#i was setting myself up for failure this morning with that iced coffee

[evqnescene]

WHY IS EVERYTHING MAKING ME CRY TODAY

[blossomingmoonlight]

⭑ Undercover ⭑

Well I've officially written my first one-shot, a smutty one nonetheless and I hope you like it. I noticed that there are like 0 fics/one shots of daddy Tim Bradford so I took it upon myself to write one.

summary: I used some of episode 7 season 4 where Tim goes undercover and uhm things happen between you.

Warnings: +18, MDNI, vaginal, creampie, handjob, making out, tim having a sir kink, tim being hot as fuck.

Words: 3.7K

tim bradford x fem!reader

It was the early morning of yet another exciting Monday on the job. Only this time you’re annoying yet hot training officer Tim Bradford wasn’t your training officer anymore. Finally you had freedom, even though it felt strange and almost sad even to not ride with him anymore it also felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. You were deep in thought making your to go-cup of iced coffee when a familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Well good morning, you’re awake early.” Jackson grinned in the hall leading to his room. He had been your roommate for about 2 years now and after the academy, joining the LAPD out in the real world, called for a friend who knew what you went through. “Yes of course! It’s our first day of freedom. I’m planning on making it the best day ever so I’m going to be on time and prepared. I don’t want my first day to be a failure, I need to prove to Tim that I don’t need him anymore.” You responded to Jackson while pouring the hot coffee over to the to-go cup. 

“You know you don’t need to prove yourself to Tim, he knows how good of a cop you’ve become. I mean I get it but still, today will be great. I just know it.” Jackson said as he walked up to you and gave an encouraging pat on your shoulder. “So no coffee for me?” He asked, pretending to look sad as he watched you add the ice. “Sorry, sorry I’ll make some for you too.” You laughed. When you finished up Jacksons coffee as well you two walked out to your car and headed to the station. 

After changing into your uniform you headed into roll call while also pretending not to look for your ex-training officer. You took your seat, now in the second row, and talked excitedly to John about the next phase in your career. Some time passed and everyone had taken their seat, Tim as well, but you pretended not to notice his grumbley voice in the early morning. Something you came to appreciate over the years working with him. However you quickly shut up when sergeant Grey walked in. “Good morning everyone, let’s begin today with congratulations to our rookies who are now P2’s. Good job officer Nolan, West and (Y/L/N) it’s not every year that all the rookies pull through. However this new found freedom without your T.O’s does not mean that you’re off the hook, you’ll still be monitored only you now call your own shots. That would be all for this morning, good luck out there.” Grey finished and you smiled at Jackson and John who were both seated on either side of you. 

When you walked out of roll call you caught a glimpse of Tim walking behind you and joining you at your side. “Just because you’re not my boot anymore doesn’t mean that you can slack off now, understood?” Tim lectured as he looked at you sternly. “Of course sir, I wouldn’t dream of it.” You responded with a slight smile, you couldn’t help but think he needed to lecture you one last time before you went out on your own but just as you were about to point that out to him Jackson joined your “conversation”. “(Y/n) we should ride together today, already got it approved by Grey.” Jackson smiled. “That sounds great Jackson, let’s grab our gear.” Jackson agreed and you wished Tim good luck today as you headed to grab your gear. You and Jackson then set up the shop and left to go out on patrol. After a couple of calls that were fairly timid you drove yourself and Jackson to the food trucks nearby where your fellow officers were already enjoying a well deserved lunch. The day went on pretty swiftly with nothing major other than a robbery in a convenience store. When the suspect was processed you got called over by Lopez wanting to talk to you about a woman allegedly adding tiger blood in her skin care line and asking if you could join Tim in interrogating her as you were always good at getting a confession out of suspects and Tim could use a hand. 

You accepted the challenge and headed over to the interrogation room where Tim and the woman would be. The door creaked as you opened it, Tim’s eyes on you as you entered the room and stood beside him. “I’m officer (Y/L/N), I will be asking you some questions, Mrs Carter is it?” You asked the older woman sitting opposite of Tim. “Yes, but I don’t understand. Officer Bradford is already questioning me.” Mrs Carter almost sneered, clearly she wasn’t happy with the situation. “Well Mrs Carter I am here to uh... learn, I haven’t been on the job long and need some experience, so I hope you won’t mind.” You quickly answered, glancing at Tim who was standing next to you, looking a bit annoyed. “I understand that you recently started your own skin care line?” You asked her while skimming through her file. “Yes we’re a small operation but we’re growing.” She smiled proudly. “We’re hoping to get a write up in Goop.” She continued. “I-I don’t know what that is.” Tim looked at you confused. “I’ll explain later.” You told him, putting the file down. “A friend of yours gave us your night cream, she claimed that it contains tigers blood, like, literally blood from an endangered animal.” You stated. “Firms the skin right up.” She smiled, as if this was completely normal. You almost gasped at her quick confession and looked surprised at Tim before you pointed out, “Participating in the endangered animal trade could land you in jail for up to five years.” 

“You don’t understand the wellness game. It’s cutthroat. I need to stand out. How else am I gonna compete with Sloan and her vitamin business? I mean everybody knows that her B-12 rejuvenation pills are just benzos in fancy bottles.” She mused while crossing her arms. Tim gave you an astonished look, which you returned. “Um, she’s selling psychiatric drugs?” You asked the woman. “Oh, the whole ‘westside buffet.” Mrs Carter shrugged. “What’s Sloan’s last name?” Tim exhaled, knowing that this was going to be a dragging one. After some time you and Tim found the woman Mrs Carter had talked about and she was brought in the interrogation room where you two waited for her. 

“Take off your sunglasses, ma’am.” Tim sighed at the woman with the big round sunglasses while she was crossing her arms. “Do I have to? These fluorescent lights give me vertigo.” She asked, annoyed. “Okay well that could be the least of your worries. We’ve been informed that you’re selling psychiatric drugs as a vitamin.” Tim continued. “Who said that?” The woman scoffed, now taking off her sunglasses. “Doesn’t matter.” Tim cut her off. “I’m helping people. What’s the problem?” She expressed. Tim rolled his eyes. “You can’t prescribe a controlled substance without a medical license.” You told her. “My husband is a doctor, it's the family prescription pad.” The woman said as if it was obvious. “Yeah that’s not a thing.” You objected, you could feel that Tim was over it. “Look I don’t think you’re hearing me, this makes you a drug dealer.” Tim explained, now getting more irritated. “And given the circumstances a pretty high level one. You could be looking at twenty years in prison.” He continued. “What?! No, no, no, no, no. This whole thing has gotten terribly out of hand. Who ratted me out anyway?” She stuttered. “It was Aston wasn’t it? She’s been trying to break me down ever since I stole her portrait painter. Like she needs to be hung on a wall. You want a real crime to chase? Aston’s trying to hire a hitman.” She claimed almost proudly. “Wh- What do you mean?” You asked her confused. “Her husband's worth more dead than alive, so she’s been on the dark web trying to hire someone to kill him.” She smiled. You and Tim both sighed and looked at each other, this was bigger than you thought. The both of you knew what you had to do, so with permission from Grey, Tim would go undercover as a hitman to try and get the woman to say word for word she wanted her husband dead. 

After you got the equipment sorted in the van you waited for Tim to arrive in the parking lot with the Mercedes as the setup vehicle, while the van you were in was parked next to him. You heard a car arrive and opened the door of the van to greet Tim who was now parking the car. “Okay, oh... that’s your disguise?” You asked him smiling, he looked like a completely normal man, not at all like a criminal. “This is what real hitmen look like.” He scoffed as he now stood in front of you. “That is not the point. Come on, get in.” You said ushering him inside the back of the van. He sighs while stepping in the van, sitting down as you climbed in as well, closing the sliding door behind you before you took a seat close to him. “What I’m wearing is fine.” He claimed. “Okay, third rule of undercover work. Know your audience. You are not trying to fool another criminal. You’re trying to fool a woman who gets her ideas about crime from Lifetime movies. Put it on” You explained as you hold the black blazer out to him. “Fine.” He said as he almost ripped the blazer out of your hands. “Thank you.” He removed his open zip up hoodie and instead put the blazer on. “Oh my god.” He scoffed, knowing he looked ridiculous. “Yeah, that’s much better.” You smiled. “I look like an idiot. I’d pull me over in a heartbeat.” Tim sighed. “Exactly, because you look the part.” You said while handing him the earpiece. “Alright mic me up, let’s get this over with.” Tim said as he raised his shirt, revealing his toned abs. You tried to play cool but couldn’t help taking a peek as you peeled the back of the sticker part of the mic off and reached over to stick it on Tim’s chest. “It's a little too high.” Tim said as you stuck the mic on him. “I know what I’m doing.” You said slightly annoyed. You checked the mic and waited for the woman as she should be at your location soon, so Tim moved over to the Mercedes, while you moved so you could listen in and record their conversation. 

After some time the woman pulled into the parking lot and Tim stepped out of the car. She pulled up next to him, turned off the engine and rolled down her window. “You made sure you weren't followed?” Tim asked her as he leaned down near her window. “Yes. I drove around in circles for like half an hour.” She said with a smile on her lips. Tim then entered the car as you watched closely, the thought of his toned abs still in your mind. “So, how does this work?” The woman asked curiously. “Well, that's up to you. Your ad indicated you have a problem with your husband?” Tim started. “Yes. I need him to not be alive anymore.” She told him. “Hm, that’s not gonna be enough. We need her to spell it out.” You told Tim in his ear piece. “Do you want it to look like natural causes? A suicide? Homicide?” Tim continued. “Must be a lonely kind of life being a hitman.” She flirted. “It can be.” Tim tried to answer her neutrally. “So you’re not seeing anyone?” She asked. “Oh my god. She’s hitting on you.” You laughed in Tim’s earpiece. “No, not at the moment.” Tim confessed. “You see the thing is the fee varies depending on the method, so I need you to tell me what you want.” Tim tried to press on, only the woman seemed interested in something else. "Ooh. What I want changed a little when you got in the car.” She flirted while putting her hand on Tim’s that rested on his knee. “Wait, is she touching you? She’s touching you, isn’t she?” You laughed again through his ear piece, enjoying this a little too much while Tim is a bit stumped but stays in character. “Look I am down to do whatever you want.” Tim said. “Yeah you are.” You chuckled softly in the ear piece. “I just want the business out of the way first.” Tim continued. “So it’s 20.000 for a straight murder, 25 if you want it to look like suicide.” “Sexy, I’d pay you twice that to kill the bastard.” She said while leaning in a bit. “And the bastard is?” Tim smiled. “My husband obviously.” The woman smirked. “Yes, got her.” You said in Tim’s earpiece. “You know once he’s dead, I’ll be a very wealthy woman.” She smiled. “You’re under arrest.” Tim said while holding up his badge. Finally you got her, so you called for backup on the scene so the woman could be taken to the station in a police car. Tim walked back over to you, you still being in the back of the van. “Well great job we got her.” You smiled as you took off your headset and let Tim in the van. “She really was thirsty, my god.” He said while closing the sliding door behind him and getting in to remove the blazer. You sat across from him secretly watching, hoping to get another glance at his toned chest. Tim lifted his shirt to remove the mic and handed it to you. 

“What is it?” He asked you, shit he caught you. “What- Nothing I- I just waited for you to hand me the mic!” You stammered out, a deep blush creeping on your skin and on the tips of your ears. “Really? You didn’t want a show?” Tim grinned, clearly amused by your embarrassment. “No I did not! What are you even talking about!” You scoffed now looking away from him, but still close enough for him to see your blushing features. “I saw you looking earlier, I don’t blame you.” He said looking you up and down. You were in your own clothes as you weren’t on patrol and you were wearing a white sundress with pretty blue flowers all over it. You looked down at your lap shyly. Then you felt Tim coming closer and he grabbed your chin to make you look at him. “(Y/n) are you attracted to me?” He spoke softly, with his sultry voice. “What- no I wasn’t even- no I don’t- I don’t know... maybe?” You stuttered now your face was really burning, not only from the embarrassment that you were attracted to your superior officer but also from the touch of his fingers on your chin. “So you are.” Tim smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. You however still looked away from his piercing blue eyes, knowing that once you gave in, you couldn’t look away. “(Y/n) look at me.” Tim instructed, grasping your chin a bit harsher but not as to hurt you. You gave in and looked at him, at his handsome features, his stubble, his pretty eyes and his perfect hair. He was almost too much, and the smell of his delicious cologne wasn’t helping either. 

He looked directly in your eyes as well and leaned in closer, the tips of your nose touching, lips a breath apart. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest and your breathing became heavier. After a moment he closed the gap between you and claimed your lips with his. His lips were even better than you could’ve ever imagined, soft and pillowy but slightly chapped as well, which for some reason made them even better. As you kissed him back you felt like your entire body was on fire, you moved your hands from his knees to his neck, holding on for dear life, feeling if you let go, you would lose him forever. He moved his right hand to your cheek while the other pulled you in his lap by your waist, now moving his right hand on your hips as well. The kiss got more heated and his tongue prodded at your bottom lip, begging for entrance, you let his tongue in and met his with yours. At that moment you couldn’t help but let out a tiny whimper between kisses. He softly groaned against your lips and his grip on your waist got tighter, he moved you to be right on his groin and gave your hips a squeeze as if asking you to start moving. And you did, you couldn’t not move, the moment was almost overwhelming as you started moving right on his hard on. Your underwear grew wet and you started moving feverishly against him, and then you moved right over his tip causing him to moan in your mouth. His hands moved from your hips to your ass and he started to move you harder against him, the movements alone could make you finish. The fabric of his jeans and the hardness of his erection hitting your clothed clit perfectly. But much to your disappointment he stopped you. 

“Sweetheart if you want me to finish already you should continue.” He smiled against your lips. “Let me make you feel even better first.” He whispered as you feel his hands moving from your ass to the inside of your thigh, slowly creeping towards your covered clit and moving his thumb over your bundle of nerves. You let out a loud gasp as he touched you, holding onto his biceps when he moved his fingers inside of your underwear. “Fuck you’re so wet for me. All because of me huh?” He murmured in your ear. He moved his fingers right over your clit, pressing a bit harder to see how you would react. You moaned at his touch. “Tim... please just- touch me, please.” You begged, already high off of his movements. “Maybe I won’t, maybe I like it when you beg for me.” He sighed against your ear, ever so slightly moving his middle finger over your clit. “Please just please touch me.” You continued to beg, needing any kind of release. “Please what sweetheart?” At his words you knew immediately what he wanted to hear, something that you realized he might have loved to hear you say for a long time. “Please touch me... sir.” You almost moaned in his ear. He groaned at this and started moving two fingers right over your wet clit. “Good girl, always knows how to address her superiors.” He breathed in your ear, you could feel him hardening under you even more. He then moved his two fingers inside you, your wet cunt almost sucking them in out of need. 

As he fingered you the sound of your wet pussy, your moans and pleas and his heavy breathing could be heard vividly in the otherwise quiet van. “Yes, yes, please sir, please I’m so close.” You moaned in his ear, begging for release. At your words he sped up his fingers, curling them up and hitting that perfect spot inside of you, finally giving you mercy and letting you cum. “Good girl, that’s it. You gonna come for me sweetheart? You gonna cum on my fingers?” He ranted in your ear as the walls inside you contracted while you came, trying to not scream for the whole world to hear. “Oh my god, please I need you inside me Tim.” You begged him, wanting nothing more than to be filled by his big cock. “I’m on birthcontrol so just please fuck me already.” You pleaded, moving your hand to pull down the zipper of his pants and reaching inside his boxers, giving his cock relief. “Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you.” He groaned against you. You removed his dick out of his pants and moved your hips right above him, sliding your soaked underwear to the side so you could slowly sink down on his aching cock. You both moaned at the feeling and you almost immediately started moving after you grew accustomed to his big size. Holding on to his neck you began moving up and down the noise of his snapping hips on yours and your moans filling the van. He then moved the top of your dress down causing your braless breasts to spill out, which Tim decided to knead. After a few moments he moved that same hand to your ass, under your dress and smacked it hard.

“Oh fuck... oh fuck, you feel so good sweetheart, keep moving just like that.” He grunted, completely enthralled by the feeling of your tight pussy around his dick. “You feel so good sir, just- so- fucking- good.” You moaned as you started moving faster, feeling another orgasm approaching. Tim wanted to fuck you even harder and moved you to your seat so he could put your legs on his shoulders and fuck you deeper which had you screaming in seconds. “Fuck! Tim! Yes! Please, faster, harder please!” You screamed, holding your thighs against you chest so Tim could fuck you deeper. He did as you asked and moved faster and rougher against you, seeking his own high. “Fuck baby I’m gonna cum, you gonna cum for me?” Tim moaned, moving his thumb to your clit and rubbing it in sync with his movements which made you snap, an overwhelming orgasm overtook you as you moaned his name, walls contracting tightly around his cock. The tight feeling of your wet pussy around him caused him to cum as well, filling you completely with his seed as he moaned your name. After some seconds of calming down he moved to sit down next to you as you felt his cum dripping out of you

“Jesus Christ, we need to work together again huh.” Tim chuckled.

“Definitely” You sighed contently.

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Well christ that took longer than I thought but I hope you liked it, let me know what I should write next!

[thesightstoshowyou]

The Collector’s Pet Cricket

- A Sight’s OC -

In the darkness I make my music for myself alone,

I sing for the joy of singing.

The fire in my heart is from you.

[excerpts of The Prayer of the Cricket by John Hall Wheelock]

Information:

Name: [REDACTED]

Nickname: Cricket - Bestowed by Asa Emory

Age when taken by the Collector: 25

Current Age: 31

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Hair: Long (falling to her mid-back), straight, chocolatey-brown

Eye color: Left eye is brown, right eye is green

Height: 5’6

Weight: 135lbs

Other notable features: Cluster of freckles across her nose, graceful, and the many, many scars inflicted by Asa

Personality: Reserved, submissive, analytical, intuitive, anxious

Likes: Asa, ballet, reading (mostly high fantasy and adventure), cooking, coffee, pastries, naps

Dislikes: Asa, small spaces, crowds, misbehaving, loud people, pineapple

“Canon” fics featuring Cricket as Reader (the Cricket-verse, if you will):

Asa Emory x AFAB Reader, Ribbon and Lace, Wings, Nightmare, Home, Permission, Timing is Everything, Gift Exchange, Correction, Bug Chocolate, Cold Night, Ice & Handcuffs, Thigh Riding, Bath Time, Omorashi, Late to Dinner, Pie, Choking, Forbidden BJ, Late Night Snack, Two and Five, What’s a Pet Without their Master?, Ripples, Sick Day, Does She Know?, Thunderstorm, Sketch, Office Visit, Wound Care

Backstory:

Cricket’s life before Asa is no longer relevant. All of it now belongs to the Collector. However, one small insight I offer is this:

At the end of Failure, the person that caused the crash upstairs was Cricket.

**

The experiment began as any of the Collector’s tests did: While working with his insects.

Asa spent the morning studying a tarantula infected with Ophiocordyceps unilateralis—cordyceps to the layman. The arachnid stumbled this way and that, controlled totally by the fungus. As Asa observed, his thoughts wandered to those failed subjects stumbling around in the basement of the hotel, drugged out of their minds, uncontrollable, wild like rabid animals.

Could the opposite be accomplished? Could a person be conditioned to follow his orders, and his alone? Could they be trained to be as well behaved and responsive as his dogs?

His thoughts shifted once again to the depatterning and psychic driving experiments performed by MKUltra scientists in the 50s and 60s, as unsuccessful as they were. The framework was already there to create the perfect, mind-wiped puppet. All Asa had to do was expand on it.

Perhaps they just hadn’t pushed hard enough. Burdened by bureaucracy and paperwork, of course they couldn’t accomplish their goals. They did not possess his freedom and foresight.

“Dr. Emory?”

Masking his annoyance at the interruption, Asa glanced up from the tarantula to meet the inquiring gaze of the office secretary. Her glasses looked as though they were about to slip off her face by how precariously they perched at the tip of her nose. In her hands was a clipboard and a pen.

“Shall I mark you down as attending the faculty Christmas party?”

Asa would rather set himself on fire than attend another one of those parties.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied curtly, half-turning back to the enclosure.

“No plus one again?” There was something in her voice, something bordering on the edge of pity. Asa looked back at her again, more ice in his gaze and tone.

“Yes.”

“Very well. Thank you for your time.” Her low heels clicked on the marble floor as she retreated. Asa’s brows furrowed as he slowly twisted back to the terrarium.

Every other faculty member bought a spouse or partner with them to events. He was always the only one without a “plus one.” This never bothered him, of course. He had neither the time nor the patience to deal with the trivialities of romance.

But, it appeared to bother others. Did it make him seem suspicious, Asa wondered? Did it draw too much attention?

Asa leaned over the desk, his fingers splayed out. Tap, tap, tap went his scarred pointer finger. Thoughts, ideas, and solutions fell into place.

Perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone.

**

Months pass. Too many months. Too many failures.

The human spirit was proving difficult to break.

Still, he had faith in his abilities and procedures. The only way to go was forward. The three current hopefuls were showing promise, the heterochromatic one in particular. She was docile and pliant. It appeared misbehavior was not in her programming.

The keys on his belt jingled as he stalked down the hall. First, he would check the cameras. Then he would attend to the “pets.”

Room one was as he left it, except the subject’s blue trunk had tipped over. That would have hurt, considering the state of her arm. Dumb little thing.

Room two was quiet. Asa wasn’t sure if the trunk had even moved an inch since his last visit. He was mildly concerned its occupant had expired, but he wouldn’t know until he looked inside.

Room three…. The trunk was open. Empty. Asa’s eyes widened a fraction and darted around the room, but quickly came to a stop on the girl’s sleeping form.

She’d escaped her case, but hadn’t tried to escape the room? The door lock would have been easy enough to break. Interesting. And what was she wearing—

The Collector couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth. Very, very interesting indeed.

Finally, a breakthrough.

[thebookreader12345]

Stop the Violence

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Best Friend! reader

Summary: Y/N has been hiding her abusive past for all her life, and somehow, she’s managed to keep it a secret from Intelligence, and her best friend, Jay Halstead, this long. However, when someone sees something they shouldn’t have, Y/N’s world changes, and the only way she can get through it is with Jay at her side

Requested: Yes, by @virtualreader​

Warnings: abusive relationship, talk and depiction of a beating, alcohol abuse

Word Count: 1,764 Words

I tugged my sleeves down for the umpteenth time this morning, hoping that they would stay in their current position, but I knew they wouldn’t. I should’ve just worn a hoodie, but alas, all of mine were dirty, and since I didn’t feel like doing laundry last night, I was stuck with this long sleeved shirt whose sleeves never stayed all the way down my arms, and always found a way to ride up.

“You okay over there?” Jay questioned from where he was seated at his desk across the room.

“I’m fine,” I reply. “It’s just that these stupid sleeves won’t stay down.”

“Just role them up,” Jay proposed. “It’s warm in here.”

“It’s cool,” I insist. “I’ll just deal with it.” Jay hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, but ended up not talking and went back to doing his paperwork. That’s when Kevin and Adam entered the bullpen side by side, both with a cup of coffee in their hands. “Hey, guys. Either of you know when Voight’s gonna be in?”

“Uh, no,” Adam responded. “Why?”

“I need to run a quick errand. Cover for me?” I ask Jay.

