright. Yeah. Coffee. And a plan of attack. Sounds good to me.” 

“What was it they called you? The star spangled man with a plan?”

Steve groaned and covered his eyes with the hand not still holding his phone. “Please tell me there’s no surviving footage of me prancing around on stage in tights.”

“Why would I need footage when I get front row seats every time you suit up?” Natasha sauntered away from him, probably - definitely - aware exactly what shade of red she’d just left on his face. Front row seats indeed. He certainly didn’t mind his own front row seat whenever he had the chance and the times Natasha had to join them out here on the run from their own government gave him plenty of chances. 

One last look at his phone made him smile before Steve slipped it in to his pocket and gently clapped both hands together, rubbing his palms back and forth. Coffee did sound good. Coffee with Natasha while they figured out exactly how much hell to give Sam over how he was apparently reading bedtime stories for a man he hadn’t said two words about in all the time since they’d left Wakanda. This was going to be fun. 

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: ii

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 1   ||   chapter 3   ||   chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You and Hawks’s second meeting.

warnings: mutual pining, shy reader-ish, ooc hawks, the fun stuff, fluff ; ) 

|||||||||||||

You didn’t hear anything from Hawks for the next few days. 

It was a fleeting disappointment, but you took his lack of contact as truth and reality. Some big shot, pro-hero wasn’t going to waste time texting a no-name, nobody barista, no matter how mutually flirty of an interaction was shared. 

Prior to actually meeting Hawks, you had seen the tabloids that his name spilled over. Shady stories of midnight rendezvous with models and celebrities, sultry pictures of his own on magazines at grocery store checkouts were a lot of your knowledge of him. He was a very eligible and active bachelor, everyone knew it. 

You reminded yourself that you didn’t mean shit to him, and moved on.

Until about a week from your first meeting, late into the evening, your phone buzzed.

You thought it was one of the team from the teashop, asking another question about a new blend you had made. 

Your eyes widened at the text that you did see:

 [unknown number]: hey angel ;) do you work tomorrow? it’s supposed to be a cold one and i’d love to try another one of your drinks

 You stared at your phone screen for a moment, mouth going dry before typing out a reply. 

 [you]: is this hawks?

 The next reply came only seconds later.

 [unknown number]: the one and only ;))))

  He... actually texted me?

Holy shit.

Another message came in. 

 [unknown number]: don’t tell me you go handing out your number to folks at work all the time :^( you’re gonna hurt my :^((( feelings :^((((

 You deadpanned at Hawks’s texts. 

You couldn’t believe the number two, pro hero texted like a normal twenty-some year old.

It was endearing, if not at the very least comforting.

 [you]: nah, just you tailfeathers 😉

[you]: i work tomorrow morning, opening shift. 6 am. think you can handle it???

 You giggled at your own texts, unable to hold back when you saw Hawks continuing to type. You quickly typed in a contact name.

 [tailfeathers]: E

[tailfeathers]: Z

[tailfeathers]: i’ll be there bright and early ;)

 Part of you, the rational, realistic part, doubted that. Sure, Hawks had texted you, but he wouldn’t actually show, right? He was a busy, busy man. He’d probably get sidetracked.

Don’t get your hopes up. 

 You tried to remain practical.

But, you also liked pushing your luck.

 [you]: see u then!!

[you]: btw your contact name is ‘tailfeathers’ 

[you]: ;)

 [tailfeathers]: what if i told you yours is ‘barista angel’

 [you]: i’d ask if you saw my name on that conveniently small piece of paper i gave you

 [tailfeathers]: i would say yes

[tailfeathers]: but idk angel seems like a more proper title for u 

You felt your still and heat rush to your face. 

He can’t be flirting with you over text. What the FUCK.

 [tailfeathers]: only angels can make coffee as well as u 😇

 “What a bastard,” You shook your head, sighing. Part of you was glad he made it more clear your identity was tied to coffee and not affections. 

 [you]: u flatter me

 [tailfeathers]: i only speak the truth ;)

 You bit your lip as you typed out the next reply, well aware that the evening sky had darkened and you needed an adequate amount of sleep to actually make it to that morning shift. 

 [you]: i’m about to knock out so i can actually be alive for my shift, but i’ll see you tomorrow bird boy

 Hawks’s replied quickly as seemed to be a trend with him. 

 [tailfeathers]: bird boy!!!!! 

[tailfeathers]: i’m moving up in the world

[tailfeathers]: see u then angel 

 As you got ready for bed, going about your mundane routine and preparing the coming day, you had no idea that Keigo was across the city, cradling his phone to his chest with a wobbling smile on his face, a foreign sensation filling his chest. 

He was very excited to see you again, even if it took a few days to get that far.

 |||||||||||||||||||

 The next day was indeed, terribly cold. Despite bundling up in a thick, woolen coat and a knit scarf, you nearly froze on the way to work. Despite the chill, the rest of the morning crew made it in just a few minutes after you.

“I’ll be in back until there’s a rush, alright?” You called to the three openers, all silly college students from the local university. They were all sort of dense, but they were loveable.

“Okay!” One smiled as they flitted to the front counter and seating area.

The back of the teashop was a smaller commercial kitchen, all steel tables and cooking implements. Lots of tools to actually do your job. Though you were the maker of the tea blends for the shop, a lot of your work consisted of packaging and fulfilling orders as well as design work for the teashop’s online presence. Truthfully, you were more of a jack-of-all-trades type of worker, but nearly all of it confined you to the safety of the back kitchen. The lack of stimuli made it easier to work effectively, quirk activated or otherwise.

You tied your apron tight around your waist, adjusting a few of your buttons and smoothing yourself down. The back remained frigid in the mornings, and you could only be glad you were layered up for the day. You pulled out your company-issued tablet and began tapping away with the stylus as the shop prepped to open.

You were too absorbed in your work to hear the bell at the entrance, just minutes after unlocking the door. 

 Keigo? Elated. His last week of hero work had been all long hours and late nights. His wings had grown sparse with overuse, barely carrying him properly through the skies. When he saw that his office day at his agency was due to be particularly cold, he knew it was the perfect excuse to give you a visit.

You hadn’t been constantly on his mind. Rather, you perked up in his thoughts semi-reliably, but briefly a few times a day. Most affections were forgettable, he didn’t have time for anything other than whorish trysts with other heroes and those of higher society who knew how to keep their mouths (somewhat) shut. 

Part of him, the part that the Commission’s ruthless training created, hated the way how you were sticking with him.

Another part of him, the kinder, softer, very repressed one, recognized his feelings and hid them safely. Vulnerable things required heavy protection.

 When Keigo reached the teashop, early as dawn crept over the urbanscape, he pushed the door open and was greeted by the rolling smell of roasted coffee beans and black tea.

Only a few other patrons were there, eyes wide as the top ten hero gave them a trademark wave, waltzing to the counter with his signature swagger.

The workers (none of them being you) gawked at him, jaws half to the floor.

“Hawks?!” One of them exclaimed. “Oh my god, can I get an autograph?!”

 (Keigo carried a few pens on him for occasions like this.)

 The worker, a young thing with a shock of short blue hair, wrestled under the counter for a notebook. Another of the workers also attempted to wrangle a bit of receipt paper from the fussy machine, flashing him a nervous smile.

“Of course, autographs are a given,” He winked at the two of them, sauntering up to the counter. “On one condition, though. Could you tell me if (Y/N) is working?”

The morning shifts workers proceeded to gawk more. 

 You sat deep in concentration, thoroughly organizing yourself for the day with lists and plans. You were only startled from your work when one of the other baristas popped her head back, eyes wide. 

“Uh, (Y/N), I know you’re busy, but Hawks is here for you?” She stammered, saying his name incredulously and pointing a shaking finger out at the counter.

You could hear his silky laugh just beyond the precipice. 

Your mouth quirked up in surprise. 

I didn’t expect him to actually come.

It was a pleasant surprise though, one that made your heart stutter in your chest.

You put down the tablet, making your way to the front of the shop.

Hawks leaned down on the front counter, signing various papers and items that the staff and patrons of the tea shop had given him. His smooth voice echoed beautifully around the shop, mixing with the din of the soft music that provided ambient sound. 

Thoroughly absorbed in his fan interaction, you leaned against the door frame, watching him as he had yet to notice you.

(You tried to look nonchalant, but it was probably a bit of ogling.)

Hawks’s scarlet wings appeared sparse, but still twitched and fluffed every few moments. He was dressed in his hero uniform, visor pushed up into the feathery, front bits of his hair. With all of his typical regalia on, he seemed out of place in the slow din of the coffee shop. He seemed to shine so brightly, making himself a focal point without even trying. 

Without the protection of his visor, Hawks’ honeyed eyes seemed brighter, luminous from the inside out. Even from your distance, you could watch their topazine shine dance in the soft lighting. 

His gaze drifted to you and positively lit up. 

(You didn’t think that was possible.)  

Your stomach fluttered.

“Well, if it isn’t (Y/N)!” Hawks beamed you a smile that could’ve put the sun to shame. It made something deep in your chest thrum. “For a minute there, I thought you’d pulled my leg about working today.”

“Oh, never, ” You grinned, moving directly in front of him at the counter, your shocked coworkers parting for you. “I tend to work in the back if the rest of our lovely staff is present.

You gestured to your very starstruck coworkers who all gave various gawking looks before falling away, shyness obviously overtaking them. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t feeling similarly, but your nervousness was better hidden. Facades were, in fact, a trained skill in maintaining and god, if you weren’t a master.

But, Keigo had his own mastery in spotting cracks in people’s veneers. And, easily, he saw your tension and nervousness. For anyone with less trained interpersonal skills, they wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing. But to Keigo? Your anxiety was as clear as the light you added to a room. A few of his feathers twitched, picking up on the rapid beating of your heart across from him. 

“What can I get you?” You asked, speaking through any of your fears, cracking him a genuine smile.

Keigo returned it without thought, chest warming.

“Mmm... Surprise me. Something to help me get my day started.” Keigo loved the way your eyes lit up when he talked, a little bit of knowingness between the two of you sparking. 

“Same specifications as before? Hot and sweet?” You asked, already grabbing a cup, flashing him a cheeky grin. 

Hawks raised an eyebrow, batting his eyelashes at you in a way that you couldn’t not laugh. He rested his elbows on the counter and leaned over the top of it, regarding you with half-lidded eyes, “You remember my preferences? I feel honored.”

“You should,” You winked. If he was going to shamelessly flirt, you would right back. 

 Truthfully, your personal attention made Keigo swoon like a goddamn schoolgirl. He could feel sweat growing on his palms, making the leather of his gloves stick. Normally, the sensation would’ve ticked his more anxiety-ridden tendencies into overdrive, but he could hardly focus on them. He was too busy watching you flit around behind the counter.

 “So,” You began, activating your quirk and beginning your process. “Why so few feathers? Get roughed up?”

Keigo chuckled, flexing what feathers he did have left for emphasis, “Basically. I have to give them a few days to regrow. A couple nasty days in a row means a couple days recovery.”

You hummed, turning to the espresso machine. Before pouring the shot, you gave him a little smile with the cutest quirk in your lips, “I’m sure you more than deserve the rest.”

 Oh, that made his proverbial dick swell.

Someone, a very nice, stranger barista, angel, telling him he deserved something kind? And, there wasn’t an edge of dishonesty in you. If anything, there was an earnestness in your quirk-blackened eyes that made Keigo nearly scared of the amount of vulnerability you gave him so freely.

He wondered if you showed that to all of your patrons. 

(You didn’t.) 

 You turned behind the counter, quirk activated and swirling. The familiar blending of your senses made your teeth ache and head burn with the overabundance of stimuli, but you worked through it. You reached through the external sensations to manifest your idea and feeling into a conceivable reality. 

You dumped any number of syrups and shots into the cup, placing it (and a lid) on the counter in front of Hawks. Warm smells of cardamom and cinnamon tickled both of your noses as you nodded down, “Let that cool for a sec, then give it a taste. I need a comprehensive review.”

Hawks plucked off one of his gloves, taking the steaming cup in his hand, looking down at the foam. His gaze flickered around the two of you, noting that the few civilians and coworkers once surrounding him had left you two with a small bit of privacy.

“What’s the inspiration for this one?” Hawks gave you a downright sweet, knowing look.

“Take a sip and guess,” You nodded down to the cup again, idly going to wipe down the counters with a rag slung in your apron.

Hawks blew on steaming liquid, throwing back his head to take a decently sized sip. You had to tear your gaze from the bob of his throat. 

  Keep it in your pants. 

 While you were suppressing being horny for the number two hero, Keigo was suppressing being horny for a fucking beverage. 

The flavor hit his tongue and throat and danced. It was warm, like the last one, spilling hearth-like heat into his chest and extremities. But, this drink tasted literally spiced, like it had some sort of pepper in it (according to Keigo’s untrained, pitiful palette). His wings ruffled, feathers rustling and twitching with the taste of the drink. Despite the heat flooding his body, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose as waves of subtle pleasure rolled through Keigo’s body. 

He placed the cup back on the counter, staring you down with incredulity.

You, cutely cheeky as ever, just smiled and crossed your arms over your chest, “Are you a fan?”

“It’s... spicy. How. Why. Is this even coffee?” Hawks asked. Despite his questioning, he took another sip, shuddering at the comforting heat it gave him. 

“There’s coffee in it, or, espresso,” You couldn’t help feeling a bit smitten with the way Hawks looked at you. Disbelief wasn’t an expression you saw many heroes wear, especially not one with a reputation like Hawks’s. Yet, there he was, in front of you, staring at his cup like you just served him battery acid and grass. 

“If that’s the case, gimme the rundown, angel,” Hawks peeled off his other glove, setting the pair on the counter. He surprised you as he shrugged off his lined jacket, plopping down in a nearby stool.

You hadn’t ever really seen this much of Hawks, not in his hero uniform anyways. Plenty of him was available for viewing due to his various modeling ventures, but seeing him in the flesh was far better. The black shirt of his hero costume stretched over the lean, sculpted muscles of his arms. He certainly wasn’t built in the same way other top heroes were, but from what you could see (read: drool over), Hawks certainly wasn’t lacking—

“See something you like?” Hawks raised an eyebrow while taking another sip,  devilish curl to his lips.

You really wished you had the bodily control to stop the red flush that grew on your face.

“SO —!” You laughed, diverting back to the drink at hand. “The drink.”

“Wonderful deflection,” Hawks set the cup down, still smirking. “So, the drink .”

Your fingers tapped at the countertop, living your blush down with a lack of eye contact. 

  He gets stared at all the time, chill out. 

Dude probably likes it, (Y/N).

 “The drink is a dirty chai, with some editions, of course.” You jerked your head back to the wall of tea blends, the familiar ebbing away from of your embarrassment. “We have a couple of different chai blends that I make in house. Several different chai concentrates too.”

“Forgive me, but a dirty chai?” Hawks teased.

“Wow, weak jab there, Hawks, ” You rolled your eyes. Hawks just continued to beam at you, swinging his legs behind the counter. “I gave you an oatmilk,  ginger chai with three shots of espresso and a few other secret touches. I wanted to make it warm again for you.”

 Keigo paused at your admission, (not-so) secretly reveling in your poorly contained embarrassment. Perhaps it was a bit cruel, but his job did carry some wonderful perks and he’d be damned to not enjoy them. 

“It feels like a different kind of warm, compared to last time,” Keigo took another taste to confirm. The spiced liquid flooded his palette again, skin pleasantly prickling at the taste. 

 You hummed, refusing to fully make eye contact with Hawks. 

Truthfully, you spent an embarrassing amount of time since the night prior thinking about potential sensations to emulate for Hawks. You were never sure of what type of vibe he would request, but having an arsenal of ideas made you feel more prepared to impress your new clientele. 

“I made it feel like dawn,” You replied, nodding to out of the fully-windowed front of the tea shop. The district you were located in was lit up by the golds and pinks of the early morning, stretching and awakening with the new day. “I wanted it to feel like how morning sun feels on your bare skin. All like... tingly, you know? Like... seeing someone you haven't seen in a long time. ”

 Keigo immediately noticed your bashfulness after you gave your description. In the same way as last time, the vulnerability of your manifested feelings left you warm and shy for him. 

You picked at a loose string on your apron, gaze directed down and away.  With his obscured view of your face, he could see the way you softly bit your lip, eyes occasionally raking him up and down and that retreating. Keigo could feel your pounding heart and slow, deep breaths. 

...

Keigo was whipped and he hardly knew you. He was so fucked.

You were too fucking cute. It was fucking illegal. It had to be. 

Keigo had been with sexy. He’d been with unattainable. He’d been with women and men who looked like they were crafted by gods as tempters and devils. It was all pleasure and Keigo knew it like the back of his hand. He got hedonistic bliss when he wanted it and he did so very, very well.

What Keigo was entirely unfamiliar with was the gooey, fluttery feeling in his chest as you finally looked up at him to smile and nod to the drink, “So, what do you think?”

Keigo’s brain fizzled, rendered into goo. If he didn’t have years of interpersonal training, he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to speak with his own revelations. Luckily, he was able to laugh off his internal stickiness, taking another greedy sip.

“Absolutely flawless, wonderful craftsmanship, (Y/N),” Keigo bowed his head dramatically. 

 You giggled at Keigo’s drama, missing the way how his cheeks lit up for you. 

Hawks dug in his pocket, pulling out a huge wad of bills and started to slide it across the counter, “This is a tip. All for you.”

You stared, horrified at the amount of money Hawks passed to you like it was nothing. Without thinking, you placed your hand on top of his, stopping his motion. Both of you stiffened pleasantly at the sudden, small contact. 

“That’s too much, Hawks, no,” You shook your head, but Hawks was a stubborn, insistent bastard. 

His wings fluffed up behind him, a feather moving quickly between your hands and pushing your up and away.

“What the fuck.” You half-groaned. Hawks fully passed the money across the counter, hiding his hands and feathers in his lap with a Panish smirk stretched across his face.

“Take it, or I tattle on you, easy trade,” Hawks shrugged, leaning his elbows on the counter and drinking deeply. He pulled away from his beverage with a relaxed-looking smile as you remained fluster.

(Holy fuck, you touched Hawks’s bare hand and it was so NICE—)

You could feel the eyes of your coworkers, staring at the money like some Olympic medal. You were well-aware that there was no way Hawks was taking back his money and you knew your coworkers would be too scared to ask for a cut. 

You gulped, taking the cash and tucking it into your apron pocket.

“You don’t need to bribe me to make you nice drinks, Hawks, it’s literally my job,” You told him gently.

Hawks raised an eyebrow, shrugging, “Accept it as a little treat on the side. A gift of my appreciation.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you relented with a smile, shaking your head. 

And the two of your dissolved into easy conversation. Hawks told you about the most recent gigs he had been a part of. A modeling contract for a new skincare company and a sponsorship with a few other local heroes for a sports beverage were the most interesting. You were sure he was just humoring you, unable to tell you the nitty-gritty details of his life. Yet, he seemed happy to speak and listen besides. He chattered away, in the way birds do, sing-song, and free-flowing. 

Hawks was hardly a bird of prey, you realized. He was much more of a cockatoo type. 

You told him more about the tea shop, about your role and job. As you explained about the basics of different types of tea, you could literally see the far off way Hawks looked at you. It wasn’t of distraction, like spacing out, no. It was a look that hadn’t been directed at you in some time. You silently and quickly studied it and came to the nerve-wracking conclusion that the cute blush on his cheeks and half-lidded eyes and relaxed shoulders was fucking captivation, borderline adoration.

