#if you saw the original that i forgot to reschedule no you didn’t

[calsvoid]

seblaine (the unsent project’s version)

It takes everything in me not to call you.

10 Days of Seblaine 2024: Texting/Phone Calls

posting this now because the event got delayed and i thought i should get it out sooner than later lol

[nasaty]

Forget me not

Aizawa-Sensei x Y/n-Sensei fic

TW: (eventually) violence, discussion of past death, just some bad feelings all around.

Part 5/??

You continued teaching Shinso privately for a few weeks, going between working on his quirk specifically, and some light training with the staff. One morning, you made your way over to the patch in the woods that you usually work at, but saw both Shinso and Aizawa there already.

“Umm, did I get the day wrong or something?” You asked.

“Oh shoot I forgot! I’m sorry. I had to move my time with Aizawa-Sensei because of a test and forgot when we usually work.”

“It’s okay. You continue with Aizawa and we can just reschedule.”

A deep gravelly voice spoke, “Y/n-Sensei, you can stay here I’ll just reschedule with Shinso.” ‘Is that what Aizawa sounds like in the morning?’ You thought.

“…couldn’t you guys both teach me…?”

“I guess, yeah.” You answered.

“We could…try and combine it?” Aizawa suggested.

“Like combine the staff and the cloth? That could be interesting….” You were intrigued. This could be a really good way of combating, and it’s so new that it would be hard for anyone, including villains, to evade. “Yeah let’s try it out.”

You gave Shinso his staff and he unwrapped his binding cloth. All three of you hypothesized different ways for it to be used. You could use the end of the staff to push the thick side of the cloth around with centripetal force or loop it around the end to toss it.

“Maybe we should improve on the staff…” you add. “We could put some sort of hook or edge on one side, and maybe a small rubber end for grip? I can talk to support about it if you guys are interested.” You walked closer to Aizawa and pointed out the places you could enhance.

“That’s….genius.” Aizawa was looking at you, mouth slightly open and smirking. He put his hands next to yours and you looked up at him shyly until you both realized why you were there.

You jumped at his hands grazing yours, “Uhm… yeah so I’ll go talk to support.”

“..ahh. Sounds good and I think we’re done for the day.” Aizawa said, much more lively than earlier that morning. He waited for you to make you way to the building so he didn’t have to awkwardly walk beside you.

—————-

A few weeks later and A day or so before you’re supposed to meet for lunch again, Aizawa emailed you.

“Y/n-Sensei,

I regretfully have to postpone our lunch for this week as I have a meeting that I am being forced to attend against my will, (god dammit, Hizashi)”

You chuckled. It’s ridiculous how much more respectable you’ve both been to each other lately. Toshinori was right. You texted Toshi that you’ve got to buy him a coffee later, and continued reading Aizawa’s email.

“I was hoping to offer you dinner in place of our usual visit. Please consider accompanying me on our regular lunch date of this coming Wednesday, at 7:00pm.

A.S.”

‘Good fucking god what is that supposed to be? Is he asking me out on a date?!’ You thought. Absolutely freaking out, you decided to find Toshinori and ask him what he thought about it. Maybe having a mans perspective would help? And it’s not like you could as Hizashi, he would blurt it to the whole school.

You walked to the teachers lounge in an attempt to find Toshinori as he usually spent most of his free time there rather than in his office. He probably liked having the company. You heard your heels click on the ground while you walk and you felt powerful, until you opened the lounge door and saw Aizawa sitting on the couch grading papers. You thought maybe he didn’t see you and you could sneak away, but he saw you. He hummed a bit signifying you being welcome to enter but you froze.

“Everything alright y/n?” Toshinori popped his head out of the book he was reading. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Ahh…umm..I’m uhh…” you stammered.

Aizawa looked at you with furrowed brows and a small smile on his face. It looked like he was trying to decipher whatever was happening with you.

“I’m alright!” You blurted and turned to walk out of the lounge. Toshinori looked back and forth between the door and Aizawa a few times.

“What was that about, do you think..?” He asked Aizawa.

Aizawa shrugged and went back to grading. Toshinori decided to follow you and ask what the trouble was. Aizawa was lucky you both left because he was desperately trying to not turn bright red. He was tapping his foot and chewing on his pen until Toshi left the room. Once he left, Aizawa sighed longingly and let himself blush.

Toshinori caught up to you in the hallway as you were walking back to your office.

“Y/n are you sure you’re alright?”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. “IgotanemailfromAizawaandIthinkheaskdmeoutonadateandIhavenoideawhattothinksoIwenttofindyouandhewasinthereandI’mfreakingout!”

“Y/n you’re going to have to slow down.”

You shoved your phone with the email still up in his face.

“Oh wow…. This is…formal…” Toshinori breathed.

You buried your face in your hands as you turned bright red.

“This situation has changed a lot since the last time I spoke to you about him….” Toshi observed.

“Do you think it’s a date? Or do you think this is just him moving our appointment? We’ve been getting lunch every week to discuss Shinso’s progress.”

“Um….if this isn’t a date I need to reevaluate my life.” Toshi clapped his hand over his wide smile. “A.S.?” He laughed so hard he coughed up blood.

“Oh my god stop it Toshi.” You playfully smack his arm as he’s laughing. “You have to keep this a secret!”

Someone steps up to both of you, “Hmm?”

Aizawa stood there intimidatingly drinking the last of his coffee with an unamused face. You froze and Toshi leaned down to you to hand your phone back slowly.

“Well I’d better get going, nice to see you y/n. Aizawa.” Toshi ditched as fast as humanly possible leaving you holding your phone with Aizawa’s email up on it like the email itself would kill you. He slowly moved in toward you to take your phone and you shuddered. At the last second you tossed your phone to your other hand and straight armed his chest to keep him from taking it. His intimidating facade disappeared as he smirked with a spark in his eye. You laughed and tried to hold him back but he got through your defenses.

He reached out for your phone and you spun and ran down the hallway to your office. As soon as he realized where you were going he followed you, almost wiping out turning the corner. You stood in the middle of your office and attempted a stance to hold him back. Once he reached your office he slowed down dramatically, he moved in with a devilish smirk on his face and you started biting your lip.

He faked you out so he could get past you without hurting you and you ended up being pressed chest to chest with your arm out as far as possible, still clutching your phone. He looked down at you hungrily and your eyes widened. Instead of reaching for your phone, he raised his hands to hold your face in between them, pulled you close to him and kissed you hard. You gasped and melted into the kiss and put your hands on his chest.

Suddenly he pulled away grabbed your phone and jumped to the other side of the room. You were in a daze. He opened your phone to see his email to you on the screen.

“So this is your secret with Yagi? Me asking you on a date?” He asked.

“So it is a date!” You exclaimed and pointed at him. He lightly took your finger in his hand and held it.

“Of course it is, moron, what the hell else?” He rolled his eyes, still smiling.

“…I mean we were doing this to help Shinso.”

“Originally yeah, but we haven’t hardly talked about Shinso in weeks.” He explained.

You racked your brain to remember past conversations involving Shinso at lunch. You couldn’t remember the last time. Before you could speak again. He took your hand, which was still holding your pointer finger out, turned it and gave you a soft kiss on the top of your knuckles.

His sensual expression faded. “If you don’t want it to be a date it doesn’t have to be. We can go back to what we were like before…”

“I..uh….I..” you said totally dumb founded.

He placed your hand at your side, handed you your phone and said “consider it.” He walked out of your office with his hands in his pockets looking at the ground.

————————

You paced in your office for a while thinking of what to do. Did UA have a fraternizing policy? Was this all a joke? There’s no way he actually like you…right? How could he. He was incredible. One of the youngest to ever become a UA faculty member, he made accomplishment after accomplishment and you never measured up. Is there any way this could be real?

Despite this, you decided to email him back.

“Aizawa-Sensei,

I accept your invitation to postpone our upcoming meeting until that evening. I would like to accompany you to dinner, if you’ll still have me.”

You didn’t know what else to say do you sent it, and got almost an immediate reply.

“Y/n-Sensei,

Of course I’ll still have you. Always will.

A.S.

PS: I heard from support course and they have finished prototypes of the staffs you were working on. They’d like us to try them out tomorrow, if you’re available.”

Your heart stopped for a second. How was he this sweet? You knew the formality of everything was just him being a dork and flirting, but it still was really cute. And how adorable was he when he was trying to grab your phone, his lips pouted trying to reach past you…

You returned to reality. Maybe this is just a fling, a one time thing. Just something two adults do when they’re bored and nothing else. ‘There’s no way he would want to date you’ you thought. That would be irrational.

[mrcurrygoestospain]

Camino De Santiago - Round 5

Spain travel log, 2021…

Day One:

September 20 - Depart Seattle for Madrid, by way of London. There were plenty of issues just getting to this point. In addition to the ongoing concerns over COVID-19, or perhaps because of them, I had some serious concerns about whether I could and whether I should do this trip at all. In the end, I think I simply realized that it was totally appropriate for me to go on this trip: I’ve been “responsible” and taken the full round of vaccinations, generally avoided social contacts with people and been diligent about the masks. So I made my reservations and thought everything was fine. About 2 weeks before takeoff, I got an email from Iberia that one of my flights had been changed. When I looked into it, I found that it was the connecting flight from London to Madrid and the schedule had been bumped up by about 6 hours taking me from having a 2 hour layover in Heathrow to needing to be on a plane for Madrid 4 hours before I actually landed in London and would be able to board it… It took attempts at phone calls over several days to get this corrected. Finally, I tried while I was at top work one morning around 5:00 am. I finally got through and a nice lady helped rebook my connecting flight. She found the only available flight on that day that would work; now I have a seven hour layover.

I prepped for my trip, checklists and routes planned. I arrived at the airport 3 hours early, just in case. Although I booked with Iberia, it was a British flight. So standing in line at the BA counter in SeaTac, I saw the sign: “All passengers must show proof of a negative COVID test.” What? I’d already checked multiple times; I only need proof of vaccination to get into Spain. I check the internet. Sure enough, if you’re on a layover in England, you need a negative test…A quick Google search helped me find a testing center at SeaTac airport, so I rushed down to baggage claim number nine to see if I could get a test in time. In all honesty, I really thought I wasn’t going to make it and I’d have to try to contact the airline again to find a way to reschedule my flight. I stood in the line for what seemed like forever, but finally had the privilege of paying $250 for a rapid COVID test. T- minus 2 hours 30 minutes to departure and they promised results in 1-1.5 hours. The test itself was relatively painless. After all of the horror stories I’d heard about the nasal swabs, I was a bit worried. But it didn’t hurt, it just tickled a little bit. I waited, and waited…it seemed like they would never have my results. While I waited, I heard stories from other travelers who had missed flights or rebooking because of these ridiculous COVID-related requirements. One young Canadian lady I spoke to shared that she’d spent over $1000 on COVID tests in the last month due to traveling. I guess my $250 wasn’t so much.

I finally got my negative test results and rushed back to the check in counter, filled out the required government forms and headed through security. The flight was delayed.

After a nine hour flight to London, I had seven or eight hours to kill in Heathrow Airport, Terminal 5, before boarding my flight to Madrid. I shopped, I ate, I listened to podcasts. I took a few naps and generally cursed British Airways for changing my original flight. Some Italian guy made quite a scene at the boarding gate for the flight to Madrid. The gate agent handled it quite well and passive-aggressively punished him for his demeanor.

I arrived in Madrid after an easy flight on Iberia, made my way to the metro and on to my Hostel. It was a nice enough place. After 28 hours of travel, I was ready for a shower and bed.

Day 2:

On my one day in Madrid, I walked from my hostel/hotel to the Museo Nacional del Prado. It’s Spain’s greatest art museum. This was my second time there and I spent a lot more of it. There are so many amazing pieces and, for someone who used to truly despise art, it was amazing. I highly recommend it. I haven’t been to a whole lot of art museums, but it is, by far, my favorite. I followed that with a walk through the Royal Botanical Gardens. I’m sure they’re great when all of the flowers are blooming, but in early fall, it’s just a lot of green. Either way, it was still peaceful. I visited another nearby park, walked around and viewed the statues, and then made my way back towards the hotel and passed it to go to the Cathedral opposite the royal palace. It’s a much more modern cathedral than the ones I’ll see on the Camino, but still impressive.

Day 3:

On the morning of the third day, I got up early and got packed. Took the metro to the train station and purchased a ticket to Leon. After two hours on the train, I took a 20 minute walk to the hotel and dropped off my bag, and then spent the next few hours wandering the city. I found a barber and got a haircut for 9 Euro, quite a bargain. Stopped at the “Taste of America” shop to get a bottle of hot sauce (Cholula, of course), and just meandered around the city until I could get checked in at the hotel. It was a pretty uneventful day, which is just what I needed. I was still very tired from all of the traveling and trying to swap schedules.

Day 4:

I got up late, around 8:00 AM and started walking the city. I stopped for a cafe con leche and met a Scottish couple who had been walking the Camino for the last few weeks. While we waited out the rain under cover, the shared with me some of their other walking adventures, including tales of walking through the Swiss Alps on the Via Francigena, a pilgrimage route to Rome. I may have to look into that for a future trip. I also shared with them my plans/considerations of taking a walk on the “Great Glen Way” in Scotland. The wife had already done this and highly recommended it, along with the West Highland Way. Both are approximately 5-day walks through some of the wild country of Scotland. When the rain let up, we parted ways and I went to tour the Cathedral, toured the Basilica of Saint Isidore and wandered around town, shopping and eating. Inside the Saint Isidore museum and basilica, i had the opportunity to see what is referred to as the “Sistine Chapel of Romanesque Art” as well as a gold and silver cup that some historians claim is the “holy grail.”

Day 5:

Didn’t sleep much…I forgot how much they like to party in Spain. It was LOUD all night long. Anyway, started my walk. Today was about 27 km and it rained through about 50% of the day. It was a mix of roads and dirt tracks. I only saw one other pilgrim, a Spaniard who doesn’t speak any English. I got ahead of him and had stopped for a rest at a picnics table on top of a mountain. He showed up a few minutes behind me and I tried to chat for a minute, but the language barrier…. I offered him half of my tangerine and then he took off again. I passed him up later. I had been slightly worried about where to stay for the night as the municipal albergue in this province/state are currently closed due to the ‘Rona, but when I got to town I found a pension with rooms available. The lovely lady named Susana showed me to a room and also worked tirelessly to make me a reservation for the following night. I hadn’t eaten much for the day, so I ordered big: hot dog and patatas oil bravas. Patatas bravas is a traditional dish in Spain which is made of fried potatoe cubes that are covered in a (typically) spicy tomato sauce. Potatoes Ali Oli are the same fried potatoes but with a garlic cream sauce instead of the spicy sauce. This one combined both sauces. It was nice. The inside of the restaurant/bar/cafe was very loud with a bunch of men playing a card game I’m not familiar with, so I went outside to have a beer. An older Spaniard, named Hilario, came out and started trying to talk to me. I explained that I am American and I don’t speak much Spanish, but he disagreed. So he went inside and got another man, a Hungarian who had been in Spain for the last 25 years, named Fernanco(?) who was extremely drunk, to come out and talk to me. He was so drunk, he introduced himself as “muy borracho” or “very drunk” and the proceeded to tell me that he used to be a muy Thai fighter and a coal miner and now he was just a fat drunk who collected money from the government because he got hit in the head too many times. At least I THINK that’s what they were saying…. I went to bed early to get a good rest and let my aching feet and hips recover before a long day tomorrow….from La Robla to Poladura, should be about 25km or so with some very intense climbs. We’ll see.

I’m currently on the Camino San Salvador, which is a route from Leon to Oviedo. They say “whoever goes to Santiago without visiting Oviedo, goes to the servant but not to the Lord.” This is because Oviedo is famous for having a specific relic. While most people are aware of the Shroud of Turin, which is the burial cloth of Jesus, many don’t know (including me, until recently) that traditional Jewish burial included placing a cloth over the face of the deceased immediately after death and until the body was prepared for burial. This cloth would then be removed and the full-body cloth would be applied. So anyway, this Cathedral boasts possession of the face covering that was placed over Jesus’ head, likely immediately after the spear pearled his side and before he was brought down off of the cross. Once I complete the Camino San Salvador (about 5 days, I hope), I will continue on to the Camino Primitivo, one of the many Camino’s de Santiago. So the Camino San Salvador goes to the relics of Christ and the Camino Santiago (Santiago = Saint James) goes to the resting place and remains of Saint James (the major), also known as “Santiago Matamoros” or “Saint James the Moor Slayer”, the patron saint of Spain.

[capesandshapes]

The Last Resort: Chapter 5 (Adrinette)

Summary: After an akuma attack goes wrong, Adrien finally learns Ladybug’s secret identity and finds himself falling even deeper in love with his friend. He thinks he’s finally gotten lucky when she declares to him that she’s currently in the business of falling love with anyone but her previous crush… until that crush turns out to be him. Now Adrien has to somehow convince the girl of his dreams to fall back in love with him, while keeping his own identity a secret from her. Well, if there was one thing his father taught him, it was how to multitask. Chapter Summary: Don't Answer Your Phone, I Think This Might Be a Date  The first half of Adrien and Marinette's date goes off with many a hitch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things in life do not often go the way you plan.

This was something that Adrien already knew firsthand and would rather have not learned over again. In fact, if there were a night for everything to go right, then preferably it would have been the one that he set to go on his first date with Marinette on. If the universe had any sense of kindness, it would have allowed him that. But it didn’t, because despite being a world-famous model and a professional superhero, the world often seemed to conspire against Adrien Agreste.

He’d spent the whole night researching movies, picking an obscure fashion film with a romantic subplot that Marinette would definitely be interested in. He’d picked the perfect time, the perfect theater, and the perfect clothes for said event.

But things could never really be perfect. Unbeknownst to Adrien, a Chef had lost one of his Michelin stars that night and would be akumatized half an hour before his movie would start. Beknownst to him, the chef’s akumatization would last up until the end of their film, and his special power would be firing shrimp scampi at the people of Paris.

The results of said akumatization were the following: A text from Marinette asking if they could reschedule the viewing to later that night (impossible, seeing as how he’d booked tickets to the movie’s last showing), and no less than five showers for Adrien. But he wouldn’t let it get him down, he couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his hands.