Jay nodded. “Sure. Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to run an errand for my dad. I’ll be back soon,” I say quickly and stuff my phone into my pocket before heading for the stairs. 

My dad and I have never really been close. I was always closer to my mom, but when I was 16, she passed away from heart failure, leaving my dad to raise me all by himself. That’s when the problems began. My dad started drinking more often, coming home drunk after work. During these times, he would become somewhat aggressive. It was just little things though, like grabbing my arm a bit too rough. I waved it off at first because he was grieving over the love of his life, and I was sure he’d get over it in a few months. Except it never stopped. The drinking continued, not just after work at bars, but at the house too. And the violence didn’t stop either. In fact, it just got worse. Grabbing turned into smacking, and then punching. I thought that when I moved out, things would be different. I wanted to stop going by his house to say hello, but he was the only close family I had left, so I continued stopping by and running errands for him. The abuse didn’t happen as often as before, but when it did, I had to figure out how to hide the bruises, hence me wearing long sleeves and a lot of makeup. It was hard keeping this from the rest of the unit, especially Jay, who was my best friend, but I didn’t want them to think differently of me when they heard about my family life.

The reason for my errand was that my dad wanted a few things from the grocery store, and since he was apparently busy, he asked if I could pick those things up. I didn’t want to because I had work, but because Voight wasn’t in yet, I figured I’d just do it now to stop my dad from bothering me for the rest of the day. So, I left the district and drove to the grocery store, hoping that I could get this done as quick as possible. It didn’t take me long to grab everything my dad needed, including beer. I could’ve just not bought it, but that would make him angry, and I didn’t want to face that at the moment. After loading everything into my car, I made the short drive to my dad’s house.

“Dad! I’m here!” I call out into the house as I stepped inside. To the right was the living room, and behind that was the kitchen. My dad was sitting in the living room on his recliner with the TV on, not doing a single thing, which made me mad because I left work for him, but I pushed those thoughts aside and made my way into the kitchen to set the groceries down.

“What kind of beer did you get?” my dad asked as I headed back into the living room.

“Uh, Budweiser,” I answer.

“I asked for Corona,” my dad spoke.

“Yeah, I know, but I had to be quick cause I have to get back to work, so I just grabbed the first thing I saw,” I explain and fish my keys out of my pocket.

My dad growled and stood up. “So your work is more important than your own father?”

“At the moment, yeah,” I reply. Right after I said that, I immediately regretted it. I could see my father’s face change, and before I could even move, my dad stepped forward and punched me in the face, catching me square in the eye. I cried out in pain and fell to the floor, clutching the side of my face, which was now throbbing. “Dad, please stop,” I beg. But he didn’t stop there and took another step towards me, this time sending a kick straight to my ribs. Pain exploded in my side where the tip of his boot had come in contact with me, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Just before my dad could kick me again, the door to the house was kicked open, and seconds later, Jay and Hailey appeared.

“Hey! Step away from her,” Jay ordered with his gun raised. My father glanced between me and the cops, and decided it was better not to go against their orders, so he took a step back. Hailey didn’t waste any time and handcuffed my father’s hands behind his back, telling him his rights as she led him out to the car.

“J-Jay? What are you doing here?” I croak out and sit up, which sent more pain throughout my body.

“Hailey and I came down to see what was taking you so long, and to tell you that we’ve got no new cases, so Voight gave us the day off. I uh, I saw everything through the window,” Jay mumbled and gestured towards the big glass pane in the wall behind us. “I’m gonna take you to the hospital, okay?”

I shook my head. “N-no. I just want to go home.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen. I’ll bring you back to my place, and then I’ll call Will over to check you over,” Jay said and held out a hand to help me up. I took his hand, allowing him to pull me up, but pain racked my body. “All right. Lets go.” While Hailey used Jay’s truck to get my father back to the district, Jay drove my car back to his apartment. A few minutes after we got there, Will arrived to see if any of my injuries were severe enough to where I would need professional care.

“Your orbital bone isn’t broken, just bruised,” Will informed me as he examined my eye. “Jay also said something about your side.” I nodded and lifted up my shirt so that Will could get a look at my side. A reddish purple bruise had already began to form, and based on it’s size and deep color, I knew it would be there for awhile. Will pressed on the bruise, and I winced in pain, immediately tensing away from his hand. “Sorry. Uh, your ribs don’t look broken either. But you should be careful the next few days so you don’t hurt yourself any more. You should also ice your side and your eye. That’ll help the swelling go down.”

“Thanks, Will,” Jay told his brother, who left seconds later, leaving Jay and I alone in the apartment. I took a seat on the couch, my back resting against the arm rest, and Jay sat down on the opposite side, moving his body so it mirrored mine. For a few moments, we sat in silence, but finally, Jay spoke up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I sighed. “What was I going to say, Jay? ‘Oh, hey, just to let you know, I’ve got an abusive father who beats me over the stupidest things?’”

“You could’ve at least talked to Hailey,” Jay put in.

“I know,” I state. “But what kind of friend would I be if I made her relive her own terrible memories?” Again, we were silent for a few seconds, and again, Jay broke that silence.

“How long has this been going on?” Jay questioned.

“Since I was 16,” I reply softly, tears beginning to gather in my eyes. “He wasn’t always like this, but after my mom died, he changed. The beatings, they didn’t start until I was in college, but I think that made them worse.” I took a deep breath and wiped at my eyes, cleaning the tears off of my face. “I-I should’ve said something, should’ve done something. I mean, I’m a cop. I should’ve been able to defend myself, but I just let the beatings happen. I let him hit me.”

“Hey,” Jay murmured and got up from his seat. From there he moved to the seat next to me and placed a comforting hand on my knee. “Don’t blame what he did on you. This isn’t your fault. It was never your fault.”

I sniffled and wiped more tears from my face. “I know, but it’s hard not to think that it is. If anything, I should’ve gone to the unit, or at least talked to you.”

“You’re talking to me now, and that’s all that matters,” Jay confessed and gave me a small smile.

“So, what’s gonna happen to my dad?” I ask.

“He’s uh, he’s going to get jail time. He got charged with assault down at the 21st. It looks like it’ll only be a year or two for him in prison, but I am going to make sure he’s never able to hurt you again. That’s a promise I intend on keeping,” Jay admitted. I smiled and sat up, pushing my legs to the side so that I could lean forward and hug Jay. He squeezed me back tightly, and being in the arms of my best friend gave me the comfort I really needed right now.

“Thank you,” I whisper into his chest. “For everything.”

“You’re my best friend, Y/N. I’d do anything for you. Now, I say we order some takeout and have a movie night. What do you think?” Jay quizzed.

“I think that sounds like a great idea. Lets do it,” I say.

____________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @dreamingmanip @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @nevertoofarfromivar @anotherfan07 @giagma @mrspeacem1nusone @i-like-sparkly-things

[thiswasinevitableid]

07+01 Sternclay? 👀

Here you go! This is NSFW

01. we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward

07. you’re my hot ski instructor and i’m failing the bunny hill Sternclay

Barclay is very proud of being from the coast; the views, the food, the beaches, they can’t be beat. It’s all the perfect back-drop for growing up; summers that weren’t too hot, winters without snow.

It’s that last part that’s fucking him over right now.

The holiday getaway to Tahoe was great for the first day; fresh snow, an awesome collection of rooms at the ski resort, and surprisingly good food for a tourist destination. Then, this morning, it was time to hit the slopes, as Jake keeps saying. Barclay, Indrid, and a few others with little to no ski experience booked an instructor for the day. By noon, his friends were all off on their own, zipping down hills and riding the lift back up again.

Barclay is still unable to get down the bunny hill without falling on his ass. This would be less humiliating if the instructor, Joseph, wasn’t the hottest guy on the fucking mountain. His smile is dazzling, his dark hair peeks charmingly out from under his hat, and his ass manages to look amazing in blue and black snow gear.

“That run was way better.” Joseph helps him up, brushes powder from his arms.

“I fell after, like, five feet.”

“Which is better than this morning. Come on, let’s try one together; sometimes it can help to have someone to mirror.”

It would be so much easier if Joseph was exasperated with or amused by his failure; then Barclay could just give up and go nurse his wounded pride in the comfy hotel bed. Joseph’s constant encouragement and optimistic instruction mean he wants to keep going, to show Joseph he’s not a complete waste of time.

“Ready?”

“Yep.” Barclay nods right before he realizes following Joseph downhill means fighting the urge to stare at his ass the whole way.

They push off and he tries his hardest to mimic Joseph’s posture and movement, his brain screaming impress him so loudly he’s worried it might set off an avalanche. At least his balance isn’t failing him.

Nope, wait, there it goes.

He face-plants into the snow, Joseph turning elegantly to stop and come help him.

“That was another two feet at least.” The gentle teasing is not helping his ego.

“Ugggggggh. I’m not usually this clumsy, I swear.”

“It’s only partially about coordination. Things like core strength help too.”

“I’ve got lots of strength.” He sits up with a grunt of pain, “I used to carry massive bags of flour for ym job, I lift weights, I once held a guy up against a wall while I fucked him, but apparently none of that translates.” He stands, notices Joseph watching him with a raised eyebrow, “fuck, sorry, that was a hella rude thing. I, uh, guess I’m just frustrated and wanted to remind myself I’ve got other skills.”

A new smile, smooth and slick as ice, graces Joseph’s face, “I don’t doubt it. But once I’m off the clock, I think I’ll need a demonstration.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------

BWAAAP

BWAAAP

“That’s a hell of an alarm you’ve got, babe.” Barclay mumbles. When there’s no reply, he opens his eyes. The empty bedroom is just as tidy in the daylight as it was in the darkness, and he smiles when he sees the clothes he left in a trail last night now folded up on a chair.

He rolls over, stretching as he watches the snow fall through the half-open curtains. If it’s this stormy all day, maybe he can convince everyone to stay in and have mulled wine in the hot tub. On the other hand, he could really use more ski lessons…

BWAAP

“Shit” Joseph, coffee mug in each hand, glares at pocket on his pajama shirt, “I already acknowledged that alert, but it won’t stop sending it.” He sets a Roswell mug on the nightstand by Barclay, sips from a Bluff Creek one as he silences his phone.

“Sorry about that. Um, a massive storm hit last night and the whole resort is snowed in. They’re telling everyone to shelter in place until at least six p.m.”

“Oh. Uh.” Barclay shifts nervously under the blankets, “guess I’m hanging out here then.”

“Is that okay? I mean, I can stay in the living room if you’d rather not-”

“No, no it’s not that.” Barclay sits up hurriedly, blankets falling from his lap. Having his dick out seems rude, so he grabs a pillow and tucks it in front of him.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not super experienced with hook-ups either.” He laughs awkwardly.

“I am but, uh, I got into the habit of leaving first thing in the morning. I used to be really into hanging around, making breakfast, shit like that, but it, uh, it put a lot of guys off.”

“Their loss.” Joseph joins him on the bed, staying a polite distance away, “I’d been hoping you’d at least stay for coffee. I, um, I really enjoy talking with you.”

They’d been up until eleven last night, Joseph’s head on his chest as they chatted about food and movies and work, stopping now and then to kiss under the covers. His last thought before falling asleep was that he wasn’t done enjoying the soft intimacy of it all yet. Thank fuck for the storm.

“I can start breakfast if you want to shower; it’s just through there. I’ll leave you some sweats that should fit.

“Sure you don’t want me walking around the place naked?”

“I do, but not when it’s freezing outside. Come back for the summer paddleboarding courses and then we’ll talk.” Joseph kisses his cheek before sliding off the bed.

There’s a rubber ducky that looks like the Loch Ness Monster next to the shampoo, and Barclay savors scrubbing away the sweat and grime of yesterday. As he towels off, he marvels at how nice the cabin is; he assumed the fancy resort gave it’s employees nice accommodations, but this place is swanky. Not too big though, but maybe that’s just the effect of the bookshelves crammed into every room.

Joseph is at the kitchen counter, staring at his cabinets as Barclay slips his hands into the pockets of his mothman patterned pajama pants.

“I want to make you something nice, and I thought, well, eggs benedict are fancy, but then I realized I didn’t have hollandaise, and if it makes sense to serve a chef eggs benedict with country gravy–”

Barclay kisses the back of his head, “I can make hollandaise, assuming you’ve got the stuff for it.”

He does, which is how twenty minutes later they’re at the dining table, coffee on his tongue and his feet resting in Joseph’s lap. Every time the instructor moans over the taste of breakfast, he flashes back to the noises he made with Barclay’s head between his thighs.

As he’s clearing plates, Joseph studies him with a clinical eye, “You look really stiff. Not in the fun way.” He snickers at his own joke.

“All your fault, babe.”

“I guess that’s true.” A teasing smile, “how about I spend the rest of the morning helping you relax.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Joseph points to the rug by the lit fireplace, “on your back.”

Barclay practically bounds over to the faux fur, growling playfully when Joseph settles between his legs. Then he yelps every curse word he knows as the instructor bends his right leg into a position it’s probably not meant to go.

“Just for a ten count, big guy, you can do it.” Blue eyes sparkle down at him, “I’m sorry, I should have made you do cool down stretches yesterday.” He lowers the right leg, picks up the left.

“Uh huh, first thing I, AHFUCK, wanna do after fucking a guy so hard cries is get on the cold floor and do back bends or some shit.”

“We both know you would have. If” Joseph releases his leg, “I called you a good boy for doing it.”

“Fuck, you really got my number.” He let’s Joseph guide him into a sitting position and push his legs apart.

“Big guy, the second I asked if you wanted to earn the right to fuck me your pupils doubled in size and you started moaning.” The instructor pets his back, moves him through a few light stretches on each side, kissing him whenever he returns to starting position.

“Better?” Joseph kisses the spot behind his ear.

“Kinda.”

“How about a dip in the hot tub?”

“Fuck yeah. Uh, do you have spare trunks or something?”

“I don’t think we’ll need them.” Joseph’s smile suggests that’s something he’s been waiting to say for years.

The hot tub is small, perched on the enclosed back porch, and they leap into it while the frost tries to creep under their skin.

“Fuuuuuck that’s nice. Do all these places come with one built in?”

“No. I saved up for it, since there’s only a shower inside and being able to soak is a godsend when your job involves running around outside all day.”

“Smart. Like that in a guy.” Barclay draws his foot along Joseph’s leg, “the nice ass helps too.”

“Is this where you admit you’re actually an Olympic skier and you were falling down just so you’d get more time to ogle me?”

“No way; I wanna impress hot guys, not fall on my ass so many times my tailbone begs for mercy.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that; you impressed me plenty last night.” Joseph wades over, runs his thumbs over his beard, “you were so good for me.”

His heart rate doubles as Joseph straddles him, “Can I be good for you now?”

“Let’s see if you can.” Lips trace his jaw as Joseph takes both his hands. He sets one on his ass, smiling when Barclay can’t help but squeeze it. The other is pulled to his dick, the black haired man moaning when he traces a heart across the sensitive skin, “that’s it, show me how much you paid attention last night.”

Barclay presses two fingers in, keeps his thumb to rub and stroke his dick as Joseph’s head tips back in bliss. He takes his chance to kiss and lick the line of his throat, feels his pulse fluttering when he nuzzles the crook of his neck. His own cock is desperate for attention but Joseph, brilliant, cruel man he is, stays up on his knees so all Barclay can do is whine and splash up water with useless thrusts.

“Good boy, Ahnnnlord, a, a little more force, that’s it” Joseph grips his shoulders, grinding into his palm, “you’re doing so well big guy, I’m going to, to give you such a nice reward, because you deserve it, don’t you?”

He whines, hiding his face against the other man as his blush burns his skin.

“Of course you do.” Joseph coos in his ear, ass tensing under his hands as he works himself harder, “you such a quick study, you take directions per-, ohgod, perfectly.”

“I try.” He noses up his throat, parts his lips to beg for a kiss and gets one before the words leave his mouth.

“I can tell.” Another, tender kiss, “now be a good boy and make me cum.”

Barclay doubles his efforts, Joseph moaning louder than the wind shaking the patio.

“Right there, fuck me just like that, ohfuck, shit, ohmyfuckinggod.” There’s a gasp and he slumps against Barclay, breath clouding the air as he gets it under control.

A hand squeezes his cock, “Dry off and go lay by the fire.”

Joseph is up and out of the tub before Barclay’s lust-addled brain processes the command. Then he hurries as fast as the icy wood and his aching legs will let him, frantically drying himself with the towel Joseph tosses him. By the time he’s back on the rug, Joseph is wrapped in a blue bathrobe, condom in hand.

“You blew me so masterfully last night, I think I should return the favor. Don’t you?”

“Yes, please babe I’ve been so good, ohgodplease.” His voice climbs as Joseph kneels by his side and slides the condom down.

Agonizingly slow, loose strokes have his toes curling and his tongue forming garbled pleas for more.

“I’m not sure I can fit this beautiful beast in my mouth, but for you I’m willing to try.” He kisses the head of his cock, then drags his tongue down the shaft. Barclay would have offered his entire savings or his stash of special cocoa powder just for one suck. What he gets is Joseph coating it with kisses as he coos over how perfect it is. The “licking like a lollipop” thing always struck him as cliche and gross, but Joseph’s smile as his tongue travels along his dick suggests he’s never tasted anything sweeter.

When Barclay next glances down, he realizes Joseph’s eyes aren’t leaving his face; they’re studying him, taking in every expression. Like his pleasure is worth all the precision and care in the world.

“Fuck.” He floods the condom with a groan, Joseph kissing his way up his chest, pausing to suck his nipples as his orgasm shudders through him.

“Hi.” Joseph rests his chin on his chest.

“Hey.” Barclay wraps his arms around him and decides he’s not letting go for the rest of the day. The other man reaches up enough to pull the blanket from the couch and drape it over them, “don’t feel like moving to the bed, huh babe?”

“Not right now. Thank the lord for snow storms, I’ve been wanting to suck your dick since yesterday afternoon.”

“Glad you got your chance.” Barclay rolls them onto their sides, brushes Joseph’s hair from his forehead, “uh, if, if you want another one in a few weeks, uh, I’m just in Sacramento, so it’s not that far. I can drive up here…”

Joseph smiles, soft and excited, “How about I come down and you take me on a date?”

Barclay tugs the blanket around them as snow collects on the windowsill, “I can’t wait.”

[lovelyirony]

Oh, can I please ask for one of your folklore prompts? “And I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want/just not home” my tears ricochet  For a young Tony, maybe? It doesn't have to have a pairing if you don't want to. :)

A house and a home are different. Tony did not know this until he was in college, much to his surprise. 

A house is somewhere you live. A central place that you come back to in between visits to other people or places or countries or anything else. It is not personal. It is something you use until you no longer see the need or the desire. You can move to a lot of them. 

A home lingers. A home is where you smile late at night over drinks. It is where crumbs reside from last night’s takeout, and you spend lazy Sundays. 

(Tony also didn’t know what that was either.) 

He’s lived in a lot of houses. He has a lot of houses. There’s the one in New York that is looming and lonely and probably would be his least favorite except it’s in New York, which earns it its redemption. 

There is sunny Malibu with its beaches and great views. There are a few others. 

None of them are homes. It’s just a place to rest for a couple of months or a year or until Howard decides it’s not enough. 

He gets to MIT and gets a dorm room, same as everyone else. It is pitifully sad, he gets sun only in the mornings, and that sucks. He kind of hates it. He guesses that’s the college experience. 

He also has a roommate. Jarvis had told him it’d be good for him, and Tony had had to talk Howard out of about twenty-seven different legal documents that basically said “if you ever breathe a word of anything to anyone, you’re being legally sued.” 

James Rhodes. Literally studying to become a rocket scientist, has questionable taste in posters, and waves at Tony when they meet each other. 

“Call me Jim.” 

“...Jim. Are you eighty or something?” 

It’s probably the wrong thing to say. It definitely is the wrong thing to say by Jarvis’ raised eyebrows and down-turned frown. 

But James Rhodes takes it in stride. 

“You can call me something else if you want, but it has to be good and I have to approve it. Can’t be my last name, can’t be Jimmy. Anything else is fair game.” 

Different reaction. That’s...that’s weird. 

So Tony shrugs, smiles as Jarvis leaves, and realizes that he’s alone and Howard doesn’t really have an influence--except he does, god he does--and Tony asks James Rhodes if he’d like to get pizza. 

“You know anywhere with good pizza?” 

“Wanna find out if Hemingway’s is any good?” 

“It’s either going to be artisan hipster or the worst. Hell yes.” 

It’s artisan hipster. It is bad, and James laughs as he tells a story and burns his tongue when he’s reenacting his mother is chewing him out, using his full name, and: 

“Rhodey,” Tony gasps out. 

“I told you that you couldn’t use my last name!” 

“It’s technically not your last name, sugar plum,” Tony mocks, using one of his mother’s nicknames against him. “You are forever now Rhodey. Forever.” 

- 

From there, friendship progresses. Tony’s never actually had a real friend before, not that he tells Rhodey that. Besides, Rhodey probably knows. Tony just automatically assumes he’s paying for everything, and he’s not sure what to do with genuine affection for a couple of months. 

He looks at Rhodey with such love and affection. He does, really. Rhodey has created a whole new world for him. 

- 

And then, the holidays. 

Thanksgiving is Tony’s least-favorite-holiday for a variety of reasons. It’s all a fake kind of gathering. “Coming together to celebrate gratefulness” is the biggest goddamn crock of bullshit he’s ever cooked in his life, and for once his family isn’t doing a PR stunt, so his mother has announced that he’s welcome to be back home, but they won’t be there. 

Howard is taking Jarvis with him on a trip to England to visit Aunt Peggy and probably talk shop about Cap and ice and stupid fucking theories about the degree of alive he’ll be when he’s found. 

(When. What pretentious bullshit.) 

Tony doesn’t want to be alone in the house, because that’d suck shit and MIT would be better. At least he could make shitty ramen and cry and only get a noise complaint instead of one of the cleaning staff members saying that he probably needed therapy. 

“You are not staying in the dorms, what the fuck man,” Rhodey says. “You’re coming home with me.” 

“Now darling, I thought you said we weren’t going to be forward about this whole thing,” he purrs, putting on an old Hollywood accent. “Are you finally coming up and seeing me?” 

Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll be as forward as I want,” he decides, and Tony wishes he wouldn’t say things like that, because that seriously get’s a man’s heart rising. “Besides, I told you that you need to have my Aunt Kendra’s rolls, and that’s a promise. So, Thanksgiving is now with the Rhodes’ family.” 

Tony doesn’t know if they know that he’s coming. He also doesn’t know the dress code, and Rhodey is absolutely no help. 

“What do you mean by casual?” Tony squawks. “Is it business casual? Dressy casual? Jeans casual?” 

“What do any of those mean?” 

“Oh my god, I’m going to look like a failure at this shindig. Your mother will die over her cooking because I’ll pull out of the wrong wardrobe and be a fool. I’ll die, and you’ll have to bury me, and you won’t even know which outfit I’ll want. God, this is going to--” 

Rhodey shuts him up, putting a hand over his mouth. 

“Just wear your red turtleneck and your dark jeans or whatever. That looks nice.” 

“You noticed?” 

“You don’t give me as much credit as I deserve,” Rhodey grunts. “Early wake-up on Monday. I’ll supply coffee as long as you give me gas money.” 