For.

You.

How the fuck were you supposed to deal with that?

(Keigo wasn’t sure either.)

 Luckily, neither of you planned on doing anything to stop your mutually budding feelings.  

[alternateafterthought]

Arcane

Ø  Meaning: Secret, Mysterious, Understood only by few. MAGIC

Ø  Pairing: Panther Hybrid Min Yoongi x Reader

Ø  Summary: Some secrets are kept for the good of people. Some secrets are kept for abuse or power. Yoongi had been a victim of abuse and power, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else use secrets for that purpose. So, when Y/N comes into his life with secrets, he doesn’t want to fall into that rabbit hole again. He doesn’t want to give all his trust to someone who will abuse their power over him. But maybe Y/N’s secrets are a good thing.

Ø  Genre: Hybrid!au, fluff, angst, eventual smut

Ø  Warnings: None

Ø  Word Count: 1897

Ø  A/N: Hey guys… this is my first Min Yoongi fic!! After finally finishing my first ever BTS fic, GOLDEN TIME, I started working on this one!! If you haven’t noticed, I really love Hybrid stories and I seem to love writing them just as much!!! So, I really hope you guys love and support this fic like you did with GOLDEN TIME!! If you want to be added to a tag list, message me or leave a comment or ask!! Thank you so much!!

NEXT

Training a house dog was one thing. Walking around parks and seeing them full of dogs playing and learning to sit, come, stay, roll over was something rather cute.

What wasn’t cute was walking past those same parks to see full grown adult hybrids learning the same tricks as dogs. They may have animal genetics, they may have eats and a tail, and some attributes of their animal counterpart. Yet, it gives no proper reasoning as to why hybrids needed to be trained to sit, stay, come, roll over for a treat like they were lesser.

Hybrids might have been part animal, but they were also part human. A small detail lots of humans seemed to miss themselves.

Y/N walked through the park, having slipped away from her overbearing parents 30 minutes ago, loving being by herself. Even though it was loud, children running and playing, their parents running and shouting after them, hybrids playing with children, dogs running around. There was so much noise, so much around her, and yet it was the most at peace Y/N had been in months.

She was never allowed this type of freedom, not since she was a kid, and so she basked in the walk alone. The rays of the sun warming her up as she stood in the middle of the grassy area, head raised to the sun, eyes closed. The light cardigan over the dress she wore in the summer breeze moved as she looked around, happy to be alone, even for a while.

“HEY, I SAID SIT YOU STUPID ANIMAL!”

A rather loud, high pitched shout caused Y/N to open her eyes. Y/N blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the bright light of the sun, only to catch the ending of a tall woman hitting a hybrid.

From where Y/N stood she could make out small golden ears on top of the hybrids head, the same colour of the mop of golden hair on the hybrids head. A long golden tail wrapped around the hybrids own thigh as the hybrid curled in on themselves, their hands moving up to cover their face.

The hybrid was obviously scared, and it was even more obvious that no one was going to help the hybrid. Human and hybrids alike just looked as the woman punished her hybrid for not listening to her before looking away. Y/N noticed some hybrids, the closer ones and younger ones looked at the hybrid sympathetically, but the whole world knew that no one could help the poor hybrid. Like Y/N, all they could do was watch, before turning away herself.

Moving off the grass, Y/N followed the path to the edge of the park, joining the crowded streets of people. Y/N only had so much time to herself before her parents found her again, and that was an argument she could wait for. After all, this was the reason she had convinced her parents of this trip to the city, having planned the whole trip out.

Checking her watch as she moved across the street, Y/N only had 3 more hours before she had to meet her parents back at the hotel. She was already setting something up that would undoubtedly give her parents some type of heart attack, the least she could do was be on time.

Well as on time as a daughter can be in adopting a hybrid without her parents knowing she would.

Following the GPS on her phone, Y/N finally made it to the shelter, quickly opening the door. She was welcomed by a lively room, what was obviously once white walls were now covered in pictures of hundreds of hybrids. Some playing by themselves, some obviously posing for the camera and some with the biggest smile and humans, just having been adopted. The people in the room seemed to be just as lively, smiles and laughter coming from everywhere.

Y/N could tell who worked at the shelter, the purple shirts with the words “HOPE Sanctuary” on the back told her just that. It seemed there was a small family who had just happily adopted a dog hybrid, from the looks of it the young hybrid must have been the same age as the son he currently played with. There was also an elderly couple who had just adopted a cat hybrid, the younger feline standing next to the elder woman who gave the hybrid such a warm grandmotherly smile.

“Excuse me?” A voice spoke from behind Y/N. “Can I help you?”

A young woman stood next to Y/N; the purple shirt she wore matched the purple hair she sported. She was beautiful, the smile on her face was infectious, the soft dimples making her look that much younger. Y/N could tell she enjoyed working here, it was always good to see that there were humans like her that only wanted the best for hybrids.

“Hi yes. I called a few days ago about adopting a hybrid?” Y/N recalled the conversation she had with a very cheerful man.

“Ah yes, the older hybrid, right?” The woman’s eyes seemed to spark something. “If you would just take a seat, I will go get the owner.”

“Oh okay, thank you.” Y/N bowed her head  before moving to sit in one of the chairs.

Sitting on one of the free chairs, Y/N’s phone buzzed, reaching into her handbag to check the screen. She breathed a sigh of relief, thanking every god she could think of it wasn’t her parents. It was just a reminder, a needed reminder, but just a reminder to take her medication.

It was a simple enough task, one she did willingly, taking the small tablets then the water in the bottle she always carried around. She may not like it, she may not like the effects of them, and she may not like how her parents treated her like some child. But at 24 years old, she knew when to argue about something, and when to accept her fate and do as she’s told.

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N?” A familiar voice made Y/N look up as she screwed the lid tightly on her water bottle. “I’m Jung Hoseok, but please, J-Hope is what everyone calls me. I believe we talked on the phone.”

“Yes, Mr. Jung…” Y/N caught his eyebrow raise before laughing a little as she stood, taking the man’s hand in a handshake. “J-Hope.”

“Would you follow me to my office?” J-Hope gestured towards an office door, and with a nod they both moved towards it. “Can I just say, when we got your call that you were interested in one of our older hybrids, I just had to take your case personally.”

“Oh?”

“It’s nothing to be worried about, trust me.” J-Hope smiled widely, letting Y/N know he was excited. “It’s just when it comes to hybrids, people normally go for the younger children or even teens. I worry about the older hybrids, and unfortunately any hybrid over the age of 21 is considered old.”

“Really?” That was news to Y/N, her eyes wide as she took a seat opposite J-Hope.

With a sad nod from J-Hope, he moved some paperwork around, obviously finding the right stack; “So when you said you had interest in older hybrids, I just knew it was a case I had to take.” He finally found the right stack of paper with a small sound of approval. “We currently have 6 older hybrids here and I would love you to meet them all. Though with 2 of them unavailable you will only be meeting 4 of them.”

“What species of hybrids are they?” Y/N sat up straight in her chair, intrigued and happy. “The ones I’ll be meeting at least.”

“Two dog hybrids, a fox hybrid and a cat hybrid.” J-Hope looked up and smiled as he handed over 4 files to Y/N. “These are everything about them, you can read them first or you can meet them first, which ever you choose first.”

Looking down at the 4 files, she quickly flipped through them, a picture on the front of each yellow file. All 4 hybrids were males, first was a golden retriever hybrid, sandy blonde hair, the same colour as his floppy ear. He had a boxy smile, large eyes that shone brightly and he seemed to have been playing in mud as the picture was taken. Mud covered his clothes, parts of his face and hair had muddy stains, he seemed to be having a great time, even in the picture.

The second was a German Sheppard hybrid, large ears stood tall, tan and black, his head was tilted to the side. He looked to have been caught off guard, a book sat on his lap, his mouth opened slightly. He looked tall, even sitting on what looked to be his bed, his large hands looked like they wanted to move up to block the camera from taking his picture. There was a small note on the front of his file “Would be best suited for someone who lives close to the outdoors.”

Third was a very handsome hybrid. Anyone could tell that hybrid or not, he was truly very handsome, his black hair matched his shorter black ears. His eyes bore into the camera it seemed, welcoming anyone who looked at the picture. His smile was almost childlike compared to his eyes, his lips looked so soft and pink and honestly Y/N could stare at them all day. Y/N saw that he was the oldest of the 4 hybrids, and yet he could easily be mistaken for so much younger than his age.

The final file was of the only feline hybrid in the pile. A hand covered most of the view of the hybrid, but from what she could see was a pair of intense eyes. They looked almost black, his hand covered one of them, but still they drew her in, if not making her shiver. His hair was jet black, as were his small ears, in the light of the photo there was almost purple streaks. There was a small note left for him too; “If he is not adopted in the next 6 months, he must be signed up for the breeding program.”

“Um… could I meet them maybe?” Y/N lifted her gaze up from the feline hybrid. “I just… I think I would feel a lot better if I was able to meet them before making a decision.”

“Of course, you can. Would you like to meet them all together, or one at a time?”

“I think it would be better one at a time.” Y/N moved the files to sit on her knees.

“Perfect choice.” J-Hope stood. “Follow me and I’ll take you to a meeting room.”

Soon J-Hope had set Y/N up in a room, large windows that completely illuminated the room, two comfortable looking chairs and a table between them. J-Hope had left to go get the first hybrid as Y/N paced a little around the room. She was scared to meet them, but she was more scared of walking out of the shelter without a hybrid.

It was the one thing in her life that she truly needed right now, she needed independence. A hybrid would give her that. 

NEXT

Tag List

@ariana-winchester95​ | @haven-raven012591​ | @gracehiii​ | @larenelizabeth​ | @legazix​ | @jiminot7​ | @narcissism-iskey​

[storiesforallfandoms]

sweet disaster ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1516

request?: yes!

@livingmybestfictionallife​ “Can I request a Colson fic where he and the reader have grown up together have been best friends since middle school and it's about them realizing they love each other, but based off Dreamers' Sweet Disaster?”

description: after waking up from a crazy night partying, two best friends since middle school reveal their feelings to one another

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol

based on this song

masterlist

My head was pounding and my body was stiff when I woke up. I groaned as I pulled myself to sit up. I realized I had passed out on the floor, so that explained the sore body.

On the floor next to me, Colson was still out cold. He was in just a pair of sweatpants, a normal occurrence when he got trashed. I grabbed a nearby pillow and hit his face. Colson immediately jumped awake, looking around the room in confusion before his eyes landed on me.

“What the fuck (Y/N)?” he asked.

“If I have to be up then so do you,” I retorted, bracing myself before pulling myself to stand.

“Go back to sleep,” he groaned, laying back and using the pillow to cover his face.

“I can’t, I have to vomit.”

Luckily, I didn’t vomit, but my stomach was still churning, so I grabbed a glass of water for my breakfast. I decided to be nice and get one for Colson, too. He’d definitely be super hungover, too.

When I got back to his room, Colson was sat up with his back against the foot of his bed, his hands cradling his stomach. I offered him the glass of water and he gratefully took it.

“Thanks,” he said. “There’s Aspirin in my bedside table.”

I grabbed two tablets for the both of us. I took the Aspirin and a mouthful of water. The minute the cold liquid hit my stomach, I could feel it churning again. I hoped whatever contents were in there would stay put throughout the whole day, but my history with hangovers definitely said otherwise.

I sat next to Colson on the floor as I waited for my stomach to settle again. “What the fuck did we do last night?”

“We got super drunk,” Colson responded. “And super high. I remember sharing an entire blunt.”

I groaned. “God, I’m awful when I’m high. Why would you let me smoke?”

“Cause it’s lame to be high alone.”

I rolled my eyes and rested my head on Colson’s shoulder. The night before came back in flashes and blurs; Colson and I drinking, sitting outside his house to smoke the blunt, playing video games while drunk and high, watching movies, having stupid debates on the movies.

Getting super drunk with Colson was nothing new. Whenever he had time off, we always got together to drink at least once, but last night was different. Last night we got party levels of drunk, as if it weren’t just the two of us hanging out together.

“Do you think either one of us posted anything embarrassing?” I asked. “We were drunk enough for that.’

“Oh man, we should check.”

We took a while to try and locate our phones, and once we did we sat ourselves back on the floor. I went through all my social media and all I found was a picture I had taken at the beginning of the night of Colson playing video games with my legs over his lap.

“This one’s cute,” I said, showing it to him. “But nothing embarrassing. And no embarrassing texts, thank God. I have too many exes on my phone.”

“You should get rid of those,” Colson pointed out. “I don’t have any notifications, so I didn’t post or tweet anything publicly. Let’s check my camera roll to see if there’s any pictures.”

I watched Colson’s face as he scrolled through his phone. I couldn’t hold back my laugh as I saw his face twist in shock at whatever he found. I extended my hand for his phone, trying to take it from him.

“Let me see! What is it?” I asked. Colson held his hand out so that I wouldn’t be able to reach. I pushed against him, trying to grab it from his hand. “Dude, we’ve been best friends for years, whatever it is I’m sure I won’t give a fuck.”

“It’s nothing, leave it alone, (Y/N),” Colson insisted.

What he forgot about me was that I was very stubborn. So, I pretended to let it go, and when Colson let his guard down, I grabbed his phone and took off for the bathroom. Colson raced after me, but I got to the bathroom before he did and locked the door behind me.

“That’s not funny, (Y/N)!” Colson called as he pounded on the door. “Let me in, give me my phone back!”

I sat with my back against the door and unlocked his phone. That was one of Colson’s biggest mistakes: trusting me with his phone password.

The picture he had been looking at popped up on the screen immediately and I audibly gasped. It was a picture of myself and Colson when we were obviously very trashed. I had my arms around his neck and I was kissing him deeply, while one of his hands was under my shirt, pressed firmly against my back and holding me to him.

I stared at the picture for a long time, wondering if that was the extent of what Colson and I had done the night before. My clothes were all on properly, and we didn’t wake up naked. But I really could not remember us doing that at all. It must happened when we had both gotten absolutely black out drunk.

I sat on the floor for a while, just looking at the picture. Why wouldn’t Colson want me to see it? Did he regret it? Did he want me to just forget that it happened? I felt a slight ache in my heart at the thought of this.

I finally pulled myself up off the floor and opened the door. Colson looked down at me with a look of worry on his face. “Did you look at it?”

I nodded. “Yeah...here.”

I passed him his phone back. He took it, hesitantly, still looking at my face.

“Delete it,” I told him. “If the picture causes that much trouble, you can just delete it.”

“Trouble?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

“You obviously didn’t want me to see it for a reason. I don’t remember the kiss, I’ll forget the picture exists and you can delete it.”

Colson seemed shocked by my words. “What if I don’t want to delete it?”

I rolled my eye. “You’re not funny, Colson.”

“I’m not trying to be!”

I pushed past him into the room. I tried to remember what I had brought with me that night, but soon remembered that all I had was my clothes, phone, and the booze I brought. I shoved my phone into my pocket and made my way for the front door.

“(Y/N), seriously, what’s going on?” he asked. “Why are you so upset over the picture?”

“Why didn’t you want me to see it?” I asked him. “Are you ashamed that we kissed?”

“No! Of course I’m not ashamed. I was afraid that if you saw the picture, it would make things awkward between us and we’d stop being friends.”

I paused a moment, letting his words sink in. “Oh...well...yeah that makes sense.”

“It does. Why would me being ashamed of it make you this upset?”

I scoffed, trying to play off my real feelings. “No girl wants to be told that someone was ashamed to kiss them.”

Colson shook his head. “There’s more to it than that.”

“Maybe there is, and maybe there’s more to you not wanting me to see the picture.”

We stood in silence for some time. With those vague sentences, there was a lot put out in the air between the two of us. I leaned against the wall behind me and looked up at Colson. My eyes were drawn to his lips and I wondered what it had felt like to kiss him the night before. I really wished I could remember it.

“How long?” I asked him first.

He knew what I meant immediately and responded, “Since middle school.”

My eyes widened and, before I could stop myself, my hand swung out to hit him in the arm. “What?! And you didn’t tell me?”

“Okay, ow,” he said. “And no, I didn’t tell you, because you were my best friend. I didn’t want to lose you so soon after I met you.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve made some move or something. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you had.”

He chuckled at this and I couldn’t help but smile as well. “How long as you felt this way?”

“Also since middle school,” I responded.

“Why didn’t you make a move?”

“Because that’s the guy’s job!”

He playfully rolled his eyes at me and took me into his arms. I cuddled into his chest, taking in his familiar scent as he held me.

“So, where do we go from here?” he asked.

“I think that’s up to you,” I told him. “Where do you want to go?”

He looked down at me and smiled. “Out with you, on a proper date.”

I smiled back. “You smooth motherfucker. Let me get sober, we’ll go out together.”

“Deal.”

[imaginethatneathuh]

The World: Technical Boy - American Gods

Technical Boy x partner!reader, romantic

Technical Boy plays video games while you are on your tablet.

Part of @dragon430’s Tarot Troop, edited by her, too.

Requested by Anon - ... Technical Boy ... and The World...

TW/CW: Marriage proposal, slightly sexual.

Word count: 1.4+ K

•

You and Technical Boy sat on your sofa, both in your own worlds. He played COD: WWII on the flatscreen and you read stuff on your tablet. Your legs lay over his crossed legs.

Looking up, you paused and smiled at Technical Boy. His brow was creased and he moved around as he killed his opponents. You could almost hear his mutterings.

As his character got killed, Technical Boy slumped back and scowled at the telly. “Fuck this shit,” he said. “Stupid fucking game.” With a free hand, he pulled one of your legs closer and rubbed it.

You softly chuckled and relaxed.

Looking over at you, his shoulders relaxed and he smiled at you. You usually had that effect on him. He placed the controller on the coffee table and moved to get closer to you. The god loomed over you before planting a soft kiss on your lips. You kissed back, touching his chest. You could feel the hand not holding him up wrap around your waist and pull you closer.

You pulled away from your lover’s kiss with an adoring smile.“Do you remember back when you could barely even talk to me without stuttering and blushing?” You asked.

Technical Boy shook his head. “No. Nope. Don’t remember that. Not at all.”

A pout formed on your face. “You don’t?” You trailed a finger down his cheek. “Well, maybe, I should remind you. I do have video evidence.”

As you began to open something on your tablet, Technical Boy snatched it from you and turnt it off.

“Tech!” You tried to get it back but he held it just out of reach.

He stood on his knees with his arm held as far away from you as possible. You placed a hand on your lover’s side as you tried to reach your tablet, resulting in a rather intimate position. His face was so close to yours you could feel his breath. Technical Boy grinned with mischief in his eyes.

“What? Something you want, my love?” He asked.

You tried to grab it again and failed, pouting.

He laughed, his forearm pressed against your upper chest. Oh, how he loved it when you pouted.

Instead of trying to grab it again (knowing you’d fail), you cupped his cheeks and kissed your lover without warning. He seemed to enjoy it, responding by wrapping his arms (most importantly, the one with your tablet) around your waist slowly and kissing back. For a moment, caught in the electric bliss of kissing the tech god, you forgot about your prize. The way his soft lips moved against yours was, frankly, intoxicating in the best way possible.