Which was how Adrien Agreste ended up sneaking Marinette Dupain Cheng into his home around 7:30, careful not to alert his father’s watchdog of an assistant as he snuck her into his room to watch some movies before the night was over. Even though the girl seemed excited, he couldn’t help but admit that this was one of the stupidest things he would ever do. The chat on his phone between Nino, Alya, and him reassured him of this fact.

“Wow,” Marinette breathed as soon as the door closed behind her, “and Alya said that my balcony was excessive.” It was an act, of course, Ladybug had been in his room more times than he could count. Still, he had to admire just how genuine everything sounded.

“What, you mean a rock-climbing wall, skateboard ramps, and a Dance Dance Revolution machine from Japan aren’t the usual?”  He joked, earning him the slightest shoulder bump.

“Maybe amongst world-renown models…”

“Who would have thought that the international pretty boys club was a privileged few?” Adrien smiled, feeling a little more confident about his change in plans. “Couch is over there,” he informed her with a gesture towards it, “but movies are upstairs.”

“You pick out the movie, I have to text Alya,” Marinette shrugged, approaching his couch. “She’s having some difficulty with the homework.”

“Oh?” Evidently, Marinette forgot that there was no homework. It was obvious what she was up to, but he wasn’t too concerned about it. Sure, he thought that Alya would wait until after the date to begin texting, but considering the way she’d blown up his phone earlier that day, he wasn’t too surprised to hear that she’d been contacting Marinette as well.

Adrien quickly descended up the stairs to the second level of his room, making a beeline for the large section of DVDs that his library held. Thankfully, his father had brought a wide variety of movies for Adrien to watch, likely hoping that it would dissuade him from wanting to go outside. Of course, now that he went out whether or not his father wanted him to, the majority of the DVDs were unwatched. He scanned through them, mentally asking himself what Nino would do.

Nino had a taste for American movies, so his eyes drifted away from the French sorted titles and into the English ones. No one did movies like the United States, there were always massive explosions and exciting car crashes. Of course, Marinette wouldn’t really be into that stuff, and watching a romance movie felt like it’d raise expectations a bit. A comedy movie? He couldn’t imagine watching something like Shrek with Ladybug… Disney, then? Maybe something with big musical numbers?

Or a horror movie so she’ll snuggle a little closer, a devilish voice whispered in the back of his head; he could have sworn it sounded like Alya. She had suggested that they went to a horror movie at the theater originally.

“I mean, it couldn’t hurt,” he mumbled to himself, “not too scary, though.” He settled on a campy looking horror film, one with a cover that showed the killer right under the title so that there were no surprises.

Grabbing the movie as well as a nondescript comedy film, he leaned over the guardrails of the upper level to steal a glance at her. Strangely though, her demeanor had changed from the way she was just a few seconds ago, her body language tight as she furiously typed on her phone. Of course, he couldn’t see what she was typing from where he was, but he did catch a glimpse of the tight frown painted across her lips.

“Everything okay?” He asked, leaning a little bit further over the bars.

Marinette let out a yelp, accidentally smacking her phone to her nose.

“Marinette?”

“Of course!” She replied, looking to him with an overly broad smile that made him feel like she was anything but okay. “I think Alya’s just… Not understanding the context of the homework, so I’m trying to explain it to her. You know, like a good friend.”

“You’re a very good friend,” Adrien replied with a laugh. “Though I have to admit, hearing you talk to Alya about this assignment is a little worrying, I don’t remember getting any assignments lately.” He couldn’t resist teasing her. “Maybe I forgot?”

“Well, it’s one that Alya missed the other day.”

“That’s strange, I also don’t remember Alya missing any school lately,” he grinned, stepping down from the bars to descend the staircase.

“Well, you must not have realized. I mean, we sit behind you so…” Marinette attempted to look relaxed, but he could tell how uncomfortable she was with her lie. Her phone rumbled once more and her hand flew to it, pinning it against the wood with a nervous smile. What were they talking about?

“I actually look back pretty often, especially lately,” Adrien admitted, holding up both cases for her inspection as he exited the staircase. “Your choice for which movie goes first.”

Another buzz, Marinette gave her phone another slam like that would end the messages. “The one on the left,” she breathed hastily.

“Horror it is, then,” he muttered, approaching the tv and trying to ignore the way that she quickly picked up her phone, furiously typing to someone else. He sighed, locating his DVD player and opening the disk slot. It was a little disheartening to not hold her full attention on their first date, but he understood.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marionette’s eyes widen as her phone vibrated once more. Furiously, she stabbed the phone a few times.

By the time he’d turned around, however, she was holding the button to turn off her phone, visibly breathing heavily. Not exactly how he imagined that night going.

“S-sorry,” she stuttered.

“It’s fine,” he said, trying to push back the small tinge of worry that was rising in him.

Once the DVD was properly set up and play was pressed, he walked back to the couch, settling himself close to Marinette. She sat a little bit straighter as his thighs brushed against her, the pink on her cheeks providing just a little bit of relief to Adrien. She couldn’t be over him yet; there was still something there. Daringly, he shifted a little bit closer, his arm just about to wrap around her when--

Beep, Beep!

Blinking, he shifted and his hand reached for his back pocket. However, before he could even begin to approach his phone, Marinette’s hands laced through his fingers, her face painted a dark red.

“Don’t,” she mumbled.

“Marinette?” He asked.

Another beep and Marinette’s face turned darker if that was even possible.

“Marinette…?” He trailed off, looking down at how her then tightening hand. “I think you should let go, it might be something important.”

She sank into the couch, shaking her head wildly at him. “Don’t look at it, I’m begging you. Please don’t look at it.”

“I can’t just ignore it, what if it’s--”

“It’s not,” she interrupted. “Trust me, it’s not.”

“You don’t want me to look at the phone,” he acknowledged, taking in the mortified expression on her face. “Why, is it something bad?”

“Yes,” she grimaced.

“Embarrassing?”

She nodded.

He took her in, her tensed shoulders and pursed lips. He acknowledged the width of her eyes, the paleness to her skin, and the desperate way she clung to his hand. He saw all of it and he realized… He kind of liked it, just a little bit. Marinette was always nervous around him, of course, but he never really got to enjoy the effect that he had on her.

Knowing that she was Ladybug and knowing that Marinette would only put up with so much from Chat Noir, he sort of wanted to take advantage of his situation a little bit and watch her squirm. Was he a bad guy for that? Maybe but life was fun when you were bad every once in a while.

“I’m going to read it,” he announced, the corner of his mouth twitching. Marinette had just begun to launch into a long list of reasons why he shouldn’t do it, but curiosity would always win out when it came to Adrien Agreste.

A few things happened at once. Adrien’s free hand dove back into his jean pocket, digging his phone out. Marinette, seeing the danger, promptly reached for his wrist, attempting to stop him. And Adrien, not expecting the girl to be so bold with his civilian self, found himself tangled in her, his phone still in his hand but his body unable to bring it to his face.

Unbeknownst to Marinette, he was already pretty well versed in the whole ‘people trying to hold him down and take things out of his hands’ sort of thing. With what was likely a shit-eating grin, he took advantage of their situation, allowing himself to fall against the couch and take Marinette with him. His side flopped against the white leather, Marinette landing on his chest half a second later with a small squeak.

One glimpse at her flustered face and he couldn’t help but laugh, taking advantage of her nerves and managing to wrestle his hands out of her grasp. Triumphantly, he held his phone in front of his face, his thumb pressing against the on button only to…

“Hey!” He chuckled, bolting upwards as Marinette’s back fell against the couch, the prized phone in her grasp. Obviously, she had much to learn when it came to playfighting, such as never to let your enemy get you on your back.

Shaking his head to himself, he let himself fall on top of her. The splaying of his arms and legs ensured that he did not touch the girl, but effectively trapped her against the couch. Her eyes shut tight and her body wrapped protectively around the phone, she didn’t acknowledge him, except when...

PSH, another gust of air blew up Marinette’s nose. The girl’s eyes shot open, her limbs practically springing open and nearly causing her to drop the phone. The girl on the television screen screamed in the distance, but she couldn’t be experiencing even half of the terror Marinette was then.

“Boo,” Adrien breathed, his face lingering dangerously close to hers. It’d be so easy to bridge the gap and kiss her then, but somehow, he withheld.

Marinette released a whimper, her fingers flexing against the back of the phone.

Adrien glowed in response, another laugh dancing at the back of his throat.

He could have stayed like that forever, his green eyes gazing into her baby blues, her hot breath beating against his skin, the girl that he loved laying flustered beneath him. But Marinette couldn’t, that was evident. “It’s a joke,” she said, “Alya’s telling you a joke. Ha ha, it’s very funny but…” She shoved the phone towards his chest, obviously hoping that that would lure him away.

“You’re this worked up over a joke?” He asked, easily accepting the phone but not so easily pulled away from her. He sat back up on the couch, part of him noting that at least a quarter of the movie had gone by during their antics. Pressing his finger to the scanner, the phone unlocked.

“Well, it’s…” She swallowed, still laying on the couch beside him. “I…”

Hey Adrien, just trying to clear things up for Marinette here.

When you asked her to go out with you and spend time alone… That was a date, right?

He paled at Alya’s message.

“Crazy, right?” Marinette babbled beside him, her eyes glued to the ceiling as she didn’t dare move. “Absolutely insane.”

He couldn’t help the way that his heart dropped, and he couldn’t fight the way that his mouth grew dry. He stared so intensely at the message that it might as well have been tattooed inside of his eyelids. Was he stupid? Maybe a little bit, perhaps he’d gotten his hopes up too far and now Marinette would be rejecting both Adrien and Chat Noir. Just fun times between friends, that’s all this would ever be.

“Adrien?” She asked cautiously.

Give up, screamed the voice at the back of his head. That voice didn’t belong to anyone but himself, yet it felt like a chorus sung by the rest of the world. Still, he was a superhero, he was Adrien Agreste; and he was in love, that had to count for something.

“This is a date,” he readied himself for whatever would come next, “I’m trying to date you, Marinette, but you’re making it very hard.”

[our-heroes-rise]

Hi there!!! First time requesting... I'll use this chance to request a Midoriya x reader story where reader is small breasted, tall, thin, shy at the beginning, cheerful when they're comfortable, nerd, gamer, wears glasses, brunette and olive skinned. I'll leave the plot on your capable hands, I just want a happy ending, please!!! Izuku and reader ending up together!!! Thank you so much!!!

i think i had a bit too much fun writing this, haha. i deeply apologize for the ridiculously long wait though, hun, and i hope you enjoy what i’ve written for you. i rewrote this three times then finally got something i was happy with on the third try. think i’ll try to incorporate the “realistic” messages more often, they’re sure fun to make. anyway, hope you like it!

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Your fingers thrummed anxiously against the hardwood table as you stared blankly at the textbook before you, not at all taking in the very much helpful information it provided for figuring out the problem you had been stuck on for the past ten minutes. It wasn’t entirely your fault that you couldn’t bring yourself to focus though.

Ten minutes. They were all ten minutes late.

It wasn’t normal for all of them to be late. Momo was always on time -- always early, in fact. She never allowed herself to be less than five minutes early. Which was why you were extremely surprised when you entered the small coffee shop to find your friend’s usual table vacant of the beautiful high black ponytail.

There were no new messages in the group chat, you had already checked about a million times since you had arrived.

Nothing to let you know that anyone would be running late, or had canceled plans. It was so unlike Momo -- so unlike everyone, honestly. And it made you nervous.

Had something happened to them? Did a message not get through to you or something? What if they had all said that they couldn’t make it and he showed up expecting everyone to be here but all he found was you sitting at a table by yourself? Oh God, that would make it look like you lied to him. Would he be mad and want to leave? Why would he want to stay? He had probably only said he would come because he didn’t want you to feel bad if he rejected your offer.

That didn’t make sense anyway, he was in the group chat so even if you didn’t get the message that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Why would he even bother coming then?

Dear Lord, you wished your brain would shut up.

Two years. Two whole stupid years you have had a crush on him and never once had you tried to “shoot your shot”, as Mina would put it. You would face a hundred villains and All Might himself before you decided to muster up the courage to shoot your dumb friggin shot and face the possible embarrassment of rejection. It had taken you months to actually stand there like a big girl and have a decent conversation with him without stumbling over your words and averting your eyes away from him every two seconds. Then even longer to just ask him to hang out with you.

But not alone. God, no, not alone. You had to have other people there or else it would be too intimate, at least with other people you could have other things to distract yourself with if things got awkward. Keeping up a conversation with people you liked or weren’t extremely familiar with wasn’t exactly your forte. Your brain always seemed to draw a blank, which made normal human interaction a pain.

If you got stuck alone here with him you weren’t sure that you could forgive your friends for ditching, unless something really serious had happened. Geez, how would you even focus on your work? The study session hadn’t entirely been a ploy made up by your friends and yourself just to get to spend time with your crush. You had actually planned to study for the upcoming math test. You weren’t exactly terrible at math. Usually, you didn’t have much of a problem with it, but this unit had been utter hell, to put it bluntly. If someone is trying to become a hero, why do they need to know how to calculate the length and space between a curve on a graph? Really, what was the point?

A shrill ping echoed through your headphones, interrupting your blaring music and causing you to flinch slightly out of your thoughts.

Your eyes narrowed as they trailed further and further down the paragraph, suspicion settling into the pit of your stomach. All three of your most family-oriented friends forgot they had previous arrangements with their families? Doubtful. Mina getting food poisoning sounded about right, she sat with Sero and Kaminari during lunch sometimes, who are always daring her to eat disgusting food combinations. Jirou offering to help take care of said sick Mina? Absolutely not. Jirou can not stand to be around sick people, it grosses her out. She would rather spend ten minutes flirting with Bakugou than smell another person’s food-poison vomit.

If they had wanted to lie they should have tried a little harder to make it believable.

You weren’t going to call them out on it, though. Not once the realization dawned on you that your friends had, in undeniable fact now, left you all alone with your crush. And on purpose.

Why do they hate me?!

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, at a loss for what to say, until you saw his message slide through the chat.

Your heart lurched into your throat at his question. Now was your chance to ditch, to reschedule the plans for another time, and you were already typing up your excuse when another message pinged through your headphones.

This was completely unfair. They had all promised to be here with you and now they were all dropping out on you at the last second like they had planned this all along. Which, honestly, is probably what they had done.

You let out a heavy sigh, slumping further down into your seat, textbook and notes completely forgotten.

Truly, you knew your friends meant well in all of this, you just wished they had chosen a better way to go about it.

But, there really isn’t a better way, is there?

You certainly weren’t going to make the first move and Midoriya probably wasn’t either - if he even liked you that way. Despite the great amount of confidence he had gained over the past few years, mostly regarding his fighting style and the way he spoke to Bakugou, he could still be easily flustered, even if it wasn’t as common as before. So, no, you supposed there definitely wasn’t a better way your friends could have pulled this off.

Another heavily anxious sigh pushed past your lips as you fixed your slouching posture and reopened the group chat.

You let your fingers loom over the keyboard, once again, seriously contemplating your original idea to take a raincheck. Midoriya wouldn’t be upset with you, he would be completely understanding, especially if your excuse was good enough. Period cramps were a thing, ya know? Sometimes they caught you off guard and maybe you just didn’t -

Oh, for Christ’s sake, screw it.

That wasn’t too bad.

No, it was perfectly fine and he would be here in a few minutes.

He would be here in a few minutes.

Oh, for the love of All Might, he would be here, with you, alone, in a few God forsakenly short minutes and you had not a clue in the whole stupid world how this was going to go. You were panicking, a sort of pathetic amount, if you were going to be honest with yourself.

This was just Midoriya.

Midoriya, the cute nerdy kid who was the absolute sweetest person you had ever met in your entire life. The I Can And Absolutely Will Give My Life To Protect Everyone I Know And Love, Midoriya. The Midoriya who could shatter ten brick walls with less than a fifth of his power and still have enough to fend off three hundred more waiting villains.

Midoriya, the kindest, most gentle, and fiery soul you had ever known. The soul you had so stupidly allowed yourself to fall in love with these past few years.

Love.

That was a strong word, but something about it felt right when you applied it to your feelings for the gentle green-haired boy, which was a little terrifying, considering that most of his perspective of you was largely unknown. It was probably just your overly hormonal teenage brain trying to convince you that this emotion could only be found in the green eyes of the one and only class nerd. That didn’t matter anymore though. You knew you had already let yourself fall too far from the cliff edge to have any hope of saving yourself now.

Screw it, you repeated to yourself, tossing your phone back onto the table to resume staring blankly at your textbook, your brows only slightly more furrowed than before.

You had already started digging this grave two years ago, fully aware of the consequences, might as well finish it up and lay in it, nothing worse could come of it. Except, maybe, being buried alive and suffocating under the weight of your own regret.

It’ll be fine. It’s just Izuku. My friend. My friend... that I’ve had a crush on for -

It was a long - but still too short - couple of minutes.

Midoriya arrived at the cafe ten minutes later looking surprisingly out of breath. The freckled bridge of his nose and cheeks were a bright rosy red, bitten from the crisp winter evening air. He slumped into the chair across from you, flashing you the brightest smile you had ever seen while he set his bag down beside him.

“Sorry, I’m late,” He said, voice garbled through the noise of your headphones, which you immediately yanked out. “I was talking to Kirishima and completely lost track of time. I’m glad you waited for me though.”

“O-Oh, it’s okay,” you stammered, doing your best to return his smile just as confidently, though you were sure anyone could see how terribly flustered you already were. “I really hadn’t been waiting that long, I’m just happy you were able to come.” His breathing still sounded slightly labored as he pulled out his notebook and Algebra textbook, your brow quirked up in curiosity. “Izuku, did you run all the way here or something?”

A flush that you know has nothing to do with with the cold flares up his entire face to the tips of his ears, and his green eyes flicker sheepishly towards yours. “Uhm - Well, yeah, I felt bad for keeping you waiting for so long. Don’t worry, it was just a couple of blocks, I’m okay.” A small breathless laugh bubbled past his lips, “I’m thankful for Aizawa’s endurance training though.”

“Yeah,” you laughed with him, too aware of the heat you felt crawling up your neck. He had actually ran all the way from the dorms to the coffee shop just for you, because he felt guilty for keeping you waiting, even if it had only been a couple of minutes.

It was silly for you to dwell on such a thing, honestly. Midoriya really was just that type of person, it wouldn’t be considered a big deal to anyone else, but to you it meant the world. And you couldn’t do anything to tame the butterflies in your stomach when you pictured him, face scrunched with slight panic and focus as he rushed through the evening crowds all the way here, just to get to you quicker.