“I’ll give you anything for coffee. I’ll give you my hand in marriage for coffee.” 

“Don’t tempt me,” Rhodey teases. “I might actually do that.” 

God, I wish you would. 

- 

Rhodey’s house is a nice place, a wire fence bordering with a porch swing covered in a light dusting of snow, and swinging slightly with the wind that blows through the neighborhood. 

There are quite a lot of cars parked in the driveway and in the street, and Tony can see at least six people inside the house, which is more family than he actually knows on either side. 

It’s all warm and yellow, and Rhodey moves with an ease that Tony didn’t know happened outside of those cheesy family shows. 

He throws open the door and there are shouts of joy and happiness and “Jimmy-boy!” 

“I didn’t know Jimmy-boy was on the table,” Tony remarks dryly. “And here it’s been for months, Jimmy-boy.” 

Rhodey groans. 

“This is worse than Rhodey,” he mutters. 

A woman who could only be his mother steps forward, grinning. 

“Call me Mama, darling. And what’s this I hear about ‘Rhodey’?” 

“He burnt his tongue on pizza while telling me about a time he got a well-deserved talking-to by your own graceful words, Mrs. Rhodes,” Tony says. He’s charming. Oh, he’s very charming. 

She giggles. 

“I said mama, but I can’t say I’ll mind too much when you talk like that. Jim, you should’ve had us meet earlier.” 

“You see I would’ve, but I happen to value myself,” Rhodey says. 

“You do?” a man says. Mr. Rhodes, tall and a smile that could put any of the fake veneers in Hollywood to shame. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

Rhodey gets pulled into a hug, and he laughs, and Tony has the Distinct Memory that He’s Never Been Hugged by his Father. 

Well, isn’t this a time to realize family inadequacies! 

“Rhodey, light of my life, where am I setting up my suitcase?” Tony asks. 

“Come on up with me. We’re sleeping in my room, hope that’s alright.” 

It’s more than alright, and Tony smiles when he sees Rhodey’s room. 

He loves it. It’s decorated with model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, a peeling Star Wars poster that has most definitely been needed to be thrown away for more than five years (but won’t be), and a few trophies from soccer. 

Tony’s never had his own room decorated with anything but the current trends, his mother hand-picking his comforter and the decorations in his room. And they all say he’s so “fashionable” and “keeps an eye out for trends.” 

(Ha.) 

It’s odd for him to see a house look so...lived in. 

“Welcome home,” Rhodey says. “I haven’t grabbed it yet, but I’ll use a sleeping bag and you can take the bed.” 

Tony snorts. 

“No way, honeybee. I’m not kicking you out of your own bed. We’ve shared a bed before, this is no different.” 

"Only if you’re sure,” Rhodey says, smiling at him. “This is a bit different than both twin beds being crashed together because we wanted more space for the fridge.” 

“This time we don’t have the fridge,” Tony quips as Rhodey laughs. 

“Come on, let’s head downstairs. Mama’s probably gonna have us wash dishes or something. Maybe set up some more chairs.” 

What actually happens is that their laundry machine has gone rebel-mode, and is currently trying it’s best to fling the door open and spew laundry everywhere. 

“Shit,” Mr. Rhodes says, looking at it. “Another call to the repairman this month...” 

“He won’t get here until a week after Thanksgiving,” Mama says, sighing. “How much do you mind your jeans freezing up a bit?” 

He smiles a bit at his wife. 

-

Tony’s never seen that. But he likes it. 

-

“I can fix it,” he says. Family turns to him. This is all quite embarrassing. “I, uh, I’ve taken apart some washing machines before. I think I can figure it out, if you don’t mind me poking around.” 

“I wouldn’t mind a bit,” Mama says. “Jimmy, I like this one.” 

Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll go get the toolkit for you. Need anything?” 

“Towels and you, honey-pie.” 

“You get one out of two of those options.” 

“You treat me like a vagrant,” Tony declares. Rhodey laughs as he heads to go get supplies. 

- 

The night goes on. People occasionally check in, and Rhodey assures them that it’s going well. 

“Instruction manuals are such bullshit,” Tony says. “Half the time they’re written by someone who doesn’t even know how to do it themselves. The other half, no one uses them.” 

“Well when you take over your company, write better instruction manuals,” Rhodey says. “Pass me a towel, things are about to get sudsy.” 

Forty-five minutes later, the washing machine is probably doing better than it was even at production, and Tony gets a kiss on the cheek and cheers all around him. 

“This calls for cookies,” Rhodey declares. “Tony, let’s go get some.” 

They sit at the kitchen table, and Tony learns so much about Rhodey’s family. He sees him laugh and relax and tell the funniest stories about when he was little and got stuck in a tree. 

-

It’s home. That’s how he finally understands it. Home where you keep on going long after, with people you love. 

He doesn’t have one of those.  

He thinks, maybe, that he could make a home of his own. Maybe he could have AC/DC posters lining a wall, or have the pictures of friends and vacation in the kitchen. 

And Rhodey would be there. For now, he’s going to enjoy his hot chocolate and try to get more embarrassing stories about his best friend from his family. 

[mae-gi-writes]

Purpose of Hearts | Song Mingi (ATEEZ)

Summary: Two lives. One purpose. And a hope that someday, their voices would be heard.

Part of @atbzkingdom's timecapsule collab! Song: Utopia by ATEEZ

Genre: angst, slice of life

A/N: This is a love story but it also revolves around issues of modern society as well as the environmental crises that have been happening lately. I wish to incorporate more of these real-life elements in my stories because that's the only way I can communicate to people the importance of living a life that does not take away what Nature has made for us. So I hope that you guys aren't too harsh on this one, considering I worked really hard to write it. Thank you all. Love, mae xx

>>>

The first time I saw Song Mingi was by accident. I had been late to my interview that day, rushing in and out between my room, the kitchen and the bathroom to get my scrambled self organized, throw on a blazer over my white shirt and black slacks — honestly, had I washed it before?—  while barely managing to shove a toast in my mouth as I ran down my apartment stairs two at a time, almost tripping over my own feet as I did so.

That was probably the first time I had overslept ever since reaching Seoul and in all honesty, that had done nothing to set my mind at ease as I caught sight of the overflowing crowd of people moving in the direction of the subway.

Every morning was the same, packed in like tuna fish that wriggled forward in too-tight compartments that made it impossible to breathe, also another reason why I always woke up an hour before the rush of workers came through.

“Excuse me,” I pushed at someone’s shoulder getting shoved into my face, trying in vain not to let my nerves get the best of me, “sorry, but you’re crushing me—“ “Oh sorry,” a man that looked like he was in his forties dipped his head in what seemed to mimic a bow, before he slowly tried edging back, in vain.

I huffed into the window pane, my breath fogging up the glass as I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for the ride to be over. 10:45.a.m, my watch said. My interview was at eleven. There was no way I was going to make it in time.

It felt like eternity had passed before I finally heard my desired station being called out on the intercom. I slowly turned my entire torso to face the exit with slight relief flooding through me. I hadn’t died. Things would be okay, it would be okay—The doors slid open and no sooner had I stepped through that I felt a shoulder shove into mine.

I stumbled, throwing my hands out before me to brace myself for the impact only to feel warm fingers grip onto my forearm to pull me up and away from the throng of people flowing out of the train.

“You okay?”

A deep alto resonated in my ear, causing me to look up into an unfamiliar face. There was no doubt that this stranger was tall. Taller than the average in Korea, no doubt. He had a nicely shaped nose, perfectly sculpted for his side profile, I couldn’t help but notice.

“Yeah,” I checked my handbag and quickly dusted off my pants, “thanks. Would’ve gotten crushed back there.”

“No problem.”

Needless to say, my interview was a complete and utter failure. That evening, I binged on some Mcdonald’s followed by a whole pint of ice cream while watching an entire K-drama on my own, ignoring the distinct ping! of my phone that signalled the upcoming stream of messages left unread. But I couldn’t do it. Not now, not when I felt like my life was falling apart and I felt powerless to stop it.

Why? I had thought then. Why me? Why couldn’t I succeed like all my my fellow friends did?

It was true that Marine biologists were at an unfair advantage from the get-go. Jobs were harder to find when you started out in a niche. I had known that much when I’d enrolled for the degree, when I’d cried by myself countless nights knowing that my future was all but a bleak, weak canvas of nothingness. But I couldn’t give it up, no matter how much I wanted to force myself to, for I knew that if there weren’t people like me around to help restore marine ecosystems, then the world as we knew it would end much quicker than intended. I didn’t have the heart to give all of that up when I felt partly responsible for all the lives that mankind was taking away.

All these thoughts were a dark cloud, each and every one of them slowly creating a storm that was out of my control as I went on in my day to day life. It consumed me from the inside until there seemed to be nothing left but an emptiness that blocked everything out. And that scared me.

That was when I met Song Mingi for the second time.

It was around late evening when my restless self decided to take a walk to clear my head. It seemed like my feet had a life of their own for no sooner had I allowed my mind to drift off that I found myself boarding a train to nowhere in particular. A heavy sigh left my lips and I sat back in one of the many empty seats. The peace and quiet was a nice change from the constant bustle and movement, and as I gazed out at the inky darkness of the tunnel, I noticed someone shift from the corner of my eye.

He was sitting on the opposite side, one row before mine, his gaze hollow and empty and directed at the ground, seemingly as lost in his thoughts as I was. I wouldn’t have recognized him if not for that particularly perfect nose slant that instantly caught my attention.

That man. The man who’d helped me out of the subway.

And as if sensing my gaze, his head turned around slightly to catch my eye. Though he was too far away for me to notice, his head cocked to the side as he searched my face for a minute. Before he nodded in acknowledgement.

I nodded back, looked away. Heat crawled to the back of my neck, embarrassed.

I need to get out of here, my mind raced.

The next stop couldn’t come fast enough. I jolted up from my seat once the station came into view and quickly scrambling for the exit, I failed to notice the said young man do the same until I bumped into him as we stepped out.

Stumbling to the side as his briefcase clattered to the floor and spilled the array of papers hidden inside, my eyes widened in horror as some of them started flying away as the train whizzed past. I launched my body onto the ground, curse words spilling from my mouth as I helped him gather the mess of artworks that decorated the floor, from pens to pencil scrawls to pastels to dabbles of oil paintings that even in the shitty yellow lights lining the station, they looked ethereal and raw with talent.

“I’m so sorry,” my head was ducked, I couldn’t possibly face him, as I quickly stacked up the papers.

“It’s okay,” was his only reply as we managed to gather most of his work. My eyes flew to the ones that now laid on the train tracks, crumpled and matted with dirt and practically unattainable.

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated hoarsely as guilt filled me up to the brim. It wasn’t enough that I was having a shitty day. No, I had to go and ruin someone’s day as well.

Fuck me.

“It’s alright, really. They weren’t that important to begin with,” he held out his hands for the remaining papers and stuffed them into his briefcase once I handed it over, making sure that the lock was set right before straightening up to face me, “they’re just practice drawings.”

“Still though,” all that pain and effort, gone and wasted because of my stupidity.

He chuckled then and I looked up at him, quite surprised at the grin tugging at his lips, “honestly, it’s fine. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

I nodded and decided to drop the subject, wondering how it was possible to feel even sorrier for myself when I thought I had already hit rock bottom. We walked up the station staircase together in silence, which I would’ve probably found awkward if not for the fact that I was mentally beating myself up for acting so foolishly. He must’ve noticed the tired lines of my face, for his voice rang out in the silence as he stepped out into the street:

“Hey, if you still feel bad about the papers, don’t,” he stopped, gazing down at my form with what I hoped to be a reassuring smile, “it would’ve been another story though, if these were my finals.”

I flinched, though I forced a faint smile back, “okay. I’m sorry. Again. Please don’t curse me to death or anything,” an idea popped into my head, “are you heading home right now?”

“Uh—yeah. Why?”

“Please…let me buy you a drink. Coffee? Iced tea? I just—“ my fingers were already scrambling for some money, “please. I feel terrible about this.”

He cocked his head as an amused smile graced his lips, “wow, you really do feel bad.”

“I do. Please?”

And that was how we found ourselves sitting at a cheap plastic table outside the convenience store that night, huddled in our too-thick sweaters and blowing at our hands while holding our beers close. Conversation flowed naturally as we sat and breathed in the night air, allowing life to pause for a moment and enabling my brain to disentangle itself from overthinking too much. It was nice in a way, the distraction of having someone to talk to, just so that I didn’t have to wallow in my own self-pity.

I learnt that his name was Song Mingi, and that he had recently graduated from Art School with a dream to be a full-fledged artist. He had one cat that he’d named Kimchi and absolutely adored anime because of the art style and the unique story lines. I learnt that he was quite fluent in Japanese and loathed the subway as much as I did.

“Right now though, I’m working at a design company,” he took a sip of his beer, head tilting and side profile backlit by the fluorescent convenience store lights. He appeared softer, younger somehow, than his actual age.

“You like it?”

“Not really.”

I threw him a pointed look, “is that how you say no?”

“Alright. No,” he laid his chin in his palm, “I hate it. I feel like I’m wasting my time.”

“But it covers the bills.”

“Yup.”

“That sucks.”

“It does,” he took another hearty sip as I gazed down at my own drink. And here I was, jobless and with no ambition, no dream to chase. Because I was burnt out before even starting.

“And you?” he asked as I glanced back up into his eyes — gentle eyes, I found. He had very gentle eyes, eyes that seemed to know a lot more than what he let on, “what do you do in life?”

“I am unemployed,” the words sounded even more grim as they fell from my mouth, and I averted my eyes to the table to avoid his own out of embarrassment, “and I’m pretty sure I failed all the interviews I had this week.”

“What did you study?”

“Marine biology,” my throat felt rough, choked up with emotion as I thought of how ridiculous I must sound to this total stranger who was both talented and seemed to have his life together. Maybe it was insecurity that made me spit out, “don’t laugh.”

A pause, before he said, “why would I? That’s amazing.”

My eyes slid back up to his, “I—because…well…” and I couldn’t help myself from spilling it all out. How I came to this major because this was presumably the most passionate thing I’ve ever stumbled across in life, how I’d studied so hard not to fall behind when all my classmates seemed to pass their exams with flying colours, and how out of all of us in our year, I was the only one still roaming around like a lifeless soul while most of my peers had landed themselves some high-standing positions at big-shot NGO’s and companies focusing on Marine Environment protection and sustainability.

I didn’t realize that my eyes had filled with tears by the time I was done rambling about the fact that our planet was dying and nobody seemed to be interested in that fact whatsoever. Not until Mingi’s hand came into my peripheral and I blinked, catching sight of the napkin he was offering me.

“Thanks,” I murmured, voice small as I quickly wiped away my tears. My cheeks felt hot, flushed from a mixture of alcohol and from the way his eyes were intent on my face.

“I…” Mingi bit down onto his lower lip. He’d moved on to his second can by then, “I don’t know what to say. You’re…”

I waited for the insult. For him to laugh at my ridiculousness. Or maybe offer sympathetic words that were devoid of meaning.

“You’re amazing.”

I blinked. Once. Twice. Slowly, my eyes fluttered up to his.

“What?”

“All these things you’ve told me, they’re so…real. And I wish I could be more like you, you know?” he leaned back in his chair, “I’m always complaining that my life’s not good enough. That I don’t have purpose. These kinds of thoughts that make you question your existence. But then you come along and you tell me all these problems — real problems that should concern everyone around us — that make me open my eyes.”

Was this flattery? A compliment? I didn’t know how to take it, considering the fact that I’d basically laid out all my cards in front of this man who’d been a total stranger just a few hours ago.

He continued on despite my silence, “the world needs more people like you. Kind people, who really want to change the world for the better. Not because they want to prove something. But because it’s the right thing to do.”

My heart lurched in my chest. Stranger or no stranger, hearing that made some of the weight lift off my shoulders, even just a little. How stupid. How pathetic, that all I wanted to hear was to be praised and recognized by someone who I barely knew.

Nevertheless, it warmed me. The warmth of his tone as he gazed at me from across the cheap table. That was incomparable to an entire life filled with nothing but disappointment.

“I—“ a hollow chuckle escaped the back of my throat, “I don’t know what to say.”

He was the one to flush this time, “sorry, I didn’t mean to pry—“

“No no! Don’t say sorry,” I protested, eyes darting between him and the drink in my hand, “it’s—it’s refreshing, compared to what I’m used to hear.”

"Wah, I mean...I took art so I'm not one to talk."

I can't help but giggle, "so we're just a bunch of nerds. Bet you watch anime too."

"Don't get me started unless you want to stay here till four in the morning," he chuckled.

I wasn't really sure how to describe that night in particular. It felt like catching up with an old friend and yet, I barely knew this man. Somehow though, it seemed like he understood the pain that simmered in me, the feelings that I bottled up for all this time and it brought me comfort that someone else could empathize with the thoughts that pulled me down by the ankles every time I tried to swim.

Something had changed between us by the time he walked me back to the station that evening. What had started out as a coincidental meeting of two strangers had ebbed into the softest brushes of friendship. I was more than giddy to exchange numbers in hopes of meeting him again.

That night, I fell into a deep and soundless sleep. The best sleep I'd had in ages.

>>>

The third time I saw Song Mingi, we promised to change the world.

It started out as him inviting me over for his apparently out-of-this-world shrimp pasta, to which I'd scoffed and broke his heart by stating that I was vegetarian. But that had only fueled his desire to make me fall in love with his cuisine as he promised me the best alternative to that.

He'd bought wine for the occasion, had managed to secure the apartment all to himself that evening, and had even decorated the table with soft scented candles and matching plates that brought out the magical air of first dates.

That was enough to bring a smile to my lips and I had looked over my shoulfer at him in amusement, "aren't you a romantic?"

I swore I caught his flush even in the dim golden hues that bathed the room, though he answered back with a scoff, "I'm an artist. Of course I'm a romantic."

"I was friends with some art kids, back in uni," I said as I sat down at the table, Mingi following my movements as he placed the pot of pasta between us, "and I gotta say, I felt like they were more cyberpunk and dark than actual romantics."

"Yeah, even art kids have their own little gangs," he wrinkled his nose, "honestly, I was pretty normal. Didn't dye my hair, no piercings in my nose, no tattoos 'coz I hated needles. People would keep asking me if I was a design student."

"Wait--isn't that like, kind of the same thing though?"

"It's different in the way we approach the subject matter. But yeah, I don't get it either. Why can't I be an artist and a designer? I don't want to choose."

"Ah, let the existential crisis strike again."

We clinked glasses, gobbled up the pasta with vegan meat that he'd replaced -- with too much confidence bordering on arrogance, I might add -- and as we spoke, my attention couldn't help lingering over his works until at some point, Mingi had relented and gestured for me to grab his sketchbook.

And that had been a game changer. It had opened my eyes.

Sure, I'd seen his sketches when I'd caused his spill a few weeks ago. But at that time I was all too panicked to actually care what had been sprawled over the paper...until now.

"So you draw characters?" My mouth was practically hanging open as I constantly gazed at the array of faces sprawled before me. They were beautiful. Stunningly so. And haunted somehow, as if wrapped in narratives of their own.

"Yeah. I like faces. I like people." I heard the shyness in his alto as he stood next to me, hand going to scratch the back of his neck, "I think they all carry so many different stories."

And they did. Their eyes said something different within each and every scene. My heart tugged with emotions I couldn't quite decipher for myself as I pondered oveer his intent.

That was when the idea hit me.

"Mingi," I turned to him, "you said you wanted to tell stories?"

Raising a brow, he said, "yeah?"

"How comfortable are you with animated movies?"

"Hm. I did some modules back in college so I'm not unfamiliar with it. Why?"

"This is going to sound crazy okay?"

Alarm flashed through his features. He blinked, "okay."

"Let's make an animated movie. About the ocean."

>>>

And he said yes. Just like that.

He heard me out first, worked through all the logistics of how we were going to create something together that would bring to life a vision of a new world, a world that would bring life within the marine ecosystem. Our meetings were flexible, in-between scraps of time that we'd get either during his lunch time or during evenings where we'd get dinner and discuss. But while I was unsure of whether I'd pushed him before even asking him about it, I caught a glimpse of the twinkle in his eyes, and that had made me pause for a minute.

It was the look of pure love.

Love for life.

In all honesty, a little part of myself fell for Mingi there and then.

"I was thinking it to be more like a kid storybook," I told him from my place on his sofa, watching him at his tiny kitchen desk sketching out some panels, "so that it's got a light mood with dark undertones."

"Yeah, it'll be more effective that way," he murmured, brows stitched together and lips puckered. That expression took ten years off his age, "I was thinking maybe we need a protagonist. Maybe she's a mermaid or something. Has animals friends and lives in the corals--"

"And she watches as all the fishing destroys her home," I finished with barely restrained excitement, "and she falls in love with a fisherman who decides to help her out!"

Mingi's eyes lifted from his paper -- that must've been the first time in a full hour since he was so focused on the task at hand -- and locked on mine. A grin slowly spread across his face, "I like that. A lot."

There was something in his gaze that made me heat up, though I made an attempt to shrug and look away to avoid the heat slowly spreading through my limbs as if someone had suddenly turned up the temperature in the room.

My week followed with a few more interviews, most of which were unsuccessful. One of them seemed interested enough -- a Marine conservation company that focused on dolphins and whale protection -- but upon scheduling an official meeting with the manager, I couldn’t reel in the horror that struck me as soon as I stepped foot into the enclosure. The dolphins barely had any room to swim around, let alone the condition of the waters that were more of a murky green than health aquamarine blue. The animals themselves didn’t look too happy to be here and god knows one could understand, considering the circumstances and the fact that this pool was the size proportionate to a tuna can.

The cherry on top though, was definitely the orcas. Top fins flipped to the side and with only three left -- the information board stuck to the entrance stated that there were at least ten of them -- it definitely appeared more to be a morgue than a conservation area.

At this point, I couldn't stop the tears. Pain scratched through my chest before I swivelled around with barely restrained anger, "you--" my nostrils flared, jaw clenching, "that's--that's what you call keeping them safe?"

The manager's eyes narrowed, "With all due respect, we--"

"You're killing them!" I yelled out, unable to restrain myself, "this is called murder! And you call yourself a marine conservation? What is wrong with you!?"

Needless to say, I was kicked out a few seconds after that.

But the damage was done. My heart was aching, practically empty of anything else apart from the horror I had just witnessed unfold before my very eyes. If they had a good reputation and were treating their animals badly, how about the ones that didn't have any funding? The ones that had smaller acres and less manpower to help?

How many animals were they killing in the process?

Sure, not all of them were like that. But that was a bit slap in the face. By reality.

Mingi noticed my wallowing silence when he came over that night -- I had cooked vegan burgers for the occasion -- though I tried to hide it behind the pretence of tiredness and lack of sleep. He wasn’t convinced though, for as soon as we’d dumped our plates in the sink and collapsed onto my worn-out red couch with frayed fabric ends hanging from its sides, the first thing he uttered was:

“Did something happen?”

I looked up, surprised that he’d picked up on my nonverbal cues since I usually prided myself on always managing to keep my emotions in check whenever I was in the public eye.

Admittedly though, this was a feeling I had never felt before. This wretched, this broken-hearted. I had seen documentaries, countless videos of slaughter and poor conditions.