Technical Boy slipped the tablet on the floor as he eased you back onto the sofa. With his hands now free, he pulled your legs over his hips. “Y/N,” he mumbled, kissing down your neck. “I love you.” One of his hands found its way to the bare skin of your back, rubbing it. The other held onto your thigh, squeezing it up and down lightly.

You smiled and tangled a hand in his hair, enjoying his affection. “You’ve definitely come a long way from that blushy Boy I first met.”

The god stopped. He looked up, his eyes searching your face, and kissed you again. “Marry me?” He asked as he pulled away. One of his hands slipped into yours.

You snorted, covering your mouth with your free hand. When you looked up, you noticed his serious and apprehensive face. “Oh,” you said. “You’re serious.”

He nodded.

“Um, yeah,” you said but you could tell from his knitted brow he didn’t fully believe you. “Sorry. Just a little surprised. Woulda thought you’d propose via text or something.” You straightened and sat up.

“Why would I do that? I can’t kiss you as easily after,” he said. “Like this.” He kissed your cheek before kissing the other. Then, he littered your face with kisses, kissing everything he could.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his unusually goofy self. Finally, as you slowed your laughter, you pulled him into a smiling kiss. As you broke apart, the sun shining through the curtains behind you, you asked, “You have a ring? To make it official and all.”

Technical Boy looked to the ceiling and closed his eyes. “Shit,” he mumbled. “I knew there was something I forgot to do yesterday.”

You laughed again.

He looked back down at you with a smile. Interlacing your fingers, the god kissed the top of your hand. “Don’t worry, my love. I got an idea.” He got up from the sofa and disappeared from the room.

You fell back onto the sofa, smiling like an idiot.

The thought of marrying THE Technical Boy, the god of technology and the internet, was as enticing as it was terrifying. You loved him. Who wouldn’t? He was kind and caring in his own peculiar way. He had made it a habit to spend as much time with you as possible. And, to top it all off, he protected you from World and he was terrified of the man, no matter what he said. But there was also the fact that World and Media were a part of his life and they scared you. They probably wouldn’t be happy about a union between you, an old god, and him, a new one.

Picking up your tablet, you turnt it on. The lock screen was a picture of the two of you, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you both smiled at the camera. You smiled at it before entering your password. Going to photos, you scrolled through them. Picture after picture of the two of you or one or the other showed up. You stopped on a picture of him sitting on your guys’ sofa, playing video games. Another of him pulling cookies out of the oven. It was hard to believe this was the idiot you were marrying.

You scrolled before stopping on a video that you didn’t know you had. You pressed play.

”Hey, lovey,” Technical Boy said, smiling at the camera. “I know you’ll probably be mad that I stole your tablet, but I don’t care. I just wanted to say I love you more than I love anything, even myself and my worship, and, one day, I’m going to marry you and we will have a life together. Hell, I’d even adopt a kid if you wanted to. So be ready for that.” He pressed a kiss to his fingers before blowing it to the camera and stopping the video.

You smiled and laughed. “Idiot,” you mumbled.

“What was that?” Technical Boy asked, coming back into the room.

“Nothing.” You shook your head and put the tablet down.

He slipped beside you on the sofa, one of his hands firmly closed. “Reminder, this is not the one I wanted you to wear all the time, but I forgot to get the proper one.”

The god opened his hand to reveal a band. Multicoloured wires were shaped into a circle. You weren’t sure it was possible for wires to have no opening or end but they seemed not to. Copper wrapped around the outsides, creating small patterns of flowers, grass, and trees waving in the wind, and bunnies and birds running around.

You looked at Technical Boy, mouth agape. “H- How?” Turning back to it, you gently touched the ring and the bunnies ran to nuzzle against your fingertips. The birds perched around them. It felt warm, like it was alive. The feeling was so similar to how Technical Boy felt when you touched him. It was like him but in a ring. At least now you’d always have a part of him with you.

He watched you and kissed your temple. “Magic, my love.” It was the best way he could sum it up for you to understand. Sliding an arm around you, he slipped the ring onto your finger. You reached up and took his now dangling hand. He quickly pulled you close and kissed your forehead before taking back his arm.

You admired it with a smile, loving it more than any garden-variety ring you could get at a jewellery store.

Technical Boy slipped his hand into yours, kissing it and holding it. He rested his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into it.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close. “Don’t you want to get back to your game?” You asked, looking down at him.

“That can wait,” he mumbled as he snuggled close, resting his head in the crook of your neck. He wrapped his arms around you, sighing in content.

The telly shut off.

[writing-gifts]

Hi, I’m new here, so sorry if I’m like doing something wrong- so uh I’ve really liked your content for a while now and I just wanted to maybe ask if that’s okay, maybe a scenario or headcannons(if you do those idk) of Bruno x Reader but like the reader stays up every night animating or drawing and he’s kinda worried about their well being and sleep and stuff? Sorry I’ve never done any kinda request before, and of course you don’t have to do it but if you did end up doing I’d be really happy-

Sorry for the long wait but here you go ^^

-----

Your eyes water when you yawn for the umpteenth time.

It was almost midnight, but you didn't expect to get ready for bed for at least a couple more hours. You loved your job but they were a bit understaffed so you'd spend extra hours at home, on top of the work you did in the office, animating away. 

This wasn't anything new but the lack of sleep was starting to take a toll on you unfortunately. It could be seen not only under your eyes, but in your actions. The way you would easily lose focus doing simple activities was becoming more apparent.

A knock sounds on your bedroom door, taking you out of your thoughts.

“It’s open.”

You hear the door open before a familiar voice speaks. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s cool. I can multitask.” You barely look away from your computer screen.

“I brought you something to drink.” Bruno places a cup on your desk.

You didn't even realise how thirsty you were until you see the glass out of the corner of your eye. 

You finally stop drawing to take a drink. "Thanks!"

“You've been working hard. Maybe you should head to bed earlier tonight.” 

You pout. "I can't. We got kind of behind schedule with storyboarding so now we gotta make up time for it..." You stop yourself from rambling on.

You don't see but Bruno frowns a bit. "Did you eat already?"

You tilt your head while grimacing. "I ate a snack?"

You peak over at Bruno and see a not so pleased expression.

"I'm sorry. I'll eat a proper meal before I sleep." You pick up your tablet pen.

“I don't want to drag you to the dining table ___.”

You sigh, “Okay okay I'll go eat right now!”

You save your work and stand up from your desk chair, stretching your arms over your head. You suddenly shake your leg out. “Oh my god, pricklies.”

“Pricklies?”

“You know when your leg falls asleep and feels all prickly?--Pricklies.”

Bruno just looks slightly amused.

When you both make it to the kitchen Bruno shoos you away from the fridge. “Go sit down. I already made food earlier. I’ll heat it up for you.”

“Oh thank god, I was ready to heat up something frozen again. Couldn’t be bothered to actually make something.”

“Let’s switch it up, hmm?”

In a couple minutes Bruno puts a plate of warm chicken piccata in front of you. Your stomach immediately grumbles--that was honestly putting it lightly--and you quickly start eating.

Bruno sits in front of you and watches, but you’re used to it and eat as if you’re by yourself. He eventually speaks up though. "Taste good?"

You nod, giving a positive hum.

"Is work treating you well? We really haven’t been able to talk much in awhile." Bruno asks but you can see the slight crease in his brow.

"Yep! I know it looks like it's a lot and it is tiring, but I really do enjoy it!" you smile slightly. "Hey maybe i'll even be able to support myself on my own in a couple months."

Bruno nods. "I’m happy for you but--” You were afraid of that. “--I'm worried you're not getting enough sleep. Or taking care of yourself as much as you should be."

“I don’t think I can really do anything about that right now but I’ll try to eat better…?”

“___...”

You squirm a bit in your seat and put your fork down. “I don't want to let anyone down or have to let any of my coworkers pick up my slack--I feel like I can’t take less time working and I don’t know what you want me to do...”

There’s a moment of silence.

“It probably looks like I’m just trying to stress you out more, but I don’t want you to burn yourself out tesoro. I’m just worried about your health.”

“I know, I know. You have a point though--” a yawn interrupts you.

You wipe away the tear forming at the corner at your eye. You honestly just wanted to go to sleep now that you were full.

“Okay I’m sending you to bed, but we need to talk about this later.” Bruno gets up to grab your empty plate for you.

You’d disagree if you weren’t so tempted. “Fine…”

Retiring early for one night wouldn’t kill you.

[angelkurenai]

Imagine saying you volunteer when Sam says Dean needs to get laid because of how on edge he has been lately.

“So they were both found together, bodies burned beyond recognition. But the weird thing is that they were on the table in positions that indicated they had somehow fallen asleep. So, possession or something else?”

“Or someone simply put something in their drinks. Drugged them and burned the house down with them in it. Really, no more to it than the local police could deal with.” Sam mumbled as a response, making you raise an eyebrow at how accurate and well-thought it could be when you were barely listening to Dean and half of the things he said at the moment. Both too occupied by the video playing on the tablet you and Sam were sharing and also very occupied by savoring the cookies in front of you to pay attention to anything let alone form a proper sentence for that matter. But apparently the younger Winchester was able to multitask and not let his brother feel left out, despite his obnoxious need to find a new case.

It had been days without a case and while at first he enjoyed it, taking time off and finding every excuse to cuddle with you, the older Winchester soon found out he began to feel tired and itching to occupy himself with a case. And while you, Sam or Cas wouldn't mind, there didn't seem to be anything out there too obvious. And as time passed Dean grew from impatient to downright cranky, which really didn't help the situation much. Not when every case he saw he made it look like it was your kind of thing.

“Yeah, that. That.” you muttered, paying even less attention to them, which had started to become and easier task as the days passed.

“There were freaking candles everywhere, based on what could be saved, there were even summoning spells and books on demons and what not. The table itself was filled with- with all kinds of things used for spells, and you keep saying it's just drugs?”

“Or it's just nothing more than revenge? You said it, they were fake psychics, deceiving people. Who says it didn't get to the point where something really bad happened and someone decided to take matters into their own hands. Drugs in their water, or something, set a fire with one of the candles – which couldn't have been that hard with all the easily flammable things they had scattered around. There-” he shrugged, only for the briefest of moments looking up at his brother “Nothing the real feds can't handle.”

Once more you would have stared in awe at Sam for how he had been able to think all that and say it as if he had been really paying attention to Dean �� you knew he wasn't, not entirely, not like everybody else for the past couple days anyway – but refered from it. You only hummed in agreement, all words having been forgotten in meres seconds.

“Yeah... that.” you mumbled once more.

Dean narrowed his eyes at you but didn't comment on it, knowing it was in his best interests not to mess with you anyway, before looking back at his brother “And you think they wouldn't have noticed there was something in their drinks? It was their house, Sam.”

“Maybe they were forced to drink it. They knew but say, under the threat of a gun, the had no choice.” again another casual shrug came after his words.

“Mhm sounds right. I agree with Sam.” was your only contribution, even though no words registered in your mind.

“You-” Dean started but once more shook his head “Nevermind. And you-” he turned to his brother “You're not even listening to me! And you all of a sudden have the case solved?”

“I mean there's not much to think about on that. Was there any sulfur to begin with?”

“Well, no but actually-”

“Then, it's definitely not a case of possession. And don't tell me it's about some pagan god or anything, because then what about all the stuff that was found in their place? Those two don't tie in.”

“Hmh. That.” you nodded your own head, eyes glued on the screen.

“Just admit I'm right and focus a bit on the- oh! Oh! Now that he didn't see coming.” Sam snickered as you laughed, all words forgotten and your attention fully on the screen; all the while completely ignoring the glare Dean was definitely sending you.

“That's what you call paying attention then huh?” he grumbled.

“I am Dean, but there's really no reason- Shit! Did he really do that?”

“Damn it, can you focus? This is not a joke!” Dean sounded as agitated as always the past couple days “Sam? Sam are you even listening? (Y/n)? Fuck it, you're clearly paying no attention. This is not a game and you two-”

“Wow Dean enough, ok? Enough.” Sam finally looked up “Either try to find something else to read or find someone to get laid, but just calm-”

“I volunteer.” this was the first time your voice was heard crystal clear and you looked more present than before. It took both men a couple seconds to grasp it, blinking several times.

“Y-you- what?” Dean asked in a much more rough voice, eyebrows raised in... interest?

“I volunteer.” you shrugged casually, as if it was the most simple thing in the world “For the latter of course. Don't know how I'd be of any help to the first one.” you added after a couple of seconds of utter silence and raised eyebrows and possibly wide eyes.

“Yeah. Thanks for clarifying that, (Y/n). As if it wasn't abundantly clear already.” Sam muttered, pursing his lips for a second “And it's at this point that you decide to pay attention and speak up, isn't it?”

“Well, what are friends for? Right Dean?” you looked at the older Winchester who didn't know if this was real or not because it looked like he was seeing or hearing something out of his wildest dream with the way his eyes were sparkling.

“I mean, you know, some could say it really is.” he shrugged, hardly being able to ide his smile.

“Obviously. So, just tell me what you want me to do and I'd be very happy to help. In any way.”

“Well, you know what? Since you insist, I can't really-”

“Oh no no. No, absolutely not!” Sam nearly exclaimed, his words so fast you could barely understand him, but judging by the wide eyes and look of terror on his face you had a vague idea of what he was thinking and what he didn't want to think “No, don't you even.” he gave Dean a look before he pushed the screen closer to you “You- you go back to eating your cookies and- and focus on this. And you-” he turned to Dean “Here, let me take a look at that article. You wanna discuss about a possible case? I am all ears.”

“So you wanna hear about that now?” Dean said reluctantly and Sam nodded frantically his head.

“Yes, yes absolutely yes. I'd much rather have to hear to- to how they could have died and how their burned bodies were rather than anything... else.” he said much more uncomfortable, clearing his throat.

“Well, sorry to tell you little brother but now I've got other interests. You were absolutely right-” he really delicately closed his laptop “Why rush to get back on work. There are certainly more things one can do.” he said, to Sam really, but his eyes and coy smile were completely directed at you.

[bearstarseraphffxi]

Anxiety

Also available at https://archiveofourown.org/works/28257798

The blasts shaking the palace had servants and soldiers running, some even jumping out of windows.

General Nappa was grabbing people in the panicking horde.

“Have you seen Prince Vegeta?” “Have you seen Little Geta?” “Has anyone seen Prince Vegeta?!”

~~***~~

Prince Vegeta was ducking in and out of doors. Many adults had tried to grab him, but he forced himself out each time.

Vegeta turned into a servant’s hallway to cut through one of the kitchens. There was another boom and plaster from the ceiling dropped.

“It’s coming from the throne room,” he thought. “What is Papa doing?”

He had tried hiding Tarble from his father and succeeded for a month before he was captured. He knew the palace inside and out.

Vegeta jumped in the dumbwaiter.

~~***~~

Vegeta opened the door and found it blocked by a large block of stone. He quickly kicked it out of the way and climbed out.

The throne room was a pile of rubble. Vegeta’s eyes darted around the broken columns and shattered marble. He made his way towards his father’s throne as more stone tumbled and crashed. He went to cross the room when he discovered a feasting table full of food, now covered in dust.

“Can your miserable little brain comprehend why I’m so angry, Saiyan King?”

Vegeta saw his father on his hands and knees with a purple cat-like man stepping on his head.

“Forgive me because I promised to fulfill your mission in the time you gave me, Lord Beerus, but it took longer than I thought it would.”

“Wrong!” Beerus said.

“Father’s being humiliated. How can he take that?” he said softly.

“I consider myself a rather flexible deity. I know you mortals have your limitations but there is one thing I cannot tolerate. The callous arrogance of those who do not pay the respect a Destroyer is due.”

Beerus then shoved his head deep into the floor.

“I ordered you to find the most comfortable pillow in the universe and I know for a fact you obtained it. Your tenacity was impressive, although your methods a bit severe.”

The man pulled his father up by his hair. “I bet you don’t even know how many creatures you killed in that raid. Of course, being what I am I could have accepted all that if you’d actually given me the best pillow, instead of keeping it for yourself and try to fool me with the second best.”

He then began to beat King Vegeta.

“Papa!” Vegeta charged forward.

Beerus glanced over his shoulder and Vegeta felt a pulse go through him.

He instantly collapsed.

King Vegeta turned his head to look at his son on the ground.

Beerus dropped the king back on the ground and stood. “Well, that little stunt almost makes up for the utter waste of time this was. Whis, let’s go.”

“Yes, Lord Beerus,” Whis said walking towards him.

Then he stopped walking and looked down at the prince’s body.

“Oh!” Whis laughed into his palm. “Lord Beerus, you are so merciful. You surprise me.”

Beerus looked over his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

“The little prince is still alive.”

Beerus spun around. “What?! That would have dropped Frieza. That’s impossible.”

He saw Vegeta begin to get his limbs under him.

“Are you trying to stand?!” Beerus stomped over as Vegeta got on his hands and knees. Beerus kicked him sending him flying.

Vegeta landed on the throne. It tilted backwards before coming to rest.

King Vegeta looked behind him. His son was still moving.

“Consider this my greatest mercy,” Beerus said.

King Vegeta turned back to him and saw Beerus raise his hand with his fingers touching his thumb.

“That you get to see your son die on the throne.” Beerus snapped his fingers.

King Vegeta spun around hearing his son scream.

The prince was almost bent in half backward. His legs were straight, arms twisted, wrists reared back and his fingers clawed the air. The screaming stopped but his body did not relax.

King Vegeta heard an explosion behind him. He looked and saw Beerus had blasted a hole in the ceiling to the outside. He turned his head and smirked as Whis cast his bubble and they vanished.

The king got off his knees and ran to his throne. Vegeta was stiff as a board, unseeing eyes wide with his tongue sticking out of blue lips.

King Vegeta cupped his son's face in his hands. “Gods no… Please no… Please…” Then his face hardened. “No. No gods. This is their fault.” He pulled his son’s face to his. “Listen to me Vegeta! You are stronger than this! You are the Saiyan of legend! Greater than every Saiyan to come before you! Greater than Frieza! Greater than all the damn gods! But you need to breathe! BREATHE! Fight it, Vegeta! Fight it! Don’t give up! Breathe! BREATHE! BREATHE! BREA—”

Vegeta’s head suddenly jerked as he gasped.

“Yes, Vegeta! Keep fighting! Keep breathing!”

Vegeta’s head jerked again in the opposite direction as he gasped again. The tips of his fingers started to twitch.

King Vegeta picked up his son. “You can do Vegeta! Keep at it! You can beat this!” He ran. “Keep breathing!”

 ~~***~~

King Vegeta sat in the elite hospital. After almost an hour, Prince Vegeta was still randomly twisting and jerking in the fluid. Suddenly, Vegeta unbent and went completely limp in the fluid. The doctors scrambled as the rhythm of the machines suddenly changed.

“What’s happening?!” King Vegeta demanded.

“Checking!” a doctor shouted.

King Vegeta watched his son hang in the liquid. He saw his son’s right hand weakly paw at the fluid.

“Sire!” the doctor turned around. He smiled. “He’s stabilizing.”

King Vegeta walked over and put his hand on the glass.

Prince Vegeta seemed to respond and tried but failed to lift his arm.

The beeping on one machine quickened.

“King Vegeta, please,” a doctor put his hand on his chest. “Please step back.”

He stepped out of the way and Vegeta’s arm lowered.

The beeping slowed.

“Ok… Ok, his heartbeat is stabilizing again.”