“I know it’s a bit late and all,” Midoriya mumbled, bringing you back into reality with a small jolt that, thankfully, went completely unnoticed by him as he still had his face in his bag. “But did you want anything from the cafe? I brought some money with me.”

“No, I’m okay, thank you though.” You were wide awake right now, caffeine wouldn’t do anything but make your nerves worse.

A small frown tugged at the corner of his mouth once he came back up from his bag, beaten up All Might wallet in hand. It was a challenge not to crack a smile in its direction. “You sure? I really don’t mind getting you something. I feel like I should pay you back for waiting for me.”

You rolled your eyes picking up a playful smile so he knew you weren’t actually irritated with him. “I told you, it’s fine, Izuku. You didn’t keep me waiting long, I promise.” You waved a hand in the direction of the cafe bar, “If you want to get something, go ahead, I don’t mind waiting a few more minutes.”

Midoriya paused for a moment, casting his gaze off to the side for a second before he shook his head. Seemingly having made a decision he tucked his wallet back into his backpack and gave you a warm grin. “I’m fine, I was really just asking for you, but I’m glad you’re not upset. You’re really too sweet, Y/n. Anyway, was there anything you wanted to go over first? Ochaco said you were struggling with-”

But your mind had started buzzing the second his compliment had reached your ears. A part of your brain was screaming at yourself to get a grip and the other part of you just really, really wanted to hear him say it again with that same heart-melting smile of his.

“Yeah,” you said absently, unaware as to what you were actually agreeing to. You knew the smile you were giving him must have made you look like a lovesick puppy ready to barf rainbows, yet you didn’t have enough properly operating brain cells to make you care. “We can start with that first.”

“Okay, that’s great! I have some notes you can look over if you want, or I can explain it if you’d like. I was also having trouble with this, but Iida was able to explain it to me in a way that actually makes sense, so I can try to explain it the same way. Is that alright?”

It took all of your focus to make yourself look down at the notebook he was holding out for you and actually process the words written on the paper. Then another few seconds for you to realize that you had no clue what in the hell the notes were talking about. Yeah, you definitely couldn’t zone out anymore or else you would be utterly screwed by the time the test came around.

“Uh, explain it, please?” you mumbled, casting a quick shy glance in his direction. “If you don’t mind.”

He chuckled and the sound made the heat in your cheeks grow a little hotter. “Not at all. So, the way Tenya explained it was like this...”

It was quite a feat to keep your brain focused on the task at hand rather than on the way Midoriya’s hand would brush against yours every once in a while when he was showing you how to solve a problem. Or the way his nose crinkled when he thought something you did was funny, but clearly didn’t want to laugh at for your sake. Or the way he had asked if he could sit next to you instead of across from you because it would be a lot easier for him to show you what he was doing. And the way his warm shoulder - covered in a large grey hoodie that had no right looking that good on him - pressed gently into yours.

It had been a difficult battle, but you had won. By the end of the night, you were caught up on everything you hadn’t understood in Algebra a couple hours prior. Midoriya grinned proudly down at your practice problems, unable to find a single mistake this time.

“You’re a really quick learner, Y/n,” he laughed, tilting his head to look back at you, his green eyes sparkling. “Are you sure you needed my help in the first place?”

You flushed, letting out a small giggle. “Oh, definitely,” you responded softly from behind the hand you had brought up to cover your mouth. “I didn’t know what the heck I was doing until you got here. It all just looked like a bunch of-”

“You shouldn’t hide your smile like that. It’s too beautiful to keep hidden.”

“H-Huh?” Oh, your face was totally on fire now.

Had you heard him correctly?

“I-I mean - U-Uhm - I’m really sorry!” Midoriya stammered, his hands immediately flying up into the air as if he didn’t know where to put them anymore as he quickly shuffled away from you on the booth. “That was really weird of me to say, sorry. I just - well, uhm - just -” he moved his text book over towards him and stared intensely at it, obviously intent on not making anymore eye contact with you.

Which was the absolute last thing you wanted right now, but you were still trying to wrap your head around everything that had just happened. That wasn’t the usual Midoriya compliment. He didn’t tell all of his friends how beautiful he thought there smiles were. It didn’t even seem like he had meant to say it in the first place, he was so flustered now.

“Was there - uhm - anything else you wanted to go over? I’m pretty much caught up on everything, so it’s - it’s whatever you want to do.”

Well, that definitely caught your attention. “You’re caught up on everything?” You asked slowly, brain still buffering severely. Midoriya nodded, green curls bouncing with the jerky movement. He didn’t look at you though. “Izuku, did you rush all the way out here just to help me?”

Again, not a thing Midoriya wouldn’t naturally do on his own, but the way he was reacting was a clear sign that this wasn’t just because of that fantastically kind heart of his. Warm hope, that you didn’t have the willpower to crush, bloomed large and all consuming within your chest.

He nodded once again, but this time you caught the apprehensive glance he shot at you from the corner of his eye. “Y-Yeah.” You noticed how prominent his freckles looked against the firey color of his cheeks, and it made your heart flutter. Midoriya let out a heavy sigh before finally looking back towards you, textbook forgotten. “Ochaco said it was a good idea for us to hang out together because - well - I - she knows that I - that I’ve liked you for a while.” The last part was barely loud enough for you to hear over the night time rush of the cafe, but your ears had most definitely not failed you that time.

“M-Me?”

Yes, you idiot! Who else would he be talking about?

Ochaco had known about it. Your best friend had known about it and hadn’t told you? Had let you keep your feelings for him buried deep within your heart for all of that time.

You couldn’t blame her, no matter how terribly you wanted to. You knew Ochaco did it with the best intentions. Ochaco wasn’t one to go around spilling everyone’s secrets. She had probably kept hope that Midoriya - or maybe you, even though the chances of that were slim to none - would finally admit to one another. That made this grand scheme of hers her way of telling you and Midoriya that even she had gotten tired of waiting for you two.

“Yeah, I told her this was a bad idea and that you probably didn’t feel the same way, but she insisted,” he added quickly, hands gone back to moving around the air awkwardly. “I’m really sorry that I’ve made this really weird now, I - I can leave if you want.”

Without thinking - just as you had been through out the course of this entire conversation - your hand shot out to wrap around one of his to keep him in place, even though he had made no indication of getting up.

“No!” You winced at your sudden volume, face burning again. “No, you can stay. Trust me, you haven’t made it weird, I’m just - uhh - trying to, I guess, process everything. Give me a second, please?”

Midoriya looked visibly stunned, but nodded his quick jerky nod nonetheless, bouncing his green curls again. Your brain ran through everything he had just said over and over until you were absolutely positive you hadn’t imagined any of it. Until you were absolutely positive that the boy you had so stupidly allowed yourself to fall for had just admitted having feelings for you. It wasn’t a trick of your mind from lack of sleep or too many hours of work, Midoriya had really just said all of that. That he thought your smile was too beautiful to hide, that he had ran all this way not because he needed to study but because he wanted to make sure you didn’t need his help, that he liked you. But not just liked you, he had liked you for a while.

A while. How long was that?

Probably not as long as you, but the answer didn’t matter. You were sure that he could have told you it was for the past couple of hours and you would still be just as happy.

A gentle squeeze around your hand from calloused fingers pulled you back to Earth, and you looked down to find that his hand - only slightly bigger than yours - was still wrapped up tightly in your own as if you were too scared to let go of him, scared he would disappear like the remnants of a dream.

“A-are you sure I didn’t make it weird?”

You laughed breathlessly, a bright grin lighting up your face as you lifted your eyes to meet his. His shoulders had relaxed a tiny bit, but his emerald eyes were still swimming with anxiety, even when you shook your head no.

“I’m - I’m sure, Izuku. I promise you didn’t make it weird.” You glanced down to pull his hand into your lap as you shifted in your seat to face him properly. Truthfully, you should have let go of his hand a while ago, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it yet. At least, he didn’t seem to mind. “I just - I dunno - I guess, I thought I would never be able to hear you say those words and I’m still having a hard time believing that you’ve even said them-”

“I said them!” He jumped in, the anxiety replaced by overwhelming joy. “That was all real, trust me, my heart is still pounding from the anxiety.” He let out a shaky laugh to which you joined him in. “I wasn’t at all sure how tonight was going to go. All Ochaco had told me was that I should trust her and that everything would be fine and, honestly, I didn’t know whether to believe her or not. But then when I got here and I saw you I knew there was no way I could keep this from you anymore. I had planned to tell you on the way home, except, well, I guess spending all of this time alone with you was enough to push me over the edge.”

You grinned and softly breathed, “I’m glad.”

——

There hadn’t been many people left out on the streets, this part of town never really got busy after dark because there were no bars or clubs. Only small shops and businesses that closed no later than ten lined this city block and every city block within a five mile radius of U.A. The frosty night air nawed at the warmth from your cheeks, washing them with a deep shade of scarlet. You curled into the warmth of your thick wooly sweater, thankful that you had thought to put it back on before leaving the cafe.

One of your hands took refuge in your cozy double sleeve so that it was no more than a nub of thick cloth, while the other, wound frigid fingers through the tender warmth his hand provided. A small, content smile adorned your face as you walked closely together, shoulders brushing with each step, to conserve the heat between you two.

Midoriya was beaming. He hadn’t stopped since he had left the cafe with his hand in yours, heart singing in delight at the sensation of your fingers slotted perfectly through his, like the missing pieces of a puzzle. His joy and excitement was so clearly bubbling past the brim of his self-control, you were sure that if he could smile any brighter that he would, just to show how proud he was to be holding your hand.

Neither of you said anything on your walk back to the dorms. You didn’t have to and neither did he, even if his posture said that he could barely contain himself. Midoriya could speak if he wanted, knew that without a shadow of a doubt, but he chose not to. He chose to walk with you, hand intertwined with yours, on a blissfully quiet trip back to the dorms, basking in your presence. Just as you did so happily with him.

Minutes pass much too quickly though, and it seems like you’re upon the entrance steps of the dorms only seconds later. He pauses and you stop with him, turning to face him, eager for the buildings heat, but more eager to understand the hesitation that flickers in his gaze. Another moment of silence passed before he turned to you, freckled cheeks flushed a bright red that once more has to do with far more than just the cold.

You wait patiently, eyes soft and mouth still pulled into a gentle smile that wordlessly urges him to speak his mind. He takes you in for one last moment, his beaming grin grown slightly muted as he searches for the confidence he needs, which he quickly finds resting in your own gaze.

“I - uhm - I just wanted to thank you,” he started quietly, “for making tonight so amazing. I really can’t tell you how happy it made me.”

Oh, you were going to swoon, truly.

This boy...

After all that he had done for you tonight, he still wanted to thank you. To thank you. When all you had done was show up and bottle up your feelings for the past two years. You didn’t deserve him and you weren’t sure if the universe had already realized its mistake, but there was no way in hell you were going to give him back now.

“Izuku,” you sighed, your smile lifting fondly at the edges, “I should be the one thanking you here. You went through all of this trouble today just to help me out and if it weren’t for you I would still be sitting there with that stupid text book and my harbored feelings not knowing what the heck I was supposed to do. So, thank you for all that you did for me tonight and making it one I will forever remember.”

His mouth fell open in a look of awe and soft adoration, then within one swift step forward, he swooped down and gently pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was short and sweet, a fleeting brush of his lips, but it was enough to warm your entire body in a flood of overwhelming heat.

Midoriya pulled away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, likely matching your own, and gaze slightly chagrined. “S-Sorry, I should have asked.”

You beamed, shaking your head vigorously as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your forehead to rest against his, “Stop apologizing for silly things and kiss me again.”

“S-Sor - I mean - wait, really?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at the genuine surprise in his eyes, it was adorable. “Yes, Izuku, yes, kiss me again.”

And so he did. With a grin that reflected your own, he pressed his lips against yours once more, this time more firmly than the first, and brought his hands to your hips to pull you closer.

The night wasn’t so cold anymore. He warmed your heart, your chest, your body, your soul. Everything you could ever ask for, he was a brilliant pillar of light that radiated comforting heat and he was all yours. Your own personal ray of sunshine that you would hold on to for as long as you could.

———————————————————————

✨ written 10/9/19 ✨

[tessisawriter]

What Real Support Looks Like, Part 1 (Mat Barzal)

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

A/N: This originally started out as a happy story about Mat Barzal and Jordan Eberle’s bromance, but it turned into something far more important. I was heartened to see Jacob Trouba support his fiancé’s career to the point where he was willing to move to another country for her. For that, I deeply admire him, and I wish more hockey players would support their S/O’s like that. To everyone who reads this story: don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do. Pursue your dreams no matter what. And you deserve true love, so don’t settle for anything less.

I also created a playlist of songs that have influenced me throughout the series.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, alcohol, sexism

Word Count: 2.8k

Gemma Sullivan smiled as she put the last touches of makeup on her face.

She had been dating Mat Barzal for almost two years now, and she couldn’t be happier. They were each other’s best friend, and they supported each other in everything they did. Gemma lifted him up when he had a bad game or when the Isles were losing, and Mat had been her biggest cheerleader through college and supported her career aspirations. Gemma was going to graduate from college in three months, and then apply to master’s programs to earn an MA in history. Before she could even apply, though, she had to finish her senior thesis. She just took a major step forward this morning when she handed in her full draft for her advisor to edit. Today was also her 22nd birthday, so Mat was going to take her out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate.

Honestly, Gemma was happy that the draft was done because this past month, she had been writing so much that she’d barely been able to spend quality time with Mat. She couldn’t wait to get back a semblance of normalcy, and tonight would be the beginning of that.

Gemma walked out of the bathroom and into hers and Mat’s bedroom, where her red dress was on a hanger. Red was Mat’s favorite color on her, and she bought the dress for that reason. She wanted to surprise him. Gemma slipped it on and zipped it; thank God the zipper was on the side and not the back. 

She looked at the clock on the night table, and it read, to her surprise, 8:30PM. Their reservations were at 8:45, and Mat was supposed to be home at 8, so she didn’t bother setting an alarm to make sure she stayed on schedule. Was it possible that he forgot? Gemma immediately shut down that thought. There was no way he forgot; he was probably just running late from hanging out with Tito. She grabbed her heels and sat on the bed, putting each shoe on. As soon as she was done, she heard the front door open.

“Babe?” Mat called, but his voice wasn’t clear like it normally was.

“Where are you?” he called again, and when Gemma heard his staggered footsteps coming towards the bedroom, her heart dropped.

“Hey, babe, there you are!” Mat wasn’t just drunk: he was absolutely hammered. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were glazed over. He approached the bed and gave Gemma a sloppy kiss on the top of her head, and she smelled his breath, which reeked of vodka. This kind of behavior was completely out of character for him, and she could barely believe her eyes (or her nose).

“Babe, what happened? We have dinner reservations in 15 minutes,” Gemma said, concerned.

“I was out with Tito and some of the boys,” Mat replied, “And it was totally epic!” He dissolved into a fit of hysterical laughter and stumbled into Gemma’s lap. Not wanting to smell of alcohol, she shoved him off and onto the bed next to her.

“You look so sexy. Is this all for me?” Mat asked.

“We’re supposed to go out to dinner in 15 minutes,” she repeated.

“Why?”

Gemma’s heart sunk even further.

“It’s my birthday, Mat,” she said.

“Oh yeah, I forgot.” He looked at her, expecting an answer, but she was silent, trying to keep herself from crying. Presumably to fill the silence, Mat said, “Whoops, my bad,” and started laughing again.

His laugh set Gemma off.

“You forgot? You fucking FORGOT?” she exploded. “I’m generally easygoing, but today of all days? Really?”

“Jesus, Gem, relax. We celebrated it on another day last year, so we can do it again this year.”

“Are you saying that you’re bailing on dinner tonight?” she asked.

“I’m not bailing, I’m rescheduling. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?” she yelled, “No big deal? Are you kidding me right now? It’s not just my birthday; I handed in my thesis draft today. But you probably forgot about that too,” she added bitterly.

“That goddamn thesis is the reason I haven’t seen you for weeks on end!” Mat yelled back. “You’re always busy writing, or reading, or whatever you’re doing. Sometimes I wish you weren’t going for your master’s.”

Gemma’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t believe he just said that.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

His eyes widened. He must’ve known he crossed the line, but that didn’t stop him from opening his mouth again. “I don’t know, you just work so hard, and you don’t have to worry about money because I’ll take care of you.”

If Gemma wasn’t seeing red before, she was now.

“This is not just about money, Mathew. Yes, I want to be able to make some of my own money, but if I wanted to be rich, I would’ve gone into computer science or finance. I’m really passionate about history, and I need to be fulfilled intellectually. You said you understood that when we first met; you even said that you love how driven I am!”

“I do, but…”

“But what? There are no but’s. You either support my career or you don’t, and you clearly don’t, so we’re done!”

Gemma took her heels off and threw them on the floor before retrieving her backpack, overnight bag, and a pair of sneakers from the closet. She shoved the sneakers on her feet and started ransacking the drawers. As she took out essential clothing and stuffed it in her bag, Mat just sat there on the bed.

She started to zip up the bag when Mat said, “Where are you going?”

“Where am I going?” she parroted back, incredulous. “Oh, so now you care. How generous of you,” her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“This is our home,” he replied.

“No, it’s your home now,” she said with a calm and even tone that surprised her. “You promised that you would support me and my career no matter what, but you clearly didn’t mean it. Don’t bother trying to call or text because I don’t want to see you.”

And with that, she picked up her two bags, walked out of the bedroom, picked up her car keys on the table in the foyer, and opened the door, slamming it as she exited.

Gemma ran down the stairs as fast as she could. As soon as she stepped outside, she was greeted with pouring rain.

“Oh, this is just perfect!” she muttered to herself. She forgot her umbrella in the apartment, and there was no way she was going back there, so she raced to her car, hopped into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door. She threw her bags on the back seat before turning on the ignition and pulling out of the driveway.

She drove down the road to the next intersection, and after turning right, she pulled over. As soon as Gemma stopped the car, the floodgates opened. Her life was in tatters. The man who she thought would always be there for her stabbed her in the back. She felt so alone, and when she remembered that she was homeless now, she cried even harder. Where was she going to sleep tonight?

She restarted the car and began driving to the Eberle residence.