But this, this was something entirely out of its league. This was horrendous. I couldn’t understand how one could even do such a thing. How one could think of this as humane, as a service to those beautiful animals that never hurt anybody.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Mingi continued in a rush, “I didn’t mean to pry--”

“They barely have any space,” I cut him off, voice practically on edge as the sight of the dolphins flashed through the back of my lids, “they--they looked ill. Mingi, you should’ve seen them. They didn’t--they didn’t look like they were going to survive in there and, I--I couldn’t not do anything so--”

My tears had already gathered at the corner of my eyes and I buried my head into my arms so that he wouldn’t have to fall victim to my sobs. It surprised me, though, when his warmth came to wrap around my figure, hand pressing against the back of my head so that I was nestled into the crook of his neck.

The murmur scratched the back of my throat, “I’m sorry--”

“It’s okay,” Mingi’s soothing alto washed away the nervous thought that maybe he was doing it out of sympathy. Out of pity, even. But he sounded more comforting than uncomfortable, which made me cry even harder into his shoulder.

It might have sounded stupid to anyone else; crying about animals that still had a chance at life, crying because they were forced to be in cages that didn’t serve them any better purpose than leaving them out to sea as dead meat. But I couldn’t help myself, couldn’t help my heart, from the deep sorrow that washed through me every time I pictured those lifeless creatures -- usually so alive and vivacious and just amazing to be around -- just wallowing in the waters like a bunch of dead floating bodies.

This wasn’t about allowing them to live. This wasn’t about carving out a better future for these animals. This was merely about trying to build a good reputation, and feeding off all the money they received because of good samaritans that wanted to do good and yet, had no idea of what was going on behind the scenes.

It was horrifying. Heartbreaking. And I couldn’t stand by to watch them all fall to pieces, to be killed to extinction.

“It’s okay,” he shushed me when he heard my sobs get a little louder. One of his hands soothed down my back, stable and comforting. I tried breathing in and out, raggedly, but eventually slowly settling into small hiccups as the night wore on and the pain subsided.

How stupid. How embarrassing. What an idiot.

Those were the thoughts that circled my brain as soon as my consciousness cleared.

"My neighbour had a cattle field,” Mingi said a while later when we sat side by side, one of his hands still on my back and rubbing slow circles. I had grabbed a pillow, hugging it for comfort, “back when I was still a kid. I had to walk to the nearest bus stop because we were so far out. We didn’t have any buses coming our way. Whenever I passed by that farm though, I’d feel so helpless to see all these cattle, bunched up together. There was barely enough space for them to breathe, let alone move.”

I sniffled and wiped my nose, nodding at him to go on.

“So one day, oh god. You’re going to laugh,” he chuckled softly, rubbing his face with his other hand, “one day I decided-- you know what? They didn’t deserve to live like this. I felt sorry for them. And they were getting slaughtered. Every single day. I was so angry that I went over to the backyard fence that afternoon and just opened the gate.”

“You did what?” My eyes bulged out of their sockets.

Mingi burst out laughing, “I know, I was stupid. And I wasn’t thinking about how this was the man’s hard work you know. It was what paid the bills. But I was naive and I just really wanted to help the cattle. So I set them free,” His laughter dimmed into chuckles, “all fifty-five of them.”

“Holy shit Mingi,” my mouth formed an ‘O��, “you’re crazy!” I started cackling, imagining a younger version of Mingi storming up to the fence with that same determined glint in his eye. I’d definitely done some crazy things back when I was still a child. But this one was unheard of.

He joined in and soon enough, we were laughing our heads off for god knows whatever reason. All I knew was that the ache in my heart had dissolved into a tiny stub the size of a burnt-out cigarette and my stomach now hurt from too much laughing.

“Don’t worry Y/N,” Mingi smiled down at me, those feline eyes soft and the curve of his full lips lighting up his features, “if they can’t see the wrong they’re doing now, then our project will.”

Right then and there, I believed him.

>>>>

I fell in love with Song Mingi the same way I fell in love with the sea.

I was not, until I was.

And when the realization hit me, I was in a little too deep to retract my footsteps.

Maybe it was in his gentle demeanour. Something I wasn't used to in guys. But Mingi had a sensitivity to him, a way with human emotions that made it easy to communicate. He was soft and kind and so open to everything and anything I said. He had a stubborn streak, but mostly for things that concerned his self-worth. And I hated how he couldn't admire his talent the same way I did.

But that was the thing with artists right? They always shied away from the limelight, let their works of art speak in their stead.

And what I loved the most about Mingi, was the fact that he listened. He actually took the time to listen and remember the things I said. It might have been little, insignificant. But it wasn't for me.

"Y/N! Guess what I brought for you!" He hollered one particular Wednesday night after work. He practically lived here, for his things were already sprawled onto the kitchen table from last night, and the night before.

"A donut? A latte? A pizza?" I called back while stirring the red bean stew as a quick dinner. The lack of response caused me to turn around, only to be faced with a bunch of red roses. I yelped in surprise, "what the-- what's this for?!"

My face heated up on its own accord as Mingi laughed and said, "Happy International Women's Day."

"What?" I blinked in shock, my curry now forgotten on the stove, "you mean, happy valentines?"

"Nope. No mistake. Today's International Women's Day," he grinned, "so here you go, a bouquet of roses to one of the strongest women I know.”

My face explode with heat and if it weren’t for me averting my head and hiding my face amidst the roses that tickled my nose, he would’ve guessed the way my heart beat for him. Too fast for it to be normal.

Another time, we’d been hanging out by the Han River sloppily eating our way through ice cream in zero degree weather and he hadn’t hesitated to give me his hoodie when he’d noticed the raw redness of my hands, the sniffles coming from my nose.

“You’re cold,” he’d stated with a small tut of disapproval. I protested with a shake of my head, but it had been no use. He was already pulling his coat off and not a second later, his hoodie was flung onto my face.

“Ow,” I mumbled as I maneuvered my hands through the sleeves, chest warming at his kind action. Mingi was a sweetheart, no doubt. And I really needed to stop crushing on him. He, however, did not make it so easy.

“Thanks,” I glanced back at him after stuffing my hands into his hoodie pockets. It smelled just like him, as if Mingi himself was wrapping me in his arms. The thought made my heart melt, “you didn’t have to, you know. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Sure, Y/N. You look like you could fly away if I pushed you too hard,” he reached over to ruffle my hair and I’d pouted then before jabbing playfully at his shoulder.

The more I spent time in Mingi’s flat, the more I got to know of his entourage, met his friends and saw how they genuinely cared for the said young man. In return, he met mine and it had become a habit to drag him along wherever I went and vice versa. So much so that it elicited a few curious glances and poignant questions that I tried avoiding at all costs for fear that they’d find out my true feelings.

“Mingi’s never been an outgoing kid,” Hongjoong said -- he was one of Mingi’s older childhood friends and they’d known each other all their lives -- during one of the evenings when the boys had crashed into Mingi’s living room and the flat had turned into a Mario Kart competition. Much to the displeasure of Mingi’s flatmates.

“Huh, that’s something I can’t quite picture,” I replied, gaze trailing back to Minig’s face as he yelled and high-fived Jongho and San. A series of groans echoed from the opposing team.

“Yeah, he’s grown out a lot more since university,” Hongjoong took a sip of his beer, “he does gets quite emotional from time to time. That’s why I worry about him so much. He’s sensitive.”

“I guess all artists are, in a sense.”

The man nodded, “yeah, but he’s been a lot brighter. Ever since you two started that project.”

I tried not to show that I was slowly becoming a blushing mess but it was hard to keep my feelings in check when Hongjoong’s eyes were piercing on my own, suddenly alert and filled with an intensity that made me want to squirm.

“You like him?”

The words were like icy shards. I froze.

I couldn’t keep the surprise from my face when I turned to face Hongjoong. My mouth suddenly felt as dry as sandpaper.

“Mingi’s fragile. If you’re gonna play him, I suggest you don’t.”

“I’m not--” the words ached as they escaped my voicebox, “I’m not playing him.”

“Then please, take care of him. He doesn’t show how weaknesses to everyone. But he has a habit of overworking himself, especially when it comes to pleasing others,” Hongjoong shot me a look.

My mouth reacted before my brain did. I blurted out, “why are you telling me this?”

And there was that look in Hongjoong’s eyes; the dark softeness filled with affection for the said young man that reminded me of that of a father’s. When he spoke next, his words were barely above a murmur, “because he cares about you, a lot. And I don’t want him to get disappointed.”

I wasn’t sure whether to take that as an insult or a compliment. Hongjoong’s words bordered on threatening, though I knew that it wasn’t the case. He was just doing his job after all; looking out for Mingi. But if he thought, for one moment, that I would go out of my way to hurt the latter, then that statement was proven wrong the moment I realized my heart beat for him.

As the coldness of spring melted away with the warmth of summer, sakuras went into full bloom and more and more people gathered outside to take pictures, couples strolling hand in hand while enjoying street snacks that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Empty streets suddenly turned bustling, just like our current storyboard coming to life.

“I don’t get it though. Why does the fisherman do that when he knows he’s going to go jobless when he exposes the fishing industry?” Mingi asked one night while we watched the animation roll by in comfortable silence. The frames were almost done at this point, with only the ending to wrap it all up and the music to be added in the background.

I leaned against his desk table, slightly curving of his sitting form, “because he loves the mermaid,” I went straight to the point, not realizing that my voice had dropped to a whisper until Mingi turned in my direction.

“He loves the mermaid just enough that he’s willing to sacrifice all of that?”

It sounded dumb when he put it so simply. So I shrugged, “people do stupid things in the name of love.”

A slight pause as my words buzzed through the air.

"Would you?” He spoke up,” do that?”

My eyes dropped to his face. The depth of his orbs reflected in the dim light of his room had my heart shaking and impulsively, my hand went to fist onto my jumper sleeve. Just enough to keep me grounded.

“What--” I swallowed thickly, “do you mean?”

A few beats of silence ensued. Our eyes locked.

“Would you give all that up for the one you love?”

I kept my eyes on his even as heat littered through my cheeks, “yeah,” I bit my lip, “yeah I would. Probably.”

Something flashed in his eyes then. Something different, darker than what I was used to seeing. A silent breath escaped my lips. Electricity curled through the air, buzzing in-between us.

I didn’t dare breathe. Didn’t dare look away.

Mingi’s eyes traced my every feature, gaze flickering to my mouth.

My lips parted on their own accord and he must’ve heard me, for his eyes flickered straight back up to mine and-- had his eyes always been this intense? This beautiful?

His hand suddenly fluttered over my arm. He tugged.

I stumbled into him.

And then his lips were pressing onto my cheek. Softly. A little shy. Breaths warm where his mouth hovered right upon my skin that burned as butterflies suddenly exploded through my stomach. A gasp died in the back of my throat and as I gazed down at him in growing surprise at his stroke of boldness, I saw his eyes widen in realization of what he'd done.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get into your space--" his scrambled murmur died when I shook my head to silence him, a slow smile spreading across my lips. I didn't know what to say though, what to do.

I finally found my voice after a while, "what...was that for?" I asked, tentative.

Mingi's head ducked shyly, hand going up to rub at his neck while avoiding my gaze like the plague, "I don't know," he admitted, "I just--I wanted to cheer you up. I guess?"

"You guess?"

His orbs flickered to mine, "don't make fun of me," he sounded like a child and a giggle erupted from my mouth, "I'm not. Just making sure what your intentions were."

I almost missed him murmuring out, "even I'm not sure."

That shut me up. I blinked at him.

"You looked sad," he looked away, "I don't like seeing you sad."

Was that a confession? Or was it just me being overdramatic?

I didn't bother responding out of fear that flat-out rejection was waiting for me just behind the door that broke the boundary between friendship and romance. I moved away and his arms dropped, clearly sensing that something had changed in my demeanour. For the rest of the night, we didn't address the issue, made it out to have been an accident, a small 'slip' if you will. In truth, I was a coward. Couldn't muster the courage to spill out the weight that was heavy on my heart and would rather lock up my feelings away, push them at the far end of my mind.

Maybe it was for the best. We were partners only for this project.

After that, who knows when I'd be seeing him again?

>>>

The day our story came to life was the day I almost told Mingi how I felt about him.

"It's done."

My brain couldn't process what my eyes saw. The animation kept on rolling forward and repeating itself, the melody becoming a numb buzzing background noise as the roaring excitement flooded through my veins, my heart beating so loudly I feared its sound echoed through the room.

Mingi sat next to me at his swivelling desk chair, chin on his palm and eyes glancing between me and the computer screen.

Ever since that night, there had been a weird tension every time we looked at each other for too long. It felt like an itch under my skin I couldn't quite reach, something that made me want to squirm restlessly.

"That..." my throat went dry. It was beautiful. The shading, the fluidity of the storytelling. Everything. "It's..." I struggled to find my voice.

It was beautiful.

"It's beautiful."

Choking up on the wave of emotion crashing through me, I couldn't restrain the sob echoing through the back of my throat and turning away from the young artist to hide the tears welling in the corner of my eyes, I jumped when a warmth ghosted over the back of my elbow.

"You okay?" Mingi's alto rang deep. He'd risen from his chair and it took me aback to see how tall he actually was. I barely reached his throat.

I nodded, fervently wiping the tears away, "I'm fine. Just-- it's hard to watch."

"Yeah," his features softened, "it was hard to draw."

If I was an emotional wreck, I couldn't imagine how hard he must have struggled throughout the whole thing. My body reacted before my brain did, arms flinging themselves around Mingi's neck as I heard him stutter out with embarrassment.

Burying my face into his chest, my body melted into his scent of soft men shampoo followed by a citrus aftertaste. His figure stiffened for a few seconds, before his arms slowly laced around my middle with a hesitance that made my heart flutter to my throat.

"Thank you," came my muffled mumble, "thank you, for doing this."

A small noise of approval rumbled through his chest, palms smoothing over my back in a manner so soothing it makes my limbs turn to mush.

We headed out to buy some tteokbeokki straight from the street vendor later that night along with some pizza to honour our success -- or more precisely, Mingi's success since he was the one doing the majority of hard work -- and as we settled ourselves on a bench in a nearby park of the neighbourhood, I looked up at the night sky with a soft sigh, knowing that after this night, my chances of seeing Mingi would be slim to none.

It wasn't that I didn't want to see him. It was more because he probably had a life of his own, a life he wanted back. He had friends that cared for him, had a stable job he needed to dive back into. He didn't have as much free time as I did.

Something like a jagged rock cut through my chest at the thought. I wasn't going to life; it hurt to know that Mingi's face wouldn't be a regular in my daily schedule.

But he'd done his part. The rest -- figuring out how to pitch that project to our sponsors -- was up to me.

"Have you made a list of who you're going to pitch it to?" Mingi's voice drew me back to reality and I blinked up at him, catching sight of the beer he held out in his hand.

I took it gratefully, cracking it open and taking a huge sip. The liquid felt good sliding down my throat, the familiar sensation of alcohol warming up my stomach.

"I have a few names in mind," the night breeze was cool as it washed against my features that seemed permanently doused in embarrassment, "I might try and pitch it directly to the National Ocean Board*. Though apparently, you need like a contact to get to the organization itself so I'll have to figure that out."

He hummed in agreement, "the hardest part's yet to come."

"No," my eyes swiped up to his, hating how easily he pushed aside his efforts, "you did everything, Mingi. I--I'm really grateful. I don't know how to thank you."

"You came up with the idea. You're the one who wrote the entire storyboard," he shrugged as he took a sip of his own beer. I tried not to stare too long at the bobbing of his adam's apple -- he looked so fine. There was no doubt about that. Even in his casual hoodie and training slacks decked in shades of black and grey, there was no denying that he had the charm and the aura of a model itself.

"I'm just the one who knows how to draw," he continued in an easy tone, which made me snap, "that's not true and you know it," my eyes narrowed, hands clenching a little harder on my can, "you can draw, sure. Anyone can draw, or learn how to anyway. But you can tell stories and trust me when I tell you this-- not everyone can," I shook my head, "not in the way that you do, anyway. It's magical, it makes you dream, it makes you think that maybe--" the words caught in the back of my throat as I swallowed thickly, "maybe there's still a little bit of hope left."

A soft pause ensued. The crickets chirped in the distance paired with the distant hum of cicadas. I kept my eyes glued to his, insistently trying to prove my point as we kept our gazes locked for a few seconds too long. And then, his features softened and his face broke into a soft smile.

A small that took my breath away.

He reached up so suddenly that I didn't have time to register the fact that his hand came to a rest upon my head. He ruffled my hair, in a manner so gentle that I stopped breathing for a full minute.

"Thank you," his murmur washed against my face, breaths tingling my cheeks and causing a splatter of warm peony to rise through the back of my neck.

I wished to believe it was the alcohol.

"No need to thank me," was the only thing I could mumble back, if only to hide how scrambled up my brain had become.

"You'll let me know, right?" Mingi allowed his hand to linger for a few drawn out seconds, before he dropped his arm and took another sip of his beer, "if ever we get a breakthrough."

"Of course I will. What sort of question is that?"

"I don't know. In case you decide to run away without any credits to the artist," he flashed me a teasing smile and I shoved his shoulder in response, "thanks for having absolutely no faith in me."

He laughed, "I'm joking."

"Oh, you're not. You're actually really serious about me stealing your work aren't you?"

"What? Of course not Y/N! Who do you take me for?"

"Who do you take me for?!" I huffled out playfully, " asking me these stupid questions--hey!"

I didn't have time to defend myself when he suddenly pounced onto me, fingers finding my weak points right underneath my armpits. I squealed, bursts of laughter and cries of protests falling from my lips as his hands scrabbled against my sides in an attempt to make me pay for my earlier comments.

"Mingi! Stop it--" I choked on my own laughter, hands failing to find purchase to push him away as he continued his attack without mercy, "that's for using me!" he gloated.

My beer caner spilled over the ground halfway through our playful fight and it wasn't until I managed to grip his wrists that I realized our provocative position; Mingi's body was hovering over mine that had toppled onto the bench, back pressed against the cool metal as I gazed up, transfixed, into those gorgeous feline orbs glinting in the dark light of the park.

The playful air stilled in light of the realization dawning upon me; that he was so close I could kiss him if I wanted to. His lips were mere inches. Would he straight-out reject me if I attempted to bring him closer? Those sinfully rose-tinted lips that looked plush and inviting-- my heart fluttered to my throat just thinking about it.

No.

Don't do it. Don't ruin what you have, a small voice echoed in the back of my mind.

Mingi, maybe upon noticing the change in my demeanor, slowly pulled back and pulled me along with him so that I straightened up. His head tipped down to the spilled beer cans at our feet, and chuckled.

"Well, that's a waste," he commented lightly, as if we hadn't just engaged in something a little more intimate than interesting conversation, and that made my heart sink a little.

"Sure is," I avoided his eyes at all costs, kept my gaze lowered in case he caught a glimpse of what he shouldn't be seeing in the first place.

The words were lingering on the edge of my lips the whole night, deliberately playing back and forth between what was best for us right now, at this particular moment. And if Mingi noticed, he didn't comment on it, though from the way his eyes would find mine in concern every time a silence lasted for too long, I suppose he suspected that there was something a little more that was bothering the depths of my heart even though I forced plastic smiles over my face and pushed my eyes into crinkles to mimic my usual happiness.

My lips held onto a bitter aftertaste when he said our goodbyes that night, as I held onto his sweater a little longer than usual, numb from the cold and the things that clogged up the back of my throat.

It tasted sour.

I love you.

>>>

Y/N: They said they would sponsor it.

My fingers shook with every key tapped onto my phone, brown orbs glued to the screen as I awaited for Mingi's reply. He was online, I had seen his status a few minutes ago before I mustered up the courage to tell him the great news that would've once made me ecstatic, would have me jumping around in joy and barely restrained excitement at the thought that my voice, our voices, were finally being heard after months of toiling and searching and begging and being thrown out of doors.

After that particular night where we'd celebrated our win, I'd been trying my best to avoid the said man when possible. It wasn't that I didn't want to see him. On the contrary, I had to physically dig my nails into my palm so as not to dial his number every evening when the silence, the overbearing numb emptiness, became too much to bear. But I didn't want to overwhelm him, not if he didn't want anything to do with me.

He never took the step forward to contact me first. I guessed that this was my answer.

Instead of pondering over what could have been, I decided to delve deep into my search for sponsors. Easier said than done though, considering that there were numerous marine protection companies that were using greenwashing for their customer market and blatantly refused to take part in such a 'horrendous, misleading act' as they called it. To fund myself for the time-being, I was grateful enough to get a job as a cashier in a Pet Shop from across the street from my apartment. It wasn't much, but it paid the bills and I was able to spend as much time with animals instead of human beings. Life seemed to crawl by at a slow snail's pace for some time, going through the ministrations of life and falling in a routine of going to work, calling companies and sponsors during my lunch break, gong back to work, then getting home and trying once more to search up other kinds of sponsors in hopes that they'd give me the time of the day.

It wasn't until a few months later that a small company in the outskirts of Seoul reached out to me. They introduced themselves as a branch of a bigger Western umbrella and after running a background check, I counted them as credible and accepted an interview.

Which led to the current situation.

My phone buzzed. Screen flashing: Mingi is calling.

My brain backtracked. Huh?

Fingers shaking, I almost missed the green icon before pressing the device to my ear.

"Hey."

"They accepted it?!"

A smile instinctively hitched my lips upwards, "yes," I murmured, breathless. Then, said it a little louder, "yes!"

Mingi laughed, "oh my god! They accepted it!"

I couldn't help but laugh along with him. His effect on me was incredible, lit me up on the inside and for a second I wished I could get a glimpse of his face.

I suggested that we meet up at a nearby café to discuss the details, which was weird, considering that it had been a few weeks since I last saw his face. I couldn't blame him, for he'd been having a tougher time at work and I was burnt out. Coupling that with our lack of communication and you got a friendship that was slowly fraying at the ends.

I forced my heart to mentally put out a front so as not to jump on him the moment I caught sight of his face. But that didn't prove necessary, for the moment I stepped into the quaint coffee shop filled with the mixed scent of books and fresh espresso Mingi was already wrapping me up in a huge bear hug, so tight I could barely breathe, overwhelmed by the familiar scent of his shampoo.

"It's been awhile," he grinned, pulling back to gaze down at me and I swore I felt my chest tighten at the softness swirling through his dark pupils. Everything, every emotion came rushing back like a tidal wave.

"It has," I managed to cough up despite the fact that my heartstrings seemed to be dancing around in-between my lungs. Just tell him already! "You look good, Mingi. Better than the last time we met."

"That's because we managed to finish our project before the deadline," he grinned as he tugged me over to his table. I took note of the worn-out black edge of his sketchbook peeking out of his backpack and had to smile. Typical of him, to be carrying out of his sketchbook even now that he barely had no time for his personal art.

We caught up on each other's lives and about the specifics of the sponsor. They were willing to advertise it on their social medias, their websites, as well as present it to the National Ocean Cleanup Day that was soon approaching, which was an opportunity for all aspiring artists and storytellers to present their art in hopes that it would be seen by an influential eye. Every commission would be ours and they'd only take 5% commission for their advertisement, a pretty good deal considering their reputation.

"I still can't believe they want to advertise it," he raked a hand through his dark locks. They seemed to have grown a little since then, "It feels surreal."

"It'll be a good opportunity for you too," I smiled back, "to get yourself known as an artist."

"Oh actually, there's something I haven't told you yet."