“King Vegeta,” the doctor asked again. “If you could wait in the side room. We’ll call you if there are any changes.”

King Vegeta took one last look at his son. “…Alright…”

~~***~~

After another half hour, there was an explosion. Then he heard Vegeta scream.

King Vegeta burst through the door just in time to get the remains of a doctor splashed across his face.

The room was destroyed, with one wall collapsed into the next med bay. Body parts covered the floor and equipment.

And his son was screaming, attacking everything that moved. Prince Vegeta lunged at his father.

King Vegeta struggled for his life against his son. The prince was born over twice his power level, and the gap had only grown. But he was crazed, wild like an Ozaru on a moonlit night.

The king got behind him and locked him in a bear hug. He could feel his leg bones cracking from his repeated kicking as he struggled to dodge the flailing headbutts. Suddenly, a doctor climbed the rubble and jammed a needle into the boy’s arm. After a few minutes, he stopped flailing and began to moan.

King Vegeta looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath and sighed.

~~***~~

The king stepped out of the medical shower stall and found new royal robes waiting for him on a table guarded by Nappa. King Vegeta relaxed at the sight of the one man he considered a confidant. They were raised together. Destined battle partners, the supreme general had become a second set of arms to his brain.

Publicly, the prince’s power was so overwhelming he would not be able to have a proper partner. In reality, the king had no intention of keeping the tradition. No one would share his son’s glory.

“How is he?” King Vegeta asked, dropping his towel. He reached for his clothes.

“Tranquilized.”

“How many did we lose?”

“Nine doctors. Five were technically employed by Lord Frieza… their commander has contacted him. Frieza has ordered the best doctors the PTO have to offer to take care of him and to keep him updated.”

King Vegeta facepalmed. “Perfect… so much for keeping this quiet…” He lowered his arm. “When will they arrive?”

“About 40 minutes.”

The king grabbed his clothes, “Then let’s get ready to greet them.”

~~***~~

“Oh! Lord Beerus, you are so merciful. You surprise me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The little prince is still alive.”

“What?! That would have dropped Frieza. That’s impossible.”

“So, this is the video our spy collected?” Frieza asked, glaring at the screen.

Zarbon bowed, “Yes sire. Straight from the security cameras of the throne room itself.”

“Consider this my greatest mercy… that you get to see your son die on the throne.”

Frieza listened to Vegeta scream. “So… you’re telling me a child survived two attempts by Lord Beerus?”

“Apparently, sire,” Zarbon said. “But our doctor’s review of the data suggests the strong possibility of brain damage. He said it is impossible that something he called a “status epilepticus” of that severity didn’t do something to his brain.”

Frieza moved his gaze from the screen down to a tablet. “Seems his heart has been struggling as well.” He scrolled through it. “His file also lists a near fatal dose of adrenalin and other hormones.”

“Lord Beerus sure picked an odd way to kill him,” Dodoria said.

Frieza smirked and handed an aide back the tablet. “Actually, it’s quite simple Dodoria,” he chuckled dismissively. “Fear. Lord Beerus tried to kill him with fear.”

Frieza looked back up at the video as King Vegeta was screaming at his son to breathe.

“This monkey survived two attacks that would have killed me,” he thought. “Either Lord Beerus underestimated my power,” he glared at screen. “Or this child will be trouble.”

“Make a public announcement that Vegeta has caught an unknown virus from clearing a primitive world, and is in isolation and receiving the best care we have to offer. That planet will be destroyed as a safety measure, as this is clearly dangerous to sicken Saiyans, who have the best immune system in the galaxy.”

~~***~~

A few months later…

King Vegeta stormed into the care team’s office.

“You’ve been tranquilizing my son at night! Why?! Why wasn’t I told?!”

A reptilian doctor turned to confront him. “Because you have been interfering with your son’s treatment time and again, so I went over your head! It’s because of you his healing has stagnated!”

“My son does not need tranquilizers!”

“He’s barely slept in five months! Whatever mask he has been wearing to stroke your ego evaporates when he sleeps!”

“My son is fine! He has never been stronger and more ruthless! What happened to him was a blessing in disguise.”

“The prince’s brain chemistry has never recovered! If anything, it’s more unbalanced than before. He’s overcompensating trying to hide his symptoms. And you and your people’s view towards emotions are only making things worse!”

“Saiyan elite do not feel emotions! We are not weak! Watch your words defaming the Saiyan Prince!”

“Your son has brain damage! And his brain chemistry shows he’s in constant anxiety and fear.” He waved the tablet in his hand. “You can’t argue with science! The stress of  the shame you are forcing on him is only exacerbating the problem! If you ever want your son to actually heal, you need to relieve that stress before his brain completely scars over! If you don’t, you might as well toss him in the trash like your last child and find a new wife! Isn’t there a law about a couple producing two defective children? Because fuck it, my child should be able to survive two murder attempts by the fucking God of Destruction without a scratch!”

The king grabbed him by the arm and threw him out of the room. “Get off my planet! All of you! Off! Off! Off!”

King Vegeta chased the entire group into the hallway. “Out! Out! Out! Out!”

“King Vegeta!”

“What?!” he spun around and saw Nappa. He relaxed. “What is it?” he said calmly.

Nappa only extended a piece of paper.

King Vegeta thought he felt his heart stop in his chest as he read it.

“KING VEGETA 3,

IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT I HAVE BROKEN MULTIPLE SACRED LAWS OF HONOR. COMPLETE FAILURE CAN ONLY BE DEALT WITH BY DEATH OR EXILE. I SURRENDER ALL TITLE AND HONOR AND GO INTO EXILE BY MY OWN POWER.

LONG LIVE THE KING AND HIS UNBORN HEIR.”

“How many have seen this?”

“Just me,” Nappa answered.

King Vegeta burned it to ash with his energy.

Nappa stood at attention. “Orders, sire?”

King Vegeta formed his fist as the ash fell from his hand. “We find him and bring him back.”

~~***~~

A few weeks later, the two men landed in the middle of a blizzard.

“Holy fucking shit,” Nappa said jumping up and down and rubbing his arms. “It’s fucking cold.”

“I told you the signal was in the northern latitudes,” King Vegeta said, dressed in royal furs.

“But this planet is listed as tropical!”

“Low priority worlds are only surveyed every few million years. And this planet had obvious markings of recent glaciation even then, if you read the description.”

“What type of fucking planet swings from tropical to glaciers every few million years?!”

King Vegeta touched his scouter, then pulled it away from his ear.

“Damn it,” he began to play with the settings. “A local transmission is messing with the scouter communication link.”

Nappa turned his scouter on. “Oh, music… Catchy. Flees Navy Dad. Flees Navy Dad. Something anus Flees knee dad.”

“Nappa… Just stop…”

“You sure? The lyrics just switched to partial Uni.”

King Vegeta put the scouter back on. The numbers began to roll across the eyepiece. “Yes… I’m positive.” He looked left after its final beep. “There he his.”

They made their way through the blowing snow and discovered a small dwelling with smoke coming from a chimney.

“Scouter says only one person in there,” Nappa said.

“He better have killed the previous occupant, at least,” King Vegeta growled.

~~***~~

King Vegeta kicked down the fragile plant-derivative door. “Vegeta the Fourth!”

He saw a small form scurry on an upper platform.

King Vegeta grabbed his son and held him off the floor. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING HERE?!” he shouted millimeters from his face.

The king then saw something he never thought was possible. His son started to whimper and cry.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” King Vegeta wound him up and threw him through the wall, causing the structure to partially collapse.

“Vegeta, what the hell?” Nappa shouted, digging himself out as it caught fire. He followed the path of broken trees and discovered King Vegeta on the ground clutching his stomach.

“Did you really think screaming at a kid that was strong enough to kill you as a newborn was a good idea?”

King Vegeta coughed as he struggled to sit up, “He’s -cough- never acted this way before.”

Nappa crouched down. “As if these past 6 months have been anything but normal. Here, let ol’ Uncle Nappa work his charms. Kids love me.”

“Fine…”

Nappa stood and flew off.

Vegeta laid on his back. “It’s because you’re such a freaking moron. You’re just a bad joke without me…”

~~***~~

Nappa followed his scouter and it led him to one of the many trees with needle leaves, its bottom buried in snow. He stood next to the tree.

“Hey Vegeta!” Nappa shouted. “Where are you?!” “Oh…” he said loudly. “I hope the little prince is all right. I’m REALLY SCARED something bad happened to him.”

The tree shivered, knocking snow from it. Nappa turned his back knowing Prince Vegeta was peeking through the branches. “The king was SO TERRIFIED when little Geta got sick. I never saw him SO SCARED. He even CARRIED and HELD him IN HIS ARMS. He could have CAUGHT IT TOO, but HE DIDN’T CARE. All he cared about was his SON OVER HIS DUTY and HONOR.”

“Nappa…” he heard a soft voice behind him. “Is that true?”

Nappa looked over his shoulder, “Of course. You should know better than anyone I’m a terrible liar.”

The tree shook again.

“Come in,” he heard louder.

Nappa circled the tree and a hole had been dug in the snow bank. He crawled through and found the prince had cut down the branches to make a cave. Even then, it was a tight fit for the giant.

“Wow, it’s actually warm in here. Nice job, my prince.”

He smiled at him and the child’s face hardened into a miniature of his father’s scowl.

“I order you to tell me the truth,” he said. “Tell me everything.”

“Vegeta, even elite Saiyans feel fear. It’s rare, but it’s true. Our strength means very little challenges us, but,” he leaned in, “We are not Super Saiyans. There are races stronger than us.”

“But that’s temporary!” Vegeta protested. “Saiyans grow and evolve! We will surpass all and rule the galaxy!”

“That’s very true,” Nappa said. “But we are not there yet. Vegeta listen, the sickness you got is very rare and very deadly. In fact, you are the only known survivor in millions of years. It even wrecked your body so badly you even got a huge zenkai. Your power nearly doubled.” Nappa held his finger in front of his face, “That is how close you came to dying. And you are actually still in recovery.”

Vegeta looked up at him, shocked.

Nappa nodded, “I’ve overheard your father screaming at the doctors constantly. They say you’re still in recovery, but your father hasn’t taken them seriously.” Nappa tapped his head, “Because it’s in here. The fever left you wild and uncontrolled like a third-class Ozaru; you were sedated for weeks. Then you were confused which left you crying and screaming, so your father drugged you again.”

Vegeta began to tremble. “Is father going to sedate me again?” he asked, burying his face in his knees. “So I can’t move?”

“Wait, you remember that?” Napa asked, shocked.

Vegeta nodded.

“Your brain scans said you were completely unconscious.”

Vegeta lifted his head. “Well, I wasn’t!” he shouted before burying his face again. “It was no different than looking at the moon, but I couldn’t get my body to obey me.”

Nappa’s eyes widened. “You don’t just remember your nights, but can control your form?”

Vegeta nodded.

Nappa looked forward. “Well, fuck…”

“But it was harder last time, I almost blacked out transforming. I… I was afraid. I was afraid of myself. And I almost lost my grip. I don’t think I was fully in control. I couldn’t play.”

“You shouldn’t waste time on the battlefield,” Nappa scolded.

“I just like practicing making noises. I want to be able to talk.”

“But why?”

“I… think it would be scarier… if I could talk. Ozarus are supposed to be mindless beasts. What if during battle one actually talked and fought intelligently? An Ozaru can still be wounded because it’s nothing but an animal, and can be outsmarted like any animal by a skilled hunter.” Vegeta peeked above his knees and Nappa saw his signature smirk. “I want to turn the hunters into the hunted and watch their faces when they realize everything they planned was useless. How powerless they are.”

Vegeta buried his face again, “But now I’m the powerless one…” He started to shake. “Please just go. Father can do so much better than me. I’m broken now. I’m scared,” his voice cracked, “I’m always scared. I’m scared of everything!”

“Vegeta, you’re young. You’re barely four years old. You have a century of battle ahead of you. This will heal. It will get better. Let’s go home and talk with your doctors. Figure out how to make this heal. But that can’t happen if you keep lying that everything is alright.”

“But what about Papa?”

“You mean the man you left rolling in the snow after a single punch?” Nappa held his palm out, “Vegeta, you’re now the strongest Saiyan in modern times.” He formed his fist. “You can take anything you want. Even the throne, if you wanted.”

“But no one will follow a weak king. I feel fear. What if my guards strike me while asleep?”

“Wow… you’ve really thought this through, huh?”

“Papa told me what guards are for…” he answered. “But what’s stopping them from turning?”

“Wow… you are so paranoid right now.” Nappa shifted. “Vegeta… I don’t know if I’m saying this right… but… Stop being afraid of your own fear. …A warrior can still dominate the battlefield without an eye or even an arm. The only thing stopping a warrior from doing that is their fear of that injury and being unable to see past it because of that fear. These emotions you can’t control at the moment are from a head injury. But even if it leaves a scar that never fully goes away, you can embrace it and alter yourself around it to make yourself a better warrior.” He patted Vegeta on the back, “But hey!” he chuckled, “If you have the patience and determination to conquer the impossible feat of becoming a talking Ozaru, then you can become the strongest Super Saiyan that’s ever lived, even if you feel a little bit of fear inside.”

Nappa put his arm down. “And you’re already well on your way. You really blindsided your father and I with that letter, which was burnt to ash before anyone else saw it. No one knows you abdicated. All this can be forgotten.”

Vegeta’s voice cracked again, “I just didn’t want to disappoint Papa. I thought everything would get better if I toughed it out, but it never did.”

“Which is why you need to be honest with the doctors now. If your head isn’t healing on its own, you are going to need help fixing it. Which is why we need to go back and tell the doctors everything you just told me, my prince.”

Vegeta nodded.

Nappa leaned in smiling, “Does that mean you’re ready to go home and get fixed up?”

Vegeta nodded.

Nappa stood up breaking the tree into splinters. “All right! Let’s get moving!”

Vegeta looked out over the snow bank. “Papa?”

Nappa turned around and saw the king.

“So… how long have you been there?” Nappa asked nervously.

“Long enough,” he answered. King Vegeta walked over and stared down into the hole in the snow.

Prince Vegeta squared his shoulders and looked up at him at attention. “I will agree to return to take my place as heir.” He then pointed at his father. “On the condition you no longer interfere with my recovery so I may become the heir required of a Saiyan Prince!”  

King Vegeta looked down at his son’s hardened, determined face.

“Agreed.”

~~***~~

King Vegeta unburied his son’s pod, programmed some coordinates, then sent him off.

“Man, I can’t wait to get back home and get warmed up,” Nappa said.

“Oh, we’re not going home just yet,” King Vegeta smirked and he began programming Nappa’s ship.

“What? Why?”

“We need an excuse for being missing these few months. There’s a desert planet nearby with a breathable atmosphere. The story will be we took Prince Vegeta for special training in a place where there could be no collateral damage.”

He stood up and put his hand on Nappa’s shoulder. “And I think for the crime of plotting a coup with my child,” he gave a sickly smile, “spending a couple days in a healing pod upon our return is quite merciful.”

Nappa chuckled awkwardly.

~~***~~

A month earlier…

Frieza smiled down at his tablet. “So this is the final composite rendering of that note King Vegeta burned?”

“Yes, sire,” a technician bowed. “We used every camera angle that caught a glimpse of the paper.”

“Thank you, you may leave.”

After the door closed, Frieza began laughing.

“Sire?” Zarbon asked nervously, “May I ask what you find so funny?”

Frieza passed him the tablet to him and Dodoria looked over his shoulder.

“Prince Vegeta has abdicated his throne?!” Dodoria exclaimed.

Frieza continued to laugh, “Poor little Vegeta is so tormented with anxiety and fear he’s run away from home! Oh! What lovely blackmail for when the king brings him back!”

~~***~~

A couple weeks later, the three ships land back on Planet Vegeta. Prince Vegeta ran to the crews before the door even fully opened. “Help!”

The crew stopped, shocked at the mangled state of his clothes and armor.

“Prince Vegeta? What’s happened?”

“I hit Papa too hard! We were training,” he dropped to his knees. “I hit Papa too hard.”

“Hey! General Nappa needs attention too!” the crew that recovered his pod shouted.

A Saiyan knelt down to the crying child. “Don’t worry my prince, I promise the king will be fine.”

Vegeta followed the medical teams into the elite hospital at the palace. He grabbed onto the coat of a passing staff.

He looked down, “Yes, Prince Vegeta?”

“Can I please see my doctors?” Vegeta asked softly.

He nodded, “Yes. Of course. Let me tell them.” He hurried off.

~~***~~

Vegeta waited on a bench swinging his feet in the air.

The lizard doctor walked quickly down the hall. “Young prince. It is good to see you again. If you could follow me into an empty room, we can go over your father’s and the general’s conditions.”

Vegeta followed him into an exam room. He climbed on the table as the doctor opened his tablet.

“You will be happy to hear that they will both make a full recovery,” he said sitting down on a spinning stool. “They won’t need more than three hours in the chamber, then they will be good as new.”

“Actually, doctor,” Vegeta looked up at him with a stern face. “I want to talk about me.”

“Oh… I see. What is it you want to talk about?”

“General Nappa has told me I am actually still in recovery, but my father has been ignoring your advice on my treatment.”

“…Yes…” he hesitated. “That is the case.”

“General Nappa has convinced my father to no longer interfere. You can confirm once they wake up.”

The doctor gave a sigh of relief, “That is good to hear. Lord Frieza was growing quite impatient with the stall of your recovery. Now we can finally work. And I promise we will heal you.”

“General Nappa compared my…” Vegeta hesitated. “my… my… my fear…” he stuttered. “To a warrior losing an eye. And I need to adapt as a warrior and overcome. But to do that, I need to tell you everything.”

The doctor smiled, “The fact you were able to say the word fear is a great start, Prince Vegeta. And I promise that word will never leave my team. I know how hard that word is for a Saiyan to say. But if it is easier, the special type of fear you have is called anxiety.”

“An-xi-ety,” Vegeta said slowly. “I will need to ask my father who I am allowed to say that word around.”

The doctor nodded. “So, what else did you want to tell me?”

“The machines lied to you. I was awake the whole time I was sedated. I just could not move.”

“What?!” the doctor stood. “How?!”

“It felt no different than being an Ozaru, that’s why.”

“Wait, I thought Saiyans were unconscious during the transformation?”

“Almost everyone is, and only a handful remember anything, like Papa. But I not only remember. I am in full control. I’ve even been working on trying to learn to speak if we finish before the moon sets.”

The doctor set down with a plop. “That… that is incredible. I don’t even know where to begin. Would you be willing to undergo testing in that state? The change in brainwaves would go far in understanding what’s going on in your brain.”

Vegeta nodded. “I’ve been having trouble the past couple months. It’s safer to confirm I’m awake before weaklings like you approach me.”

“Yes. Yes.” he nodded looking at his tablet. “Oh, I’m writing this in the wrong file. Darn it, give me a moment, Prince Vegeta, before we continue.”

Prince Vegeta chuckled as the frantic doctor swiped and poked his screen.

~~***~~

That night, Vegeta was sitting up in his bed drinking a small glass of water.

“Did your pill go down smoothly?” the nurse asked.

Vegeta held up the empty glass, “Yes.”

The nurse took it.

“If everyone is finished,” King Vegeta said, “I would like a moment alone with my son.”

Everyone bowed, and the nurse and guards exited the room.

After the door closed, King Vegeta sighed. Then he looked down sternly at his son.