When Gemma first started dating Mat, she didn’t expect to get a best friend out of it, but that is exactly what Lauren Eberle became. Right from the start, she and Lauren hit it off due to their mutual low tolerance for bullshit, and an epic friendship was born. She had been her rock through everything, and Gemma knew that she could ask her for advice on anything, no matter how uncomfortable the subject. Lauren’s husband, Jordan, was Mat’s closest friend on the team besides Tito, and Gemma was fond of him as well. He taught her how to play the guitar.

She could only hope that now that she broke up with Mat, they would still be there for her.

Gemma came to a stop in front of Lauren and Jordan’s house less than five minutes later. It was still raining heavily outside, so she grabbed her bags and walked to the house. She already looked like a drenched rat, so why bother running?

She reached the door and rang the doorbell. When the door opened, it was, to her intense surprise, Jordan standing at the threshold. She assumed that he was with Mat and Tito when they went out.

“Gemma? Happy birthday! What are you doing here?” Jordan said.

“Thanks. I’m sorry to bother you, but is Lauren home?”

“Yeah, she’s inside. Come on in.” He held the door open wide, and she entered the house.

“Lauren, Gemma is here!” Jordan shouted, and then said to Gemma, “You’re soaking wet! You should take off your shoes and socks, they’ll make you feel even colder than you already are.”

“You’re right, thanks, Jordan,” she said, holding her tears back with great difficulty.

“No problem,” he replied, and he left as Lauren entered the foyer.

“Gemma, happy birth…” Lauren stopped talking as soon as she saw the dripping girl. “What happened?”

“Mat and I, we…we got into a fight,” Gemma started sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry! Let’s get you some dry clothes and we can talk about it, yeah?” Lauren said.

“I brought clothes with me,” Gemma managed to choke out and gesture to her bags in between sobs.

“Let’s go get you dry.” Lauren put her arm around Gemma and led her through the house to hers and Jordan’s bedroom. Gemma opened her soaked bag and pulled out a pair of sweatpants, an old Trinity College Dublin t-shirt from her semester abroad, and a thick pair of socks. Lauren sat on the bed patiently as she went into the bathroom to change. She emerged, and the two of them walked back to the living room and settled into the couch. Gemma could see Jordan in the kitchen due to the open layout, and he was rustling through the cabinet where they kept their glasses and cups.

“What happened?” Lauren asked. “I thought you two were going to dinner to celebrate your birthday and thesis draft.”

“We were supposed to, but Mat showed up 15 minutes before our reservation completely drunk. He said he went out with Tito and some of the boys.”

“That’s odd. Jordan has been home all evening, and he generally goes with them when they go out.”

“Well, they went out without him, and Mat forgot my birthday. He said we could go out another day, and when I protested, he went on a rant about how he hasn’t seen me in weeks due to my thesis and…and…” Gemma started crying again.

Lauren put her arms around her, and Gemma sobbed into her shoulder.

“What did he say?” Lauren asked when Gemma pulled away, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“He said that he wishes I wasn’t going for my master’s degree, and that I don’t need to have a career because he can ‘take care of me,’” she formed air quotes with her hands for emphasis.

“What the fuck?” Lauren said.

“I’m going to kick his ass when I see him tomorrow,” Jordan chimed in, walking into the living room with two mugs. He handed one to Lauren and one to Gemma, and she saw that he made tea.

“I figured you were going to be talking for a while, and you were so wet when you got here, Gem, that hot tea seemed to be in order.” Jordan said, sitting in the armchair perpendicular to the couch, giving her and Lauren a little space.

For the first time since her fight with Mat, Gemma’s heart felt warm and fuzzy.

“Thank you, Jordan. Seriously, what would I do without you? Either of you,” she said, turning to Lauren. “I’m not going to lie, I thought after I told you we broke up, you might not want me here.”

“You’re my best friend, Gem,” Lauren said, “You are always, always welcome here, and it doesn’t matter who you’re dating.”

“I second that,” Jordan interjected. “You’re like a little sister to me.”

“Guys, you’re going to make me cry again,” Gemma said, putting down her tea on the coffee table before hugging Lauren.

“We’re always going to be there for you, Gemma. You can stay in the guest room as long as you need.” Lauren said.

“I already put your bags in there,” Jordan added.

“Thank you, both of you. God, I sound like a broken record.” She laughed, and they laughed with her.

“So what happened after he said that?” Lauren asked.

“I broke up with him, took as much as I could carry, and left,” Gemma replied, and she picked up her mug and took a sip of the tea.

“I just can’t believe it. He always talks about how proud he is of you, that you’re going somewhere in life, and that he loves how passionate you are,” Jordan said. “But if he’s so threatened by you, you did the right thing breaking up with him.”

“You think he’s threatened by me?” Gemma asked.

“I don’t know what exactly his problem is, but that’s the closest thing to what you described,” he answered. “I know you’ve been busy this month, but every relationship gets tested that way. You deserve to know what real support looks like and someone who isn’t going to get scared when the going gets tough. You are the smartest person I’ve ever met, and you truly are going places, Gemma Sullivan.”

“Aw, Jordan,” she said before she stood up, walked over to the armchair, and hugged him tight.

“Thank you, for everything,” she said into his shoulder.

“No thanks needed, it’s the truth.” Jordan replied, pulling away and hitting her arm playfully.

“He’s right, Gemma,” Lauren said. “Everyone admires how passionate and determined you are, not to mention your brains. Someone is going to treat you like the queen you are, even if it isn’t Mat. Speaking of him,” Lauren continued, “What did he do when you were packing to leave?”

“He just sat there on the bed, but when I was about to leave, it seemed to hit him that I was leaving. He tried to say it was our home.”

Lauren and Jordan listened intently, thinking she had more to say, but she didn’t.

“That’s an odd thing to say after one hurts their girlfriend’s feelings so badly,” Lauren said.

“Yeah. I guess he was too plastered,” she muttered, and then she yawned.

“You look exhausted,” Lauren commented.

“It just hit me all of a sudden,” Gemma said, looking at her watch, which read 10:01, “I guess you really can cry yourself out.”

“Why don’t you go to sleep?” Jordan suggested. “You’ll feel a lot better in the morning. Well, physically, at least.”

“It’s 10 o’clock, I don’t go to bed this early.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fight it. Your body needs to recover from today,” Lauren advised.

“You’re right,” Gemma said, “Good night. I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Jordan replied.

Gemma turned away and walked down the hall towards the spare bedroom, but she stopped and turned back around, only to watch the couple in the living room. Jordan was now on the couch with his arm around Lauren, and he kissed the top of her head. Gemma smiled; she really didn’t want to ruin the moment, but she had to address one more thing.

“Hey guys?” Gemma said, and they looked up at her.

“Yeah?” Lauren said, furrowing her brow.

“I don’t expect Mat to get his shit together tonight, but if he comes here or calls to ask where I am, could you please tell him that I’m not taking him back and will pick up the rest of my stuff when I figure out a new living arrangement?”

“Of course, Gem! We won’t let him get anywhere near you, I promise,” Lauren said.

“Thanks.” She smiled at them and walked into the spare bedroom.

After she got into bed and pulled the sheets up to her chin, Gemma realized that today wasn’t completely horrible. Lauren and Jordan had shown her what real support looks like—putting a roof over her head when she showed up on their doorstep and giving her great advice. Sure, she suffered a nasty breakup, but in the process, she realized just how amazing her friends were, and she couldn’t be more grateful to have them. She knew the days, weeks, and months ahead were going to be really difficult, but she was ready to face every challenge that came her way.

@averytiredlawstudent @star-adorned @theforevermorereject

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Witness : 2

New Assignment

moodboard created by @chuuulip

Character(s): dark!Bucky, later dark!Steve, too

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. Some violence as well at the beginning. It goes without (and with) that this is 18+.

Summary: Our reader deals with the grief and paranoia of what she has witnessed, but she finds herself drawn into the belly of the beast.

Notes: I am reposting this fic here. It was originally on ao3 but now it’s on tumblr too! If you read, I love feedback and would love any comments you have. And if you can, please share! Anyhow, enjoy :)

You didn’t sleep that night. You could barely remember returning to your apartment. Turning off your car, locking it, punching in your security code at the front door, climbing the six flights to your bachelor loft. You could recall your door clicking shut and the chain sliding into place. Sitting down in the only chair and staring at the blank television screen. The sun rose through the window, at first a blood orange, softening to an amber, and finally the soft yellow of the morning.

Your alarm chimed, dampened by the leather of your bag. You leaned over the arm of your chair painfully and reached for the handle, dragging it up and over onto your lap. You dug inside and dismissed the ringing reminder. You were not scheduled for any tempwork today but you hadn’t rescheduled your alarm; as you often cursed yourself for. You were about to drop your phone back where you got it when a notification flashed across your screen.

‘Did you get home okay last night?’ Allie texted, another following quickly. ‘I didn’t hear from you.’ You were home, alive, but were you okay? You blinked, swallowing through the dryness of your mouth. You unlocked your phone and quickly replied with a fib; ‘I’m fine. I must have forgot and fallen asleep.’ She answered swiftly, ‘Good. I was worried. There was a robbery last night near my building. The guy was killed.’

I know , you thought, instead sending a singular ‘Oh,’ and shocked emoticon. You locked the phone and tossed it onto your couch, well away from you. You were stiff when you stood, a sleepless night sat in a cheap Ikea armchair was ill-advised. You stretched, trying to shake the cloud away from your head. It was as if you were seeing the world through tinted glasses.

You made your way to the bathroom, trying to pull the elastic from your ponytail which had sagged to the nape of your neck. You broke it in your efforts and hissed, throwing it against the mirror. Your eyes met those of your reflection and you blanched. Your eyes were dark with fatigues, your skin almost sallow, face puffy from tears. You looked like a different person; felt as much.

You reached over, past the shower curtain, and twisted the old four-pronged faucet which gave a whine of metal on metal. Water spattered onto the tile and you withdrew your arm, slowly undressing as you avoided another glance at yourself. Shoes, socks, blouse, pants, underwear, all in a pile in the corner. You would have to throw those out. They felt tainted.

You stepped under the steamy flow and it embraced you, melting the ice which had formed along your muscles. As your hair absorbed the water, you leaned your head back and breathed deep; as if it were the first you had drawn since the night before. As if it were your first and last. You shuddered and the tears began again; melding with the drops falling from the shower head.

By the time you felt clean, if you could call it that, your head throbbed from crying. You stepped from the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel. You secured it at the top of your chest and went to fetch a trash bag from the kitchen. You dropped your clothing into the plastic liner and tied it tightly, dropping it by the door. You would toss it later.

You dragged your feet to the next room where your bed awaited, the sheets and blankets still askew from your last slumber. You fell upon the mattress, hair damp, towel loose around your form, and closed your eyes. Sleep came quickly, out of physical necessity, rather than mental clarity. Your rest was tumultuous and filled with vision of blood and your own demise. It was the most exhausting sleep you had ever experienced.

The first week was filled with grieving. You went to work, did what was needed, and returned to your apartment to mull in silence. You were still overcome with the haze; so detached from all around you. You could pretend it was normal; smile, say hello, ask “how are you? Oh me, I’m good. What can I do for you?...”

The second week was when the fear set in. The nightmares had become more clear and you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder wherever you went. Even in your own apartment. What if you had been seen? What if it had been a trap and they had seen you as you left? What if you hadn’t waited long enough? What if they found you?

You told yourself it was merely paranoia. As it was, you weren’t important enough to be a threat. In your own life, you were little enough to be noticed by the people in the fluorescent-hued offices you were sent to. If you had been found out, would you not have been dealt with by now? You just needed to get over it. Move on. You were alive...and that man was dead. Even if he was a criminal, a drug dealer, a murderer himself; he was dead.

It was another early morning but as of late, you were always awake before your alarm could hasten you. A bowl of yogurt, some granola on top, with a glass of orange juice, some toast and jam. Same breakfast every day. Dress in the dark, unplug your phone, pack your work bag, slip on your flats, a jacket over your arm in case it rains. Keys, stairs, car. Fuck, you hadn’t checked your new assignment.

You sighed and dug your phone out of your bag, your email shone brightly from the screen in the lowlight of early morning. You pressed on the first email; that day’s date, and waited for the winding circle to load. Stark Tower, front desk. Monday to Friday assignment. Special pay, $22/hr, clearance required before commencement. Report to security office upon arrival.

Your phone slipped from your hand but you caught it before it could slide down your leg and onto the floor. Why hadn’t you read it before you said yes? Because that was your habit. You had nothing else in your life so you took whatever would pay. These last weeks, you had merely accepted anything which crossed your screen. Hell, you had worked enough jobs that you could handle it all. Dentist office, insurance company, high-brow CEO. It was all the same. This would be no different.

If you saw those men again, the ones you dreaded even thinking about, what would you do? Nothing. They didn’t know you saw them; couldn’t know. You had nothing to fear. Would you even see them? The odds that they would be at Stark Tower the week you were there were slim or that they would have any reason to stop by the front desk if they did. It was just another job.

You dropped your phone back in your bag and started your car. If you didn’t go now, you’d scare yourself out of it. It was all in your head. Maybe it was. Maybe you hadn’t heard that man die. Maybe you hadn’t seen Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes with their guns pointed at him. Maybe, maybe, maybe...but you had.

You pulled up to Stark Tower; there was a parking garage below. You were stopped at the window and reported your purpose. “Return here with your credentials and we’ll give you a proper pass. For now, take this temporary one,” The man in the booth instructed, handing your a slip. You drove on ahead and found an empty space. You killed the engine and hung your head for a moment, gathering your wits. Reaching for your bag, you forced yourself out of the car and locked it, looking around the parking garage with a gulp. It was different than the concrete maze behind Allie's building. This one was as pristine as the rest of Stark Tower; shining, metallic walls and pillars, lines formed by electronic lasers across the tarmac. Who knew a parking lot could be so fancy?

You found your way to the stairs which the arrows told you led to the public entrance. You held onto the rail as your feet were heavier which each step. You pushed through the metal door and found yourself at a door just inside the foyer of Stark Tower, opposite the automatic glass doors which lined the front. You looked around, the digital lettering reading ‘Security’ catching your eye.

You crossed to the desk, stopping before the glass which separated personnel from public. “Hello,” You greeted as the man turned to you, his dark uniform marked with a simple label across his left lapel denoting his department. “I’m a temp sent from Blue Binder Temp Agency.”

“I.D.” The man demanded and waited for you to produce your wallet. You slipped your driver’s license through and he typed into the computer just to his left. He held up the card and squinted. “Y/N?” He turned to you, “I need a second form of I.D. to confirm.”

You dug around and offered him your birth certificate. He inserted both your license and certificate into a slot and they were swiftly kicked back out, a copy of both appearing in a tray below. He returned your documents and typed once more into his computer. “Fingers on the desk along the outlines.”  You looked down and red dots appeared on the metal ledge before his window in the pattern of fingerprints. You placed your hands as he advised and the red dots flashed and disappeared. He pointed to a small black dot along the metal lining his window, “Look at the camera.” A flash caught you off-guard as your eyes found the small device and his printer began to work once more.

He held up a plastic card, attaching it to a lanyard and slid it through the slot. Your picture, name, and clearance were listed on the front; the other side was only a barcode. “Scan this for entrance and at the parking garage. You’re all set.” He looked over your head and waved, “Next.”

You stepped aside as the person behind you moved before the glass and you looked around. Where exactly were you suppose to go? You turned back and the security officer caught your eye, rolling his own before pointing across the foyer. You followed his finger and spotted the large, circular desk opposite him. Ah, yes, that empty seat must be for you.

You crossed and found the hinged section of desk meant to swing open and allow you to get behind the mammoth. You spotted a vague red square just beside it and scanned your newly-acquired ID card before slinging it over your neck. The desk unlocked and you opened it, stepping inside and closing it behind you.   You tucked your bag beneath the desk at your feet and sat in the large rolly chair. It was by far the most comfortable that you had been allotted in your work. You booted the computer, reading through the briefing left for you in a file upon the desk. It was straightforward enough; your usual work. Greeting, handing out maps, reading from the list of frequently asked questions. A greeter more than a clerk. Well, it was easy work for good pay. You couldn’t complain.

[artemisegeria]

Wake Me Up Inside

Title: Wake Me Up Inside

Rating: T

Word count: 6151

Warnings: Brief mentions of pregnancy complications/stillbirth/maternal death and violent deaths, slight non-consensual touching.

Summary: Wanda has spent most of her life dreading Halloween. Every year strange visions and dreams haunt her sleep and follow her throughout the next year. She does everything she could to travel far away, but her tenth high school reunion brings her home. While celebrating with her friends later that night, a harmless adventure leads to a frantic chase through the woods and a meeting that will change her understanding of the world forever.

A/N: Title is from “Bring Me to Life” by Evanescence.  

A little late, but I finished. I did not have as much time to tweak and edit as I usually try to, but it is done.

This story has been a long time coming. Last year when I was drafting my Halloween story, “Dreaming in Red,” I came up with like seven or eight versions that I couldn’t get to come together. I saved all those fragments because I never get rid of any files. I would return to them periodically without any inspiration. About a week ago, something finally clicked with this version, and I was able to finish. My initial plan for this year was to write a direct sequel to Dreaming in Red, but this happened instead. There may be some overlap with it, but not too much. I hope you enjoy.

The nights around Halloween were always the worst. The nightmares would not let Wanda sleep. She used to tell her parents and brother about them, needing to air them in the light of day to free her mind from them. However, as they grew more disturbing, she felt the need to hold them close. She did not want her family to worry about her.

All the nightmares centered on a forest, sometimes the one at the edge of her hometown and others in forests full of trees that she couldn’t name. There had always been odd stories about the forest. Once every few years there were rumors of disappearances. Children daring each other to go in the woods would report stories of monstrous, giant figures and chilling laughter. It was something of a coming of age tradition to spend a few hours alone in the darkness, with scorn heaped upon those who failed to complete the task.

Wanda herself had never taken the dare. Her brother had gone into the forest one year and earned the record for the longest time alone, a record that still stood almost fifteen years later. He kept the other children from making fun of her. She went off to college and forgot the stories for a time. She deliberately chose a school a couple hours away, hoping that the nightmares would stay behind in her childhood home. Pietro accompanied her and her parents moved away also; they chose to rent out their old home rather than sell it.

Her plan to avoid the nightmares had largely worked, except for those nights closest to Halloween. When she graduated, Wanda stayed away. Her parents died shortly afterward and Pietro returned to the family home, but he could not convince Wanda to return with him. Instead, he would visit her frequently instead. She never told anyone, even Pietro, the reason that they moved away, but they settled into this new routine peaceably enough.