Leaning forward in my seat, my eyebrow rose in curiosity, "spill."

"Well, I'm actually quitting my job next month."

I blinked, "wha--wait, really? Did you get another job?"

He shook his head at that before his smile broadened, "nah. I'm not about that life anymore. I want to do what I really want," pausing slightly as hesitation flashed through his features, I offered him a reassuring smile, "I'm going to be a full-time artist."

My mouth dropped open in surprise, eyes widening, "Oh my god--No! You're kidding?!" and when he shook his head once more with that knowing smile I knew too well, my hands shot up instantly to grab at his with barely restrained excitement, "I'm so proud of you, Mingi! What--How did you--What have you planned?!"

"I haven't really planned anything yet," though his tone was unsure, there was no denying the full-out grin on his face, "but I've been gathering a bunch of my sketches. They all follow the same theme so I might just go with that."

"That's amazing!" I couldn't believe it. Tears were filling my eyes, "what concept are you going for?!"

And that was when his gaze locked onto mine.

"The sea."

I probably looked like an idiot. Staring at him like he'd grown another pair of eyes and not really comprehending his words for the first few seconds they settled into my brain.

That was when it hit me.

I gasped.

"W--Why?" was the only thing I managed to stutter out.

Though there seemed to be a layer of pink dusted across his cheeks, Mingi answered confidently, "because of you."

I gulped.

"I got inspired, kind of," his head dipped down, dark pupils lowering to the table as if he was too embarrassed to meet my gaze, "I couldn't understand how someone could be as passionate. I--I live in my head most of the time, never really notice all of these outside problems. And it's bad. I know it is.” His eyes fluttered up to mine and I lost breath at the intensity present in them. They swirled with a gentleness that was seldom present, a vulnerable sheen of maroon reflecting in the depths of his dark irises and yet, so intense at the same time that I flushed right down to my feet.

“But you don’t. You live to make the world better and I—I wish I was more like that. I want to be more like that. Because these things matter just as much as what I want to show inside my head,” he paused, hesitating for a few beats of silence before continuing, “when you first told me about the animation, I was—I’m not going to lie to you—I was scared, that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill your expectations. That I didn’t have that in me,” his hands, which had unknowingly turned to grasp mine, slowly interlocked his fingers with my own, “but I’ve never seen someone look at me the way you do.”

“How…” my words trailed off as I struggled to form a cohesive sentence, “how did I look at you?”

“Like you believed in me.”

Tears suddenly pricked at the corner of my eyes. Because he was right. I had had so much faith in Mingi that I lost my own. I had no purpose, while he did. He was so overwhelmingly talented at what he did that I wished I was more like him.

And all along, he was admiring me for doing whatever the hell I wanted.

“I—“ I tried turning my head, hid it in my sleeve so he wouldn’t see the tears brimming in my eyes, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Hm, I guess you can say ‘thanks Mingi, for seeing me as your role model’ or ‘hey that’s cool. I actually inspired someone’. Something along these lines,” he grinned as one of his hands released mine to cup my chin. Turning my face towards his once more before brushing the tears away, he murmured, “why are you crying?”

I sniffled, “because that’s the most wonderful thing someone’s ever said to me and I can’t help but love you even more—“

The words had bubbled out without warning and instantly my mouth clamped itself shut. I stared at Mingi’s shocked expression, looked back down at the cracks on the veneered table before me, and tried withdrawing my hands from his grasp.

Except, he didn’t allow me to.

“What…did you say?” his voice had dropped even lower. My heart jumped to my throat, nerves suddenly jittery, “you…love me?”

I tried chuckling, though I sounded more like a dying animal, “of a sort. You know, like a friend loves another fri—“

His pointed look shut me up and I brought my eyes back to the table. How embarrassing. How stupid. What an idiot. You’re such an idiot! My mind kept on screaming over and over and over again.

“Y/N.”

I didn’t dare look up, for fear of seeing someone I shouldn’t. For fear that one glance might break my heart into little pieces without warning.

He squeezed my fingers as a sign. His hand tilted my chin up to his. My gaze insistently glued itself to the crack running along the table’s edge.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

No. My heart screamed out. No, this is all wrong. This shouldn’t be happening.

“Fine then. You give me no other choice,” he sighed in what sounded to be exasperation and before I knew what was happening, I felt the softest touch of blossoming warmth over my knuckles. Eyes shooting up with a silent gasp, they went straight to Mingi’s as I took in the way his lips were brushing against the back of my hand.

To say that I was combusting like wildfire would be an understatement.

“Does that answer your question?” he whispered.

“Uhm…no.”

His gaze darkened. My stomach churned.

“I love you.”

I swear I could’ve burst out crying then and there.

“You—“ my throat was dry. Hearing myself say them sounded pathetic, borderline ridiculous. Hearing it fall from his mouth though…that was exhilarating. Magical, “You…love me?”

When he nodded, fresh tears welled up in my eyes. Mingi couldn’t help but chuckle then, reaching over to wipe at my cheek, “why are you crying?” he sounded amused.

“I don’t know,” I blubbered back, “because I thought you’d say sorry and tell me we’d never be able to meet again and I don’t know how I was going to live if that was the case—“

“I don’t think I’d be that drastic, Y/N,” bringing my hands up once more, he allowed his lips to brush against my knuckles, the mere action comforting me, “I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Pretty obvious? Jesus Mingi. I can’t read you. You’re not obvious at all!”

“But what about that kiss on the cheek I gave you that time?!” He pouted, “that must’ve counted for something!”

“Well you didn’t do anything else after that so how was I supposed to know?”

“I thought that you were disgusted when you didn’t respond because you didn't like me that way,” his pout deepened and I laughed at how childish he looked. A grown young man who was on the brink of a breakthrough in his career, acting like he was merely a five year old child, “how was I supposed to know then?”

I bit my lip to stop the grin from spreading over my face. I failed, smiling so wide my face practically broke in two, “you’re kinda cute when you’re mad.”

Huffing and muttering some in-comprehensive words under his breath, he tightened his grip on my hands and lifted them to press against his cheek, where his face mellowed out into that soft, crooked smile that turned his eyes into half-moons, “so does this mean we’re dating?”

“Well that’s kind of bold of you, considering you didn’t ask me,” I tried keeping a nonchalant air, only to burst into a fit of giggles as the said man threw me a horrified look, “but I literally poured my heart out!”

“I’m joking you big baby,” I ruffled his hair for good measure and though he grunted, there was no denying that the grin on his face was a permanent one. It made a series of butterflies flutter in my stomach and biting my lip to keep myself from giggling like a silly schoolgirl, I felt the slightest tremors of happiness that sounded like my heart cartwheeling in my chest.

Mingi accompanied me home that night, not hesitating to slip a hand into mine and intertwining our fingers throughout the whole train ride. We probably looked like a pair of idiots, smiling so wide at nothing at all that it wasn’t surprising if we scared off a few passerby’s. As we walked up the street towards my flat, we chatted about nothing and anything at all and somehow, I felt a sense of peace that hadn’t been there ever since our project was completed. As though all the puzzle pieces had finally fallen into place and now actually made sense.

It was calm inside my heart, inside my mind. The turmoil of waves that always seemed to brush a little too close to my sanity were now reduced to nothing, giving way to the calm sandy beach hidden below.

“That was a little too short for my liking,” Mingi’s statement caused me to blink back to reality and the fact that we’d already arrived at my doorstep made my excitement drop to disappointment in my stomach.

I turned to him nevertheless, graced with that soft smile that rendered me weak and made my throat clog up with unspoken emotion, “well, thanks for walking me back home,” my hands knotted themselves together, a habit of mine whenever I felt the nervousness take over.

“You don’t have to thank me, you know,” he flashed his pearly whites.

I turned away, feeling my cheeks warm up before Mingi gently grasped the back of my elbow. Tugging me close so that I stumbled into his chest, his hand was hesitant as it fluttered over my face, hovering a little distance away from my cheek before he mustered up the courage to cradle it in his hold. His other arm wound around my waist to pull me a little closer still and I would’ve lied to say that I was completely rational at this point in time.

My sanity had practically flown out of the window back then. Only leaving Mingi and his warmth in its wake.

His brown orbs held mine for the briefest of moments, as if asking me in silent permission whether he was allowed to take this step forward that would change our relationship forever.

So I did it for him. Pressed up on my tiptoes and claimed his lips.

Just like he’d claimed my heart.

The stifled yelp muffled at the back of his throat was one of surprise as I slanted my mouth against his and slowly, but hesitantly, moved my lips in a dance I’d hope he wouldn’t find to his dislike. But I was worrying for nothing, for a growl rumbled through his chest instead and he kissed me back with barely restrained vigour, hands pressing me close to his chest so that I gasped into his mouth. He took that to his advantage, tongue darting out to meet mine and drawing out a soft moan from my voicebox.

We parted for air after what seemed like forever, and that was when he pressed his forehead against mine with a tender, crooked smile that made me want to slap myself for wondering whether this was actually happening, that this was real.

“So,” his murmur washed over my face, nose bumping into mine, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Depends,” I shot back with a smile of my own, “Is it a date?”

“What do you mean?” he whined, “of course it’s a date.”

Laughing and pecking his cheek once, twice, three times until he turned his head to capture my lips with his, I pulled away with a breathless grin, pretty sure that I looked like a complete idiot with butterflies practically roaring through the entirety of my abdomen, “then sure, I’d love that.”

I didn’t know anything about what would happen to our small animation once it would be aired. There was a slight apprehension prickling at the back of my mind every time I thought about it, but somehow all this was overshadowed by the abundance of joy swelling through my chest every time I caught a glimpse of Mingi’s face, knowing that he was mine and that he believed in me, even if the rest of the world didn’t.

And that in the end, it would be okay.

[19thcenturyedgelord]

TW: Transphobia, Homophobia, abuse, neglect, p3dophilia, s3xual assault, su!cide, alcohol

~Vent~

My mother is constantly saying that they is only two gender and is always dead naming me, the one time I get her to say my preferred name she rolls her eyes and scoffs as she says it.

My mother has told me my whole life that she owns me and that I don't get to make any decisions for myself, she was dressing me until I was disowned at 14.

My mother would threaten to k!ll herself is I ever did something she didn't like, this includes: having a panic attack, dealing with over stimulation, trying to dress myself, telling her to stop walking in on me while I was showering/changing, going to bed early, going to bed late, saying I was hungry, asking to be allowed to go outside, wearing my headphones, not being strictly christian/not eating kosher, ect.

My mother got rid of my pet hermit crabs without telling me and was constantly trying to release my turtles even though they would die in the wild and they were being taken care of very well with a large, clean tank and plenty of food and hiding places, a special light that was good for their shell, and a great water to land ratio.

My mother slut shamed me because I was wearing shorts that went above my knees (they were perfectly appropriate btw).

My mother would scream at me for hours if I got anything less than a 100% on a test and even if I did get a 100% she would ask me why I didn't get any extra credit even if there was none available and even if I'd did get extra credit she would ask why I didn't get MORE extra credit.

While I lived with my mother I had a diet of nothing but microwave meals and chips and chips because she spent all of her money on vape, cigarettes, and alcohol. I would constantly be near unconsciousness due to my low blood sugar because I had nothing to eat.

She has slapped me across the face multiple times, one time with sharp plastic that cut my chin, she did this as a punishment. One time she slapped me because my blood sugar was low and I was grumpy, this is how it went down:

Me: Hey I know you wanna talk right now but can I make some food first my blood sugar is low this should take me 20 minutes max"

Her: No, I'm you mother and your going to talk to me right now

Me: Can I please just get something to eat

Her: *yells at me wich causes me to get distracted*

Me: *spills uncooked mac&cheese because distracted*

Her: *yells at me then slaps me across the face*

My mother nearly beat me to unconsciousness because she was very drunk, I had bruises all over me the next morning but I was to afraid to say anything because I new she would scream at me and hurt me more.

She molested me daily, forced me to change in front of her, forcefully spooned me in bed for hours even after I said no, and would "playfully" spank me.

She was constantly talking about how sexy a 17 year old at her work was and even bought him vape. She would also talk about some of my friends like that and even tried to internet stalk two of them, we are all minors.

She would lock the door to the apartment and wouldn't give me a key and would force me to wait outside in knee deep snow for hours without any warm clothing because she stole it all. She also refused to drive me to school in -8 degree (f) weather because she didn't want to loose her parking spot. I was also forced to bike to and from band practice (with she forced me to to do because she wanted to live through me) in 30 degree (f) with heavy rain because she didn't want to loose her parking spot.

She would consistently make fun of me for reading or doing anything that I enjoyed because I was a "nerd" and a "looser"

She disowned me after she stole my phone, went through it and found out I was a lesbian.

I couldn't even go into my yard without telling her where I was going, if I didn't tell her I would be screamed at and not allowed out my room, for a day and then not allowed out of the house for two more weeks.

She routinely went through my phone and my belongings without my permission, knowledge, or consent, in case I had anything "suspicious".

I tried moving in with my dad and she sued him.

She stole my most prized pokemon cards, a bag, most of my clothes, all of my old toys, and over $200 from my in the span of two weeks.

My room didn't have a door and she positioned herself so that she had to go through my room to get anywhere else in the house.

She would frequently lock the bathroom door so that it was only accessable from her room.

I told her I like pop music and she called me a failure then continued to play her extremely s3xual, vulgar, music about dr*gs, alcohol, and r@pe.

From the time I was 8 she tried to force me to drink alcohol because its "cool"

She forcefully pushed me against a wall because I refused to give her a hug after she made an offensive joke and I called her out for it.

She screamed at me because I corrected her after she misgendered me.

I had to learn morse code just so I could speak to my friends without her knowing what I was saying.

When I started counseling because I wanted to k!ll myself and because I was having upwards and 15-25 panic attacks per day, she forced me to tell her everything that happened in counseling even if I didn't want to.

She always gangs up on me in fights but if I try to get back up she just yells at me more.

She refused to take me to the hospital when I had a concussion and forced me to go to school all week even though I could barely stand or speak and now I have verbal and motor tics which she makes fun of.

She would scream at me because I sit down in the shower even though I have arthritis. (Yes I have arthritis at 15, it runs in the family and before to long I might develop psoriasis, I have shitty genes)

I wasn't allowed to wear anything that revealed my shoulders, that was low cut, shower any part of my stomach or back, short that went above my knees, ect.

I wasn't allowed to get my hair cut below my chin because it " wasn't feminine enough"

I wasn't allowed to have anything that was "for boys" this included clothes, toys, books, stickers, blankets, posters, movies, ect.

She forced me to watch R rated movies with her even if I didn't feel comfortable watching them.

I wasn't allowed to have any friends over and I wasn't allowed to go to any friends house, the one time I did have friends over she judged all of them and tried me to stop hanging out with them after they left. My friends are all very good people and are the only reason I'm still alive rn, she was just mad that I was talking to people who weren't her.

She screamed at she because I got one (1) drop of dark green ink on her black coffee table that she got for free.

I wasn't allowed to draw any male characters because she was afraid I would get off to them or something idk (this was before I was forcefully outed)

She bought me a triple chocolate cake for my birthday once. I'm allergic to chocolate. She forgot my birthday the next year.

Anytime I would tell her about the terrible bullying that was going on she would tell me to get over it, even after I had been thrown to the ground and strangled by one of my classmates.

If I got into a new game or hobby she would either take it away or shame me for playing it.

She spent all day on the computer playing Sims 3 to the point where I had to feed myself, take care of myself, and play by myself as young as 5.

She screamed at me because while talking about Pokemon lore I mentioned how Arceus is the god of the Pokemon world and she said I shouldn't say that because it would "make god mad" ( I have nothing against christians or christianity btw, just the people who shove it down your throat like she does)

I wasn't allowed to eat or drink the last of anything (finishing a bag of chips, taking the last soda, ect.) If I did she would scream at me and slap me as punishment.

She threatened to forbid me form seeing my cousin (who for the first 11 years of my life was my only friend) if I ever "talked back" to her.

She wod frequently strangle me as a form of "tough love".

When I was 2 she tried to teach me how to swim by holding me under water over and over again, drowning is now one of my greatest fears. Luckily I did learn to swim with the help of cousin and granny and even enjoy swimming but it is hard for me to do things like wash my face in the shower or stay under water for more than a few seconds without panicking.

She never taught me how to cook but then would scream at me because I didn't know how to cook.

Her smoking inside and while driving has caused me to have some lung issues, she denies that she ever smoked near me.

She tried to take me away frome everyone in my life including my family and friends so that I could only spend time with her.

When I was in fifth grade she homeschooled me and forced me to do college lever reading, learn how to code, learn at least two other languages that weren't english, learn how to play guitar, do gymnastics, do jujitsu (japanese), do soccer, learn to sing (keep I mind I had no interest in music, but she did), do a digital homeschooling program set at a highschool level, and learn a bunch of useless skills like knot tying and making friendship bracelets because it was "feminine". This was in FIFTH FUCKING GRADE.

We didn't have a washer or dryer and she would never go to to town to get laundry done so I never had clean clothes.

If I had more that $10 I had to give the rest to her.

She tried to kidnap me once.

One time on accident I stood in a bull ant hill and got stung all over (if you don't know ants all sting at once), I was swollen all over and screaming in pain and she did nothing, not even give me ice or ointment, she just told me to be more careful.

[sharkinlovewithadolphin]

Tag game

Tagged by @died-by-the-scimitar thank you!! :D 1. what is the color of your hairbrush? shaft is made of bamboo wood, the brushes themselves are black

2. name a food you never eat: uhhhh idk, I’m quite picky, especially with the texture of food, so if the texture is gross and it’s too big to not chew in, i will usually try to avoid eating it. 

3. what were you doing 45 mins ago? watching an old try guys video

4. what’s your favorite candy bar? I don’t really have any

5. have you ever been to a professional sports game? Yes, a football game when I was 9, and I hated every second of it lol. I really want to go watch a handball game, though. 

6. what is the last thing you said out loud? “Nå” (means like.. “well then” ish) 

7. what is your favorite ice cream? chocolate, vanilla, caramel 

8. what was the last thing you had to drink? water

9. do you like your wallet? no

10. what is the last thing you ate? An ice cream 

11. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? no

12. what’s the last sporting event you watched? I mean my mom watches the eurogames in football right now, so every now and then I watch like 1 or 2 minutes when I pass the living room, but the last game i sat down and actually watched was men’s handball earlier this year. 

13. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? just... salty? lol

14. who is the last person you sent a text message to? a friend a few hours ago, telling her i would start charging her after she wrote that she lived rent free in my head 

15. ever been camping? nope. I think I want to try it though

16. do you take vitamins? no, but I should (especially d-vitamins, considering how low my numbers have been since.. always), I got them lying around and everything but I sort of just don’t take them 

17. do you regularly attend a place of worship? no

18. do you have a tan? nope

19. do you prefer Chinese or pizza? it really depends on my mood honestly, either is usually neat

20. do you drink your soda through a straw? no, i don’t drink soda and i don’t use straws 

21. what color socks do you usually wear? black or white, but i also have some pastel colored and fruit motive ones 

22. do you ever drive above the speed limit? not intentionally lol, but i do catch myself accidently driving a little too fast (usually never more than 5-15 km/h above, and i always slow down once i notice).

23. what terrifies you? life. failure. the future. death of my dog. being stuck unable to reach goals

24. look to your left, what do you see? The side of my closet that’s covered in fandom and art postcards from redbubble 

25. what chore do you hate most? dishes, changing the sheets, cleaning the bathroom, taking out the trash

26. what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? g’day mate + harurinralia 

27. what’s your favorite soda? i don’t drink sodas anymore, but if i should it’s usually a wannabe cola or something citrus fruity ish

28. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? I don’t go to fast food places, but if i did i would go in

29. what’s your favorite number? 4

30. who’s the last person you talked to? my mom

31. favorite cut of beef? i don’t eat beef often, and i’m not sure what this even means lol 

32. last song you listened to? Lewis Capaldi - Don’t Get Me Wrong 

33. last book you read? Reading tipping the velvet right now, last book I finished was Romeo and Juliet I think

34. favorite day of the week? Also saturday

35. can you say the alphabet backwards? no

36. how do you like your coffee? I don’t like coffee, the smell on its own is.. nope

37. favorite pair of shoes? Don’t have a favorite. I used to love my black converses, but my feet are more happy with my current sketchers. 

38. time you normally get up? usually never before 7 (after school turned virtual for most of my last semester and i also stopped having morning shifts at work), and lately not before 9 

39. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? i love both, but i think i prefer sunsets, just ‘cause they’re easier to catch and (as you said, Fra) more colorful in terms of purple and pink etc.  

40. how many blankets on your bed? one and my duvet, but I have 2 blankets across my bedframe since its made of metal and my bed is up against the always-cold wall towards our apartment stairs. 

41. describe your kitchen very typical early 2000s danish style, hasn’t been updated in 20 years (except for my mom painting the walls a pastel pink), but not like in an outdated-ugly way i think

42. describe your kitchen at the moment. some papers on the table, bread (packaged), and my mom’s figures and stones collecting dust

43. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? I don’t drink alcohol either eeeeyh

44. do you play cards? no, but I used to love it when I was a kid, mainly go fish

45. what color is your car? I don’t have one, but my mom’s is silver

46. can you change a tire? I’ve never tried it, but I think I got the idea and might be able to should I ever need to. My mom’s husband usually changes them on her car. 

47. your favorite state? I’m not american, never set foot near america, BUT i think i like alaska, west virginia, and such, just for the environment (as seen through pictures)

48. favorite job you’ve had? I quite liked cleaning at private homes (of people I knew), which I’ve done a few times before. I work at a store right now (and have been for 3 years), though that is far from something I want to continue, to put it lightly. I got a job as a mentor (helping kids with homework and such), but I’ve yet to get any mentees, so I still can’t quite say much about it :/   Tagging: @hamykia @dandelionmeadow @nenufair @pilarsalazr @spacewitchqueen @happensweet @scimitar-and-longsword @ladyzeia @nicolosfaith 

[stillchaoticlogic]

Stumbling: Chapter 11

Pairing: Raihan X Reader X Leon

Your life hadn’t gone exactly as you planned…

This is why when an old rival walks into the coffee shop you work at he gives you an offer you just can’t refuse. Finally, a chance at the League. Suddenly you are thrust into the spotlight and a world you thought you had left behind. Dreams aren’t always what they are cracked up to be though, especially when you find yourself the tangled up with the champion and a certain gym leader.

Has all your dreams come true?

Or is this your worst nightmare?

Masterlist

Chapter 11: No Time to Lose

Blinking in annoyance at the light filtering through your window you huff as you roll over trying to escape it. You spent the majority of the night thinking about Leon and Raihan’s confession to you. At first, there was an acute thrill up your spine at the prospect of their feelings for you, however as the night wore on a sense of dread began to encompass your entire being. What are you going to do?

With a groan, you sit up in bed and decide that you will be spending the next couple of days in town training and resting with Sonia and Nessa.

The common area of the suite Leon rented is still cast in early morning shadow, the peace yet to be disturbed. You make a quick breakfast for yourself and your Pokémon before you write a quick note to the duo and make your silent exit. You need time to process precisely what’s happening in your life. Besides, you aren’t going far and just maybe you’ll meet up with the girls for some girl time.

The walk to the pier is peaceful and the few that are out give you a friendly wave and continue on their way. You aren't overly surprised to see Sonia and Nessa on the beach clearly working on whatever research Sonia is doing.