“Papa?” he asked nervously.

“I’m told you gave quite the performance when we landed. Why? You knew our injuries.”

“You destroyed your honor when you carried and held me when I was sick. Now we are even in the public mind.”

“I see. Politically astute for a small child. You have a sharp mind.” He took a deep breath.

“I’m told you can fully control your Ozaru… and have been practicing speaking?”

“Yes, Papa,” he nodded.

King Vegeta smiled. “Prince Vegeta the Fourth,” he paused. “I am in awe of you. I am proud, that you are my son.”

Vegeta’s jaw dropped as he gave a tiny gasp.

King Vegeta chuckled. Then he put his hand on top of his son’s head. “And since this is private, don’t feel the need to even the playing field. I already know.”

“Yes, Papa,” Vegeta said softly.

King Vegeta turned and walked away. He opened the door to discover Nappa with a cup.

King Vegeta bristled. “Nappa!”

“Worth it!” Nappa shouted as he ran away.

Prince Vegeta laughed as his father quickly disappeared from view.

~~***~~

One year later…

“Sire,” Zarbon bowed. “Prince Vegeta’s quarterly medical report has just finished being reviewed by your private physician and is ready to present.”

“Show him in,” Frieza said, not turning his back.

The doctor entered. “Sire,” he bowed.

“So, how is our dear little monkey doing?”

He pulled out his tablet and synced it to the screen. “Quite well. The prince has seen rapid improvement since the start of his specialized cognitive therapy after his Ozaru study.” He scrolled to a new page. “But there does seem to be permanent damage that will most likely leave him emotionally unstable the rest of his life. He’s currently on a mild antidepressant that was specially developed for him to overcome Saiyan livers.”

“What do you mean unstable?”

“Well, he is still exhibiting behaviors not seen in Saiyans, like showing unusually strong emotional attachments and being quite clinging to his father in particular. This neurodivergence seems to be permanent and will most likely cause continuing issues functioning in Saiyan society.”

“So, he has a soft underbelly,” Frieza said. “What are his improvements?”

“He is now able to enter the throne room without experiencing distress. He is now cleaning and organizing to the same extent he was prior, according to staff, but the doctors feel it is quite excessive and may be a sign of preexisting control issues or OCD. His nightmares are still present, but he is no longer experiencing waking terrors. He hasn’t wet his bed in 47 days of this report. His sleeping tranquilizers have been discontinued accordingly.”

“What is this section on his power level?” Frieza asked, reading the screen.

“Apparently the nursing staff informally used a sudden drop in power level to predict an oncoming panic attack or other sudden issues, and reviewing records they discovered a steady depressive state of between 10 to 15% that only began correcting recently. His precision and speed have picked back up in training but his awareness of his surroundings has dropped, but that can be interpreted as a drop in anxiety and the resulting hypervigilance.”

“So, what you’re saying is that under stress Prince Vegeta’s power drops and his fighting ability suffers?”

“Um, yes. Fear and anxiety causing a drop of energy is quite common in other species but this is the first time it has been documented in a Saiyan.”

“I see,” Frieza said. “You may go now. I’ll read the rest of the report on my own time.”

“Yes, sire,” he said surprised. He bowed and left the room.

Frieza smiled.

“May I ask what you are thinking, sire?” Zarbon asked.

“I’m thinking I may have a use for the little monkey after all.” He turned his floating chair around, “Dodoria, call ahead and tell King Vegeta I’ve decided to bring his son into the main army, but this is not the announcement I have ordered his people to gather for. Tell him not to worry for his health. Any continuing treatment will be handled by my own private physicians and he will be in constant communication. I will pick him up personally after my official visit, so have him ready to depart.”

“Sire, won’t that complicate matters?”

“Did I give you permission to question my orders?”

“No, Sire! Right away, sire!”

“Zarbon,” Frieza said as Dodoria ran from the room. “I want you to remove mentions of his medication from Prince Vegeta’s medical file. The doctors and chemists will take care of themselves. And also,” he smiled. “Make sure the men know they will have free reign with young Vegeta. As long as they do not hurt him. We can’t have him getting stronger, can we?”

“Yes, sire,” Zarbon bowed while Frieza laughed.

~~***~~

On planet Vegeta, the King was reading the decoded message in the radio room.

“Your Majesty,” a guard said. “You’re not going to let him take the prince, will you?”

King Vegeta crumpled the paper in his hand. “No. Of course not.”

~~***~~

…

It was almost two weeks since Bulma’s birthday, and her shoulders and back were sore. She had been going to bed early to avoid the coming conversation, but tonight was not to be.

She opened her bedroom door, only to discover Vegeta already sitting on the side of the bed. He was slumped over with his elbows on his knees. He gripped the first three fingers in his left hand so hard his knuckles were white. It was rare for him to use this technique because it was so obvious. Physical pain helped clear his head when everything else failed, but this meant something was wrong even the GR couldn’t handle.

“You’ve been going to bed and waking up early,” Vegeta said.

Bulma put her hand behind her head, “Well, after our cruise so much work built up so—”

Vegeta lifted his head slightly and side-eyed her. “Don’t lie to me woman,” he hissed. “I know I injured you.”

Bulma sighed and sat next to him on the bed. She put her hand across his back and held his wrist with the other. “Don’t worry about it,” she said leaning into his ear. “It hurts no worse than going to the chiropractor. I don’t even have a mark.” She ran her hand up and down his lower arm. “Are you ready to talk or was this just about me?”

Vegeta let go of his fingers, and Bulma knew he’d be wearing his gloves the next few days to hide the bruise forming.

“You know…” he began breathing hard, “after that allergic reaction… How the therapist thought the holes in my memory were most likely from a traumatic event even I couldn’t handle, based on some random medication the doctors found in the medical files we got from the dragon?”

Bulma tightened her hug, already knowing the answer.

“The time you met Lord Beerus he mentioned?”

Vegeta began shivering, just like he had been doing every night since her birthday.

“Don’t force yourself, just tell me when you’re ready.”

“Promise me you’ll never attack Beerus again,” he said breathlessly, “and I’ll do it now.”

[docholligay]

Not from the prompt list, but: Tracer "helps" Winston find romance online.

1500 words and I hope you like it! 

Lena was easy to love and hard to tolerate. 

She was bouncy and excitable and it was nearly impossible not to get swept up in the joy of whatever it was that she had on her mind in the moment, which could be anything from the latest home improvement project to her idea for the eventual Overwatch mess hall, once she and Pharah got funding for a proper headquarters, to helping her friends improve their own lives. 

It was that last bit that was sometimes the trouble, Winston reflected, when she turned her vibrating laser focus onto to you, instead of some other project or some other someone. What seemed such a charming light when shone on the rest of the world became a maglite to the face when it was on Winston himself. 

“Think you should wear that jumper Aunt Lily got for you, the green one?” Tracer was barely paying attention to any protest Winston mounted, already halfway through signup on his phone, which was essentially a tablet in her hand. 

You would think that would have alerted her to the absolute insanity of what she was proposing, but Winston had to remind himself this was a woman who had willingly competed to be the one to take a fighter jet through the time barrier. Impossible and insane were merely trifles to her, not quite comprehending that she was far luckier than any normal human being. Or gorilla. 

“Lena…” he sighed, “I don’t want to--” 

“Do you not care for girls, Win? “ She showed him the screen, “You know you can sign up to meet boys as well, it was only I assumed you’d prefer girls, because I prefer girls, and sometimes I do ‘ave to be reminded there are choices otherwise in the world--” 

“That’s not it. I…”

If he were being honest, he would say that he had put the idea of romance out of his mind so completely so early in his life that he wasn’t sure what he preferred, or if he had any preference at all. He had known from the time he was a child and fled the moon colony that there was no one in the world for him. They were a strange and new class, the moon apes, unable to be loved by gorillas, feared by humans. They had learned science, and art, and and language, and math. 

No one had ever spoken of love, of any kind. 

Winston had thought love was untouchable at all until Tracer had come into his life and decided that they were the best of friends. She had seen something in him, and if his traitorous gorilla’s eyes had let him cry it would have made him weep with joy, this feeling of having a family, of having a person in his life who saw his warmth and tenderness. His family had grown, since then, and truth be known, he was really quite content with the close circle of Oxtons and Overwatch that he’d accumulated. 

But Tracer had latched on to the idea of sending him on a date. 

“What is it, Win?” She looked up at him, her body stilling for one moment. 

“Lena,” he sat down on the couch next to her, “It’s not that easy, just to swipe through a bunch of pictures, and find someone.” 

“No, of course not!” She laughed and grasped his phone again, with both hands, “That cute little bird I saw last week, Emily? Whatever tosser it was she’d set up with never showed at the pub, which of course was good for me, all told, but did ‘urt ‘er a bit, right? BUt she walked away with me number in ‘er pocket, and all of life’s a gamble, Win, innit?” 

When Tracer got into the habit of asking questions, which were actually statements, Winston knew he was trapped in the tar pit of her boundless enthusiasm and love. She flipped through his phone, biting her lip as she identified the pictures where he thought she looked the most handsome, the most dashing, but were still recent enough that know one could rightly say he didn’t look quite exactly like them. 

“Need to get you back to the gym, we do, big guy,” she laughed, “Surprised Fareeha ‘asn;’t marched you right in.” 

“No one is going to want to date me, Lena.” 

“Rubbish.” She did not look up. “You’re just shy, Win--”

“I’m a gorilla. No human being looks at me, and thinks--I’m lucky if they think of me as having feelings. I’m lucky if they just think I’m a curiosity. People--” 

“I don’t think--”

“Lena, I took care of you for weeks! If I hadn’t, you’d think the same, you’d be friendly to me, you’re always friendly, but you wouldn’t love me except that you were forced to know me. That’s just the truth, I have to be forced onto people before they think anything kind about me, and it won’t happen on a phone app, or in a bar, or over appetizers. I know everyone loves you, but it doesn’t work like that for the rest of us.” 

He hadn’t meant to snap at her so. And certainly, he had never meant to blame anyone but himself, with anything he said. But as she lowered his phone to her lap, the smile left her face, her shoulders sank, and her body stopped its excited, vibrating chatter. She softly touched her chest, looking down at the floor, a small glisten in her eye. 

If he hadn’t convinced himself he was a beast before, seeing the deep hurt he’d caused the person he loved most in the world would have easily done it. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Her voice was small, in a way Winston had forgotten it even could be. “Do you really think I couldn’t love you ‘less you did all that for me? I only love you, ‘cause you do things for me?”

He reached out put his hand on her back. “No, I didn’t mean it that way, not at all. I meant that...before you, no one ever gave me a chance, no one had to, and so they didn’t, and that’s just how it works for me. Even now, it’s only you that brings people to me.” He ruffled her hair and smiled. “I wouldn’t have anyone at all if you weren’t here.” 

She shook her head and looked at him determinedly. ‘That isn’t true, Win. Not now, if it ever was. You ‘ave our family, your last name is Oxton, innit? Wasn’t only me that offered it to you. And Ang loves you! ‘Ana too, in ‘er sort of grumpy cat way, and Fareeha’s a cactus as an ‘uman being, but she’d so anything for you, she would, tough as she plays, you must know that. It isn’t for me own sake they love you, Win, but for yours. ‘Sides all that, you made friends in Boston, right?” 

He thought for a moment, on the group that surrounded him now, and how they asked after him, and how they’d embraced his birthday even though it was just another insistent invention of Tracer’s, how he never felt the same pang of loneliness he had for so many years. How he’d learned to make conversation more easily, and how to move through a crowd, and how Christmas now involved a passel of children crawling all over him, to his delight. 

“Maybe it isn’t true.” He hugged her to his side, “But you did bring it to me, and that’s true whether you like it or not.” 

She wrapped her arms around him, wide and tight as a starfish, as if she could embrace the whole of him if only she tried enough, and then rocked back onto the couch, folding her legs up underneath her as she popped back with a wide smile. 

“What I’m ‘earing is that I ‘ave to go through these candidates and find someone who’d just be right for a man like you. Someone looking for a bit of adventure, but cozy-like. Likes big guys, who are warm, and--you know Win, I am a bit different as well, right? Every women I meet sees right off that--” she went to tap her chest and realized she was in Winston’s house, and thus her accelerator was in the corner, his house being adapted for her, and she laughed, ‘I mean, can’t ‘ide it, can I? Same for you, and it is a bit difficult, but you’ll see. Someone will look at you, and be ever so in love.” 

He chuckled. Sometimes she spoke with such belief in the possibility of the world that it was impossible not to believe her, just a little. A thought came to his mind, and his eyebrow twitched. 

“You will make sure...I mean, so there’s--people who are into ...animals, and--” 

“Oh oh, god no, we’ll--we’ll get that just sorted right out, trust me on this, no one comes to you except through me, Win, promise.” 

“I love you, Lena.” 

She beamed. “And I want you to go put on that jumper. Oh! Pick up the apron while you’re at it, very domestic.” 

It was a stupid, bold, and hopeless mission. There was no hope for any of it. But with her Tracer at his side, sometimes the impossible seemed like it just might be reached, if only for a moment.

[poochios]

Beautiful things Act 2, Scene 1

theater titles go brrr. i updated earlier today and maybe 2 days ago on wattpad saying I’d be back on this series next year but then i got an idea so it came earlier than expected! 

Taglist: @itskingedmund-actually @wefracturedmotivation (please message me or send an ask to be added or taken off the taglist!) 

Warning: Far from Home Spoilers! (post credit scene) 

WC: 1k-ish Harley Keener x Stark!Reader

Masterlist

"Spidermans-" the video glitched, "Spiderman's real name is Peter Parker!"

"What are we going to do about the video?" Harley asked, hastily walking beside you. "It's breaking news, it's trending, even if we take it down it's still going to be there forever."

Rubbing your head, you look down at the computer panel in front of you, tapping on the screen before swiping up to display the screen. "The video has already been seen by billions of people, every country has seen it. There's no way we can come up with a plan to dwindle it in time." You mutter. "Shit, why did this have to happen today of all days!"

Harley came up behind you, rubbing your shoulders. "We'll figure something out okay?"

You close your eyes, holding his hand. "Right. We'll just wait for Peter to call, or Happy to barge in and shout."

A ring throughout the building startled you, looking up at the security cameras and seeing Peter's hysterical face, clutching onto his backpack straps, May standing beside him with luggage.

"Harls do me a favor and clear level three's west end, bump security on that end, tell Friday I want alerts for any suspicious activity. After that meet us at sub-level two."

"Got it, babe." He said, running out of the room. You follow after him, running a hand through your hair.

"(Name) I don't know how he did it, please you gotta believe me I didn't do anything to him!" He cried, holding onto your forearms.

You hush him, rubbing his arms "Pete, I know you didn't do anything. We'll figure something out, I've contacted shield already but I don't know when they'd be coming okay?" You turn your head, "May, you can meet Harley on level three's west end, he's adding security there as we speak."

"Is something bad going to happen (Name)?"

You exhale, "I can't guarantee anything, May. I'm sorry I can't give you any information about this." You hold onto Peter's shoulder, "I'm gonna have to ask you to scrap any devices that can be tracked, I'll provide you with any new ones you may need but anything that's already in the system needs to be tossed so no one is capable of tracking you two got it?"

You pushed Peter towards the elevator, pressing your hand against the screen to scan your print. "It's going to be okay, Peter." He nods, letting out a shaky breath.

"And my friends?"

"Do you want to bring them down here to keep them safe?" You asked, glancing at him.

He whipped his head towards you, "You can do that for me?"

You lift your head, "If it'll make you more at ease, I can contact Happy, and send a few agents to get them."

He nodded, "Please, can you."

"Got it." You reply, walking out of the elevator when it opened. "I have something to show you."

You turn forward, pressing on the screen, raking your fingers through your hair. "Your friends have been picked up. But other than that, look." You projected the screen, "you ever seen them around?"

He squints at the screen, eyes widening at the names. "They're all Peter Parker?"

"Yeah, take a look." You swipe to the left, projecting the one that looked the oldest. "This guy, forty-five years old now, got a wife and everything. He got recognized for saving some woman named Gwen Stacey. His wife's name is Mary Jane." You swiped again, "This guy, thirty-seven, had a girlfriend in high school named Gwen Stacey, she died after getting caught in battle, and not soon after this Spider-Man caught the green goblin."

"So, what you're saying is that they're from different universes? Or, or that they're here, in New York."

You grip the tablet in your hands, "We don't know yet. We've tried finding them at previous addresses but nothings come up."

"Miss Stark, the guests have arrived."

"Ah thank you, Friday. Say what's taking Harley so long?"

"He's helping Miss Parker in making brownies."

You snort, pointing your finger to the elevator. "Let's get them situated before we continue this." You walk out of the elevator Peter tailing you as you wave your hands. "Hey."

"Oh my god, it's (Name) Stark."

"Oh my god, we're in the Avengers facility."

"Was Wanda Maximoff in here? Is she here!?"

You deadpan, shaking your head. "None of the other Avengers are here, just me, Iron Lad, and Spiderman."

"Who's Iron Lad?"

You hear jogging behind you, an arm slung around your shoulder. "That'd be me. I'm new."

"Okay, we'll do proper introductions later, Harls I'll meet you and Peter in sub-two alright?"

He nods, pushing Peter into the elevator. "Got it, babe." You pout at him, a cheeky grin on his face. "Don't be too harsh!"

"Harley!" He cackles as the doors close, sending you a thumbs up. "Excuse him. I need to ask you all some questions if that's okay. Follow me."

Ned stares in Awe, feeling the air around him. "I can smell Falcon."

You blink, opening a conference room door. "Don't make this weird Ned." He purses his lips, nodding. "Alright, first off, you were all with Peter during the trip right?" They nod. "And was anyone with him on the day of the attack?"

"I was." You turn towards Michelle, her hand raised in the air. "I found him on the bridge."

"Okay." You rub your chin. "I'm going to ask this once, and don't lie. Do any of you believe that Peter Parker, Spiderman, killed Quentin Beck?" It's silent for a moment, Ned and Michelle shaking their heads. "Don't treat this as a pity case alright? If you think he did it say it, if you think he didn't say it. There shouldn't be this much hesitation."

"Miss stark. There are two unidentified persons at the entrance."

"Put this place on lockdown Friday, notify miss Parker of the situation. Tell Harley to activate his suit and meet me at the entrance." You turn on your heel, "you kids will be alright, once this place goes on lockdown no one can get in."

"What's the situation?" Harley asks, tapping his chest piece as he walks beside you.

"Unidentified personnel at the entrance." You look through the doors, eyes widening in realization. "Wait," you open the doors, narrowing your eyes at the two figures. "Peter Parker?"

They stare at each other, then at you. "Yes?"

[korra-the-red-lion]

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 16: Are You Crazy?

(Ally + Lyn + Michael)

Michael.

The text I received that morning was the most wonderful thing in the world.

The test results were in.

I got out of bed quickly, making sure to text the group chat before heading out the door. If I was being honest, I wasn’t actually that excited to know what the results were, but at least we might a confirmation of some sorts that will help us with the case! I threw on my heavy jacket and dashed out the door, not even caring about how early it was.

Making my way across campus towards the lab, I wondered what it was that we would find. Would the slime sample actually be human DNA? What if there was nothing at all? What if this had all been for nothing. I really hoped it wasn’t the last one. I still had really wicked headaches every now and then, and I’m pretty sure Lyn’s arm was going to scar from those nasty claw wounds. Not that I had the guts to tell her that.