The first few years after she graduated, she focused on her career and her friends. She told no one that the nightmares continued. She told no one of the visions that filled her nights during those few days that were bad enough to haunt her for the rest of the year. Their content had changed as she grew older, but the ending was always the same.

The worst part was that her dreams always started out blissfully. She would be sitting in a clearing of the forest, the sun shining down on her, or cooking in a plain wooden house as arms wrapped around her waist from behind, a head resting on her shoulder. There was always another figure with her that she could not see. Wanda knew him, though. The beginnings of her dreams were filled with laughter and quiet conversations and soft caresses, more real to her than any failed relationship that she had tried to start.

Flames surround her. She can feel them licking at her feet, a gentle tickle at first, followed by a more persistent prickling. And then pain. So much pain she can hardly breathe. Smoke filling her nostrils. Fiery trails winding up her body, settling her clothes alight. Meanwhile, the judge with the chin that she would recognize anywhere stands by, nodding in satisfaction, acting as if he were only delivering sweet justice.

She sat bolt upright in the darkness of her bedroom.

The next night she is giving birth, but something is terribly wrong. There is so much blood and no cries rend the air. She can feel the presence of a figure hovering in the periphery of the room, wrapped in despair. Her vision begins to go black and hazy around the edges. Everything disappears.

She came to wakefulness curled in on herself, sobbing.

Then, she is drowning, rocks tied to her ankles, as people stand around watching. One woman standing on the shore is smiling cruelly, her skin so pale that her veins show blue through it. She instinctively tries to struggle upwards, but her hands are tied and she’s weighed down by her sodden dress.

This continued night after night. Death after death. Every morning she gasped or groaned or cried and was unspeakably grateful to find herself safe in her home. Sometimes she could swear she saw strange red wisps floating around her when she awoke. She feared that she was going mad or they were proof of the apparitions that haunted her. But they never attacked her, dissipating as soon as they appeared.

And still something was missing. Her life was full of good things, but the dreams did more than terrify her; they reminded her of all that she could have.

Wanda was grateful that her private counseling practice allowed her a certain amount of freedom. Wanda always scheduled her vacations during the week around Halloween, choosing to go someplace tropical and sunny where the sun would bake the cold, clammy feeling out of her skin.

Until the year of her tenth high school reunion. Pietro had been begging her to attend, saying that she had to go back eventually. He was inviting all their old high school friends to stay at the house. Wanda finally gave into him once he promised that he would not pressure her to return again.

Originally, the reunion had been scheduled for earlier in October, but last-minute problems had caused the organizers to reschedule for the night of Halloween. The weekend passed uneventfully enough. Wanda was somewhat drained by all the new, old people that she met, but her dreams were quiet.

After the reunion itself, Wanda and Pietro’s friends returned to their house. Alcohol was consumed, teasing abounded, and challenges were accepted. Somehow, they ended up in the woods, carrying nothing but a few flashlights between them.

The dark forest seemed to swallow up all available light. Wanda’s flashlight spread only a thin beam of brightness onto the ground in front of her. Natasha clutched her arm while Pietro, Clint, and the others had already moved further into the trees. Quiet settled between them, leaving only the slight rustling of dead leaves under foot.

They continued walking, stumbling only slightly and leaning into each other for support. Time lost meaning in the deep of night until she heard one of the voices that had haunted her dreams for years. “She is here.”

Suddenly, a tall, thin woman who was holding a staff of some sort emerged from the gloom and gazed directly at Wanda. “Come with me, and we will leave the others alone.” Wanda freezes, the alcohol and fear clouding her mind, but she knew that going with her would be a mistake.

Somehow an idea formed in her mind. She stepped forward, away from Natasha, and said, “Come with you where?”

The woman held out her hand. “That is no concern of yours.” Wanda moved forward a few more paces, until she was just out of arm’s reach. Suddenly she veered to the side and ran deeper into the woods, attempting to push her away as she streaks by. The sounds of distant screams that were immediately cut off echo through the darkness. She could hear footsteps rushing after her, but she put all her focus on forward momentum.

She did risk one glance behind her. The woman is too close for comfort, and three other figures were converging behind them. Wanda continued running, but there was a stitch in her side and her breath was coming and going in great, shuddering gasps. She did not know how much longer she would be able to force her legs to keep moving.

She almost tripped into a doorway that opened up in the ground near her. A head and shoulders rose out of the ground, and a hand reached out to her. A voice tinged with panic said, “Come with me, please.” Wanda didn’t have any time to think, so she instinctively accepted the offer, and the figure pulled her down with him, slamming the door shut above their heads. Seconds later pounding started on the door, but the man appeared unbothered. “Do not worry. They cannot get in here.”

She takes a few moments to study her rescuer. At first she thought that the red glow filling the room was coloring his skin crimson, but she realized that it was just his skin tone. The hand that was still holding hers was smooth and warm, something about it familiar and comforting. Silver patterns were etched into his skin, and she found herself desiring to trace them with her fingertips. When she raised her eyes to meet his, she found him staring at her, unblinking, the blue of his eyes entrancing her.

“Are you the devil?” The words left her mouth without her permission. She had never set much store by the image of the devil in pop culture, the concept far removed from the Judaism that she was raised with. But shining through her fading terror was the thought that he could easily tempt her in a number of ways.

“The answer to that is more complicated than you might think.” Lips quirking up slightly, he continued. “The stories about what came to be known as Satan or the devil lead from my past interactions with humans, but those stories have twisted the truth of what happened out of all recognition.”

“And are those things out there demons?”

“That would be a fair assessment.”

They fell silent for some time. He released her hand, instantly leaving her colder. “And why did you rescue me?”

His face took on a pained expression, lips pressed into a thin line, and he looked away from her. “That is a long story. Perhaps we should sit down. If you’ll follow me.” She nodded. The steps faded into the darkness as far as the eye could see. Eventually, they reached a landing with an open doorway, and he ushered her inside. The doorway led to an office, complete with filing cabinets, bookshelves, and a desk full of papers.

He conjured a chair for her across from him. Sitting down at the desk chair, he asked, “Would you like some tea?”

“Is this a Hades and Persephone thing? I don’t want to be trapped down here.” A well-remembered story floats through her mind, someone reading to her and telling her that they’ve reversed the myth, Wanda’s Persephone luring Hades to the surface. Someone reading to her in this voice.

His smile grew less pinched. “No, I assure you, you are free to leave as soon as it is safe outside.”

“Fine, I’ll take some then.” The man busied himself pulling out a kettle and some cups. He conjured a small fire to heat the water. His eyes flicked back and forth between her and the kettle. Wanda wished she could break the silence, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. The sounds of boiling water finally reached her ears.

“Earl Grey, two sugars?” She nodded. The man steeped a tea bag and conjured a box of sugar packets and several spoons.

Her suspicions were instantly aroused. “How did you know that?”

“A fortunate surmise.” If possible, he looked even more troubled and gazed off into the distance as he waited for the tea to brew. After a few more minutes, he set the cup, which was steaming almost cheerfully, in front of her.

Sipping the tea calmed Wanda until she realized that was not alone in danger. “My brother and my friends! They’re still out there.” She jumped up to run back up the stairs, but he held out a hand.

“They are safe. I transported them back to your house, and the Black Order are far more interested in you than them.”

“Is that what those creatures are called?”

“Well, it is not an official designation, but that is what��a friend and I decided to call them many ages ago.”

She finished her tea, the warmth seeping into her bones now that she knew the others were safe. But there were still so many questions. “So are you going to tell me that story now? And why are the Black Order so interested in me?”

“Yes.” He turned his eyes back to her, and she began to grow uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Despite his intensity, a softness was growing in his expression, making her breath catch in her throat. “You may not believe me, but what I am going to tell you is the complete truth.” He paused to take a breath; she wondered if he even needed to breathe, or if it was an affectation. “I have existed since the beginning of the universe. I explored vast planets and galaxies throughout my years and saw every variety of life imaginable. I thought that nothing could fascinate me any longer, but when humans arrived, I found a new source of intrigue.”

“Could I interrupt you to ask questions?” The story seemed implausible, but when he turned back to her, she could see the truth of it in his eyes. They held unspeakable years of sorrow and joy, wonder and dismay.

“Yes.” When he began to speak again, Wanda could see him bringing himself back to the mundane world. “I will tell you whatever you would like to know.”

“Have the Black Order existed as long as you?”

“Yes, I did not know that at first, but I later learned that all six of us came into existence at the same moment when the universe began.”

“I still don’t understand what they want with me.”

“I will get to that.” He steepled his fingers together. “When I was created, I had a great deal of knowledge about the universe, but I did not know why I was here or what my purpose was supposed to be. So I merely observed the workings of the universe. Eventually humans came along. I found myself fascinated by everything about them. I only wanted to know more, and after long observation, I decided to attempt to live among you.”

“Did this cause any problems?” She gestured toward his bright skin and silver designs. Glancing down at himself, he shook his head.

“I learned that I could disguise myself as a human. Although I have been caught in my natural form at times, hence the stories.” He smiled at her, but his face quickly fell. “And after many ages of humanity, I met you.” She didn’t want to name the look in his eyes when he reached this part of the story.

Wanda brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “You don’t mean just now, do you?”

“No, we have come to the part you will likely have trouble believing. You always have in the past. I first met you in 1133 A.D., according to the current Gregorian calendar system.”

“That’s impossible. I was born in 1990.”

“Your current life began in 1990. You were in a different form and a different life the first time we met, of course, but it was still you.”

Despite the fact that her mind rebelled against what he was telling her, she felt a certain rightness in his story. It all began to make sense. Why her dreams always felt so real. How she knew the woman that was chasing her. The familiarity of the strange man before her. “So you’re saying reincarnation is real?”

He seemed pleased that she was catching on, and his smile made her ridiculously proud of herself. “Yes, your soul has returned to earth to be born again many times.”

“That still doesn’t tell me why the Black Order are chasing me or why you went out of your way to rescue me and my friends.”

“No, it does not.” He stood and went to one of the filing cabinets, leaning against it as if for balance. “We did not just meet.” His pause lengthened into a charged silence as he turned around and stared at her. “We fell in love.”

Wanda did not know how to respond. Part of her sang in recognition at his statement, but this was so far outside her daily life that her mind shrank from the possibility that he was telling the truth. He didn’t seem to expect her to speak and continued, “We began living as husband and wife. It was only after we had lived together for a few years that I learned the others were hunting you.”

“What happened?” she managed to whisper. Based on her dreams and the tears beginning to fall from his eyes, it can’t be anything good.

“The five of them confronted me one day. They told me to give you up, and I refused. They hunted us incessantly. No matter what we did they always found us.” He returned to his chair and bowed his head.

“Why do they want me so badly?”

He raised his head to look her directly in the eye. “Forgive a small detour please. When I first decided to settle near your village, I sensed a source of tremendous power, but I could not decipher where exactly it was coming from. Then, I met you, and I stopped caring about that mystery. Until the Black Order came. They were channeling all their abilities together to find that power, and they told me that it was you.”

Despite his deadly seriousness, Wanda laughed. “But I’m just a regular person. There’s nothing special about me.”

“That is not true,” he states with absolute conviction, voice firm. “You have borne more grief in your lives than most, and it has not broken you. You may not see your full power, but it is there. Their plan relies on your giving into despair, and you have not succumbed. They want you to tear apart the world and remake it in their image.”

“I could do that?”

“I believe so, if you lost all inhibitions and simply let your power consume you.” Much as the thought was horrifying, part of her was also intrigued at the possibility of having that much power. Not having to face fear ever again. Being in control of her own destiny.

“That woman. I’ve seen her laughing at me in my dreams as I drown or burn at the stake.”

“Yes, Proxima Midnight. Out of all of them, she seems to take the most glee in hunting you.”

“Huh. That’s some name.” It was odd detail to latch onto in this tale, but at least it’s within her realm of comprehension.

“Yes, we are all prone to dramatic names. I typically go by Vision.”

“Vision,” Wanda tested the name on her tongue. “I like it.”

“Thank you.” The new lightness fled the room when Vision sighed. “All that aside, even though the Black Order are the ones hunting you, much of your pain has been my fault. They were able to find you the first time because of me. They were able to accuse you of being a being a witch because of me.”

She sensed that he was holding back. “I am sorry. I will be back in just a moment; I have to check on the door.” It seemed that he was only trying to escape, but she did not protest. He returned a few minutes later, looking calmer than he had. “Everything is still secure.”

After long moments of silence, she prodded, “Before you left, I thought you were going to say something else.”

He pressed his hands into his desk and looked down at them. “I…I don’t…Our…” He stopped, tears now falling down his cheeks. His voice was only a croak as he continued, “It is all my fault. I should have known. It-.”

Wanda could not take it anymore. “You blame yourself for our child and me dying.” Vision looked stunned at her bluntness but merely nodded. “That’s been one of my most frequent dreams.” He winced at that. “But there was only version of it, unlike the others. I must have been tried as a witch at least half a dozen times.”

His face was still pained, but his voice was steadier as he said, “After realizing that you could bear my child, which we had initially thought was impossible, we were very careful to ensure that you did not become pregnant again.”

“So you found me again every time I came back to life?”

“Almost every time. Several times I broke my promise.” He bowed his head. “We always discussed it. I offered to stay away because your life always ended in tragedy, but you assured me that the good parts made the sorrow worthwhile.”

“The last time I remember being alive, from my dreams, is in the 1950s. What happened between then and now?”

He sighed deeply, and it was such a human gesture, despite his strangeness. It only emphasized the odd sense of familiarity she felt with him. “During your last life, we were married. One day we were arguing. About the future. We both said terrible things to each other and you stormed out. A couple hours later I received a call, saying that you had been in an accident. I drove to the place, but you were already gone by then.”

His hands were shaking. “I’ve never been so close to blind rage. The driver came over to me and made a show of being deeply apologetic, but it was Proxima in her human guise. I began to strangle her with my bare hands until one of the officers on the scene pulled me away. I vowed never to meet you again.”

“So much for that.” She grinned at him. The panic was fading now and she felt comfortable enough with him to tease him a bit.

“Yes, I consider breaking my promise a better option than letting them take you.”

“Thank you. I don’t think I’ve said that properly yet.”

“You are very welcome.” Wanda finished the last few swallows of tea, even though it had gone cold.

Some hours later, Wanda and Vision finally emerged back into the woods. Wanda had to look at her watch to realize how much time had passed. The hours sitting with Vision passed quickly, sharing tales of the modern world and the many decades that had gone before. “How do you know they’re gone?”

“Their power wanes significantly once Halloween is over. They only ever attack during their strongest times.��� He raised his head, gaze growing distant again. “And I cannot feel their presence nearby. My sense of them is much fainter than it was a few hours ago. Still, I would feel far better if you allowed me to accompany you to your home.”

Wanda purposefully kept her reply subdued, though she was quite happy to agree to his request. “Okay.”

When they reached the front door of her childhood home, Pietro rushed outside, enveloping Wanda in a crushing embrace. “Where were you? We panicked.”

“I’m fine.” She pulled away just enough to gesture to Vision. He seemed much more unassuming and meek in his human guise, so she pulled him forward a bit. “This is Vision. He rescued me.”

“Thank you.” Pietro nodded toward him and held out his hand to shake.

“Of course. It was the least I could do.”

Seeing Pietro’s confused stare, she chose to distract him rather than explain. “Go inside, Pietro. I’ll be right there.”

Pietro stared at her suspiciously, but didn’t argue. He did smirk at her, though. “You have sixty seconds, young lady.”

She shoved him. The door closed behind him with a click. Wanda turned back to Vision, who had been observing their interactions with bemusement. “Um, sorry about that.”

“Not at all. Pietro and I typically do not get along very well. This is the most promising introduction we have had.”

"So maybe this lifetime will have a better result.” She could only hope that this life did not end in the fiery despair of her dreams.

“Perhaps.” Vision’s eyes were shadowed, but he attempted a smile. “I would like to believe that.”

“So maybe you should come back soon.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I invited you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.” It looked as if he were preparing a negative reply, trying to keep his words soft but his resolve firm.

Wanda’s heart hung in her chest when it seemed that he would still refuse out of some misplaced sense of honor. She always held herself back from people and was slow to trust, but she decided to take a leap. “I want to get to know you in more than fragments.”

Vision’s smile returned in full force, and she had never been more glad to take a chance. “I want to know you in more than memories.”

They established a time to meet again before Wanda returned inside.

As the next year went on, Vision came to the surface more and more frequently, and his visits lasted longer. He and Wanda fell so naturally into a rhythm that it was difficult to remember that they hadn’t always been together. Despite all their history, Wanda was charmed when Vision stammered his way through a request for her to join him on an official date a few months into their renewed acquaintance.

The night ended with their first kiss. Wanda was eager to repeat it, but Vision had to return below the surface. He did agree to come back the next week, though. Their relationship only progressed from there. The ensuing months brought the best parts of her dreams to life. Fear of the next Halloween lingered in the back of her mind, but Vision’s presence soothed her. He told her stories of them that made them seem more real and fallible than terrifying nightmare creatures.

She relished being able to show him the modern world. Vision made a game of disapproving of all the changes to the world since he was last among humans, but he did a poor job of hiding how impressed he was. Wanda also introduced him to her friends, who all accepted him immediately. During the first half of the year, Wanda could almost forget about her dreams entirely.

Pietro resisted Vision’s new place in her life at first. However, he did come around. He couldn’t deny how Vision cared for Wanda, and his gentle, giving nature wore Pietro down over time. Wanda and Vision finally told Pietro the truth of their past lives. Pietro had difficulty understanding, but believed them. Telling him the truth only strengthened their bond. He still visited Wanda frequently. The three of them gradually became the closest of friends. Pietro even grew more tolerant of Wanda and Vision’s need for alone time some days.

She always missed Vision when he went away, but they found ways to keep in touch when they were apart. Wanda would find notes in random places in her apartment telling her a joke or providing a thought-provoking observation or expressing his devotion. She would send him emails with thoughts about her day or comments about how she missed him. When they were able to come back together again, they were inseparable.

Despite her happiness, dread crept on Wanda anew. As the year waxed and waned, she feared that this life would end like all the others. With the beginning of the next October, Wanda’s dreams became stronger again. But unlike all the other years of her life, now she had Vision to help chase them away. When she woke from horrific nightmares, Vision talked with her about happier times. Each conversation unlocked more of her own memories. If that did not work, he would at least happily distract her.