“What are you doing here?” Sonia asks with a wave.

“Isn’t Kabu’s gym next? Shouldn’t you be heading back to Motostoke?” asks Nessa wiping sweat off her brow in the early morning sun. 

“I’m taking a few days to train. Plus I talked with Leon and Raihan yesterday…”

“About their feelings for you?” The duo choruses. 

You wince but nod your affirmation, “I just don’t know what to do! I’ve finally got my chance at the League and I’m being pursued by Pokémon thieves and now this! It’s just…. a lot…”

“Take a break then! Get your head on straight. Kabu will be there in a few days,” Nessa says her hands on her hips. 

“That’s what I’m doing… plus having a break from the guys to at least process everything is a good idea.”

“Totally agree!” Chirps Sonia, “You need some girl time! Although I will say this… you’ve got Lee messed up! I don’t think I’ve seen him like this since….”

“Since when?” You ask leaning forward and silently begging her with your eyes to tell you. 

“Since… he couldn’t find you a couple of years ago. He was pretty devastated… I think he had this idea that you ran off with someone and he missed his chance with you.”

“I just don’t understand why he didn’t tell me years ago…”

“We all grew up together and to him, you were this amazingly perfect person that wouldn’t see him like that… he had it bad when we were younger. Every time you won against him he was always somewhere between embarrassed he lost and proud you won. It was pretty cute…”

You sigh with a soft smile on your face as you reminisce about your time growing up together. 

“I adored him… when I heard he was coming back home for a bit I ran…”

“That’s why you disappeared!?” Sonia exclaims.

You nod without meeting her gaze, “I was embarrassed… he’s the champion… the greatest champion… and I thought of myself as a failure.”

“You’re not a failure…” she says taking a step towards you, heartbreak in her eyes and her hands clasped together under her chin.

“I know that now… but I wasn’t in a good place then… I’ve improved a lot.” 

When you meet her gaze there is a familiar determination in your eyes. She remembers that look well. She saw it on your face during every battle, every lesson and every training session. Sonia remembers you as a force of nature and now she needs to make sure you see yourself that way too. 

“I need to get to the finals for me… for my team… for everyone who believes in me… I don’t know what to do about them now… especially now that Raihan’s in the picture…”

“Oh yeah… Rai won’t give you up very easily. He likes you a lot and he always goes for what he wants. He’s friends with Leon, but obviously he likes you enough to go head to head with him. Don’t get me wrong, he’ll respect your decision whatever it is, but be prepared for him to show you how he feels. Plus you like him too don’t you?” Nessa asks with a sly smirk.

You blush and look away, “I thought he was just kidding this entire time…”

“That’s because you haven’t thought yourself worthy of love with everything that happened in your past. You are. He’s going to make sure you know that too.”

Nessa nods sagely at her conclusion before she gives you a soft look.

“He likes you for you, don’t doubt that.”

You nod with tears in your eyes unable to speak. You shake your head to rid yourself of the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. 

“Thanks, guys… I’m going to train for a bit… you tap a couple of poke balls on your belt and Nile, your handsome Vaporeon pops out along with Hades, your Deino, and Serenity, your Hatenna. 

“Is this the team for Kabu?” Sonia asks.

“You have a Vaporeon!?” Squeals Nessa. 

You laugh, “Yeah, I do! He’s going to do amazing! I just know it!” 

Nile preens under the attention and happily flicks his fin-like tail before he happily struts around showing off his form proudly. 

You wave as you jog down the beach, your pokemon following along behind you. Nile splashes in the ocean kicking up the water around him. Serenity bounces along behind you and Deino sniffs the air as he easily keeps up. The sound of the waves soothes your mind as you continue your jog and slowly you allow yourself to get lost in thought. You hit a small cove and let out a sigh. You sit in the sand and catch your breath before you start to train your team. The morning flies by and before you know it you are calling out the rest of your team and setting up to fix lunch. 

“You know you would think that after getting caught by yourself you would learn not to go off alone,” says a voice behind you.

You turn around and see a man standing on a rock overlooking the small cove. You get into a fighting stance summoning your pokemon to you. 

“I don’t need a babysitter. Who are you? What do you want?” You demand. 

The man is handsome in a devil may care kind of way. He has dark hair that falls into deep green eyes, he has a lean physique without being overly muscular. His stance is relaxed in his black ripped jeans and a black tee-shirt. 

“The names Aaron and I wanted to extend my invitation to you in person… I really wanted to meet you…” The way your name rolls off of his tongue is borderline seductive. 

“I don’t understand your interest in me…”

“You tamed a Deino in about five minutes flat. The team you’re raising already has much potential. You could do great things for our organization.”

“You mean you want me to train the pokemon you steal? Absolutely not.”

“Not all of them are stolen…” he says wistfully as he drops from the rock to the ground, his boots sinking into the sand. The light hiss beneath his feet as he approaches you inspires a sense of foreboding. 

“Some of them are bred for power, such as that Deino that you took from my subordinate.”

“Did you come here for him? Because I’m not letting you take him!”

“Such passion! No… consider him my gift to you. He needs someone who will mold him into the force that he’s meant to be. Besides, I know you’ll join me one day…”

“I will never join you!”

“I know you… I know what you’ve been through… You’ve faced fires that these children never have. Even the beloved champion will never understand you. You’ve changed too much from the little girl you once were.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you spit at him.

“I was you… I was denied entry to the league. I was told I wasn’t good enough. And I proved them all wrong. I own Galar now,” he circles you like prey.

You glare at him, “I’m nothing like you. I would never take a pokemon from their owner or attack innocent people.”

“You don’t know what you’re capable of… You’ve already taken two pokemon that didn’t belong to you.”

“That was different!”

“Is it? What makes you different from us?” he asks as he tilts his head.  

Closing the distance between the two of you, he leans down until he’s just inches from you, his breath fanning your face. His eyes bore into yours and he smirks before he tilts his head almost innocently.

“Hmm?”

“Those pokemon were being mistreated.”

“So you have the right to take them?”

“They chose to be with me.”

“So you’re different?”

“I’m not like you if that’s what you mean.”

He smirks as he leans back, “Be looking for a present from me… One day you will make an excellent addition to my team. I’ll be unstoppable with you by my side,” his finger runs down your jaw and you jerk away from you.

“I don’t want your present, I don’t want to have anything to do with you,” your voice is like ice as you regard the man before you.

“Oh, you wound me…” he says with a chuckle as he holds his hand above his heart, “Play nice or you won’t get this little beauty back.”

He holds up a Pokeball and you glance down at your belt to notice that Davine’s Pokeball is gone.

“Give her back!” you yell, Serenity getting into position beside you.

“Make me, my darling,” he says with a smirk as he sends out a Hydreigon.

“How dare you! Serenity, no!” you yell as your tiny Hatenna rushes ahead of you, “Hades!”

“You think your little Hatenna and Deino can beat my Hydreigon? Think again darling! Dragon Rush!”

“Serenity! Hades! No!” You watch in horror as Serenity uses Deino’s head as a catapult as she jumps up into the air and releases her Disarming voice just as Hades unleashes a Dragon Breath. Neither attack does much damage and you grit your teeth in worry. You gasp as Nile rushes forward and attacks using his Aurora Beam. 

“Nile! Dodge!” you yelp as Hydreigon sends out a Dragon Pulse. He leaps out of the way in the nick of time as Serenity attacks with a Dazzling Gleam. One of Hydreigon’s heads bite down onto Serenity and you yell as she cries out as she’s thrown from the dragons’ mouth bouncing off of a rock before she falls to the ground. 

“Serenity! No!” You yell as you go to rush towards her. You’re thrown back and away landing hard on the sand. Axel and Arum leap towards you and stand protectively in front of you. 

“Such loyal pokemon you have… Impressive,” he says in a bored tone as he throws Davine’s Pokeball up and down in his hand. 

“Give her… back!” you demand as you sit up, coughing as you do so. 

He smirks, “You’re going to have to come get her…” he says as he turns to walk away.

Your eyes harden, “How dare you! You can’t just take her from me!” 

“If you’re too weak to protect your pokemon, you don’t deserve to keep them.”

“If it’s a fight you want…”

“Oh it is…” he purrs.

Your eyes narrow as you glare at him, “Fine,” you bite out as you stand up shakily. 

He tilts his head up as he regards you smugly, “There she is…”

“Hades! Go south! Axel, east side! Arum, west side! Nile, go north! You know what to do!”

Your pokemon scatter as Hades gets behind his future form and unleashes his attack as Axel nuzzles the dragon before he’s thrown back. Paralysis overtakes the beast slowing him down as Arum attacks from the side, she just barely escapes a body slam leaping up into the air and kicking the dragon hard. You gasp as a bright light encompasses your Steenee and when the light dims standing before you is Tsareena. 

“Arum… you evolved…” you say in surprise.

“How cute… You think you have a chance now? Think again! Hydreigon go! Body Slam!”

The dragon comes lumbering towards you, but before you are hit a bright light leaps in front of you and the dragon is thrown back as a powerful attack radiates from the light and when it clears Serenity has evolved into a Hattrem, a look of anger on her tiny face. 

“Such adoration… Do they know you’re going to fail?”

“I’m not going to fail. I refuse to fail anymore.” 

“Acid Armour, Nile! Then Aurora Beam! Dragon Breath! Hit him with your best shot! Axel, poison him! Arum, Stomp!”

“So ruthless…” he groans tilting his head back and stomping his foot before he fixes his almost heated gaze on you.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” you growl at your opponent.

“Oh? Then show me…” he purrs.

Hydreigon roars as the attacks hit him all at once, Serenity unleashes another Dazzling Gleam. 

“Switch!” you yell and watch your pokemon easily rotate confusing the already damaged Hydreigon. He roars in anger and lashes out, hitting Axel again throwing the baby pokemon back. Serenity rushes towards him as Nile unleashes an attack to distract the dragon. She quickly heals him before standing protectively in front of the disoriented baby. The Hydreigon turns towards Nile and attempts to unleash another attack before Hades headbutts the pokemon to keep him distracted. He whips around and almost loses his balance before he rights himself. His large wings cause a burst of sand to assault the senses of Hades. Hydreigon unleashes a Dragon Pulse and catches Hades directly sending the much smaller dragon backward into the cliff behind him. 

“Hades!” you yell when he doesn’t get back up. Serenity attempts to get to her teammate but the Dragon whips around and with a well placed Dragon Tail knocks her back for a second time. 

“Serenity! Please get up!” Just as Hydreigon attempts to smash your partner, Arum rushes forward and snatches her out of the way, jumping to safety. You aren’t prepared for the battle cry Axel makes as a bright light engulfs his tiny frame. A smug smirk and a tilt of his head take the place of the pout your baby used to have. 

“Fascinating… They are evolving to save you… Look what I’ve done for you! Come with me now! I don’t think I can wait!” he practically sings as he gazes at your team. 

“They are my team and you have their sister and we aren’t resting until we have her back.”

He chuckles as he regards the pokemon before him with glee, “Such rage… I love it.”

You narrow your eyes, “Axel Venoshock! Take him out!”

With one final attack from your newly evolved Toxricity you watch as the dragon falls from the sky and lands with a crash. 

“You’ve evolved… Just like you’re pokemon… You will be my greatest ally. Just come with me, Darling. We could be great together!” He says his hands in the air before he beckons you towards him.

“I beat you,” you pant, “Now give her back.”

He chuckles but tosses the Pokeball at you as your team stands by your side, beaten and battered but still standing.

You stumble forward and catch the Pokeball, you release her and hold her close to you as tears threaten to fall. 

“Congratulations, you’ve passed. Expect your present soon my darling,” he winks and using two fingers blows you a kiss. 

“I’m not your darling and I don’t want anything from you,” you bite out.

“You’ll thank me later!” he calls over his shoulder as he walks away casually as if nothing just happened.

You collapse to the sand and a sob wracks your body. You feel helpless. Your pokemon gather around you as they attempt to comfort you the best they can.

“We have to get stronger,” you whisper, “we have to…”

Davine nuzzles against you with silent determination in her eyes. 

“I’m really proud of you all…” you gasp out between sobs, “So proud…”

They crowd around showing their support in any way they can. You really are proud of them, giving their all and evolving to fight against a force much more powerful than them. 

After you have reeled your emotions back in you stumble to your feet and make your way back towards town. You can hardly believe that you’ve met him, the man who runs the ring of thieves and he wants you. 

“What is happening…” you whisper as you gaze at the sky as tears threaten to fall once again. You’re in a daze as you stumble across the beach. 

Exhaustion overwhelms as you make your way towards the pokemon center. Once you’ve had your team healed you somehow make it back to the suite you are staying in with Leon and Raihan. The moment you walk into the room the guys leap up. 

Alarm goes through them at the sight of your shaky form. They rush towards you as you collapse into their arms. 

“What happened?”

“Who did this?!” 

“I met him…” you whisper.

“Met who?” asks Leon as he grasps your arms and holds you steady.

“The leader… he tried to take Davine… I almost didn’t beat him… I almost lost… She would have been gone…I would have failed…” you dissolve into sobs once again as Leon pulls you into a hug. 

Raihan paces before the two of you, his hands clenched into fists, he seems almost feral as he snarls out, “I’m going to kill him…”

“Rai…” you whimper, pulling away from Leon. 

He stops his pacing and he kneels before you, his hands grasping yours, “What is it, Princess?”

“Just be with me?” you ask quietly voice shaking with unshed tears. 

He looks heartbroken as he nods and gently pulls you into a hug. 

“Princess, can you tell us what happened?” Raihan mumbles into your hair. 

You heave a shaky breath and recount the events of your afternoon. You can feel Raihan shaking as he attempts to keep his rage in check. Leon is leaning forward, his cap covering his eyes as he sits dangerously still. 

“You don’t need to go off by yourself, someone needs to be with you at all times,” Leon growls as he gets up and begins to pace like a Pyroar. 

You look away and nod, tears in your eyes. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Raihan murmurs as he pulls you into him again. 

“I’m scared… I almost lost her. I’m not strong enough.”

“That’s what he wants you to think. He wants you to feel scared and helpless. You can’t give into him!” Insists Leon.

“Well…” you say standing up, “He succeeded.”

You walk from the living area into your temporary bedroom. Feelings that you’ve held at bay for months come crashing down on you as you feel yourself sink into the bed. This time tears don’t come as you lay there feeling nothing and everything all at once.

You feel the bed sink in next to you and a hand press against your arm. When you don’t shake him off he begins to run his hand up and down your arm soothingly. You bury your face into the pillow as you grasp his hand pulling him against you and curling around your clasped hands. He sighs into your hair as you feel his lips on your shoulder before he buries his face into your neck.

“I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you today,” you feel him shake his head as if trying to physically rid himself of the thought.

“I feel so helpless…” you whisper.

“You’re not. You won today, even with the odds stacked against you. You won.”

“If he has other Pokémon that are just as strong…”

“You can’t think about that right now. We’re going to get through this. I promise.”

You nod as exhaustion takes and you fall into a fitful sleep.

Notes: So that happened... I hope you all enjoyed this tense chapter! Please leave love in likes, reblogs and comments! I always want to hear your thoughts! 

Tags: @shinsvu-talks @eeveesjourney @cherryrocks505 @exoticxchicken8 @spilltheearlgrey @marydragneell @quincymaru @zebrabaker @ct9ner@Ichigokage @pinktowne @marina-and-the-memes @ssskeletonsoffun @secretly-a-weeb @duizhangdeluxe @swiftly-heart @invaderbekk @crowkie @narees17 @skinklady @nerdyeldritchhorror @wthyuta @serendipityseoul @crescentrax @ninjarose23 @chiizwiz @cherryrocks505 @just-a-dregular @bonniestreet @theofficialkanekibarbie @maryry24 @zea-is-amazing @loch-monsta @artisticchihuahua @hadeselegy @rociomz @emeraldluna

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 23

Contrary to what he’d said while tired and sex-drunk, Buster did care about being seen with Nelly. After he’d driven her back to her apartment Monday morning and she’d hurried in to drop off her bags, then hurried back to the car, he dropped her off a few blocks from the United Artists lot. He hazarded a quick kiss on the lips, but that was it. He knew as well as anyone that to keep a mistress you had to be quiet about it, at least if your wife was as concerned about preserving the illusion of a happy marriage as Natalie was. It was a price he was willing to pay.

Now alone, he drove the half-hour to Culver City, reflecting on the weekend. It felt nice to be wild for a girl again, made him forget his troubles until the M-G-M sign loomed up ahead. His gut sank. Before he signed the contract, he’d asked for his team to be put on the payroll. The studio had granted his wish, but what he hadn’t bargained on was becoming the proud new recipient of every Tom, Dick, and Harry who wanted to make their mark in moving pictures gumming up his simple story with the goddamndest stuff: jewel heists, damsels in distress, a full military band. The days of Steamboat Bill seemed far, far away, and he longed for his old scenario department. Lately the mornings had consisted of sitting around a table with a baker’s dozen of men, including Thalberg, passing around a script that grew heavier and heavier with harebrained ideas with each passing day, like a ship sinking under the weight of too much cargo.

The image of that ship put him in mind of a gag. By the time he was inside and put in his standing order of coffee and donuts with a secretary, the gag had taken shape.

Bruckman was in the room with the big table. Buster could see that he was trying to pretend that things were as normal as they’d ever been, but he looked like he felt just as much like a fish out of water as Buster did. Some of the paid writers helloed Buster and asked him if he’d had a nice weekend. 

“Sure. Did some quail-hunting in the Valley.” He smiled to himself, remembering a naked Nelly clinging to his neck in the lake. 

Two young pretty girls came into the room with the coffee and donuts. Munching a donut, Buster wasted no time in introducing his idea to Bruckman.

“Suppose I start filming with my old camera to impress my girl, but I do it all wrong. Get into the craziest scrapes. I could be near a ship as it’s getting ready to be launched, thinking I’m about to get the shot of a lifetime, only the ship launches me with it,” he said. 

“And you darn near topple off of it and lose your camera,” said Bruckman. 

“Exactly,” Buster said. 

“I’ve just written a part where your character bumps into a dame whose son has just been kidnapped,” one of the writers, a medium-height fellow with a brown mustache, chimed in. “She’s willing to give you all the tea in China if you just help her find her Billy. You’re willing to do it. It’s your chance for a ticker-tape parade if you find him. You know, to impress your girl.”

“Kidnapped?” Buster said, not sure he’d heard right. 

“Sure. It fits perfectly.”

By now, Thalberg had entered the room and seated himself at the table. He took a donut and smiled in a benevolent way that spelled trouble. 

“No, no. It’s the mob Buster comes up against. They think he’s a spy and take him for a hostage, but he’s more useful as a stooge, see?”

Buster found himself wishing he’d poured a little whiskey into his coffee when no one was looking. It was bad enough to have to put everything down on a script for the first time in his career in pictures and even worse to entertain this kind of dreck. He looked over to Bruckman, but he just gave him a helpless look. At this rate, they’d never get around to filming. 

Filming. His mind crowded with everything he was obliged to do in the next six weeks, premieres (including Steamboat’s), parties, benefits, and not least of all traveling to New York City to begin filming. He thought sinkingly of Nelly. 

The worries continued on the drive back home late that afternoon. He worried his nails with his teeth as he thought about juggling it all.  At the Villa, he parked in the drive and bustled his way through the magnificent mahogany doors with his suitcases. Before departing from the studio, he’d checked the car for any trace of Nelly, a stray stocking, a dropped bracket, but there was nothing to give him away. As he stepped into the foyer, he was struck with an unfamiliarity that sometimes came over him. This big, clean, airy house, so cold and charmless—was it really his? He’d obsessed over it endlessly when it was being constructed, sparing no detail, never sure of what possessed him beyond the thrill that he could and a desire to impress. Impress his fellow stars? He thought, setting his suitcases down and running a hand across the back of his neck. No. 

To impress Natalie. 

He called for her. “Hello?” There was no answer and he tried again. “Hello?”

“Hello?” But it was only Eleanor, coming around the corner looking worried. “Mr. K—Buster, how are you? Shall I take your suitcases?” It had taken a while, but he’d finally gotten her to stop calling him Mr. Keaton. 

“No, I’ll take care of that. Have you seen Natalie? Is she around?”

“She’s out I’m afraid,” Eleanor said, with an apologetic smile. 

He could hear the kids outside somewhere, giggling and screaming. “Alright. If you see her, just tell her I’m home.”

He took his suitcases up to his room. It was cool and dark, and managed to smell both stale and clean at the same time. The bed was made, all the corners of the sheets tightly tucked. He drew his curtains and opened the balcony doors. 

“Hey, you hooligans!” he cried down to Bobby and Jimmy, who were running around on the lawn under Connie’s watchful eye. 

“Daddy!” they said, racing to the balcony. 

He went down to them and allowed them to wrestle him to the ground where they swarmed on top of him, then demanded to be swung around by the arms in the dangerous way that Nate disapproved of. A little voice in the back of his head lectured him about his failures as a father and husband, but he let the feeling of his sons’ hands in his smother it. Nelly was distracted for her entire shift Monday, remembering moments from the weekend. The assistant prop manager had to remind her to get her head out of the clouds when she fetched the wrong dinner service twice in a row. She could scarcely wait to get home, where the phone would surely ring and Buster would be on the other line asking her how her day had been. He had promised to be in touch when he’d dropped her off a block before the studio. That night, however, she went to bed disappointed. A worming doubt began to spoil her recollections of their time at the cabin. 

The phone did ring after work the next day, but it wasn’t Buster. 

“Nelly, is that you?” her mother said on the other end. Barely waiting for an assurance, she cried, “Ruthie had the baby! It’s a girl and they haven’t named her yet, but they think Violet or Virginia, which do you like better? Virginia? I like Virginia myself. She’s seven pounds even. We think she might have brown hair instead of blonde; it’s rather dark if you ask me, but of course there’s not much of it.”

“Well that’s wonderful,” said Nelly, wondering why her heart wasn’t in the congratulations. “How’s she doing? How’s Ruthie?” She’d never been able to fathom the birth process, the pushing and tearing and bleeding and all the rest. With what mothers had to go through, it was a miracle anyone ever had a second child, let alone a third like Ruthie.

“Oh, she’s tired but she’s an old hand by now. It wasn’t an hour later she wanted some chicken broth and now she’s bullied Gerald into letting her have some ice cream. Lord knows where he found it this time of year but nothing’s too good for her where he’s concerned.”

“And June and Eddie?”

“Eddie wanted a brother and declares he won’t see the poor soul, but you can imagine June is over the moon. She’s brought up her dollies’ clothes for her. Thank goodness they’re too small or we’d be in for quite a fight.”

As Nelly stood in the hall with the receiver to her ear, her mother chattered on about what time Ruthie’s labor started, how it had progressed, and what the doctor had done when he’d gotten there. She plotted with some guilt about how to cut the conversation short; she was worried she’d miss Buster if he called. 

“And you, how are you, dear?” her mother said, as if sensing Nelly’s intentions.

“Oh, I’m okay,” she said, a bit hastily. 

“How are you getting on with the moving pictures?”

Nelly explained briefly about her role in Tempest, which she’d mentioned in her last letter home. 

“What about that Keaton film? When will that come out? Your father says he intends to take the whole family to see it.”

“Buster—Mr. Keaton’s cutting it right now. April, I suspect.”