I quickly unlocked the door to the lab and walked in, smiling when I saw Lamar already waiting for me. Lamar was the 3rd year who I had mentioned liked me who would probably help us out, and I was glad that I was right about that. I clapped him on the back and leaned against the counter, practically vibrating with energy.

“What’s the news, bud?” I asked.

“Like I texted you, the results came back,” he said as he reached for the tablet. “Something that I found interesting, however, was this.” He pointed to one of the results on the screen.

I looked at them with interest, instantly noticing that there was more than one DNA result. Now, that wouldn’t be totally unusual had this been a normal situation, because only God knows what could be on the wall of a locker room, but the fact that I had pulled the sample from a very small and specific site should have meant that there was very little to no contamination. However, I could see that there were at least 3 different results.

The first one wasn’t too surprising, belonging to one Jackie Park. That was the girl who got attacked by that freaky monster. The second one belonged to someone named Fredrik Moore, which wasn’t too surprising because Ally just told us about him the other day. It was the third result that was startling to me, because I didn’t recognize it at all. The DNA belong to someone named Jerimiah Kinkly. It was only after staring at the name for several minutes that it clicked. Kinkly. Like Professor Kinkly?!

“Thanks for this, Lamar,” I said, not taking my eyes off the screen. “Can you email this to me?”

“Absolutely,” he said, quickly doing just that.

I was just about to bolt to go tell Ally about this in person, when he reached over to grab my wrist. I looked over to him in question.

“What is this all about?” he asked, hand waving at the tablet. “I agreed to help, but this seems a lot deeper than a simple science project.”

“If I could tell you, I would,” I gently removed his hand from my wrist. “Unfortunately, there is nothing I could say that could make this make sense.”

Concern crossed over his face. “Is this dangerous, Michael? Is that how you ended up with that horrible concussion?”

I tried to go for an easy smile, but I think it came out more like a grimace. “Seriously, man, don’t worry about it. Everything is under control.” I hated lying to anyone, but especially my friends. The look of disbelief on Lamar’s face was almost enough to make me spill the beans, but I couldn’t do that to Ally.

“If you say so…” he looked extremely unsure as he stepped away, crossing his arms together. “Just be careful, Michael. No one here wants to see you get hurt again.”

“I’ll do my best,” I promised. I left after that, feeling like a weight just got added to my chest. I honestly couldn’t believe how deep this whole thing had gone. It started as wanting to help figure out who attacked an innocent student to evolving into solving the murders of several different people at this school.

The sad part was thinking of how no one looked into the mysterious circumstances of their deaths. Each time they agreed it was just suicide. Did no one think to ask why a student who just finished his exams would jump to his death? No one questioned the graphic nature of another student’s death? It was just another example of how terrible our policing system was. They were too willing to take the easy answer.

I looked over to the tree where Dahlia Cressman’s spirit resided. Why were there so many dead people on this campus? The thought of that alone was unsettling. It was almost as unsettling as knowing that the murderer was still on campus, with Ally dropping that bomb on us this morning. I would never tell my mom that she was right for saying that this wasn’t a safe school, but damn was she right. I would have to get her a really nice gift for her birthday to let her know.

I glanced at my phone, wondering if there was enough time for us to meet before class. I knew that my class started at 9:30, and Ally had a class at 9:30 as well. I didn’t know Lyn’s schedule but it was clearly busy so she usually couldn’t meet with us until the evening or on Fridays. At the very least, I could tell Ally before our respective classes.

I managed to catch her at meal hall, where she was working her way through some peanut butter toast. I slid in next to her, and she looked over in mild surprise.

“Hey, Michael,” she said through a mouth full of toast.

“Hey, did you see my text?”

She nodded, covering her mouth with a hand. “I did, yeah. Did you get to see them already?”

“Yes!” I pulled the email up, showing the results to her.

Ally’s brow furrowed in concern as she slowly read it over. Her lip curled inwardly as she looked away, clearly thinking deeply. I gave her a minute to work through her thoughts before asking her what she was thinking about.

“It’s just something…” she pulled open her bag as she muttered under her breath. Ally pulled out the notebook that she’s been writing all the case notes in, reading it over quickly. Finally, she let out a small gasp.

“What is it?” I asked, looking over her shoulder. Her handwriting was so messy in the book, and I wasn’t sure where to look for the shocking note that she jotted down that was causing her reaction.

“Dahlia told me something a while ago, but so much as happened since then,” she explained quickly, flipping through the book, “that I forgot about it. She told me that there was two people in the Athletic Centre, but that one of them had died when the campus had been first built or sometime before it. The other, who I bet money on is Fiona Moore, resided there since she died. Here where it doesn’t make sense, because your results suggest that her brother is one of the spirts there. So why is there another person? Kinkly? Is his related to our Drama prof? And why didn’t Dahlia tell me there were three people there?” She ran her hand through her hair, blowing her breath out in frustration through pursed lips.

“Maybe she didn’t know?” I suggested.

“Maybe…” she mumbled. “Still, I think I’d better check with her.”

“Good idea,” I said. “Why don’t we do that later?”

She nodded firmly. “Sounds like a plan. We can get Lyn, and all go together. Even if you guys can’t see her, I think it’s better if you’re there for this.”

“Okay,” I said. “But make sure this doesn’t consume you all day, yea’?”

“I’ll try my best but make no promises.”

“Good enough for me.”

We left shortly after that, heading to our classes. Though I told her not to overthink it, I ended up mulling it over all throughout Finite Math. There was so much going on, and it was starting to feel like there was no end to this rabbit hole. If this little bit was getting to me, I wondered how Ally was coping with this all?

XXX

Lyn.

I think I was starting to dissociate a bit.

I was sitting at my usual table before practice, my textbook open in front of me but I was staring off into space. My lack of proper sleep was catching up to me, and the weekend just made everything so much worse. I should have just asked Olivia if she wanted to do something alone with me instead, but the choice had been made, so I had to live with the consequences.

I had music playing, but even with my headphones on it sounded far away. I whacked my knee before sitting down, and while I was aware that it should hurt, it didn’t really feel like anything. I only felt like this a couple of times before, so I knew it was pretty bad. Maybe I should try talking to that woman again, the mental health lady. I couldn’t even remember her name.

I saw the texts from Michael and Ally, but I had no energy to answer them. I just had stared blankly at them before putting my phone face down, so I didn’t have to see them anymore. Now here I was, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how much longer it was until practice was. But my brain felt like it was in a fog, I had no real concentration. Finally, I gave up on pretending I was doing work. I packed it all away and headed for the pool.

When I got there, no one else was around just yet. That was okay with me. I changed into my swimsuit and pulled on my sweatpants. I walked to the pool slowly, hoping that the feeling would soon go away. The heat of the pool was there, but it didn’t do much for me. I couldn’t really feel it. I just starting do my warmup exercises when I heard the voices of the others starting to drift in.

Sit up. Hold. Down. Repeat. Going through the motions of the crunches wasn’t doing much for me. It didn’t even feel like I was doing anything. I was looking up at the ceiling of the pool when Loryn’s face appeared over mine, concern etched in her features.

“Hey,” I said dully.

“Hey,” she echoed softly. “Can I sit with you?”

I nodded, not making any effort to move from my spot. I was pretty sure the others were coming over to see what was going on, but Loryn shooed them away.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Loryn asked gently, her hand hovering over mine. I nodded again and shuddered when the warmth of her hand covered mine. It was the first sensation I had since Ally grabbed my hand yesterday. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” my voice sounded so tired to my own ears.

“What’s going on, Lyn? Can you tell me?”

“You’re being very nice to me,” I noted dryly.

“You’re avoiding the question,” she said firmly.

I sighed heavily, feeling a little bit of tension leave my body. “I’m processing some shit.”

Loryn frowned. She ran her thumb over my hand, her eyes crinkled in thought. “Processing what? Does it have something to do with your weekend home?”

I’m not sure why, because it wasn’t funny at all, but I laughed. I laughed so hard that I couldn’t breathe, my hand covering my face. Loryn’s hand squeezed mine, but she waited until I stopped before saying anything.

“Lyn?” The concern was so obvious in her voice, it made me feel sick to my stomach.

“Yeah, something happened,” I said bitterly. “I fucking hate going home because everything is shit. Leigh and I got into it with one another and mum is a fucking sociopath who gets sick enjoyment watching us all squirm as she bullies us. I shouldn’t have gone but I had this insane notion that maybe, just maybe if I did, I could fix my stupid broken relationships with my sisters at least! But here I am, miserable because I was a bloody optimist, and I got burned for it. I can’t sleep a full night’s sleep and haven’t been able to since before what happened to Jackie and I just want it all to stop!”

My chest was heaving, and my eyes were prickly, but I felt a little bit better after getting it all out. I refused to remove my hand from my eyes, instead opting to lie there with my eyes closed tight.

“What…what do you mean?” Loryn’s voice sounded hesitant. “You want what to all stop?”

“I dunno…” I took a deep breath to stop myself from shaking. “I’m just so fucking exhausted, Loryn. I don’t think I can keep going like this.”

Loryn reached over, taking my hand off my face. I cracked open a single eye, only to shut it again when I saw the look of fear in her eyes. “No, Lyn, please look at me,” she said quietly.

So, I did. I opened my eyes and looked over at my friend, whose face was twisted up with conflicting emotions. Why did I always feel sick when someone looked at me that way? I didn’t need them to pity me more or anything. I know that’s not what Loryn was doing at all, but it felt that way.

“Lyn,” she started softly, “I need you listen to what I’m saying, okay? You have to relax. No more pushing yourself to the limits. I am your friend, and I’m saying this because I care about you so much, but it’s fucking ridiculous how much pressure you’re putting on yourself. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone, not anymore. You’ve shown how bright you are, how caring you are, and how much effort you put into everything. Forget them and focus on you.”

I stared into her eyes and a realization came to me slowly. Loryn cared about me, this I knew. But the reason why I always felt sick when I saw someone looking at me that way was because no one ever looked at me like that while growing up. Someone actually giving a shit about me was so alien to me that I reacted negatively each time I saw it.

“Focus on me…?” I repeated slowly, my own voice unsure. I sat up a little, blinking rapidly. “Loryn, I’m not sure how to do that.”

Loryn smiled at me, with a small shake of her head. “I know, you dumbass. That’s why we’re here for you. You just have to tell us what you need, okay?”

What I need? I looked around, taking in the sights around me for the first time. I saw Andrew standing nearby, twisting his cap in his hands in a fit of nervous energy. Kerry and Matt stood close enough that they could be there right away, both looking worried. Tammy and Emma sat on the blocks, talking to each other but clearly keeping an eye on me. Maddie was making sure that Will didn’t make his way over at all. I shifted to my knees, feeling overwhelmed with feelings. I…how could I be so blind? These idiots were here for me last year, yet I was so wrapped in my own drama that I never noticed it, but I could see it clearly now. We were family, like Coach Jacob said at the start of the season. These people, they were here for me, if I needed it. Just like we were for Gunner. Just like we were for Jackie.

“Loryn…I-” I choked. I was shaking as I reached over, pulling her into a crushing hug. “I need help,” I practically whispered the last part.

She reached up, running her hand through my hair. “I know, Lyn, I know. We’ve got you.”

Next thing I knew, they were all there. The whole thing was so overstimulating, and I felt myself dissociating again, but that was fine. I sat there under their smothering hugs, staring off into space again. Help, that’s what I needed. Someone who I could talk to about everything, all the abuse, all the impossible expectations. I knew deep down it wasn’t going to be easy for me, these kinds of things never were. We were always told that people who needed metal health help were weak, because they were unable to cope with ‘daily stressors’ but I knew this wasn’t true. I saw Ally, how she dealt with all the shit life threw at her, but it didn’t make her weak. If anything, Ally was stronger than I ever could be.

I closed my eyes, resting my head on Loryn’s shoulder. Right now, I felt weak. And that was okay.

XXX

Ally.

Now I promised Michael I wasn’t going to be obsessive all day about this, and I think for the most part I kept that promise. Key word being most.

It’s just that the whole thing was extremely concerning and interesting to me. I truly believed that Dahlia didn’t keep something from me intentionally, which led me to believe that she really wasn’t aware of Fredrik’s presence in the locker room. Which led me wondering how he managed to escape her notice. Like I’ve said before, somehow answers always ended up leading to more questions. It was a wonder how I haven’t torn my hair out yet in frustration.

I looked down at my notebook, filled with all the information that the others and I have gathered so far. The most shocking piece of the puzzle was this Jeremiah Kinkly fellow. There was a very slim chance that he wasn’t related to our dreadful Drama professor. How was Professor Kinkly connected in all of this? Was he even? Was it merely coincidence that this name showed up at all? I was starting to get a headache from all of thoughts buzzing around in my head.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I never even noticed when this guy approached my table. He rapped his knuckles against the hardwood, causing me to jump in surprise. I looked up at him, blinking in confusion.

“Yes?”

He smirked at me, making my stomach flipped uncomfortably. “Hey, babe, I was wondering if I could sit with you? There’s no available seats.”

Babe? Excuse me? I looked around and noticed there were several empty seats. I turned back to him, raising an eyebrow in question. “Actually, I’m pretty sure there are a bunch around. Maybe take a second look?”

“Well,” he drawled, leaning down into my space, “I just wanted to sit with a hot girl like you. Is that okay?”

I shook my head, really taking this guy in. He had dark hair that was combed back and hawkish features. He was good looking, but I couldn’t shake the predatory feeling I was getting off of him. It was making me uneasy.

“Sorry?” He looked shocked. “Are you actually saying no to me? You know there’s nothing stopping me from sitting here if I wanted to, right? Stop being a bitch.”

“Stop being a bitch?!” I stood up, glaring at him fiercely. “I’m not being a bitch because I don’t what some asshole sitting with me!”

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off when someone angrily said, “Derek, get the fuck away from her, you creep.”

I looked behind me to see Lyn and Loryn standing behind me, anger in their eyes. I have to admit, while I felt I had this under control, seeing Lyn glaring at this guy and protecting me had a certain sexiness to it.

“Lyn!” He went from annoyed to smarmy in a flash. “How have you been doing, sexy?”

“None of your business,” she snarled at him, fury in her eyes. “I’m pretty sure I made it clear I didn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore. Now, don’t you have someone else to bother? Where’s Poppy at?”

The guy, Derek, shrugged lazily. “Dumped her a while back. She was fun for awhile, but she was looking for something more committed. I wasn’t about to do that for her. Anyway, I’m not sure why you give a damn who I talk to, so I’m pretty sure this chick here is free game.”

“I’m not a piece of property!” I snapped.

When Derek didn’t step away, both Lyn and Loryn stepped closer so they were beside me. Derek sized us all up, and maybe after seeing how much more fit the two swimmers were, decided it wasn’t worth the fight. He shrugged away, running a hand through his hair.

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “Forgot what a cunt you could be, Lyn.”

Lyn’s face coloured with anger, but it was Loryn who shoved a hand into his chest. “I never fucking want to hear you speak to Lyn or any other girl like that again, you bastard,” she growled menacingly. “If I do, you’ll regret ever making an enemy of Loryn Frasier.”

He rolled his eyes and finally walked away, clearly making the right decision in not saying anything else. After he was fully out of our sights, Loryn looked over her shoulder at me.

“You okay?” she asked.

I nodded. “Thanks. I think I had it under control, but the help was appreciated.”

“Yeah, sorry,” said Lyn, looking bashful. “I figured you were okay, but Derek is awful. Even looking at him makes my skin crawl. We saw what was happening and just reacted.” She tugged at her ear, staring down at her shoes.

“Who was he anyway?”

“My ex,” sighed Lyn. “One of them, anyhow.”

“Seriously one of the worst decisions you’ve ever made in your entire life,” commented Loryn.

“Shut up, I know.”

That was Lyn’s ex? Ugh, he was a piece of work. I scowled in his direction one last time before moving on. It was one bad conversation, hopefully it wouldn’t happen again. Shaking my head, I looked over to the two of them. Loryn caught my eye and patted Lyn on the shoulder, pulling her close. She whispered something, which Lyn nodded to. Sparing her friend one last thoughtful look, Loryn waved goodbye to us as she left us alone.

We stood there silently for a few seconds as Lyn continued to look down at her shoes. She seemed a little less tense than she did yesterday, but she looked even more tired. I tapped my shoe against hers, knocking her out of her thoughts.

She looked up, our eyes meeting. I smiled at her, and eventually she smiled back. Not one of those fake smiles that she’s been using, but a real one. It was small, but it was there. And, there was a brightness to her eyes that hadn’t been there in a while.

“Sorry I didn’t answer your text,” she said almost shyly. “I was processing some stuff. I’m feeling a little better, so I wanted to see what you wanted in person.”

“Only if you’re feeling better,” I said.

“Honestly, I still feel like shit,” she snorted. “But I made a breakthrough. I’m not feeling fantastic, but I’m feeling well enough that I could come and be here for you tonight.”

“If you’re sure,” I nodded. “I just wanted you and Michael to be here when I spoke to Dahlia Cressman tonight. I’m hopeful we’ll get some answers.”

We started walking out of the library. Lyn had a thoughtful look on her face, but I was hesitant to push her for her thoughts, so I didn’t ask what was on her mind. We walked over to the tree where Michael was already waiting for us, shivering from the cold. He perked up when he recognized us in the dark.

“Thank God you’re here,” he said to me as we approached. “People kept staring at me.”

“Welcome to my world,” I laughed.

“Soooo, what’s the plan?” he asked, looking over at the tree. Lyn and I looked over as well.

“I’m hopefully going to get some answers,” I declared.

“Answers for what, Ally?”

The air pressure changed as Dahlia appeared in front of me, her arms crossed with a disinterested look. Instinctively, Michael stepped closer to me, hand going to my shoulder. For his comfort or mine, I wasn’t sure. If Lyn noticed the difference in the air, she didn’t show it. She was staring at the tree with curiosity, rocking on the balls of her feet.

“Hi, Dahlia,” I said cheerfully.

“I hope for both of our sake’s you’re not trying to press more answers out of me that I cannot give,” she said coolly.

Using my free arm that wasn’t currently being used as a crutch, I pulled out my notebook. I flipped to the page I was looking forward, with the information with Fiona and Fredrik Moore. I held it up so she could read it clearly. Her eyes skimmed the page, the curiosity lighting up in her eyes. She looked at me when she was finished, tilting her head.

“What’s this all about?”

“See, that’s where it gets interesting,” I said, flipping to the page with what she told me about the Athletic Centre. “See here? This is what you told me after we got back from the hospital. You told me that there were two spirits currently lingering there. However, these recent DNA results,” I pulled out the printed results, “suggest to us that there are three lingering attachments. I was hoping you would know anything about that.”

Dahlia stared at me for a couple of minutes, her face carefully controlled to show nothing. Then she broke out in a mischievous grin, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

“Doesn’t it feel better once the pieces start to fit together nicely?” Dahlia looked at all three of us, the grin still in place. “When I told you that there were two spirits haunting the Athletic Centre, I wasn’t being dishonest. Technically, there are only two lingering attachments. But see, there is where it gets a little tricky, Ally. Tell me, what are the names you have?”

“Uh, Fiona and Fredrik Moore, and Jeremiah Kinkly.”