Pietro also helped her. They played boardgames, went to museums, and hung out with their other friends. Vision did become more worried about what the Black Order would do while their power was growing, but there were no signs of danger. The plus side was that Vision began living with her fulltime. Pietro visited for Halloween weekend. The three of them made plans to stay secure in Wanda’s apartment, handing out candy to all the kids in the building.

On the morning of Halloween, Wanda stretched upon waking. She rolled over to smile at Vision. For an immortal being, he had taken extremely well to sleep. Feeling her eyes on him, he finally opened his eyes a few minutes later. He reached for her and she cuddled up to him. Their plan was to spend the whole day together in the apartment. Pietro had agreed to leave them alone for the whole day, doing some sightseeing in the city.

The day was disrupted when Wanda received a text from one of her clients around noon. They said it was an emergency and to please go to them immediately. Vision instantly grew wary and asked to accompany her. But Wanda insisted that it was important she go alone, that she would call if she encountered any trouble.

Wanda drove to the location that her client had sent. As she approached them, the world wavered around her. Her client dissolved into nothingness and five towering figures stood before her. Wanda clenched her fists and steeled her spine.

The central figure, who she assumed must be the leader Thanos, began to speak, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Hello, my child. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“I can’t say the same.” Wanda projected as much confidence and scorn as she could despite the trembling in her limbs that she was trying to suppress.

“You may change your mind once I make my offer.”

“I’m not interested in anything you have to offer.”

“I suggest you listen first.” He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, and the look sent shivers down her spine. “But one more thing. We wouldn’t want you escaping before you find your way to our side.” Wanda immediately found herself tied to a chair. She struggled against her bonds, but it was no use. The others all circled her more closely. The one she recognized as Proxima smiled evilly down at her. The leader attempted to be kind, which was even worse. He stroked his hand over her hair and down her cheek despite her snapping her teeth at him. “Now, now, Wanda, none of that. Just listen.”

“The world is a terrible place. You of all people should know that. You’ve been murdered, persecuted, tortured, chased from one end of the world to the other.”

“By you!”

“If it had not been us, it would have been someone else. I know you remember. There were hundreds of townspeople willing to kill you on numerous occasions. Someone else would have carried out the sentence.” Wanda had no response to this; she knew the truth of what he said. He smiled more widely and continued, “But if you come with us, you will never have to fear that again.”

“That may have been true in the past, but things are different now.”

He gave her an almost pitying look. “Do you truly believe humans have changed so much?” Much as she wanted to deny him out of sheer principle, Wanda faltered. In her darker moments, she still doubted the inherent goodness of humanity. “I didn’t think so. So why don’t you stop this charade and let us show you true power?”

Wanda pretended to consider it. “What would you want me to do?”

“Unleash chaos.” She began to feel a hum vibrating under her skin. The worst part of this was that a small piece of Wanda wanted to give in. “Humans have been in control of this planet for too long, and they have squandered their opportunities. We think new leadership is needed.”

“And then what?”

“Then you will rule beside us, given the respect you deserve.”

The others’ eyes glinted as they imagined the world that Thanos was painting. But Thanos was growing impatient. “What say you? We only have so much time.” She remained silent, trying to look thoughtful, buying herself a little time. “And no tricks, little one. I offer a place at my side, equal to me in power, but you will not be happy if you cross me.” Wanda nodded; she had no doubt, based on her past lives.

When several more minutes had passed, Thanos gestured to the rest of the Black Order. “Perhaps you need a more personal consideration.” Two figures materialized in the circle. One was fiercely struggling against his bonds and the other stood still as a stone statue. The blood froze in Wanda’s veins. “Let me make this simpler for you. If you join us, you can save one of them. If you refuse, we destroy both of them. You have one minute to decide.”

Wanda gazed at the two most important people in her life. Pietro was still trying to escape to no avail. Proxima and Corvus merely looked on, amused. Vision, meanwhile, was running his eyes over her anxiously. She smiled at him a bit. “Wanda, whatever you decide, I will understand.” Wanda stared back at him, trying to convey all her love.

Pietro finally gave up and looked to Wanda. “Yeah, Wanda, I’m with you always.”

Wanda felt that hum growing. Looking at those she loved, she realized that she had another option. She finally turned back to Thanos just as he said, “Your time has come to an end, Wanda. Make your choice.”

“You want me to unleash chaos?” The Black Order looked gleeful, clearly convinced that they had won. “Be careful what you wish for.” By instinct, she stretched out all her senses. A scarlet glow expanded from within her. She could feel it tingling in her fingertips and through her blood. The mocking smiles on her enemies’ faces faded. They lunged for her, but they were a second too late.

Wanda released Vision and Pietro, sending up a shield over the latter and pushing him out of harm’s way. Vision immediately sent a bolt of energy toward Proxima. She lashed out with her staff, but he dodged easily. Vision glanced toward Wanda during a brief pause while she was focused on holding Thanos back.

She reached into the well of chaos deep within her. A sensation that was both familiar and unfamiliar enveloped her. She suddenly knew what to do. Wanda reached out to Vision. It felt similar to the few times Vision had reached into her mind during their year together to show her a particular memory. She felt him react, though he did not waver from his current fight with Corvus. She urged him to bring them together, and he gave her a brief flick of his head.

Together Wanda and Vision herded them into a tight circle. Wanda slowly let her powers expand. She felt a pulse in one corner of her consciousness. Focusing her entire will on sending the Black Order away, Wanda surrounded them with a crimson cloud. They struggled, but it was too late. Wanda felt a crack form in the universe. She was not entirely sure what lay beyond it, but she sent her captured enemies there. Once they were through, the crack closed as quickly and smoothly as it had opened.

Then, the world went black.

Wanda slowly opened her eyes. She found herself lying on the ground while Vision and Pietro were hovering over her. Pietro was clutching her right hand. “They’re gone. That was awesome, Wanda.” She smiled at him weakly.

Vision placed a hand on her shoulder, his gaze full of warmth and adoration. “Well done, love.”

They both helped her to sit up. “It’s over?”

“I believe so. I cannot feel them at all.” Wanda shrugged them off and pushed herself to her feet. Dusting herself off as Vision and Pietro rose beside her, Wanda pulled them into a hug. The feeling of their arms around her helped ease the terror and anger of the fight. Eventually she pulled away, but kept hold of Vision.

Vision looked down at her smugly. “I told you that you were special.” She could feel the power just underneath her skin, though it was calming.

“Maybe I am.” She smiled more fully as Vision drew her closer. She put her arms around his neck. “And there’s nothing to keep us from being together now. Will you stay with me?”

“Gladly.” Vision dipped his head to kiss her. They didn’t break apart until Pietro made exaggerated gagging noises behind them.

Wanda turned her head to stick her tongue out at her brother. “Grow up.” Her elation led her to be more amused than annoyed, though. Keeping one arm around Vision, she reached for Pietro’s hand. “Let’s go home.” She smiled up at Vision, letting herself believe that this time they could live together for the rest of her long, peaceful life.

His return smile was so delighted that it took her breath away. “Yes, home.”

[astraywriter]

Date Night

Part 2 of “Domestic”

Relationship: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: none

a/n: hello! i am kinda proud of this one especially as someone who hates cooking and is scared of cooking a full meal. I just thought it was cute and really hope you enjoy thank you so much for reading xo

Masterlist

You wanted one night in with your fiancé. Just one. A simple night with a fresh, home-cooked meal, a couple glasses of wine, and some shitty romantic comedy. It was all you wanted. 

But your dream was crumbling to pieces as the minutes went on. 

It started off with Bucky calling to say the mission was running a bit late and he wouldn’t be home until later. You wanted to scream — reminding him you’d had this date night planned for weeks — but you kept your cool and just asked him to come home safely. 

You started the meal later than you had originally planned, but you just really wanted everything to be ready and on the table for when Bucky got home. It was alright, you told yourself, you could still have a nice dinner together but the movie might just have to be skipped.

Everything seemed to be going okay, but shit hit the fan when you got to cooking the main piece of your meal: steaks. You hadn’t always been the best at cooking much above pasta but years of watching cooking shows and a couple of YouTube videos gave you some confidence. But confidence didn’t equal skill and next thing you knew, it was burnt. Smoke filled the kitchen and the smell overwhelmed you. Both pieces of meat were well past saving and it made you wanna rip out your hair. You didn’t even know how it got to this point. The mashed potatoes needed your attention for one second and it all went to hell. 

The only thing you could salvage for the meal were the sides which were a salad and mashed potatoes. But even those had turned out slightly wrong. Your salad was somehow insanely bitter and the mashed potatoes were runny. While, yes, they were edible… It just wasn’t right. 

You groaned, fanning out the smoke from the kitchen just praying the smoke alarm wouldn’t go off. It was literally the last thing you needed on top of how everything else was going tonight. 

You threw the burnt steaks into the trash and filled the greasy, darkened pan with water for it to soak in the sink. Scrubbing that was just gonna be the perfect ending, you thought as you ran your hands down your face in frustration. 

You scourged through your pantry, praying you had something to replace the meal as quickly as possible when you heard the front door open and shut. You held your place at the pantry, just staring at your dry goods when you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t wanna turn around.

"Doll?" Bucky said, confusion evident in his voice. 

"Hey," You mumbled, trying to fight back any tears. "How was the mission?"

"Um, fine?" He said. "Are you okay, hon?"

You sighed and closed the pantry door. You turned to face him, folding your arms around yourself in the process, trying to find some comfort. You felt a bit ashamed in yourself. A night you had been looking forward to seemed completely ridiculous now. You bit your lip, fighting back the tears as best as you could but your eyes still watered. 

Bucky’s eyes filled with concern when he saw the state you were in. He reached out and caressed your cheek — the metal of his hand contrasting with your warmth. It was a familiar comfort so you leaned into him. He welcomed you and wrapped his arm firmly around you. You buried your face into his chest as you wept.

Bucky was silent, letting your emotions run through you. He learned that was the best way for you to eventually calm down so he never minded just holding you when you were upset — just as long as it made you feel better. When you seemed to be settling down, he broke the silence.

"Can you tell me what’s wrong?"

You pulled yourself out of his grasp and let your eyes meet his. "I ruined date night."

Your fiancé’s expression morphed into shock. Without saying anything, you knew he completely forgot about your date night. You didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset.

"Date night… crap, doll, I.. I-,"

"Don’t even worry about it," You sighed and walked over to sit at your kitchen island. The area still reeked of burnt meat which just made you wish you were in bed and finished with the day. 

"No, honey, I didn’t mean to I just got caught up-," Bucky fumbled over his words as he raced to follow you to the island. 

"Seriously, can we forget about it?" You pleaded as tears threatened to come back. "I seriously ruined it."

Bucky sighed. "What do you mean?"

You sniffled as you averted your eyes to the granite countertops of the island. You traced the marble pattern as you spoke, "I burnt the steaks. Like completely black, charcoal, killed-the-cow-again burnt. Then the mashed potatoes were too creamy and the salad turned out bitter however the hell that happens-,"

"Doll…" Bucky cut you off when he saw you begin to ramble. You looked up at him, actually thankful this one time he cut you off.

"I just wanted to make a nice meal for you. Like a real meal: meat, potatoes, the whole nine yards," You explained. "But I couldn’t do it. You sure you wanna marry me?"

He let out a laugh at your ridiculous question. "Honey, I’d still wanna marry you even if the only thing you could make was cereal."

You giggled, feeling much better at his stance on the situation. He wasn’t appearing to be upset and you were so grateful for that. It made you love him even slightly more. 

"Look," Bucky began. "How about we reschedule date night? I’ll mark it on every calendar I have and we’ll spend the night cooking together, okay?"

Your heart warmed at the suggestion. You reached out to take his hands in yours. He gladly accepted the gesture as his eyes wandered over you, looking for some sign of approval. 

"That sounds perfect," You whispered, your voice getting caught in your throat. Tears were making a comeback but this time, it was happy crying. Your whole body warmed with love for your fiancé and you couldn’t get enough.

“Wonderful,” He chuckled. “Now, I saw we order pizza and find the lowest rated romantic comedy on Netflix.”

[sorenmarie87]

Love Shouldn’t Hurt

Summary:  Jensen and Ty receive a call about a domestic disturbance.  

Square Filled: police officer! Jensen

Pairing(s)/Character(s): Reader x Brad (OMC). Jensen Ackles, Ty Olsson.  

Word Count:  1,517

Warning(s):  TW: Domestic Abuse, Pregnant Reader, Supportive Ty, Anxiety.   

A/N:  This was written for @spnaubingo.  Also, I don’t own the photos used in my aesthetic.  Shout out to @fictionalabyss who not only cheered me on while I was writing this but she beta’d it at the same time.  

It was the pounding on the front door that made him back away from you.  “You dumb bitch, you called the cops, didn’t you?”  He scowled and punched you in the stomach again.  You whimper as he pulls you up by hair and drags you down the hall.  “I hope whatever life that was growing inside of you dies because you don’t deserve to be a mother.”  

The pounding got louder as his grip slacked in your hair and he pushed you into the living room.  “Don’t say a damn word, or else.  You got it?”  

You were so terrified for your baby, that as soon as he walked away, you curled up into a ball on the couch and put your hand over your small bump.  “I can’t risk losing you, baby.  You’re the only good thing that man has given me in the past year.  Be grateful mommy and daddy aren’t married, because leaving him would be harder if we were.”  

--

“I have a bad feelin’ about this Jay.”  Ty mutters to his partner as they wait outside in the humid heat.  

Jensen had been thumbing his way through the case file on the way over and he was appalled.  Brad Van Doren, from what he read came from old money and thought that the rules didn’t apply to him.  So what if he abused his girlfriend of three years?   Daddy Van Doren could drop some serious money and the charges would vanish just like that.  That’s why no one went after him.

Until now that is.  

“Same here, brother.”  The front door crashed open and Brad appeared with charming smile plastered on his face.  

“Evenin’ gentleman, how can I help you?”  

“I’m Officer Ackles, and this my partner Officer Olsson.  We got a call about a domestic disturbance at this address.”  

“Really?  I’m afraid you came out here for nothing then, because nothing of that nature has happened here today.”  

The two of them looked at each other when they heard a crash coming from the inside the house.  “Well, the call mentioned that they heard screams?”

Brad brushed his hair back with his free hand and leaned against the door frame.  “My girlfriend must’ve been watching horror movies with the volume all the way up again.”  

“This wasn’t a noise complaint sir - they said it sounded like fighting.”

“Oh that?  it just a lover’s spat you know.  I forgot to do the laundry again, and Y/N wasn’t happy.  You know woman are, right Officer Ackles?  You’re married right?”

“Happily, but when my wife asks me do a household chore, I don’t throw a fit like a two year old.  Ty, take a look inside.  Something’s not sitting right here..”

“On it, chief.”  

--

Brad was going to be pissed.  There was no doubt about it.  His favorite bust was in pieces on the floor in front of you and you started shaking.  That bust was worth more to him than you ever were, and there was no way in hell you could replace it.  I’m dead.  He’s going to kill me.

“Excuse me, is anyone in here?”  

“t-t-here’s glass o-o-on the f-lo-oor, pl-ease be ca-ca-reful.”

“Thank you for the warnin’, now are you okay?”  

“I thought I saw a mouse, and when I pulled my feet up, I hit the coffee table.”  Ty raised an eyebrow but he was watching you carefully.  You refused to meet his eye and your right hand was resting on your stomach.  

He could see the bruises that scattered your arms and legs and Ty’s heart broke.  He had to get you out of the house and away from Brad, even if it was for a small amount of time.  “Have you had any accidents lately?”  You glanced at the doorway before nodding your head and he frowned.  

“Y/N’s just clumsy by nature, just last week she twisted her ankle while wearing a pair of high heels.  She was like a newborn giraffe learning to walk.”

“Sir, I wasn’t asking you.  Now go back outside, and let me do my job in peace.”  You looked over Ty’s shoulder to see Brad glaring at you.  His expression said it all.  Don’t you dare say anything.  You know what will happen if you do, Y/N.  “Now Y/N, was it?”  You nodded as soon as Brad stomped away.  “Are you by chance pregnant?”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure.”  Your voice is still quiet but it’s loud enough for him to hear.  “I had an appointment scheduled for today but I had to reschedule it.”

“I want you to be completely honest with me Y/N - was Brad the reason you missed your appointment?”  

“No, of course not.  I spent all morning in the bathroom, so I couldn’t really leave the house.  I had to call off work too.  You can call and check with my boss, if you need to.”  Ty shook his head and pulled out his cell phone.  He didn’t really say anything as he typed out a text and waited for a response.

“Fantastic!”  He smiled at you and you averted your gaze.  “My buddy said that if we bring you in right now, he can do an ultrasound.  I mean, you do want to know if everything is alright, don’t you?”  

You slowly nodded your head yes, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall.  “Will you, will you go with me?”

“Of course sweetheart.  I’ll be here every step of the way if you want.”

“I can take her in next week.  She’ll be fine..”  You bit your lower lip as Ty escorted you out of the house. “Come on babe, come back.  We can go tomorrow if you want.”

“I want to know if everything is okay today, not tomorrow.”  You knew that once you were alone with Brad there would be hell to pay for talking back to him like that, but you needed to know for certain.  

“We can take her and bring her right back.  It’d take an hour, tops.”

“Fine.  I’ll follow you guys, if that’s okay.”  

Ty opened the passenger side door of the police cruiser and watched you slide in.  “Ty, why don’t you sit in back with her?”

“Would that be okay with you?”  You shyly nodded as he rounded around the other side of the car and took the  seat behind Jensen.  “You know what hospital to go to right?”  Jensen nodded and put the keys in the ignition and turned the car on.  

“Is there anyway -” You picked at the skin around your thumb nail and Ty waited patiently for you to finish your sentence.  “Is there anyway we can keep Brad from coming in?”

“We can ask hospital security detain him, if that would make you feel less anxious?”

“You can do that?”  Ty’s laughter surprised you.  

“For you, sweetheart, yeah we can do that.”  You turned away from him to face the window and watched as the buildings rolled by but for first time that day, you smiled.  

--

“Congratulations Ms. L/N, you’re 8 weeks pregnant.”  

You knew you should be happy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to smile again.  Your baby was safe.  I can’t.  I can’t do this by myself.  You put your hands over your face as the tears started falling.  “I don’t want to go home.  I can’t go back…”  The tears continued falling as Ty watched you from the chair beside the bed.  His hand started to reach for yours but he pulled back.  