Not noticing her daughter’s slip, her mother pressed on. “When can we expect you back home?”

“I’m awful busy. Autumn?”

That was not good enough for Lena. “What’s wrong with summer? Or late spring? We miss you terribly and you know Harold Jenkins is wondering how you’ve been. I’ve given him your address so he can write. Have you gotten any letters yet?”

Nelly gritted her teeth unconsciously at the mention of Halitosis Harold. “Not yet. But Mother, I really have to be going.” She racked her brain for an excuse. “I’m having dinner tonight with a fellow I work with.” It was the wrong thing to say, because Lena became gleeful and effusive. “Oh Nelly, you didn’t mention you were seeing someone. What’s his name? Is he handsome?”

Nelly flushed. “It’s Joseph,” she said, thinking of Buster’s given name. “He’s very handsome, but he’ll be here any minute. I really must go.”

“I’ll call tomorrow, perhaps. I want you to tell me all about your new beau and I presume the baby will have a name by then.”

“That’s fine, Mother. I love you. I’ve got to go.” With a few more I-love-yous and talk-to-you-soons, Nelly was able to hang up the phone. The conversation had left her feeling unsettled and wrung-out. She supposed she should pick up a congratulations card for Ruthie on her lunch break tomorrow. Waiting for Buster to call, she was too nervous to eat anything more than an apple. She tried to read another chapter of Mistress Nell Gwyn, but couldn’t concentrate. Her mind was lying under the stars with Buster as he strummed his ukulele. 

It was a severe blow when another night passed with no word from him. The doubts were full-blown now. Her biggest worry wasn’t that he was preoccupied with his wife or even another girl, but that their time together hadn’t meant what she thought it had and that she had handed him her heart when she should have kept it more carefully guarded, only giving it to him when they had been going together longer and he had proven his worth. 

She went to work on Wednesday morning feeling blue despite the shining sun. The sensible part of her tried to push her out of her gloominess, reminding her that it had only been forty-eight hours and Buster was liable to be busy with his work, but nevertheless she moped around the prop department, not even caring to put on the radio for a diversion. On her lunch break she walked to a corner shop, having no appetite anyway, and chose a simple card to congratulate her sister. It had a Kewpie on the front clutching a telephone and read: I heard your home is honored / By a tiny little guest / I am rejoicing with you / That you are so greatly blest. As she walked back to the studio, she tried to get her head around the fact that she was an aunt three times over now. 

She returned to the prop warehouse around half past noon. Immediately she noticed a large vase sitting on the desk where she did the books. It was heaped with a snowy mountain of gardenias, jasmine, and myrtle. She could smell the flowers from a yard away. Propped against the vase was a record in a paper sleeve, which she examined. There was a cartoon of Paul Whiteman’s fat, mustachioed face on the front of the record and on each side a different song, “ ‘Taint So, Honey, ‘Taint So” and “That’s My Weakness Now.” A small card with her name on it was tucked into the flowers. She looked around the room for a sign of who might have delivered it, but no one was in sight. Her heart beating faster, she opened the card.

She’s got eyes of blue, I never cared for eyes of blue but she’s got eyes of blue and that’s my weakness now. 

BK 

P.S. See you tomorrow around 6?

“Got a beau now, huh?” said Gracie, one of the other girls who helped out in the department, walking into the room. Bold as brass, she leaned over Nelly’s shoulder to read the card. “Who’s BK?”

“Buddy King,” Nelly said, without a moment’s hesitation, blushing. “Did you see who delivered it?”

“I did,” said Gracie, rolling her eyes. “Florist dropped it off up front and I was the lucky gal told to bring it on back. Thought it was for me at first. ‘Course that would have been a shock. Bennie don’t do flowers or nothing like that. You’re lucky.”

“I am,” said Nelly, burying her face in the flowers. A waft of spring filled her sense and along with it a feeling that was very close to intoxication.

She was the center of attention during her walk to the tram and then her tram ride home, holding as she was such a huge arrangement of flowers. The commonest remark from strangers was, “Someone must care for you very much.”

And her face reddening, she would respond, “I guess he does.”

Note: Remember, Buster Keaton really did have a maid named Eleanor at the Villa. Confusing, but she wasn’t his Eleanor.

Also, after listening to this song since November, I finally have an excuse to share it with you! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAfVQpzQB3g

[darkblueboxs]

The Manga is Way Better (Save me from the Fangirls)

Read here or on AO3

Inspired by an absurd GC conversation feat. @hope-coeurell and @karmacharmeleon18 about exy anime in the aftg universe.

Neil wakes up to eleven hundred new twitter followers overnight, which sets off alarm bells for a number of reasons.

He didn’t want the damn account, but his publicist insisted, and Carol rules Neil’s public life with an iron fist. He leaves her to post generically upbeat tweets on his behalf about the exy world, and in return he tries not to start any fights that she’ll have to finish. Emphasis on tries.

He assumes that the influx of followers is down to some vaguely rude retort going viral that he’d already forgotten making, but to his bafflement most of the new followers seem to have cartoon avatars and names that are more emoji than letter. He clicks on one profile out of curiosity, understands about one word in five, and promptly loses interest.

He puts it down to the ramp up in interest caused by the approaching world cup and shuts off his phone. The muggy SoCal heat makes Neil drowsier than he usually would be, but the sound of Andrew brewing coffee in the kitchen is enough to drag Neil from bed. They’re only on the western coast for a few days while the national team attends a few mandatory press junkets and board meetings, and Neil would resent it more if not for the opportunity to spend time with his family.

They’re actually scheduled for a day off, but Kevin pulled every contact he had with the Trojans to bag use of their court for the day, and he’s dragging every player he can in with him. Luckily for them, it’s the off-season, so the only players they’re booting from their own pitch are the ones with nothing better to do on their break.

The fox’s group chat is buzzing regularly on the ride to the stadium, but Neil ignores it for the city sights rolling by his window. Neither he nor Andrew have visited this part of California before; it leaves a far better impression than their previous experiences with the state.

It’s when he arrives in the locker room to find Matt and a few other players huddled around a phone screen that the alarm bells return.

Matt looks up, takes one look at Neil, and bursts out laughing. “Hey, look, it’s Niall Jamestown.”

Neil gives him a deliberately blank look as he shoulders his bag from his shoulder. “Morning, Matt.”

“You’ve watched this, right? Tell me you’ve watched this.”

Neil glances to Andrew, who seems to know as much as Neil does, before replying. “No?”

“Oh my God,” says Matt, and shoves the phone in Neil’s face.

The sight he is met with is baffling to say the least; a bunch of cartoon boys with brightly coloured hair yelling at each other in Japanese the middle of an exy court.

“Japanese soap opera?” Neil guesses.

“Just wait.”

Neil watches with disinterest. The doors to the cartoon court bang open and the lights flicker as the music crescendos, building up to some dramatic reveal.

A kid with red hair, blue eyes and a scarred face steps into frame. “I’m Niall Jamestown,” say the subtitles as the character slings a racquet across his shoulders. “And I’m going to beat you all!” Then the screen goes black.

Neil is genuinely speechless.

“You’re an anime character, Neil!” Matt beams. “How cool is that?”

Neil looks back to his cartoon doppelganger. “What the fuck is anime?”

*

Neil is acutely aware of when the next episode comes out, because his twitter following jumps wildly again. He has a lot of new messages, although none of them seem to really be directed at him.

“Do not fucking talk to me about fucking King of the Court,” Kevin snaps as they toss a ball back and forth.

“It’s a show about exy, isn’t it?” Neil says. “Why wouldn’t you like it?”

“It’s thinly-veiled Raven propaganda that shows no respect for actual exy rules. They have a distant cousin of the Moriyamas on the creative team because they figured it might be a good merchandising opportunity, but thankfully the manga never really took off in America.” Kevin’s expression darkens. “The new TV adaptation, on the other hand…”

When Neil continues to look at him blankly, Kevin rolls his eyes and explains, “A Manga is like a comic book.”

Neil nearly drops the ball. “I’m a comic book character, too?”

“No, they’ve clearly changed the character’s name and appearance in the remake to make him look like you. They’re going to make you look like an asshole.”

Neil thought he was used to being on television; it turns out he was sorely mistaken. He shrugs. “I’m pretty good at doing that by myself already.”

Kevin throws the next ball to him harder than necessary. It whistles past Neil’s right ear; an inch to the side and it would have been a black eye. The whack of a racket against the ground clatters from the other side of the court, Andrew’s idea of a friendly warning. “Take this seriously.”

“It’s a cartoon, Kevin, how on earth do I take it seriously?”

“I wasn’t exaggerating when I said it was Raven propaganda,” Kevin snaps. “The main team, the protagonist, they’re very…” Kevin trails off. “Just go look it up when you get home.”

Neil tries ten minutes of the first episode, but quickly loses interest when he realises there’s more heartfelt speeches about friendship and teamwork than there is actual playing. Kevin’s right, though; the main team, Iwatobi Crows, are a clear stand-in for the Ravens with their black-on-red uniforms. They’re supposed to be the underdog team, which is hilarious, but worst of all is their captain, a charismatic, friendly, dark-haired teenager with a conspicuous beauty-spot on his left cheekbone.

Neil retches quietly before throwing his laptop aside and vowing never to think about the show again.

*

“People on twitter are yelling at me.” Neil frowns. “A lot.”

“This is not news,” Andrew says without raising his eyes from his book.

“This one says I ‘hurt her precious baby.’” Neil scrolls. “They could be a little more creative with their death threats.”

Death threats is enough to pique Andrew’s interest. He takes Neil’s phone and scrolls for several minutes, the crease between his eyebrows deepening slightly. He hands the phone back. “Your cartoon alter-ego is insulting their precious king.”

Neil snorts. He plays a clip beneath one of the tweets showing Neil’s character and Riko’s in a heated argument. It’s melodramatic and darkly lit, and fake-Neil’s smile is wide and sharp as he tells Riko his team will never amount to anything. “You are destined for failure,” Niall snarls. “Pathetic.”

It isn’t meant to be funny; it’s meant to be cruel and devastating, but Neil laughs. “This guy is growing on me.”

Andrew shakes his head as he returns to his book. “Don’t come crying to me when the fangirls break your face.”

Neil snorts. “I’d trust you to patch me up again after.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow but doesn’t deny it.

*

“One of my co-workers has asked me for your autograph,” Nicky says, his voice cracking and jumping across the videocall. “Think you can get a poster to me before Christmas?”

“Easily. I can get a hold of some national team merch as well if she-”

Nicky cuts him off with a snort. “No, it’s cool, she isn’t really into exy.”

At the kitchen counter behind him, Andrew’s knife stalls over the carrots. They share a baffled look.

“What?” says Neil eventually.

“Oh, yeah, she doesn’t follow exy or anything, she’s just really into that show, what’s it called? King of the Castle?”

“Something like that.” Neil says, keeping his expression remarkably straight. “You’ve heard about it?”

“Are you kidding me? The whole anime world is talking about it. Not that I’m deep in the weeb community or anything, I just followed a few people for posting those cute yaoi ice-skating gifs a while back and they’ve been talking about nothing else in months.”

Neil understands some of those words. “Okay.”

“Say, Neil, do you know what a ship is?”

“Like, a boat?”

Andrew reaches past Neil and hits the end call button. “Not today.”

Neil nods, feeling as though he has just been saved from something unfathomably vast and dangerous. “Not today.”

*

Robin sends a picture of the photo wall in the Foxhole Court’s lounge. Someone has put up a poster of Anime Neil in one corner. It’s life-size, and he glares across the room with overshiny blue eyes, a leather jacket thrown over his shoulder as he scowls. She accompanies the message with a simple smiley emoji, but Neil isn’t fooled.

Not funny, Neil texts back.

He’s taller than you, she replies.

*

“What are you going to do about it?” Kevin says on one of their phone calls. “You can’t let them burn your reputation to the ground like this. They’re portraying you as a mouthy bad-boy who listens to no one and breaks all the rules.”

“Just like real life, then,” Andrew says loudly enough that Kevin can hear.

“Kevin, some kid’s cartoon isn’t going to affect my exy career,” Neil says, scooping Sir onto his lap as he talks. “It’s about how well I play.”

“It’s about image, Neil. Your publicist will agree. Has she considered suing for defamation? I know some good lawyers if-”

“She’s looked into it.” Neil had watched Carol’s growing exasperation with detached amusement; she was, as far as he knew, a good person, but watching her having a meltdown over a cartoon caricature had been mildly entertaining regardless. Neil just couldn’t bring himself to see what all the fuss was about. “They’ve changed my name, so it’s a no-go.”

Kevin makes an exaggeratedly pained sound. Neil doesn’t have to picture his expression; he knows all too well what Kevin’s disappointed face looks like.

“You’re taking this heavily,” says Neil. Then, “Did make you into a character too or something-?”

Kevin hangs up.

*

“Neil, how does it feel knowing my husband loves you more than he does his own wife?”

“This isn’t news.” Neil smiles as Dan laughs. He can see moving boxes and sports equipment behind her as she spins, showing Neil through the camera their new living room.

“Have you seen the monstrosity? Has he shown you? He said he wanted to bring it on our next fox holiday, but I said no, there’s no way I’m sitting next to that thing in the truck for six hours, besides, it’s not even that funny.” The amused tilt to her voice says otherwise.

“I’m not sure I want to know.”

“If I have to be traumatised then so do you.” Dan leads into her bedroom, and for a moment the picture turns dark and grainy. The lights flick on, and on the bed Neil sees-

“Dan, what the fuck is that?”

“Randy came across it online and thought it would be funny.” Dan sighs.

“What is it?”

“Haven’t you seen a body pillow before?”

Neil screws up his nose, leaning into his screen to get a better look despite himself. “What is he wearing?”

Dan hesitates. “Swimming costume?”

“It’s a show about exy.”

“Yeah, I got nothing. So I’m guessing you don’t want us to bring it on holiday?”

“Burn it. Please.”

“Good idea.” Dan pauses. “Unless you think Andrew would-”

“No. He would not.”

*

Neil’s anime persona gets a girlfriend, which Neil discovers only when he opens Twitter (an action which becomes more fraught with danger with every passing day) to see art of them having sex.

He blocks several hundred more followers (he’s gaining more than he can possibly hope to block every day, but it’s for the sense of control more than anything) before throwing his phone aside and climbing back into bed.

“I have a girlfriend,” Neil announces. Andrew’s head appears from beneath the covers to blink at him blearily, dislodging one of the cats as he does so.

“An unexpected development,” he says eventually.

“Anime me. He has a girlfriend.”

“Jealous?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” Neil nuzzles under the covers and waits for Andrew’s go-ahead before shifting in against his side.

“Does it upset you?”

“No, it’s just weird.” Neil stares up at the ceiling for several seconds before meeting Andrew’s eyes. “Well, it’s not the show, really. It’s the people.”

Andrew doesn’t reply, but his gaze remains fixed on Neil, encouraging him to keep talking.

“I’m just not used to being seen like that. Like, the people who are yelling at me because they don’t like the character I kind of get. It’s more the really flirty ones. Like, why? They don’t know me.”

“The flirty ones?”

“Just a lot of people saying really sexual things. I keep blocking them, it’s fine.”

Neil thinks he has inadvertently conditioned Andrew to tense up at the word fine; he has long tried to erase it from his vocabulary, but it still slips through now and again.

Andrew’s chest presses against his as he leans over Neil to the bedside table. For a moment Neil’s mind stops working, just thinking about skin against skin. When Andrew leans back, Neil’s phone is in his hand.

“Don’t bother looking, honestly, it isn’t worth it,” Neil says as Andrew taps several buttons.

“I’m not,” says Andrew. When he hands back the phone, the screen says account set to private.

“Carol isn’t going to like that.”

“Carol can take it up with me.”

Neil smiles. “Jealous?”

“No,” says Andrew flatly, and Neil realises that, oh, this isn’t about him.

After several minutes on the phone with Andrew, Carol concedes that keeping a low profile might not be the worst thing in the world.

*

“Neil, it’s bad,” Kevin says before he’s even through the door. “How are you not keeping up with this?”

“Digital detox,” Neil answers as Kevin pushes past. “You should try it. Great for the skin.”

Kevin doesn’t dignify him with a response. “Your character broke Riko’s  - I mean, Ryuu’s – arm. Mid-match. You can’t stand for this.”

“Are you watching this show every week?”

“I have to be ahead of the backlash,” Kevin says emphatically. He throws himself down on the couch, before standing up again, clearly too agitated to stay still. “You don’t understand, Neil. This could destroy you in the Japanese markets before you’ve even made it big in America. You have to-”

“What did they do to you, Kevin?” Neil interrupts. Kevin stops short, mouth open mid-sentence. “Because this clearly isn’t about me.”

Kevin looks away. “His name was Kev. The bumbling, obsessive, star-struck idiot that messed up the whole team’s dynamic, injured himself by pushing himself too hard and crashed out into nothing.”

Neil sobers. “Everything they told you you were.”

Kevin doesn’t look up.

“Kev? They didn’t even bother to change your name?”

Kevin shrugged. “Why bother? I couldn’t sue them. I was under the Moriyama’s thumb, remember?”

Neil stares at him. “You aren’t anymore.”

“I’m-” Kevin starts, stops, starts again. “Oh.”

“You said you knew some good lawyers, right?”

A smile breaks across Kevin’s face. “Right.”

*

King of the Court does not get renewed for a second season. Several of the foxes send Neil messages of faux commiseration, which he responds to with equal sarcasm.

A few months later, after the exy world cup medals are hanging securely over Neil and Andrew’s dresser, the same studio releases a promo for a new show. It’s nothing like their last exy anime save for the mutual sport. The characters are all decidedly fictional, neither looking nor sounding like any prominent figures in the exy world, and the protagonist’s strip doesn’t share the colours of any big USA teams.

The new anime looks as cheesy and melodramatic as the last, although Neil likes the name a lot more this time.

All for the Game. That’s a title he can get behind.

Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!

[the-girl-who-walks-with-faeries]

Answers to Dark Academia Asks

Its called I'm bored and I am procrastinating from doing my dissertation (its on medieval Norse dragons btw, I can make a post about it if anyone is interest), so I'm doing these questions. It has probably been years since I've done one of these, so let's learn a bit about me!

ink: favorite dead language?

Old Norse, mostly because its what my studies mostly focus on, though I have a soft spot for Latin, because I studied it throughout middle school and high school.

quill: how would you describe your writing style?

I don't really know. Supposedly its a weird writing style that I need to improve on, according to my professors. One of them told me it reminded them of a "1950s Robin Hood radio play" in some of the phrasings, so lets go with that.

perfume: scent of choice, whether it be a perfume/candle or just in general?

I really like bakery smells, like vanilla and cake and such, but also peach and fruity smells as well. If someone could make a perfume that smells like a peach crumble I'd be all set!

parchment: what area of philosophy interests you?

None, I've never been really interested in philosophy, sorry!

candles: favorite quote?

Oooooh that's a hard one. But on my page I have "not all those who wander are lost" from Tolkien, so let's go with that one!

raven: what makes you feel most like a “dark academic”?

Despite being online for class, it really helps that I study at an old university. Yesterday I sat in the sun at the ruins of the first monastery in my town, and that felt pretty "dark academic". Otherwise, its when I have to get out a book for my classes that looks like it hasn't been checked out in decades.

pages: do you annotate your books? how do you prefer to annotate them?

I never annotate books that I just read for entertainment. If its for research, I will highlight/underline, put sticky notes in, and occasionally write in.

corduroy: any big past regrets?

In this pandemic, there are a bunch, lol. But mostly its that I didn't do a lot of the traditional stuff that students at my uni do, and now that I'm graduating this year and everything is closed, I have to miss out on them.

violin: favorite composer? favorite piece of classical music?

I don't often listen to classical music, its just not something I gravitate towards. For composers, I really like listening to film scores, especially by Howard Shore and Harry Gregson-Williams. Anything fantasy is usually up my alley.

teapot: how do you take your tea or coffee?

I really like infusion teas, which I know someone will tell me that doesn't really count. But I just always like having a red berry tea with one or two sugars. For coffee, I prefer iced, and will get an iced caramel latte if I'm ordering it, but will just have a hot coffee with milk and sugar if I'm at home, because it's easier.

library: preferred study environment?

I love studying in cafes! I find that staying in the library too long makes me less productive, so I like sitting at a table in a dark cafe, having a coffee and being able to get work done while still having people talking and music playing around me.

wood: what does your ideal future look like?

While I would love to be part of some monster hunting/occult secret society, I don't think that's a possibility. I want to go into academia, hopefully being a professor, but would also be interested in working in museums and archives as well!

leather: favorite book(s)? what makes them special?

Anything by Tolkien will probably top my list because I have always had a special connection to Middle Earth that I can't really explain. I also love Narnia, His Dark Materials, Howl's Moving Castle, etc. etc.

canvas: is there any work of art that resonates with you? why?

Anything that's Pre-Raphaelite or Romantic, I just find that art style so beautiful and magical, especially because they tend to have very mythological/legendary themes to them that I appreciate.

capelet: quintessential piece of dark academia clothing?

A black turtleneck. I wear way too many turtlenecks in general, but growing up I watched the History Channel where every historian wore a black turtleneck. So now as a historian, I love wearing black turtlenecks haha!

feather: favorite poet? favorite piece of poetry?

I know this might be controversial, but I just don't really like poetry! I like reading epic poems like the Aeneid, Beowulf, etc., but for some reason I've just never gotten into modern poetry. If anyone has any recommendations let me know!

shadow: what makes you feel nostalgic?

Carving pumpkins, sitting outside on the porch in the summer, baking cookies with my mom.

sandalwood: what plants/flowers would you like to have in your study?

I want so many plants, but I just don't have a green thumb! I would love to have some small plants dotted around my study and propagating plants along the windowsills if I thought I could keep them alive. Maybe I should just start with a cactus.

clock: early bird or night owl?

Neither? I guess in the summer I become more of an early bird, but I like mid-morning to early afternoon time more than anything. Or late afternoon as the sun is setting!

pressed flowers: have you every fallen in love? out of love?

Yes to both.

orchestra: describe the songs on your most played playlist

Currently that playlist is a Buffy x Spike playlist because I started binge-watching BTVS but now I just listen to it because its got a lot of songs about illicit romance, unrequited feelings, etc. that is just really nice to listen to.

fire: which of the seven deadly sins do you find yourself leaning towards?

.....pride.....

tweed: any languages you want to learn/are learning?

I am currently learning Old Norse, Old English, and am re-teaching myself Latin. I would like to continue to learn Middle English and Welsh which I have taken breaks from. I need to learn German and/or French for PhD applications next fall. And I think it would be cool to know Ancient Egyptian and read hieroglyphs. Is that enough?

dust: biggest fears?

The typical answer of failure. I'll tell you though that I have an irrational phobia of the ocean and whales specifically. If anyone can explain that, I'd love to know!

silence: do you consider yourself to be a good secret keeper?

100%. Plus, I like knowing what everyone's secrets are, because I just think its interesting.

[hellojeffreyjames]

Another mental health awareness month has come to an end. One challenge that a designated period presents, is that it can be hard to navigate for people who struggle to function in a neurotypical culture. It’s hard to parse all the virtue signaling or things folks say just to just participate in the theme of the month. To get ready for all the people to check in once in November, and then abandon them when that dynamic is so stressful they’d rather not have that person check in at all. It can be stressful to interact with people who are well intentioned, but lack an awareness of what being supportive means. It means they may dismiss the idea you have a neurological difference because they view a diagnosis as a defect instead of a part of neurodiversity.