Dahlia nodded. She stepped back, leaning against the tree. “Fiona is correct. I remember the day she died, very tragic. Jeremiah as well, though I wasn’t there for his death. He died during the construction of the campus. You can look into that, darling, but according to the others he fell from the building when the windows were being put in. Fredrik, on the other hand, is not a lingering spirit.”

“Huh?” I was confused. How did that make any sense? The other two looked over, and Michael squeezed my shoulder.

“What did she say? I can hear whispers on the wind but I’m not picking up any words,” he whispered, eyes darting around the area.

I quickly recapped what she told me. Michael rubbed his chin in thought, while Lyn glanced over to where Dahlia was. I looked over too, noticing for the first time Dahlia was staring at Lyn intently. That was strange. Dahlia must have realized I caught her staring, because she looked away, her face giving nothing away. I made a mental note of that.

“What does that mean?” Lyn asked, turning her attention to me.

“I’m not sure,” I replied honestly. “Can you tell me what that means, Dahlia?”

Dahlia’s eyes flickered to me as she nodded. “He was brought here against his will. He made peace with his death, but something brought him back. That monster was in fact him, transformed by the person who forced him back into the world of the living.”

I covered my mouth in horror. I read about that recently. Someone could try to bring a spirit back, but unless they had the proper training to do it safely, the results could be disastrous. Is that what happened? Who would do that? My stomach was churning with discomfort even at the thought of someone doing something so irresponsible. Taking a deep breath, I recalled what she just told me to the others.

“That’s…that’s so horrible!” Michael squeaked out, fear constricting his throat. Lyn pressed her hands to her ears, just shaking her head.

“We have to go back…” I whispered, staring at Dahlia, who nodded when I said that.

“Go back where?” Lyn asked, giving me a skeptical look.

I hesitated before swallowing my fear. “The locker room, we have to go back.”

“Are you crazy!” Lyn shook her head in disbelief. “Remember what happened last time we went there? I fucking do, that’s for sure.”

“Yea’, is that really the best idea, Ally?” Michael added, his face pale with fear.

I nodded slowly, “Yes, I’m sure. We need to talk to Fiona, for real this time. I understand if you guys don’t want to go with me, I really do. I can go alone.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” snapped Lyn, flicking my forehead. I rubbed the spot as she crossed her arms. “Of course, I’ll go with you. Just know I think this is incredibly idiotic.”

I smiled at her, and she smiled back. I looked over at Michael, who gave me a heaving sigh. “I’m going too, obviously. I just get to complain the whole time. Also, I’m calling dibs on being the one who doesn’t get concussed this time.”

“Deal,” I laughed, reaching over to give him a hug.

I have to admit, this is a great relief. I really didn’t want to go into this alone, and it meant the world to me that they were willing to come with me, even with what happened last time. It was nice, this feeling. The feeling of no longer being alone. It was enough to make me tear up, but I quickly swiped at my eyes so they didn’t notice. Obviously I wasn’t sneaky enough, because Lyn silently reached down and took my hand into hers, rubbing her thumbs against my knuckles in comfort.

“Is that everything, then?” Dahlia asked, boredom lacing her words.

“For now, it is,” I smiled at her. “Thanks, really. You’ve been a great help tonight.”

If a ghost could blush, I’m pretty sure she just did. She twirled her hair around her finger, looking away from me. “You’re welcome, glad to be of service. Stay safe out there, Ally. Tell your friends the same thing.”

I watched as she disappeared from view. The air pressure changed back to normal, and Michael gasped beside me, but Lyn didn’t, basically confirming to me that she can’t sense anything that went on. That must be a lovely feeling. She did, however, look over where Dahlia had last been standing.

“Did she leave?”

“Yeah, she did.”

“Good. I felt like I was being watched.”

Huh, interesting. I made a mental note of that too. Actually, since I was thinking about it, I decided to bite the bullet. “Lyn?”

“Hm?”

“I was wondering something. You looked like there was something on your mind earlier before we got here. What were you thinking about?”

Michael looked curious as Lyn mulled over her answer. Finally, she just shrugged. “My dad’s last name is Cressman.”

“Your dad? Michael and I said at the same time. He grinned at me, and I smiled back.

Lyn nodded, as she starting to walk away from the tree. I followed with no choice, since our hands were still together, and Michael followed not wanting to be left behind. “Yeah, my dad. Hart is my mum’s last name,” a dark look crossed over her face for a second before settling back to neutral. “It’s probably just a coincidence though. It’s a common surname from Ontario, you know?”

A coincidence, huh? I glanced over my shoulder as we walked away, only to see Dahlia sitting up in the branches, watching us as we left. I wonder if that’s all it was.

[bates--boy]

          Even as Peter crossed the parking lot to get to the diner, his eyes were still glued to his phone’s screen, staring at the stats of the livestream. The numbers had stopped growing, of course, the number of likes settled and the viewership at a grating crawl, but it was all the same to Peter: a phenomenon that should not have occurred with his hip-hop prowess, or lack thereof according to everyone involved.

          Head down, he almost walked into the glass doors, but managed to catch himself when the bells rang as a group of university students ambled out. Inside the establishment, Peter spotted the familiar four heads of Mike, Adel, and Naseem, though he was positive that Tarsha was included in the group chat, too. He was about to ask about Tarsha’s whereabouts, and whether they should hold off on the all-important meeting of highest urgency until she can meet them, too, just as he noticed Tarsha’s salutatory smile from the tablet propped up in front of the salt and pepper rack. 

          “Aww, good to see you again, Fanboy!”

          Peter rolled his eyes and took a seat. “Hi-ho to you, too, Tarsha. Hey guys. Did I miss anything?”

          Naseem shook his head. “Nah, Mike was just about to deliver us his next greatest idea.”

          “Actually,” Mike said, nodding towards Naseem. “It’s your idea.”

           Naseem said to Peter, “Technically, it’s your idea, since you basically planted the seed in my head.”

          Peter furrowed his brow. “What?”

          “Let’s just cut to the chase,” Mike cut in. He leaned in, arms on the table, hands folded, a businessman about to make a deal none of them can refuse.

          “We should officially become a collective.”

          Peter didn’t know how to parse his own reaction to the suggestion. Though he sat up straighter and stared at Mike, even feeling his jaw threatening to drop open, it wasn’t like he was truly surprised; he still recalled playing around with the idea with Naseem on his living room floor. He might have called it glee if it weren’t for the lingering insecurity of his elementary skills tainting it, making him cautious about being wholeheartedly enthused.

          “Really?” Adel frowned. I don’t know, Mike, that doesn’t sound like something that could work out.”

        Mike returned the frown. “Why not? We’ve been in the scene for years, we’ve been making side projects on and off alone and with each other. We even have enough members right now to do it.” And here, he smiled at Peter, whom tried his best to not let his grin seem too overeager.

          “First, we’ve already had enough for a group if we wanted to,” Adel pointed out. “Second, Peter’s lyricism isn’t exactly... strong enough to get some proper songs going.”

          Speaking of elementary skills... 

          Peter had waited for some sort of “no offense” from Adel (the least he could do) but Mike had immediately argued, “Okay, I get that, but that’s why we help him work on his writing some more. He’s actually getting more decent.” Mike paused. “...You have seen the video we’ve posted, right?”

          Adel slightly lowered his head. “I, uh, had an article to write, so...”

          “So, watch the video. You’ll see.”

          “Okay, but what about our lives?” Adel said. “Our schedules? We can barely meet up as is with our jobs and families, and now you want us to drop everything to focus on this hobby?”

           “Nobody said anything like that! There are plenty of artists who started off writing and mixing while working the nine-to-five. And--” his voice cut off into a low scoff as he looked around the rest of the table, scrounging for support. 

        Peter drummed his fingers on the table, before slowly raising a hand halfway up. “I, uh, don’t really have much going on...” He knew even without the stares of everyone else that his input was weak, so he lowered his hand with a light shrug.

          Tarsha smacked her lips and sighed. “I’m so tempted to say yes --”

          “Then say yes!” Mike urged the tablet. 

          “But Adel’s right, man. I got too much legal shit going on--”

          “Which is perfect for rap songs,” Peter interjected. Again, the long-suffering stares. Again, Peter fell silent with another bob of his shoulder.

           “There’s so much going on and my head wouldn’t be in the game,” Tarsha went on.

           Adel gestured to the tablet. “See?”

          “Hell, I have a family, and I would still make time to write and record,” Naseem said. He angled his head so he would look at Tarsha. “And like Mike said, we don’t have to go into this full-time. Like what us three did yesterday with the livestream, we can just test the waters. Get together like we normally do and bounce ideas off each other. We’d just be trying to make actual songs this time.”

          “And who knows, you might need some rapping to get your head straight,” Mike suggested, a businessman closing in on the deal.

          As Tarsha’s gaze drifted as she thought the idea over, Adel snarked, “Nothing to help with parole and restraining orders like some good old verses.”

          “Adel, the fuck, man?!” Tarsha’s eyes shot from Adel, who pulled an “oopsie” face, to Peter, who made an awkward smile and raised his hands.

         “Uh... don’t worry, I’ve had my fair share of arrests.” Mike and Adel raised their eyebrows at him. “...I was a problem child.”

          Naseem slapped the table. “Okay, we’ve heard the arguments, everyone raised points, let’s put it to a vote. All in favor?”

          “Aye!” Mike said.

           “Aye!” Naseem said.

           “You know I’m in,” Peter said.

            It was already three yeses to one obvious no, but still, Adel looked towards Tarsha for support, to help him speak sense into these men.

         And possibly because he had spilled something so private in front of the new crew member, Tarsha closed her eyes serenely and tilted her head. “...I’m in.”

          “And the ayes have it!” Mike shook a fist in the air, sharing in the quick whoops of the other table occupants. 

          Adel slumped back in his chair, hands folded on the top of his head as he stared off into space. “Oh, my god, you guys cannot be serious,” he deadpanned.

          “Dead serious,” Mike stated. “Alright, now we’ll have to discuss some things. The schedules, like Addie here pointed out, and equipment. We have so much to set up. In the meantime.”

          Mile held his hand out towards Peter. “Lemme see your lyrics. If we’re gonna be a team, we might as well help you polish your work.”

[pasdecoeur]

batlantern. O.

O. The stars or space. (ahahahahhaahaha remember when this was supposed to be a minific. it’s not a minific. fuck me.) (T, 1.6k, Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne, complete) this fic is now on ao3.

send me a ship and i’ll write you a fic!

don’t you dream impossible things.

“Hey, so you remember that asteroid belt in Alpha Centauri?” Jordan asked, plopping into his seat in the monitor room, and shoving a vellum scroll in Batman’s face.

“You’re late.”

“You’re repetitive,” Jordan replied. “Are you gonna look at this?”

Bruce kept quiet. Eventually, it would penetrate even the Green Lantern’s enormously thick skull.

“Oh, what? You want me to apologize? I’m sorry. I had shit going on. Cut me some slack. Have I ever not turned up when it matters?”

Bruce kept quiet, and Jordan snorted. “Seriously,” he said, unfurling the scroll, “listen to this, ‘On the event of the Ascension of the Mir— Mirhhh—’ I can’t pronounce this. It’s the kid, you remember him? The little god-prince?”

“He’s the leader of their religion. He’s not royalty.”

“Hello? As good as!” Jordan countered enthusiastically. “And hey! You remember him! They’re inviting us to his, I don’t know, his official elevation to the post — inviting the League, I mean.”

“A formality, of course.”

“I mean, probably, yeah.” Jordan turned to the screens, and they peaceably watched a minor storm system form in the Southern Indian Ocean, and then dissipate when it hit an underwater cylon buried off the coast of the Maldives. “God, he was just a baby when we were there, wasn’t he?”

“Mm.”

Jordan turned to him. Bruce could feel the force of his gaze. “You know what… You know what? We should go.”

And then Bruce did turn to him. “I beg your pardon.”

“We should go!” Jordan enthused. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. I’ve read about the Ascension ceremonies, this is like, a once in a century deal! It’s literally epic! And the kid, you remember him, he thought you were the shit. He was so impressed by you! I bet he’d get a real kick out of it.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, and turned back to the monitors. “It was four years ago. More likely than not, the boy doesn’t even remember us anymore.”

“Aw, c’mon, Spooky. Ain’t nobody who can forget you.”

Jordan’s voice had dropped a little, and Bruce turned to him once more. Hal was watching him, eyes bright, mouth curled up in that warmly satisfied grin, the smile of a man who knew exactly how good he looked. And Bruce fought the urge to look down, look away, heat crawling up the back of his neck, before he fought it down again.

“Tomorrow night, yeah?” Jordan continued, in that softened, low murmur. “It’s only a two hour round trip in the Jav. We drop in, say our how-do-you-do’s to the prince, duck right back out. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

---------

But whatever Lantern’s schedule was for the intervening eighteen hours had him a proper wreck — he stumbled into the Javelin hangar, blinked blearily at Bruce, mumbled, “Hey, you drive, ‘kay?” before weaving dazedly into the back and conking right out on one of the bunks.

The flight was easy, and they docked in a bustling spaceport on the Ginaheri asteroid cluster an hour fifty later. Jordan had woken up on re-entry, and had managed to put himself together by the time they disembarked.

Where the kid was waiting for them, in person.

“Rain?” Hal asked incredulously, “What are you—?”

“Lantern!” Rain crowed, darting away from his attendants, and throwing his wide blue palm up for a smacking loud high-five, before Hal grabbed him, laughing, spinning the gangly kid around and carefully setting him down. Rain looked over Jordan’s shoulder and the jewel-like facets of his amber-gold eyes went luminous. “Batman?” he said in a tone of reverent wonder.

“Hello, Rain,” Bruce said, stepping forward. Rain was practically vibrating, the iridescent silver markings around his eyes taking on an electric gleam. Batman touched his shoulder, and then smoothly sank to a knee, so their eyes were level. The Ginaheri were not a tall people, and even by those standards, Rain was slight and delicate looking. He reminded Bruce of nothing so much as Dick, in the dark, early days, before he had become Robin. It made something in his throat seize, and when he spoke, his voice was gruff. “You’ve grown taller.”

“I didn’t think you would come,” Rain said shyly.

And Bruce felt a rush of gratitude towards Jordan. “Of course I did.”

Rain smiled at him, the sharp black of his canines glinting in the low light. “They’re putting up the weather dome in Tevona. You wanna come see?”

Bruce rose up to his feet. “There is nothing I would like more,” he said gravely, and made no comment when Rain locked his hand around two of Bruce’s fingers, tugging him off and away.

And over his shoulder, he glanced at the Lantern, who had apparently been watching them with the strangest little smile, bemused and off-kilter, papery soft at its edges. Hal had… never looked at him like that before. ----------

They ended up staying for the complete length of the ceremonies, before heading back to the Javelin. Bruce sank into the copilot’s seat and proceeded to ignore takeoff procedures entirely in favour of his tablet, and six weeks’ backlog of financial data Tim had forwarded to him for review.

They had put several thousand miles between themselves and the asteroid cluster before Hal said, “You think he’s gonna be okay?”

“Rain?” Bruce said, scrolling through Tim’s data dump. “He’s a good kid. Smart, tough. Got people who care about him. He’ll be fine.”

“PUtting a lot on him, though, isn’t it? The new gig?”

Bruce shrugged. “Kids are more resilient than people give ‘em credit for.”

He could hear the smile in Hal’s voice when he spoke. “You’d know, huh?” He paused a beat. “You’re very good with him. I’d forgotten that.”

Bruce kept his eyes on the tablet. “It’s merely a matter of experience.”

“Nah,” Hal replied easily. “I’ve got three brothers, and we all came out— Well. You’ve met me. Experience doesn’t count for much.”

“You think I haven’t made mistakes?” Bruce countered quietly. “Because, believe me—”

“I’m not saying you were some kind of model-perfect, you know, a Mr. Rogers dad,” Hal cut in, waving a hand dismissively. “I just think kids can forgive a lot, right? If they know they’re loved, right down at the— At the core of things, if they’ve got that to hang onto, kids can forgive pretty much anything.”

Bruce was quiet for a time, trying to understand what that meant. He was pretty sure there was a compliment buried in there somewhere. Trust Jordan to… He huffed a laugh, and that got his attention, brown eyes swinging around to rest on him.

“I wanted to thank you,” Bruce said.

“For?”

“For insisting we visit Alpha Centauri. I wouldn’t have, but I’m… glad we did.”

“Oh,” Hal said. He sounded a little… stumped. “I mean, sure. Of course.”

Hal stayed quiet for the rest of their ride back to the Watchtower, and Bruce quietly, ruthlessly pushed down the little voice in the back of his head wondering if he had, somehow, as usual, found exactly the wrong thing to say.

They spent the remaining hour plus change of their flight back in silence, and Bruce got out of his seat before the Javelin had even entered the docking bay, tucking the tablet away, and headed to the bay doors at the back for exit.

But Hal must have engaged the autopilot for wheels-down, because he was at Bruce’s side when the hydraulics on the Javelin began to engage, looking antsy and nervous, tugging at his hair, looking like he coudln’t figure out what to do with his hands.

“Get it out,” Bruce muttered.

“What?”

“Whatever you need to say.”

“Oh.” Hal looked faintly gobsmacked. “Um. If you– DId you mean it? Before? When you said…”

“Yes,” Bruce said slowly. “I’m glad we— yes.”

“Okay,” Hal said. “Okay, so if you really want to me make it up to me—”

“I didn’t realize I owed you now—”

“I was thinking—” Hal continued loudly.

“That must’ve hurt. Did you strain something?”

But Hal just snorted, and the tense lines of his shoulders smoothed out, beautifully and all at once. He was grinning now, shaking his head. “You dickhead,” he murmured. “That’s some kind of reflex for you, isn’t it?”

Bruce sighed. It really was.

“So if you wanna make it up to me? You should, um. You should let me take you out to dinner.”

Bruce paused. Blinked. Surely… Surely he had misheard. Misunderstood. “Dinner,” he repeated.

Hal was leaning back against one of the struts, and that smile had never really gone away, but it was warmer now, profoundly intimate. Hal was watching him, and Bruce couldn’t tell— couldn’t understand what his face was revealing. “Dinner,” Hal confirmed. “And you can take that any way you like.”

“Any way I like,” Bruce repeated once more. “Any way I like?”

Hal’s smile was widening now, and the temperature in the hangar bay rose a little more, like he was putting off heat, like the California sun had sunk into the bones of him and he was spilling it into the air, radiant and beautiful. The expression on Bruce’s face must have been some kind of stupid, because Hal laughed softly, and hooked a finger around the utility belt, and tugged. Bruce went with it, let Hal bracket his knees, let their bodies stumble together and collide, bracing himself only just with a palm he slapped against the cool metal strut above Hal’s head.

“Any way you like,” Hal murmured, sliding a hand around the back of the cowl, and pulling Bruce close. His mouth brushed Hal’s chapped, soft lips, and there was an bearable lightness crowding in his chest when he curled his fingers around Hal’s jaw, its fine, honed razor-edge, and it felt like it was all he could do, to hold on, to hold him, to kiss and kiss, anchored in the quiet, as they spun through the dark reaches of the ionosphere, starlight all around them.

[justlurkinnothurtin]

Soooooo I wrote thing based on a post I saw on @buggachat which was originally posted by @flashflashitsash. Enjoy reading about Adrien stuck in an uncomfortable after dinner discussion. 