“I can help you.  Please, let me help you Y/N.”  The chair scrapped across the floor as he got up and got you the box of tissues.  You moved your hands away from your face and blew your nose before looking at Ty once again.  “He did that to you, didn’t he?”  You nodded and when you heard someone knock on the room door, you immediately froze.  Security was supposed to detain him, what if he comes back and - “Y/N, I need you to take a deep breath, okay?”  

“It’s Officer Ackles, is it okay if I come in?”  Ty watched you take another breath and hold it until he got up to open the door a crack.  He wanted to make sure it was actually his partner.  Jensen was standing on the other side of the door with a small bouquet.

“Come on in.”

“I visited the gift shop before coming up.”  Jensen smiled gently as he placed the flowers in a vase that was beside the bed.  “Is everything gonna be fine here?"  You heard him ask Ty, who took a few steps toward the chair he was sitting in originally.  He nodded but gestured towards Y/N, who was still crying.

"Just some good news after a night of shit, she'll be fine."

"She has you looking after her."  Jensen winks playfully before turning serious once again.  "I have some unfinished business to take care of with Mr. Van Doren, I'll be back later."

"Sock him good for me, please, Jensen?"  

“Roger that.”

--

Forever Tags - @lovetusk @coffee-obsessed-writer@justballoonfishthings@mirajanefairytailmage@kazosa@wings-of-a-raven@docharleythegeekqueen@clockworkmorningglory@lefthologramdeer@ellen-reincarnated1967@holyfuckloueh@idreamofplaid@buckyscrystalqueen@ilovetaquitosmmmm@n3rdybird @super-fan-of-all-things@disneymarina@sandlee44@babykalika2001

[bechloeislegit]

A to Z BeChloe

G is for GROUNDED

Beca Mitchell was considered by many to be Barden High School's resident badass. She wasn't really a bad kid. She stood up to bullies and protected those who were bullied. She had a tendency to talk back to the teachers and yet still managed to be on the Academic Honor Roll every semester. She hated to get up early in the morning and still managed to have perfect attendance every school year.

Beca's father, Warren Mitchell, knew she was a good kid. But there were times when she really tried his patience. Today was one of those times.

"Grounded?! You can't ground me. I'm almost eighteen years old," Beca screamed at her father.

"I believe I just did," Warren said. "For the next two weeks, you will go to school and come straight home. No hanging out with your friends. No going over to their house. School and home, that's it."

"I have a job," Beca said. "There is no way I'm calling out because my father grounded me. I'll be the laughing stock of the store."

"Fine," Warren said. "You can go to your job, but that's it."

"I don't even know what the big deal is," Beca said. "It's not like I killed anyone."

"You broke a store window," Warren said. "You're lucky the store owner didn't press charges. And it's going to cost me close to $600 to have it fixed. Do you have $600 to pay for it?" Beca just glared at him. "I didn't think so." He sighed. "Look, Beca, You have to learn there are consequences for your actions. You're really lucky that it was just the window and nobody got hurt."

"It was an accident," Beca said. "It's not like I did it on purpose."

"I understand that," Warren said. "But you're still grounded. Understand?"

Beca sat on her bed with the arms crossed over her chest. She would not give him the satisfaction of saying anything more, so she just stared at the wall across from her.

Warren finally gave up and left Beca sitting alone in her room. As soon as he was gone, she pulled out her phone and opened up a group chat.

BMitch: I'm grounded.

CBeale: For how long?

BMitch: 2 weeks

CBeale: What about our date? It's our first.

APosen: What happened?

SConrad: That sucks, B!

AHobart: That's what happens when you don't do vertical running.

BMitch: Shut up, Amy! This is all your fault. I'm sorry, Chlo. I guess we'll have to reschedule if you still want to go out with me (please say you still want to go out with me).

CBeale: Of course, we can reschedule. I have to go. Call me later.

APosen: WHAT HAPPENED?

BMitch: I broke a window.

APosen: And you're grounded for two weeks? That seems a bit extreme for a broken window.

Mitchell: It was the window of the hardware store.

APosen: Oh. You'll definitely have to tell us how that happened.

"Beca, dinner's ready," Warren yells from downstairs.

BMitch: I have to go. I'll see you at school tomorrow.

Beca puts her phone away and walks downstairs to dinner.

~gGg~ ~gGg~ ~gGg~

The next day at lunch, Beca was explaining why she was grounded.

"It really is all Amy's fault," Beca said glaring at the Australian exchange student.

"It wasn't my fault," Amy said unperturbed.

"Just tell us exactly what happened," Aubrey said.

"Okay," Beca said. "So, I was riding my skateboard back from the skate park and saw Amy outside Mason's Ice Cream shop, so I stopped to talk to her. I had my board in my hands while we talked and she asked about riding it. She said something about how she was the best skateboarder in Tasmania with teeth, or something equally as weird. Anyway, I told her no one rides my board but me. She tried to grab it from me, and I turned so she couldn't get to it. This went on for a minute or two when she managed to get her hands on it. By now we had moved and were in front of Mr. Danes' hardware store. She pulled really hard, and it came out of my hands. The next thing I know the board is flying through the air and right into Mr. Danes' storefront window. The glass broke leaving a huge hole and glass everywhere. I stood there in shock and saw Mr. Danes looking out the hole it made right at me. Amy was running away."

Beca took a moment to glare at Amy.

"Vertical running, I'm vertical running," Beca mimicked Amy's voice causing everyone except Amy to laugh.

"I don't sound like that," Amy said.

"Yeah, you do," Stacie said still laughing.

"Then what happened?," Chloe asked.

"Well, Mr. Danes was pretty cool about it all," Beca said. "He called my dad, and then they agreed that as long as the replacement window was paid for, he wouldn't call the police and press charges. My dad agreed, and now I'm grounded for two weeks. I can only leave the house to go to school and my job at the record store."

"Still don't see how it's my fault," Amy mumbled.

"Amy," Aubrey said. "If you had left Beca's skateboard alone, none of this would have happened. We all know how Beca is about her stuff and people touching it."

"I think we should ground Amy," Stacie said.

"How would we do that?," Chloe asked with a laugh.

"I say," Stacie started and stopped to think. "I say, she is grounded and cannot sit with us at lunch for the two weeks Beca is grounded."

"You can't do that," Amy said looking worried.

"I like it," Beca said with a mischievous grin. "Let's do that."

"Everyone in favor of grounding Amy, raise your hand," Aubrey said and raised her hand.

Stacie and Beca shot their hands up as well. Chloe bit her lip and looked at Amy. Amy gave her a pleading look.

Beca, sensing that Chloe was waffling, leaned in and whispered, "She caused us to have to reschedule our first official date."

Chloe's hand shot up and at Amy's surprised look said, "Sorry, Amy. Your recklessness is messing with my love life."

"Looks like it's official, Amy," Aubrey said. "Starting tomorrow and for the next two weeks you cannot sit with us at lunch."

"I don't know why I'm being punished when it wasn't my fault," Amy said. She got up and stomped away from the table.

Aubrey sighed. "I wish she'd understand that the things she does causes problems for everyone. She never takes responsibility for her actions."

"I just thought of something," Stacie said. "My birthday party is a week from Friday. Will you be able to make it?"

"I don't know," Beca said. "I'll have to ask my dad when my grounding ends. Don't worry; I'll plead my case and do everything I can to be there."

"Maybe we can make the party our first official date," Chloe said with a smile and looked at Beca. "Would you do me the honor of being my date for Stacie's party?"

"You do know that it will probably end with everyone making out, right?," Aubrey asked. "Are you sure you want that for a first date?"

"I stand by my offer," Chloe said given Beca a wink.

"I will definitely be there," Beca said red-faced.

"Good," Stacie said. "I'd better go. I have to stop by my locker before my next class."

"I'll walk with you," Aubrey said.

~gGg~ ~gGg~ ~gGg~

That night at dinner Beca brought up Stacie's birthday party. Warren thought about it and told her she could go. Beca smiled and jumped up to hug her dad. Sheila smiled at him, knowing how much the hug meant to him.

As she sat back down, Beca thought about something. "Dad? If I pay for half the window, can I take Chloe out for our first date on Friday like we had originally planned?"

"I thought you were saving your money for Prom?," Warren asked.

"I was. I am," Beca said. "But Chloe's the one I want to take to Prom, and that's not going to happen if I can't get the relationship started. No one wants their first date to be at Prom."

"Keep your money," Warren said. "And you can take Chloe out on Friday night. I think you've learned your lesson."

"You're such a softie," Sheila said with a smile. She looked at Beca. "Where are you taking Chloe on your first date?"

"I don't know," Beca said. "I was thinking some maybe just pizza and a movie."

"You hate movies," Sheila said.

"I know," Beca said. "But Chloe loves going to the movies. And it should be about what she likes, right?"

"That's true," Warren said. "You're grounded until Friday. Then you're free to go on your date and to have your friends over."

"Thanks, dad," Beca said. "I really am sorry about the window." She suddenly jumped up from the table and said, "I have to call Chloe. May I be excused?"

"Go ahead," Sheila said.

Beca ran out and went to her room. She pulled out her phone and immediately called Chloe.

"Hey, Becs," Chloe said answering the phone.

"Hey," Beca said. "So, what movie would you like to see Friday night?"

"What?," Chloe asked.

"Don't tell me you forgot about our date on Friday," Beca said with a smile on her face.

"I thought you couldn't go because you were grounded," Chloe said.

"My dad lifted it," Beca said. "I asked about Stacie's party and then asked if I could still take you out on Friday. He said yes and that I was only grounded until Friday. So, what movie do you want to see?"

"Let's talk about it tomorrow," Chloe said. "I'm really excited about going out with you."

"Yeah?" Beca's smile grew even wider. "I'm just glad you said yes."

"I'm glad you finally asked me," Chloe said. "Don't tell Stacie I told you, but she told me you liked me and wanted to ask me out."

"I'm sorry it took me so long," Beca said. "I was afraid you'd say no."

"That was never going to happen," Chloe said. "I've had a crush on you since last year."

"Last year! Why didn't you ask me out?"

"Same reason. I was afraid you didn't feel the same way. Then when Stacie said you wanted to ask me, I decided to let you do it in your own time. I didn't want to scare you off."

"Fair enough," Beca said.

"Beca! Someone's here to see you," Sheila's voice called from downstairs

"I have to go," Beca said. "We'll definitely talk more tomorrow. Good night, Chlo."

"Good night, Becs," Chloe said, and they ended the call.

Beca went downstairs and was surprised to see Amy standing by the door chatting with her dad and Sheila.

"Hey, Ames," Beca said. "What's up?"

"Here," Amy said and held out an envelope toward Beca.

Beca looked at the envelope and then at Amy. "What's this?"

"Just take it," Amy said thrusting the envelope into Beca's hands.

Beca opened the envelope and looked inside. "Amy?"

"It's for the window," Amy said. "I was talking to my mum, and she said that you were right and that I was at least partially responsible for the window breaking and should help pay for it."

"Amy," Warren said. "That's very generous of you."

"Amy, there is six hundred dollars here," Beca said. "Your share would only be three hundred."

"My dad gave me the money and said I should just pay it all," Amy said. "I know you're saving up for something special and it's my way of saying I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Amy," Beca said as she handed the envelope to her dad. "I'll see you at lunch tomorrow."

"You mean I'm no longer grounded anymore and can eat lunch with you guys?," Amy asked excitedly.

"I'm only grounded until Friday, so I'm lifting your punishment as well," Beca said.

"Yes!," Amy said with a small fist pump. "I like eating lunch with you guys. I should get going."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Beca said, and she showed Amy out.

~gGg~ ~gGg~ ~gGg~

The next day at lunch, Amy sat with the girls and Aubrey looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"It's okay, Aubrey," Beca said. "Amy apologized AND paid for the window, so I told her she was allowed back at our table."

"I'm glad," Aubrey said and smiled at Amy. "Lunch would be really boring without you regaling us with one of your dingo-wrestling stories."

The other girls laughed and started talking. Beca turned toward Chloe.

"Thought of a movie yet?," Beca asked.

"I was thinking maybe a comedy," Chloe said.

"You're taking Chloe to a movie?," Stacie asked overhearing. "You don't like movies."

"So? Chloe does, and that's what matters," Beca said with a shrug.

"Whipped," Amy said and made a whip cracking sound.

Stacie and Aubrey laughed.

"I think it's sweet," Chloe said.

~gGg~ ~gGg~ ~gGg~

It's finally Friday, and Beca and Chloe are enjoying pizza after their movie date.

"Did you like the movie?" Beca took another slice and looked at Chloe.

"I did," Chloe said. "It was pretty funny. I love Kate McKinnon; she's hilarious."

"I have to admit I liked it, too," Beca said.

"I'm having a really good time," Chloe said with a small smile. "I hope we can do this again. A lot!"

"Yeah? In that case, what are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Why? Are you asking me out?"

"Yep," Beca said. "I thought we could go to the mini-golf place."

"Hey, Beca," a voice said causing both girls to look up.

"Hey, Tammy," Beca said somewhat annoyed by the interruption.

"Tammy," Chloe said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, hey Chloe," Tammy said dismissively. She then turned her back to Chloe and spoke directly to Beca. "I was wondering if you were busy tomorrow night? I'm thinking we should go to a movie. You and me in a dark theater. Think of all the things we could do in the dark."

Beca just looked at the girl. "No."

"Why not?," Tammy said. "We would be so good together."

"Oh, hell no," Chloe said. She stood and grabbed Tammy's arm pulling her away from Beca. "Beca is with me, and I don't appreciate you hitting on my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?," Tammy asked and looked at Beca for confirmation.

Beca smiled and said, "Yes, girlfriend. So, see you around, Tammy."

Tammy looked between the two and then stormed off with a huff. Chloe waited until she was out of sight before she sat back down.

"Girlfriend, huh?," Beca said with a grin.

"Don't act surprised," Chloe said. "We both know that's where this was going."

"I'm not complaining," Beca said with a smile.

"Good," Chloe said and smiled. "And, as your girlfriend, I am officially grounding you from dating anyone but me."

"I thought being grounded was supposed to be a punishment. I feel like I'm being rewarded."

"Can we leave now?," Chloe asked. "I really want to give you another kind of reward, but I don't want to do it in front of all these people."

"Can I get my reward now?," Beca asked. "I don't care if you do it in front of all these people."

"Absolutely," Chloe said as she leaned in and kissed Beca.

"I think I'm going to like being grounded with you."

[get-well-soonish-blog]

Where it all Began

OK, so I’ve created an Instagram account dedicated to showing the world what it’s like to be me. Might as well link a blog to it, amirite?

Why does that matter?

Now what?

What are you even going to be talking about, Katie?

Some questions that might be buzzing around your head, I know. 

We all kind of walk through this world doing what we do every day. And maybe some of us find that significant, but maybe some of us don’t. If you see yourself as “just a student”, or “just a person in an entry-level, coordinator position, or “just trying to get by”, I promise you that means something. 

About four months ago I made a move that changed my life so profoundly it has quite literally shaken me down to my core and showed me who I am, what I’m made of. But let’s rewind to just before that all happened.

I’m sitting on the couch of a family I nanny for in what felt like the middle-of-nowhere-Indiana. It’s just about 1:00 pm, the baby is asleep and I’m watching The Walking Dead. My tortured relationship has just come to a complete end (you’ll hear about him later, I promise), my roommate hates me (you’ll hear about her too, don’t worry), all of my college friends have moved to places like Seattle, and Chicago and I’m so sad I can’t even cry. I’m stuck in the cement that I’ve let set around me blankly staring at my MacBook Air as character after character dies and I. Feel. Nothing. I was supposed to have a skype interview with a company in New York but I consciously decide to skip it. “I forgot, I’m sorry, can we reschedule? No? Ok, thank you for the opportunity.” I can hear the script I’m writing for the email scene I’m about to direct. And that’s when my phone rings...

“Hi, is this, Katie?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“Hi Katie, this is Alex. I’m calling on the behalf of Agency. We were supposed to have a Skype call at 1:00.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry my internet isn’t working properly. I’m so glad you called...”

A little bit different than the original script I was writing, but I went with it.

Fast forward four months, and here I am; writing to you from my desk at that job in New York *shhhh* to tell you about why I need to talk to you; why I feel my story is important to tell, as is yours. I left that couch, bad relationship, horrible roommate situation, town one month later and I can quite literally say that I never once looked in my rearview mirror as I drove far, far away from that place in the midwest to a new one in Upstate New York.

And that’s when my life became perfect! The End...

I wish that was how it went. But everyone knows that putting distance between yourself and the problem(s) isn’t always the answer. Things follow you and more often than not, it’s time that we need. I really, truly, vigorously believed that leaving all of those people and memories and that place behind was the cure-all to this disease that, I thought, was my anxiety and depression (queue post for later about what I actually had going on in my cute little brain). I also thought I loved change! I was ready for it because change is always a 100% guaranteed breath of fresh air. 

Wrong. 

Not only was distance not a cure-all, it was isolating and the change was so vast and challenging, I wasn’t sure I could handle it. 

My mother and I aren’t close. I remember smelling her nightshirt when I was little, trying to absorb something from her. Looking back I’m not sure what that was, really. Maybe it was whatever kindness she had left in her after my dad left or a smile. Her smell was always floral but sweet and I needed it to put me to sleep. There was a time when I found her, her scent, comforting. But as I got older I began to appreciate that less and eventually not want it at all. Our lack of a relationship isn’t entirely her fault. I recognize that I’m my own, closed off person, afraid to get to know the woman who brought me into this world. But after the transition to the North Country, I called her almost every day like I was five and I needed to smell her nightshirt to be able to rest. I cried that I’d never make friends here (shout-out to the wonderful humans who have taken me in and now call me their friend). I thought the midwest was desolate, but really I didn’t even know what desolate was until moving here. The midwest was a friend I’d become too familiar with and bored of. It was a place I took for granted and only saw the times I’d had my heart broken or falling outs with close friends or dropping out of college after four years of half-hearted-hard-work. But the North Country was an alien from a galaxy I’d never even heard of and couldn’t communicate with or relate to. I’d forcefully thrown myself at it only to realize it looked nothing like what I’d loved and known for so long. 