This dullness may not happen, but if that’s the case, it doesn’t have to be forever. It can be a stepping stone towards building cognitive habits and disciplines you need to reduce your dosage. It can be the phase you needed to rewire your neurons. You may be able to build the structures you need to be medication free in a couple years instead of decades.

There are some neurological conditions that make it impossible to do certain things. One can learn the skills to work around that, and make the impossible, possible.  but for many people it’s like trying to learn calculus while bench pressing 200 pounds as someone keeps sticking a needles in your foot and telling you that you have no value and would be better off dead. For me that is not a question of whether or not I could learn calculus like that. It’s whether or it I should.

There are simple things I intend to do every single day and just cannot do them when I’m not on meds. I will beat myself up, tell myself I am a waste of a human life, and a burden to everyone, because I can’t do the even most basic things. I can’t do for those around me what I absolutely believe they deserve from me, and I don’t even have the language to explain why the most simple tasks are next to impossible. How it just looks like me being inconsiderate and selfish. How climbing Mount Everest would genuinely be easier than, say, mailing a letter. 

That’s not an exaggeration. I mean there are chemical differences that make a simple mundane task more difficult than something that includes tangible stress, urgency, extreme physical challenge, and in a distraction free environment. Obviously I’d fail at climbing Mount Everest as an untrained mountain climber, but I would engage with the activity. Taking three coffee cups off the nightstand and putting them in the dishwasher?  Without medication, that might happen if I think about it every day for the next... 2 years. Ok, that one is an exaggeration, but it would be quite a while.

I feel very proud as I watch my friends make life plans and conquer the world, as I formulate my own elaborate 36 step plan to ensure I brush my teeth today. 

If anyone identifies with any of that, to any degree, I just want you to know that you’re not alone. Yes, I also set myself 26 alarms and nine reminders and still did not make it to the post office yesterday. Or the day before that. Or the day before that. Yes, I also don’t know what to tell my family about why I don’t reciprocate birthday cards. Yes, I also feel like I am doing my best to hide and perform happiness and high function.

Have you gotten so good at it you’re afraid people think the performance is the really of how you are doing, and that mentioning your struggles would be seen as being attention seeking or melodramatic? Hey, me too, and I also feel this paradox:  Wishing somebody knew, yet embarrassed that if anyone really new, they wouldn’t know where to begin to support me and I wouldn’t know what to tell them. Yes, you and I both share that fear, that it will only end with a loss of dignity and to be treated like that unstable neurotic friend that folks keep at arms length and never expect much out of. That you’ll be stuck at the “kids table” of life and never be invited to anything that counts. And “me too” about... a lot of other and darker things we won’t get into right now.

We can spend a lot of energy juggling all of these difficult concepts and throwing the balls up so high in the air we don’t realize The massive amount of energy we are blowing through to just make it through each day. We can’t see them all at one time and realize, no one on the earth should have to do all of that alone. No one on the earth can do all of that alone. You are not a failure to seek help.

You are not a failure to seek help.

You are not a failure to seek help.

You are not a failure to seek help.

You are not a failure to seek help.

To stay afloat we keep juggling but if we stopped we would see it fall to the ground and say, “Holy shit I’ve been trying to manage hundreds of emotional, intellectual, psychological, spiritual, and physical burdens that the people I compare myself to ...simply don’t.”  The reason I feel feel like I am at the razor’s edge of losing everything, is because I am trying to do something nearly impossible, and perhaps absolutely impossible to do on my own.

You are not a failure to seek help. You are not dishonoring your body or your mind to take a medicine. You’re not a failure if you need to talk to a psychiatrist. You are not a failure if you believe you have neglected your whole life, for your entire life.  Because I know how hard it is to just make it through the day and still be alive. I know how hard it is to wake up every morning knowing you’re going to make it through this day, by the skin of your teeth, again.

That’s not your fault. The hundreds of things you have to conquer in your mind to make it through every single day - that’s not your fault and I need you to know that I am so. goddamn. proud of you. I’m proud of you because this fight is absurdly difficult. I hope you can trust me in that because at this point I’m an an expert in this fight.  I’m an expert at putting in every last drop of my effort and willpower, just to tie my shoes, get in the car, and drive to work. This fight is not a fair fight. You’ve been fighting an incredibly unfair fight, if not always by yourself, often by yourself ...and that is why I am so goddamn proud of you. 

I am more proud of you than I am of billionaires. I am more proud of you than those people who get to live laugh love their dream life and get paid to travel the world and sample ice cream for their ice cream travel blog. I’m proud of you because I know what you have to do to just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and you don’t get to sample the ice cream flavors of Bangladesh for doing so. 

So I want you to know, again: it’s okay to seek help. It can be a difficult road but I recommend professional help. Some wonderful spiritual books and friends can’t often fight that incredibly unfair fight.  You are a specific person and a mental health practitioner will be able to understand your specific needs and make adjustments as needed. 

I can’t promise you that I will give you exactly what you’re needing but I am here if you need to reach out and want to know more about getting help. I can promise, that if your friends fail to support you in the ways that you need, it’s not because they don’t love you, it’s because they are not professional supports. They haven’t trained for this. Seeking professional support is the way that we begin to believe we are not a burden to our friends and family. 

Even when you never were, it’s the same feeling of asking loved ones casually about some car issues for years, tinkering with your engine for years, then hiring a mechanic. There’s no one in your life who will shame you for seeking a mechanic and you might be amazed at how quickly your car begins to drive more smoothy. 

Anyone who talks negatively about medication, therapy, psychiatry, etc. do not have your well-being in mind.  they are sales people for their own ideologies. It’s not about you it’s about how you should take natural medicine or trust Jesus. There are people who would rather you buy some supplements and remain miserable than to see a professional and be shown that professional help does make a real difference.  it’s best to avoid those folks for a little while.

You are not a failure to seek help.

I am more proud of you billionaires and  professional ice cream tasting supermodels. 

You are fighting a battle you do not deserve to fight alone.

You are absolutely positively not alone.

You’re not a failure to seek help.

Things can get better.

Things will get better.

In the darkest places, reasons to try, to go on, to keep living, are often often nonexistent. I don’t want you to have any hope that things will change. I’m asking you to place a tiny sliver of trust in these things I’m saying. The best recent to do something different and to seek help is going to be, for no reason. The voices in your head will try to stop you and you must tell them, “there is no reason I’m doing this. But I am still going to do it.” Hope will betray you. Friends and family are not professional supports and will let you down because they don’t have any training.

I just want you to place that sliver trust in how I know road will get smoother. Things will get easier. Seeking help is not failure. I’m not asking you to hope I know this. I am asking you to trust that I notice. And I’m asking you to please keep on seeking help even though the help feel sometimes. The system may be broken but system can be a crucial part love you reconnecting with yourself and your inner resources so that you can create your own path of healing.

I’m so incredibly proud of you. thank you for reading all of this and if you choose to, thank you for placing that sliver of trust in these things I’m saying. And if you can’t do anything else, keep being around people you feel good around. The people that do you feel excepted and listen to with, and if you don’t have any of those let me know and I’ll make sure you do. 💛🤍🖤💛🤍🖤

[stark-tony]

If you’re doing fic rec requests, I’d love to see one with future peter! College, adulthood, future relationships, avengers leader, anything!

here you go!

* = incomplete

Sweet Stories and Gentle Goodnights series* by frostysunflowers

summary: 

pairings: michelle/peter

tags: fluff, humor, angst

warnings: character death

I Never Lived ‘Til I Lived In Your Light series* by losingmymindtonight

summary: 

pairings: none

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: character death

Easy Come, Easy Go by losingmymindtonight

summary: Tony Stark spends a lifetime waiting for Peter Parker to leave.But the kid stays. He always stays.

pairings: none 

tags: angst

warnings: character death

built from scraps by peterstank

summary: “Everybody needs someone. That’s what you said, right?” Pepper meets his eyes and he’s struck by the way she’s almost pleading. “We both lost. We can help each other.”

Her hand, palm up and open, stretches into the space between them.

 Peter hesitates.

Then he takes it.

 or: the one where tony was dusted instead of peter, so he and pepper try to figure out the whole ‘family’ thing together. 

(oh, and it turns out that the man who died in peter’s arms on an alien planet is his biological father. who knew, right?)

pairings: pepperony, michelle/peter

tags: angst, fluff

warnings: abuse

Allston Christmas by Gruoch

summary: “You guys didn’t have to do this,” Peter says from where he sits squeezed into the middle seat of the U-Haul, sweat running down his back. The air-conditioning in the truck they’ve rented is broken, and even with the windows rolled down it’s hellishly hot inside. “Really. I could have handled it myself.”

“We wanted to,” Tony replies as he blasts the horn at a minivan with a “Harvard Mom” bumper sticker that is attempting to cut into his lane. “It’s like a little trip down memory lane. It’s nostalgic—it’s gonna be fun. Right, Rhodey?”

“Absolutely,” Rhodey agrees, with all the enthusiasm of a man being lead to the gallows.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

failure’s a stranger we all dream about by searchingforstars

summary: Peter’s professors all seem to know Tony. Instead of calling Peter out for turning in the odd piece of homework late or getting distracted in class like they might do for anyone else, they give him pats on the back in hallways and tell him fondly that, “Tony must be so proud of you, following in his footsteps.”

Tony wouldn’t be, though. Not if he knew how much effort Peter was having to put in to keep his head above the water.

He just wants Tony to be proud of him.

He has to work harder - that’s the only way.

–

or, Peter’s college workload and anxiety makes him worry that maybe he’s not good enough for Tony.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Only Time* by losingmymindtonight

summary: On Titan, Peter Parker survives the Stone’s twisted lottery. Back on Earth, Pepper Potts and May Parker do not.Tony is still left with a shattered world, trying desperately to build something in the wreckage.And the universe is still mourning. It is still seeking revenge.In the end, we will always end up here.

pairings: pepperony

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Irreconcilable by sahiya

summary: “We’ll still be friends, right?” she said, frowning at him over slightly grainy video on his phone. “We said we’d always be friends.”

It sounded unexpectedly plaintive, coming from her. Peter swallowed. We’ll always be friends had seemed easy to promise back in August. It was harder now, with the sting of rejection so fresh. She’d tried to tell him that it was about her, about how she had changed, but he knew it was about him, too. He wasn’t what she wanted.

 “Yeah,” he said dully. “Yeah, of course.”

pairings: michelle/peter

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

The Hoodie™ by coconutknightshade

summary: The one in which Tony overhears Peter telling his roommate that the MIT hoodie he’s wearing is his dads.The one in which Peter never plans to call Tony ‘dad’ to his face but the universe has other plans.

pairings: pepperony, happy/may

tags: fluff

warnings: none

You’ll Be Here (in My Heart) by seekrest

summary: The morning that Tony’s life changed forever began as his days usually began now — shuffling into the kitchen half asleep, going through the motions as he searched for Pepper’s favorite coffee mug.

Tony stifled a yawn, grabbing the Black Panther novelty mug she adored while he grabbed one that Morgan had made them years ago - one that made her now cringe with embarrassment anytime she saw him use it, the childish scribbles that made him laugh.  

He sets Morgan’s creation down on the countertop as he reaches for the Black Panther mug, it being just barely out of reach for when Pepper has put it last.

“Damn thing.” Tony mutters to himself, fingers barely brushing against it before he grabs it - going to set it down on the counter only to be surprised when Pepper walks in from the bedroom, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Morning. You know, you and I need to have a talk about about your choice of mugs. I know T’Challa somehow perfected the cup warmer thing here but you could at least show a little—“

“Michelle’s in labor.”

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

An MIT Halloween by bethy_277

summary: Coming to MIT had been difficult, having almost lost his mentor when he had snapped to save the entire universe, and Peter had really struggled. If it hadn’t been for Ned and Harley- who he had met shortly after he came back and become good friends with- he didn’t think he would have made it past the first few weeks at school. He had called both May and Tony that first week, hysterical and begging to come back to New York. May had been patient, Tony had been ready to get in his car to drive to him to help him through it, and Harley and Ned had been there and talked him down both times.  

**Peter is a college student at MIT and Tony brings Morgan up for some trick-or-treating.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

287 Miles by imgoingtocrash

summary: There’s a long list of things that Tony would rather be doing at six in the morning that don’t involve carrying his seven year old daughter across MIT’s campus in his pajamas and a hoodie from the university that’s older than the student he’s visiting.

However, when Peter calls in the middle of a Wednesday night, Tony answers. That’s the gig, the only one left that matters now that he’s out of the superhero game.

The Great Tony Stark: father/father-figure of two, cares about working for SI when the mood strikes or his wife asks, savior of the universe, otherwise retired at the ripe old age of fifty-four.

Peter calls from MIT in a state of panic. Tony shows up with Morgan in tow, and only kind of makes a big deal out of the whole situation.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

The beauty that she brings by Gruoch

summary: Peter puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder and leans in close, his expression wide-eyed and solemn. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Honestly?” Tony makes a face. “No, I can’t. I really struggle with impulse control and running my mouth when I shouldn’t.”

***

or, old man builds family, lives happily ever after

pairings: michelle/peter, pepperony

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: non-consensual drug use

The Gift by Gruoch

summary: “Dad!” Morgan says, bursting into the room. “Dad—the baby’s on the ceiling.”

“The baby’s on the what now?” Tony asks, getting up to follow her into the living room.

Morgan points up at the ceiling, where baby June is happily crouched upside-down above their heads, offering them a gummy grin.

Tony looks up at her, hands on his hips. June looks back down at him and babbles nonsensically, clearly delighted with her fresh perspective on the world.

“Hm,” Tony says, rubbing a finger over his mustache as he assesses the situation. “Alright, no problem. I’ll get her down—go grab me a broom.”

“Dad!” Morgan says, scandalized. “You can’t just whack the baby off the ceiling with a broom.”

**

Or, Peter stresses, Tony schemes, and baby Jones-Parker keeps everyone on their toes.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

And You’re Miles Away by losingmymindtonight

summary: College is scary, even for teenage superheros.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

This B.S. Better Be Worth It* by losingmymindtonight

summary: Originally, Tony’s plan had been to just surprise Peter with the fact that he would be on campus for a semester.He’d never actually expected Peter to sign up for his class.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

Magic Tree House: Spiders at Sunrise by ciaconnaa

summary: "Trust me, you’ll have so much more fun here,“ Peter tells his daughter. “You get to play with Gerald, swim with Morgan, garden with Pepper -”

“- build a toy airplane with me,” Tony adds.

Peter’s eyes grow comically wide. He lets out a loud, dramatic, shout of anguish before he takes a few steps over and collapses onto the rug, AJ still pressed close to his chest. She starts shrieking with laughter at his theatrics. “No way! A toy airplane?! Tony builds the best stuff! I’m so jealous.”

or;

When MJ needs to study for school and Peter needs to do Official Spidery Things, their daughter gets to stay at Tony’s for a week, much to his delight. They do fun things like eating ice cream and watching movies. They also fall out of a tree house, but that part isn’t so fun.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Candle in the Window  by madasthesea

summary: Finals are over and Peter just wants to go home. The weather has other ideas.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

snapshot  by ciaconnaa

summary: When Tony gets a call at 4am from Peter, he assumes it’s an emergency.

This thought is reinforced when, upon picking up the call, Peter announces, “Hi, I have an emergency.”

or;

Tony suffers a major blood pressure drop, Peter bakes a birthday cake that looked like it was bitten by a radioactive spider, and the two of them look at photos from a time capsule.

pairings: michelle/peter

tags: fluff

warnings: none

a sticky situation by ciaconnaa

summary: “Hey, Tony, look what I can do!”

Of all the things he expected in the grand adventure that is babysitting Peter’s daughter, Tony did not expect to turn his head to find the kid stuck to the ceiling.

Like father, like daughter, it would seem.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

christmas eve car-rides by transpeterp

summary: tony picks peter up from college to get him home in time for christmas;fluff ensues

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

[hideyseek]

50 Questions You’ve Never Been Asked

tagged by @usersoup <3

What is the colour of your hairbrush?  it is .. black and turquoise, though i must admit that since i’ve cut my hair i rarely use it. 

Name a food you never eat? huh. caviar? i tend to forget about the existence of foods i don’t eat until i’m on the instacard website. chocolate ice cream, i guess. that’s like, a normal-person food i never consume.

Are you typically too warm or too cold? i am constantly too cold. as i type this i am in my apartment in sweatpants under a blanket and my roommate is in shorts and a tshirt.

What were you doing 45 minutes ago? mm i was reading a room of one’s own, at risk of sounding like the pretentious humanities major i am. i’m reading it out of desperation (we are in possession of the writer’s block and we would like to give it up as soon as possible), after having had it in my head to read since i came across a lin-manuel miranda tween in like 2015 telling all young writers to read it

What is your favourite candy bar? i don’t really like.. candy. twix or butterfingers, if i had to pick one at gunpoint.

Have you ever been to a professional sports event? yEAH u fucking bet i went to winterguard international championships twice in high school and bands of america championships once (both as part of my school’s winter/colorguard). i’ve never gone to a pro sportsball match though. 

What is the last thing you said out loud? oh, are you really out there alone? (at my roommate, who is on the balcony with a desk lamp rigged up for optimal dirtball making).   

What is your favourite ice cream? vanilla. or hazelnut. i fucking love hazelnut. 

What was the last thing you had to drink? not to associate myself with brands, but i am drinking sprite as i type this. 

Do you like your wallet? yes! i had my wallet nicked on a bus in the middle of the semester and my replacement is a lovely narrow black folding wallet that i am infinitely fond of.

What was the last thing you ate? the dregs of my cheezits, pepper jack flavor

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? mm no, though during my phone call with my grandma earlier this week she told me i should buy more clothes no less than four times. she thinks i should own and wear more “pretty girl clothes” and i haven’t the heart to tell her that i think gender is fake. 

The last sporting event you watched? i participated in a harry potter pub quiz over zoom the other week, if that counts. otherwise, probably something televised and american football related, several months ago.

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn? KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN

Who is the last person you sent a text message to? oH thank god i have an interesting answer to this one -- my stage manager/playwright friend, whose recent play i am dying to get a copy of.

Ever go camping? yeah. my family used to go every august with some family friends. 

Do you take vitamins? mm just vitamin d. (fuck off this was not meant to be a dick joke).

Do you go to church every Sunday? nah.

Do you have a tan? not anymore... even during the semester i spend most of my time underground in a basement rehearsal space or in the on-campus computer labs. (hence the vitamin d)

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? these are?? not equivalent at all in terms of scope? chinese food, of course. 

Do you drink your soda with a straw? nah. can-to-mouth for me. 

What colour socks do you usually wear? depends on how cold i am: i have some very lovely warm purple socks and some red and black socks that my dear friend gifted me for christmas last? year? but otherwise i have just sports shoes height white socks and black socks.

Do you ever drive above the speed limit? i am gay, i do not drive.

What terrifies you? failure, mostly. i hate that that’s my answer, but there you go. failure, or being putting myself in a situation where i don’t really have a choice in what happens to me.  

Look to your left, what do you see? mm, i just moved from the study to bed so: the empty space in the loft bed railing where the ladder is, a blank wall, the edge and hinges of the bedroom wall.

What chore do you hate? none, really? i’ll get really passive-aggressive about some of the small apartment tidying things in my head, but not often enough that anything comes to mind now. 

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? how my linguistics prof last semester had folks self-identify if they spoke non-american english in the middle of lecture

What’s your favourite soda? hm, hm. oH. there’s a vietnamese sandwich place in my hometown that has the best lychee soda. (a handful of google image searches informs me this is elisha aerated brand)

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? hm, most of the time when i’m going to fast food i’m going to in-n-out with either a pile of theater people or my high school friend group, so sitting. er, going in.

Who’s the last person you talked to? roommates, in person. 

Favourite cut of beef? i could not name cuts of beef if u asked me to really nicely. actually jk i know uh, ox... oxtail? i like oxtail soup.

Last song you listened to? am in the middle of listening to trenchh by cavetown but i’ve been alternating fob and cavetown and bastille on shuffle on spotify.

Last book you read? ella enchanted by gail carson levine, because it is my #1 comfort book.

Favourite day of the week? i like thursdays. they just sound nice.

Can you say the alphabet backwards? if i had like, several minutes, i probably could do it. but everything after w would involve me counting (counting? reciting?) from the beginning.

How do you like you coffee? i’ll drink it any way but black. i have discovered i do not like dalgona coffee. but i like the dark chocolate mocha that peet’s does in the winter a ridiculous amount.

Favourite pair of shoes? i have this pair of converse that’s grey stripes that always makes me feel like a Cool Arts Student, even though it’s actively terrible for my arches. 

The time you normally go to bed? to bed? midnightish. to being asleep? usually 1-2ish. 

The time you normally get up? eleven in the morning, apparently, since that’s what’s been happening now that i’m not setting alarms. during the school year, usually 7:30 or 8 because i work in the scene shop half the mornings of the week.

What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? conceptually? sunsets. aesthetically? also sunsets. metaphorically, though, i prefer sunrises.

How many blankets on your bed? i’ve got a blanket (duvet, maybe? comforter? i have never really vibed with these western concepts of bedding) and another knitted blanket. 

Describe your kitchen plates: black and square and slightly chipped because roommates and i get a bit aggressive with cramming them onto the drying rack. 

Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage? i like hard cider. (i like soft cider better than hard cider, but the apple taste drowns out the alcohol taste enough for me to have a pretty good time.) 

Do you play cards? haha yeah. whenever i’m home i play 24 with my little brother and lose a lot. or my family’ll play 21. or BS, which i fucking hate because i cannot lie for shit.

What colour is your car? still gay, still don’t drive.

Can you change a tire? mmmmmmmmmmm no. i have a shocking lack of car-related life skills for someone holding down a job that mostly involves wrenches. 

Your favourite province? oh boy. hubei province, bc there’s no country specification and this feels less impersonal than if i were to just point somewhere in australia. 

Favourite job you’ve ever had? hm, let’s limit this to work i’ve done for money, just to narrow the field down. (i tend to like the work i do a lot.) i really really enjoy working as a sound technician, especially as a mic assistant (it checks my “meeting people” box and my “helping people with their emotions” box and my “storytelling for an audience” box because at the theater i work at, pre-show mic check is me talking about my day and has resulted in a handful of people telling me i should try standup). the hours and pay are kind of crap, though. you don’t get friday nights when your friday nights are spent backstage of the same show you’ve heard twenty million times at this point. i also enjoy teaching computer science, because i just fucking like computer science. christ, i just,, miss being at work :c the production of newsies i was gonna do this summer got canceled. 

How did you get your biggest scar? mm, pass. 

What did you do today that made someone else happy? i, hm. everything that comes to mind feels vaguely manipulative, since i can’t really tell if people were made happy? oh! i had an extended slack conversation with one of the academic interns for the cs class i help teach that was basically just us bonding over word humor. he seems like the kind of person who would have gotten a kick out of it. 

I tag: @kittog @wali21 @capt-ann @lemon-yellow @iamanonniemouse @raccoon-sex-dungeon @snakesonacartesianplane @eternalflarg @swimmingseafish (do it if u want! don’t let me bully u into anything)