(Also, I really hope I’m doing this right. I was inspired by said post which pondered the concept that Adrien has not received the talk from anyone in the Agreste household. I took that idea and ran with it, but I wanted to make sure everyone was credited properly. If there is something I should be doing, please let me know.)

Nathalie takes a deep breath. She knocks on the heavy oak door twice before entering Gabriel’s office. Per Gabriel’s request to keep meetings short, she skips the greetings and the pleasantries and speaks directly to the heart of the matter. “Sir, the housekeepers are refusing to clean Adrien’s room.”

Gabriel doesn’t bother looking up from the touch screen. He continues to review designs submitted by staff as he discusses the issue with his assistant. “Adrien picks up after himself, so his room is usually easy to clean. Why is housekeeping refusing to clean Adrien’s room?”

Nathalie stalls. She knows her boss is never in a good mood, doubly so when his in-laws visit. “They found a cheese in his room.”

Gabriel stops futzing with his work. He looks over at Nathalie for clarification. “I’m not following. Did they find a moldy cheese that was somehow forgotten about?”

The assistant chooses her words carefully to convey the situation without being too direct. “They found a smashed cheese. Under his pillow. In his bed.”

Gabriel considers new bits of information. “I see.”

No one speaks as the reality of the situation settles. The silence in the room grows palatable. Nathalie breaks the silence first. “I’m not talking to your son about his… habits. That is not in the scope of my job as your assistant.”

Gabriel scowls and growls his words at Nathalie. “I didn’t ask you to.” Gabriel pulls up his calendar. The next several days look very busy. “Clear my schedule for this evening. Adrien and I will be having dinner alone, after Amelie and Felix leave.”

“Yes sir.” Nathalie taps on her tablet to begin rescheduling as she walks out of the office.

Later that evening

Adrien and Gabriel eat dinner in silence. As Gabriel finishes his meal, he pushes his plate away and leans back in his chair, waiting for Adrien to finish. Adrien notices his father’s not-quite relaxed posture. Adrien breaks the ice. “It was nice to have dinner with you, Father. Do you have another meeting you need to get to? If not, then we could watch a movie or play game.” The son does his best to hide his excitement at the prospect of being able to spend some quality time with his father. Dinners together are rare, and rarer still is spending time together after.

The light glints off the father’s glasses in a foreboding manner. Gabriel settles in for a serious discussion. “Actually, before we do anything else, we need to talk.”

“Talk? Did I do something wrong?” A wave of disappointment crashes over Adrien. It seems like his father only ever talks to him if something was not up to standards.

Gabriel reframes the conversation away from wrong-doing. “Not wrong per se, but concerning.” Gabriel takes a deep breath and gathers his thoughts. “Everyone has urges. It’s natural to seek out a release from such urges, but you should never use food or everyday objects for such a release. Those activities should be limited to your hands, object designed for the task, or a consenting partner. I would appreciate it if you held off on the last one until you were older.”

Adrien’s eyes become pinpoints. The confusion sets in. “What are you talking about?”

Gabriel is not amused. “If you’re creative enough to use cheese, then I’m sure you’re creative enough to figure how to use your hands, Adrien. I’ll make sure your room is stocked with tissues and lotion from now on. No more keeping whole cheese wheels in your room. Food belongs in the kitchen.”

Adrien rests his elbows on the table and sinks his head into his hands. He wonders aloud and mostly to himself. “What is happening right now?”

Gabriel’s face somehow grows sterner. He relays the facts of the day’s earlier incident to his son. “A used cheese was found under your pillow. No should have to clean up after your… activities.”

A look of realization flashes across Adrien’s face. He remembers Plagg complaining about Felix ruining the cheese Plagg had been aging. “I promise I didn’t do whatever it is you think happened to that cheese.”

A sigh of relief makes its way through the older Agreste. Gabriel is relieved that his child is not into cheese. Unfortunately they still have more to address. “I believe you, but the rest of this discussion is important information we should have talked about earlier. Concerning consenting partners; no Gabriel brand or household employees, no one from competing brands, and you should avoid anyone from your pool of fans.”

Adrien looks up at his father. The younger Agreste’s brows furrow as he checks his understanding. “So basically my classmates or Kagami?”

Gabriel rejects the suggestion almost by reflex. “Not Kagami. If things turned sour it could affect the agreements between Gabriel and Tsurugi.” They could not afford to lose the contract with Tsurugi concerning factories in the east.

“So my classmates?” asks Adrien.

Gabriel scratches his chin and reconsiders. “Doesn’t one of your classmates run the Ladyblog? Not her either. In fact, no journalists.”

Adrien raises one eyebrow. He thinks he is starting to catch on to the discussion. “Alya? I’m pretty sure she’s dating Nino.”

Gabriel reminds himself that Emilie would want to present a united and accepting front just in case their son needed the reassurance concerning his orientation. “Nino would be okay if you’re into that sort of thing, but he’s still not allowed inside our house.” 

If he was into that sort of thing? Adrien’s confusion grew, but he attempted to set the record straight.  “Just so I understand, consenting partners cannot be your employees or household employees, employees of a competing brand, journalists, people that could affect contracts in which Gabriel the brand is involved, and shouldn’t be any of my fans, but could be Nino.”

Gabriel nods his confident his son was catching on. “Exactly.”

Adrien asks the question that has plagued him since the beginning of the conversation. “What are they consenting to?”

Gabriel covers his face with one hand. “Honestly, it could be a lot of things, but everyone should be on the same page before you start.”

The answer from Gabriel is not helpful. Adrien tries to get a more direct answer from his father. “Start what?”

Gabriel wishes Emilie to wake up at that moment, like he does every time he feels like he is flubbing a delicate conversation.  Gabriel speaks only one word with gravity to impart his meaning. “Activities.”

The gravity of the spoken word does not work on the teenaged son. Adrien pauses and thinks of the few times his father allowed him to leave the house and what he was allowed to do. Adrien lights up believing he has figured out his father’s puzzling statements. “Oh! Like practicing with Marinette, or with the girls in the park, or at the ice skating rink with Luka, Marinette and Kagami, or with everyone on the house boat.” He remembers too late that he only got permission from his father to practice video games, to go ice skating and to go to see Kitty Section during the music festival. He never got permission to do the photo shoot with the girls in the park. Oops.

Gabriel now wishes he was dealing with a child who was into cheese. The name Marinette rings a bell. Oh god. Marinette is name of Tom and Sabine’s daughter, and Adrien admits to using her for practice. Gabriel prays Adrien means some other Marinette, so he doesn’t have to deal with the fall out of upsetting the best bakery in Paris. With the mention of Kagami, the Tsurugi contract is dead. “… did everyone take proper precautions?”

Adrien thinks back to ice skating and to listening to loud music. “Do you mean helmets, knee pads, and ear plugs?”

Gabriel is perturbed by Adrien’s answer. What in the world is Adrien into?!  The father asks for his own sanity. “Are you at least using a barrier method?”

The son is more lost than ever. “What’s a barrier method?” Adrien wonders what barriers have to do with ice skating and listening to music.

Gabriel’s frustration builds with his son’s supposed lackadaisical attitude towards sex. He lashes out. “If you don’t know about condoms and dental dams, you really shouldn’t be involved in group scenes, Adrien. I’m worried that you’ve been given too much freedom if you can’t be bothered to practice safe sex.” Gabriel glares at his son from over the top of his glasses. He reaches for his phone, ready to update Nathalie on the new rules for his son.

Adrien’s brain malfunctions as he tries to straighten out how this conversation got away from him. It hits him that he told his father he practiced with Marinette. He wonders if Marinette would still want to be his friend after sticking his foot in his mouth. The words somehow manage to come out of Adrien’s mouth. “Safe sex? What do condoms and dental dams have to do with ice skating, band practice and video games? What’s a dental dam?”

The phone is left undisturbed on the table. No new rules for Adrien. Gabriel shakes his head not sure if should be relieved that Adrien is not some sort of deviant or let down by how easily Adrien misses context. Gabriel is determined to finish this conversation, if only to avoid future discussions with Nathalie over anything in Adrien’s room. “A dental dam is a thin flexible sheet of latex or similar material used to prevent the transmission of STDs during oral sex. No matter what your… kink is, you should always practice safe sex. Barrier methods protect against sexually transmitted diseases, and condoms specifically also protect against pregnancy.” Gabriel takes on his more familiar and stern countenance. “It’s important to the brand that you are discrete and avoid any mishaps. It would be wise for you to refrain from such activities until you are older. Deviations could make your image appear less wholesome and adversely affect our target audience.”

Adrien adds another expectation to his ever growing list. At least he isn’t outright banned from activities as Gabriel put it. Adrien asks another question. “How do you use condoms and dental dams?”

Gabriel answers the question without getting in the details. “There’s instructions on the box with diagrams. Read them prior to getting into racy situations. A box of each has been placed in your room.” He adds to his answer in hopes of avoiding accidents due to unfamiliarity. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to practice and get familiar with them first.”

“Practice?” the son asks.

“In your room, on yourself,” the father responds.

Adrien gets more comfortable with the conversation. It is not how he thought the night would go, but at least he gets to spend time with his father. “What else should I know?”

Gabriel relaxes a smidge. The conversation is flowing easier now Adrien and Gabriel are on the same page. Gabriel imparts some important wisdom. “Consent can be withdrawn at any time. Take your time and check in frequently with your chosen partner or partners to make sure everyone is still on board. Don’t rush, and make sure to communicate your desires clearly as well as listen.”

“Am I supposed to ask them if they still want sex during sex?” asks Adrien. He doesn’t doubt his father, but that is not how sex is usually portrayed.

Gabriel explains the concept more thoroughly. “You’re supposed to make sure they still want sex during sex, but you don’t need to use those exact words. It doesn’t even necessarily be verbal. It’s mostly a matter of making your partner is still enjoying themselves. Pay attention, and if something seems off then back off. In the beginning of a relationship or with temporary flings, you’ll probably rely more on verbal communication because everyone is different in how they show enthusiasm.” Gabriel notices Adrien biting the side of his lip and offers more direction on checking in on sexual partners. “You could use more playful questions like, does that feel good, what do you want you right now, are you ready for whatever. All of this is easier to do when you are not in the midst of puberty and after your hormones have leveled out. Another reason to wait until you are older.” Gabriel gently pushes for his son to wait again. It would be easier on the brand if the face of the teen department isn’t known as a pint-sized playboy.

It is a lot of information to absorb, but Adrien knows his father probably isn’t done. “Is that it?”

Gabriel switches to the more practical side of sexual health. “Whenever you start having sex, let me know so I can get a wellness check scheduled for you.” Gabriel flips over his phone and makes a few notes.

Adrien face and tone falls flat. “Aren’t you going to tell Nathalie to schedule the appointment?”

Gabriel counters. “Do you want Nathalie to know when you become sexually active?”

Nathalie spends the most time with him, but Adrien isn’t comfortable with Nathalie knowing his private life. “Not really.”

Gabriel reassures Adrien. “Then I won’t have Nathalie schedule the appointment. I will have to tell her that you have a doctor’s appointment in order to keep your schedule clear, but I won’t tell her the reason.”

“Thank you, Father.” Something about the conversation nags at Adrien. “Aren’t you going to tell me what sex is?”

Gabriel stares down Adrien. The boy is 14. He doesn’t need everything spelled out. “I’ve seen your search history, Adrien. I know you know what sex is. I will say that pornography is not accurate. It’s not usually representative of what women want. Everything in porn is exaggerated, most people don’t look like that naked, and no woman has ever been that excited by extra sausage on her pizza.”

Adrien’s face turns beet red as he remembers how almost everything in his life is monitored. “…anything else?”

Gabriel gives one last piece of advice. “Don’t keep condoms in your wallet. The heat and the friction could weaken the condom making it more likely to break.”

As if on autopilot, the next question is blurted out without thinking. “Is that what happened to you and mom?” His father stares into Adrien’s soul. The steely eyes draw out another statement from Adrien. “My birthday is six months after your wedding anniversary.”

Later

In his room, Adrien recalls the strange conversation over the phone with Nino. “And then my father grounded me.”

[the-hidden-writer]

In The Land That Our Grandchildren Knew

An Agents Of SHIELD oneshot.

Summary: To say Daniel was confused when he woke up would be an understatement, so Deke decides to try and help him come to terms with his new situation.

Or: The out-of-time bros have a chat.

Comments make my day! :D

~-.-~

The Zephyr was in a hurry, and everyone was busy with various tasks as they prepared for their venture out into the 1970s. Mack and Coulson were pacing around as if they would devise a plan just by walking. Yo-Yo and May were trying to get a clear idea of their surroundings. Simmons was analysing the latest time jump to the best of her ability- which was genius-level, of course. Though it was painfully obvious that she was missing Fitz, she was doing very well managing everything on her own.

And since Daisy was on clothes shopping duty, Deke was left standing around aimlessly with nothing to do. As usual.

Sometimes he wondered if the others forgot he was a part of the team. Maybe they actually did, or maybe they just thought he’d be better off with no actual tasks to do. Not that he was complaining, he got some time off, but he’d feel a lot better if he felt like he was contributing to the team, rather than just essentially being their paperboy.

But that day the Zephyr held an extra passenger. It hadn’t escaped Deke that Daniel Sousa had slunk away whilst everyone was scurrying around.

“Deke, can you go and check on Sousa?” Asked Simmons, without looking away from the screen of the tablet in her hand.

“Oh, uh, sure.” He called back. Finally, a proper task that he could actually do some good with! After his run-in with Freddy, he desperately needed some validation for his actions. And it wasn’t like his Nana was just trying to get rid of him, right?

Right?

But as he walked towards the room where he caught a glimpse of Sousa sitting on the table with his back to the door, cane at his side, he suddenly felt a pang of fear. What was he supposed to say? He wasn’t sure exactly how many of Sousa’s questions Coulson had answered, and he definitely didn’t want to be the one to do all the messy explaining. The guy had just been told he’s supposed to be dead and was taken aboard a time-traveling plane from the future. That wasn't an easy thing to brush over.

At least he had the experience with time travel, he could always lead with that.

No turning back now, he thought, as he knocked rapidly on the doorframe.

“Knock knock!” He said as positively as he could.

Sousa twisted himself to face him, brows furrowed.

“I just wanted to check on how you’re doing, sir,” Deke continued, “since I, uh, didn’t get to say hi before.” He hesitantly walked further into the room. “I’m Deke by the way.”

After taking him in for a moment, Sousa outstretched his hand. “Daniel,” he said, “but you probably already knew that.” he added with a tired, humourless laugh.

“Yeah.” Deke answered apologetically, taking a seat beside the weary-but-still-kinda-intimidating man. “So, how are you doing?”

“Honestly?” Said Daniel. “I’m absolutely exhausted. It’s a lot to take in… I think I’m gonna need a bit of time to process all this.”

He gestured around the room, but Deke noticed that his eyes had settled on the modern SHIELD logo.

“Hey, at least you’re not dead, right?” Laughed Deke.

Sousa didn’t seem to find it that funny.

“Are you sure that’s a good thing?”

This caught Deke off-guard. “What-What do you mean? Of course it is! You’d rather be dead than alive and going on adventures and saving the world?!”

“Apparently I’m supposed to be dead,” Sousa countered, “what difference would it make? I know nothing of the future, what exactly am I expected to do here? Hobble around and pretend I know what’s going on?”

Deke couldn’t help but scoff. “I know the feeling.”

Now this caught Daniel’s attention, and he shifted his position to face Deke directly, raising an eyebrow. “What, you get kidnapped to the future after being told you’re dead too?”

“Something like that.”

Deke grinned when Sousa’s jaw dropped open. “Wait, seriously?”

He nodded, and Daniel leaned back with a long exhale.

“But, uh, I’m from the future.” Deke corrected after a few seconds of awkward silence. “Further in the future. A future that probably doesn’t even exist anymore.”

“Huh.”

He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t want to put poor Agent Sousa through anything else, especially not the dystopian future that SHIELD stopped from coming to fruition. He would thank him someday.

Daniel cleared his throat. “So, did you… did you get to say goodbye to the people you cared about?”

No, Deke never got to say goodbye. He didn’t have many friends in the Lighthouse (he survived by thinking it was every man for himself) but the few he did have meant a lot to him. He never said goodbye to Tess. He never said goodbye to Flint. Hell, he never even got to say goodbye to Virgil. For all they knew, he’d been blown up by the monolith or something.

He missed them. The rest of the team seemingly kept on forgetting that he’s not from their time and that he’d lived a whole other life. You don’t forget that in a year.

“Not really, but you forget about that after a while.” He lied.

Daniel didn’t look satisfied with that answer, and he looked down at his hands in his lap, deep in thought. “God,” he muttered under his breath, “I don’t- why’s all the weird stuff gotta happen to me?”

Slightly awkwardly, Deke put one of his hands over Daniel’s and squeezed it comfortingly. Or at least he thought it would be comforting. Personally, he wasn't great at contact. “I get that you’re probably super disorientated right now, and I totally get that, but I promise that you’ll get used to it. The others… they’ve never experienced what we have. Never been torn from their world and then dumped into a different time. They tend to prioritize the mission over many things-”

“As SHIELD agents should.” Sousa interrupted sternly.

“Yeah,” continued Deke, “but I’m just saying that I’m not like that.”

He sighed, pulled his hand back, and stood up. “I guess what I’m trying to say is if you need any help with the whole future thing, I’m your guy.” His grin spread. “And hey, hopefully, once we beat the chronicoms, I can show you some awesome stuff I found in their time. Like, have you ever tried an ice cream sundae?”

“Yes.”

“Uh, okay, bad example, but I promise you there’s so much cool stuff to see.”

He paused and noticed Sousa’s expression. He suddenly looked a hundred more times exhausted than before, his forehead was crinkled in thought, and Deke felt slightly guilty for disturbing him.

“I’ll uh, go now. Give me a shout if you need anything, and I totally get if you don’t wanna go on the next mission.”

Daniel turned his head to look directly at him.

“Thank you, Deke.” He said.

Deke smiled. “My pleasure, sir.”

“Daniel, please.”

Leaning on the doorframe, Deke nodded. “Daniel.”

He should have walked away. He should have left him alone. It was his cue to leave, and for once in his life he should have listened to it.

But he didn’t.

“Hey, Daniel?”

“Hm?” Replied Sousa wearily, unable to hide the surprise at Deke still lurking there.

“You wanna exchange stories sometime? I’m lucky enough to have my grandparents on the team, but unless any of them are your secret descendant it’ll help to talk to someone about it. Get it all off your chest.”

What he didn’t tell him was that nobody had been willing to listen when he’d been dragged back in time, nobody had really given him the time of day. The last thing he wanted was for someone to go through the same treatment as he had.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Daniel replied with a forced smile, not-so-subtly asking for some time to himself.

This time, Deke obliged. And, with a last little wave, he left feeling a lot more whole inside.

He’d made a friend, someone who would actually listen to him hopefully, and someone that didn’t think he was beneath them. Talk about validation!

Coulson caught him as he was making his way to tell Simmons about his conversation with Sousa.

“How’s he doing?” He asked.

“He’s tired and disoriented,” Deke answered honestly, “I’d leave him alone for a bit.”

“I see.” Said Coulson, with that weird glimmer in his LMD eyes. “Good work, Agent Shaw.”

And with that, Coulson walked away. Leaving Deke utterly gobsmacked. Had he been listening in to that entire conversation with his super robot hearing or something?

Or maybe his teammates did care after all.