For the first several months, I found no comfort here. The job was harder than anticipated and most of my coworkers, for lack of a better word, sucked. The agency was at the forefront of a rebrand and I’d come in at the worst, most disjointed time in their 41-year history as a company. So, not only was the job not panning out but like I said, I truly had no friends. It was sub-zero, constantly snowing, dark by 4:30 pm and I was beginning to resent the reason I’d come here in the first place; to get away from things that pained me. I drove to and from work in pitch black, every day. I love being outdoors, but I’d never been winter hiking and had no proper gear to get out there and no money to buy said gear. Everything was a mess of pure and hopeful expectations collapsing in on me and whether I created it or not, I felt I had no control over the clean-up. 

But somehow, dirty clothes found their way into my hamper and friends were made, gear was purchased, work settled down. And now, today, I feel like I’ve finally gotten a grasp on my new life. It feels weird to write that down... “my new life”. But how I’m living now looks nothing like what it used to so I guess it really is “new”.

I’m taking canoe trips and becoming more active and going to therapy once a week. I had such a rough go for those few months, and so many things to sort out. Through therapy and some much-needed soul-searching, the only conclusion I’ve come to is that I need to take care of myself and SLOW DOWN (As my girl, Kacey Musgraves says, “I’m all right with a slow burn.” That’s kind of been my theme song for the last few months). Take that job, be patient with myself in adjusting, say yes to more experiences, but learn to say no when it’s just too much, do what benefits me. Sounds selfish, I know, but I’ve always given so much of myself to others and left none for myself. And I’m tired of feeling empty with nothing left to give to the most important person in my life; me. You might be thinking, “damn, she’s really taking this selfish thing seriously”. And that’s because I am. Going out with coworkers on a Tuesday might be fun, and I might be missing out on a few laughs, BUT going home to work out, and cook dinner and relax before another day of work is mindful and soothing and it’s what I need to feel like my best self. Learning to say no to things I feel I’m missing out on has been quite the process, but I’ve never felt empty or depleted doing it. 

So to answer the questions I think might be buzzing around in your head... 

1. This matters because I feel all stories are important and deserve to be told. It’s also part of my emotional wellness and healing. I went to school for writing and though I’m in a position in my professional life where I write content, I’m not writing anything I truly feel could change anything. Even if this doesn’t change your life, it will change mine (there I go learning to be all selfish again). 

2. And now, I tell you how I try to stay sane, try being the keyword. There are days I still am so sad I can’t cry. And there are still days in which I miss that toxic relationship, distressed couch, and abusive roommate. But there are more days now than there ever were of fun mistakes and happy adventures. I guess when they say the only direction there is to go from rock-bottom is up, they’re not lying. 

3. I’m talking about emotional wellness! A combination of therapy, guided meditation, exercise and *mostly* clean eating does it for me, and I’m curious to know what does it for you. I’m talking about being raw and open and honest with oneself, admitting to your mistakes, and honoring your flaws. I’m talking about obtaining contentment. People strive for happiness but really feeling happy isn’t something we’re meant to feel in our normal state. Happy, elated, excited are all things that take us higher, far above the level of contentment. Contentment is where I strive to be. Contentment is where I feel warm and secure and like I’m ready to take on whatever life throws at me because I can; because I’m standing on a solid foundation of neutrality that I’ve built with my own, small, chubby baby hands. 

So... if any of this interests you, stick around and read a while. Also, check out get.well.soonish on Instagram to put a face to the name cause it’s a pretty good one ;).

[agwarfel86]

Concert #43. I saw @bayleelittrell_music and @backstreetboys! To say it was an amazing show is an understatement. I was going to go to the D.C. concert but the seat I had was terrible and after I’d started thinking about selling it Rob Thomas announced a solo tour and his D.C. date was the same night. I really wanted to see both so I ended up selling my ticket and decided to see them in Hershey instead. The original Hershey date pretty much turned into a dumpster fire between rain and how it was handled by the venue. Luckily they were able to reschedule during a world tour and the weekend before the show they were in Pittsburgh and Newark. Even though it was rescheduled for a Monday in Hershey I was able to take part of the day off to still make it but wherever it was I would’ve found a way to see them! Brian’s son Baylee was the opener and he’s a spitting image of Brian. He was a little pop, a little country and he was pretty good. Before they came onstage a video was on with all the names of the albums they’ve released over the years and then they came onstage. They did a 32 song setlist and were on for a good 2 hours! I’ve seen headlining bands do half that amount of songs. They did songs off their newest album and all the classics. They also talked a few times about how they were glad they were able to come back to makeup the show and they were glad we were able to make it back and that they know it could’ve taken a lot for us to go once but to make it back again. It was crazy but also expected listening to all the people (including myself) screaming and singing along. I was so excited and anxious the night before that I barely slept but once they came on I forgot all about being tired. They also said they might be coming back next summer so I’m definitely keep an eye out on tour announcements! At one point A.J. and Kevin were onstage while Nick, Brian and Howie were offstage changing and hey had an enclosure but A.J. and Kevin were talking about mixing things up and changed onstage. I’m sure I’m not the only one who was swooning over A.J. changing onstage even though you didn’t see anything. They were amazing and I really hope they come back next year! (at Hersheypark Stadium) https://www.instagram.com/p/B2ik8rpJyZE/?igshid=qkgrn8r72w2o

[abbyindenhaag]

Bergen from Voss (aka A Hairdresser in Every Boat) [[DRAFT]]

N.B. This post is meant to be second in sequence but I forgot to make a draft post to edit. Things may get put in the proper order eventually.... or not. Enjoy:

After three more days in Bergen, we have moved on (by a train, through some stunning fjords) to Voss, where we are spending the night before starting our first day of cycling tomorrow. I think both Mom and I started to feel that it was About Time to Be Elsewhere somewhere around our 25th trip between the town center and our hotel as we struggled against the tide of cruise ship tourists. At this point, between all of our trips on the first day, and also all of our errands today, I think we have walked by every single hairdresser and garbage dumpster in the city. And there are a LOT of hairdressers.

We forgot to ask Ida why this was the case, so we had to turn to the Internet, where we found posts on Reddit asking the same thing. There was no satisfactory answer, but apparently it’s a regional joke that when the oil runs out, the economy will be sustained by everyone cutting everyone else’s hair. And in case you still think I am over the top, here is a map of (a strict subset of) the many hair salons in *the tourist region* of Bergen. This is a small area about the size of Newbury street in Boston, which has maybe 1 hair salon at best. So!

Anyway. On Sunday morning we visited an archaeological museum, where we learned about the trade routes between Medieval Norway and the rest of Europe. Bergen was actually the location of an outpost of the Hanseatic League, a German league of merchants that... monopolized trade routes? I guess? Not super sure because the museum about it is closed for renovations, and I have no idea how to get information about a topic if there is no convenient museum to teach me about it. Maybe a library book? An encyclopedia? There’s gotta be something.

We also saw some rune sticks, which people used to carve messages on (usually impermanent, frequently trade related but sometimes personal.) I thought it was cool how the qualities of the materials used (wood, knives) dictated the form of the letters (mostly straight lines, if you have seen runes.) There are curved lines, but they seem hard.

The other memorable thing we saw was some very fine combs, which seemed nice until we realized that they were probably used primarily not for, like, making pretty braids, but instead probably for picking lice out of people’s hair. Cute!

We had lunch in an octagonal (or maybe hexagonal) renovated bathhouse-now-pub originally named in honor of Dr. Wiesener, a physician who championed clean living environments in the late 1800’s. The pub’s menu described the bathhouse as being for the “less mediocre classes” (they meant low-income but something got lost in translation and levels of mediocrity is now my standard measuring stick, don’t @ me.) It was very cozy and seemed like a neighborhood place and had blankets for the outdoor seating!

After lunch we met up with mom’s old au pair/family friend/sort of aunt Ida and her husband Jon Helge, who were both super super nice. We visited their cabin (“hytte”) and read their “cabin book” (a great idea, basically a scrapbook/journal of every time you visit the cabin, which Chester should have started in 1970-whatever) and visited their sailboat and heard stories of the past and generally reminisced. In addition to viewing old photos of my mom from Ida’s many photo albums, we also took a lot of pictures, which I suspect are somewhat recursively going to end up in the next album. Our conversations gave me the impression that not only does every Norwegian family have at least one cabin, whether in the mountains or on a fjord or possibly both, they all seem to have boats like the Dutch have bikes. At the cabin there were I think three rowboats and a sailboat, not counting the additional sailboat that a son or son-in-law borrowed from a colleague for a recent three-day sailing trip, and every neighboring cabin also seemed to overflow with boats. I know they are a seafaring nation and are all descended from Vikings, but still. Wow.

Apart from some politics, our dinner conversation mostly covered the Norwegian (and other) monarchy, and we learned (among other things) that Norway became independent from Sweden in 1905 and invited a prince of Denmark to become their King. But he became very beloved for leaving the country during the very rapid invasion in 1940 by the Germans and refusing to recognize the new collaborator government. We also learned that Norway faced serious deprivation and famine during and after the war as a result of the occupation and blockades, and it seems to still sit prominently in people’s minds. In the US, WWII was three or four wars ago and not on our soil, but I suppose when you grow up with people still feeling the after effects, things are a lot different.

I have to move a bit more quickly now because otherwise I will spend a day for every day I write about.

Monday was rainy but we still had a lovely time on our horse ride, which we rescheduled to escape the worst of the downpour. Our “mounts” were traditional Norwegian fjord horses - a nice golden color, with Mohawk-style manes that were white on the sides with a stripe of brown down the middle. Very cool looking - and it was fun to recognize them in a painting in a museum of Norwegian art later that afternoon! The museum also had a painting I really liked of a turbulent ocean (yes, there are so many of those, but I liked these colors and also felt like it was very well-done in terms of accuracy of water texture) and one of an orchard in spring that we both liked. Also several of Edvard Munch‘s works (he was pretty depressed!) and also a painting of several people trying to get cows into a boat, which seemed like a difficult proposition.

Tuesday (today) we did a lot of schlepping, as previously described, but we also went to Edvard Grieg’s house for a concert and guided tour. Ex ante, it was possible that all I would learn was that Norway has a lot of melancholy artists names Edvard, but I actually really liked the music we heard (I think it is in the same category as Dvorâk and Chopin, though I’m really not an expert), even though in the past I haven’t enjoyed as much the pieces that feel like they swing between structure and chaos, rather than being tightly patterned like Bach or Mozart or Beethoven. But this was interesting to listen to and dramatic and different and sometimes you need that! Also, the location of the villa was beautiful, so I really can’t complain. I enjoyed seeing Grieg’s composing cabin (hytte), which seems like pretty much the ideal place to do any kind of work (such as, say, research.)

Now we are in Voss, home of extreme sports (including stunt airplane tricks, which they do over the lake) and also a delicious hotel restaurant where we had some really excellent trout with potatoes and vegetables in a cream sauce. The hotel is in the Swiss style, all made of wood and with a large dining room and clearly designed for fancy people to socialize in a beautiful place. It was preserved from bombings in WWII and used as housing for Germans (obviously, we didn’t need the plaque to tell us *that*.) One had an uneasy feeling that the owners may have been Nazi sympathizers, but one hopes it isn’t true. If so, however, they would probably be turning in their graves at the large numbers of Asian tourists who now seem to make up the bulk of the hotel’s clientele. In any case, this was another feature of our trip that made the war seem much closer to the present day than it does in the US.

[ilovethings-somuch]

Private Lessons (5/10)

Dad!Chris Evans/first person OFC (Elaina)

A/N: Hello! it’s a day late, I know. Don’t hate me. Anyways, this chapter has a little angst, a little fluff, a little Lukas, it’s a fun time I promise. 

Synopsis: Elaina is teaching swimming lessons to a little boy named Lukas when she discovers that he is the son of Chris Evans. When Chris approaches Elaina to do private lessons with Lukas at the Evans’ home will things heat up? Will Elaina turn into a home wrecker that she never wanted to be?

(about the gif: imagine Chris looking at Elaina the way he’s looking at Sebastian)

Scheduling was crazy the next few weeks. Chris was in and out of town, sometimes taking Lukas with him, sometimes leaving him with a nanny. Two weeks went by where we only got 1 lesson in. Even when Lukas stayed home with a nanny Chris didn’t want me to come, something about adding stress to the nanny and to Lukas. With all the rescheduling and cancelling lessons that was happening it was like I was texting or calling Chris nonstop. Which sounds nice, right? The problem is, we were literally only talking about lessons. His messages were short and to the point, lacking in the flirty banter I had gotten used to. After almost a month of no lessons Chris is finally back for a little over a week. We go back to our usual Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule for the week.

When I get off work on Monday my stomach is in knots. It feels like the first day of school all over again. There’s no reason for me to be this anxious, it’s just Chris and Lukas after all. I can’t decide if it was just because I haven’t seen them in a while or if it was because Chris and I left things on an awkward note. When I get there Lukas answers the door, only to be followed by Chris reminding him that he needs to get Chris before he opens the door. Lukas ignored him and leaped into my arms to hug me.

“I missed you Miss Lainie!”

“I missed you too buddy, how have you been” Chris gives me a tight smile before he points that he’s going back to his office. Lukas is already in his swimsuit so we make our way out to the pool. We spend most of the class reviewing since he forgot a lot during the accidental break.

“Do your back float and I’m going to count to ten and then I want you to roll over onto your front float and hold your breath as long as you can, okay?”

“Yup” once he’s steady I move my hand away from supporting him and start counting, when I get to ten he rolls over, taking a deep breath, and puts him face in to front float. He doesn’t stay floating for long, he picks his head up almost as fast as he put it in.

“What kind of front float was that?” I tease while holding him facing me, he shrugs his response. “Okay, let’s work on that. Remember to take a really big breath and blow the air out really slow so you don’t run out too quickly. And what do you do with your arms?”

“Airplane arms!”

“No, that’s your back float. When we front float we do Superman arms”

“I don’t like Superman”

“Well, why’s that?”

“Cause my daddy’s Captain Mamerica”

“He is Captain America, but that doesn’t mean Superman is bad” he gives me a look the says Superman is most definitely bad, “Oh-kay maybe he is bad”

“He is, Captain Mamerica is the only superhero we can talk about”

“Not even Thor? Or Iron Man?”

“Nope!”

“Did you dad tell you that?”

“Yup!”

“Alrighty, well Captain America can’t fly so I can’t tell you to do Captain America arms, so now you better just remember where your arms go when you do your front float”

“I’ll remember”

We work on kicking and ice cream scoop arms, finishing up with a biggest splash contest. Lukas doesn’t want to get out after our hour was up so I agree to stay in with him until he tires out or Chris comes out to call him in. I put a lifejacket on him so he can jump in the deep end while I sit by the edge. Eventually I move back into the water, the brisk evening air becoming to cold to stay on the side in a wet suit. I relaxe into a back float, occasionally looking up to check on Lukas. Suddenly there’s a big splash right by my head, I stand up quickly and wipe the water from my face. At first I think that it’s Lukas, but as I realize that there’s no way Lukas could’ve made that big of a splash I feel two large hands wrap around my waist and spin me around.

“Gotcha” he says triumphantly before setting me back on my feet.

“You scared me!” I saw with a splash to his face, I can’t help but notice his lack of shirt this time. The perfectly sculpted muscles covered with a light layer of chest hair.

“Well you were sleeping on the job” he teases.

“I was not sleeping, besides my hour is up”

“Oh yeah, why are you still here?” There’s silence for a beat before he realizes how that sounded “That came out wrong, I just mean why are you guys still in the pool?”

“Lukas didn’t want to get out and I didn’t know where you were so I told him I’d stay in with him for a while”

“Yeah, sorry about earlier. My manager has a ton of auditions set up. I know I told him that I would be willing to start a couple films again not that Lukas is older, but he went a little overboard so I have to figure out which ones I even want to try and it’s just been a mess”

“I’m sorry, are you just looking at acting again or directing?”

“Just acting right now, I need to get back into it a bit before directing will be a good fit for me”

“So maybe wait until Lukas is in school?”

“That’s the plan as of right now. It’s still going to be hard though”

“It’s always going to be hard” I reach out to touch his arm, aiming for friendly comfort, we seem to have gravitated closer while talking and I realize that we’re almost touching already.

“It’s getting late, do you want to stay for dinner?”

“That would be nice”

Chris coaxes Lukas out of the pool with the promise of food. We all walk to the house together and I dry myself as best I can to avoid leaving puddles throughout the house. Chris takes Lukas to help him change, I take a seat at the kitchen island while waiting for them to come back. Lukas comes running out first in flannel pajamas, Chris follows behind a few minutes later carrying sweat pants and a t-shirt.

“I thought you might want to change out of your suit”

“Thank you! Your house is really cold” I say only half kidding

“I can turn the AC down”

“You don’t need to do that for the little while that I’m here. Besides, with these pants I’m sure I’ll be warm enough” I excuse myself to the bathroom to change, thankful of my emergency sports bra and panties that I keep in my bag. By the time I’m done changing Chris has sandwiches made up for all of us.

“Sorry it’s not as fancy as spaghetti, but it’s fast and tastes good”

“No, it’s perfect, who can turn down a good sandwich?”

Lukas almost falls asleep on his plate again, the extra time in the water seemed to tire him out more than we originally thought. Chris carries him off to bed, telling me that he’ll be back in a few minutes.

“Didn’t even have to read to him, he was out like a light”

“Swimming will do that to you. So, we’re doing Monday, Wednesday, Friday this week right?”

“Yeah as long as that’s good for you?”

“Yeah, of course. I can give you these back on Wednesday then” I tell him, gesturing to the clothes.

“Yeah whenever, they look better on you than they do on me” I can’t help but blush at his comment, looking away in an attempt to hide my smile.

“I should probably get going”

“Are you sure, I mean we could watch a movie or something”

“Um, sure, maybe not a movie though. It’s late and I have to work early tomorrow”

“How about one episode of your show of choice”

“Blue Bloods?”

“Sure!” he leads the way to the living room and queues up Netflix before settling on the couch next to me. His arm starts by resting on the back of the couch behind me but eventually falls to rest around my shoulders. About half way through the episode I stop resisting and let myself lean into his shoulder and rest my head by his chest. I swear I can feel him smile from my movements as his arms moves to cup mine and pull me closer. As the episode draws to a close Chris doesn’t move. As much as I would like to stay cuddled up to him, I really do have to get going. I pick my head up and start to lean away. Chris takes the hint and moves his arm off my shoulders, instead, moving to grab the remote. He turns it off and follows me to walk me to my car.

“So I was thinking..”

“That’s never good” I tease when he pauses for a moment. He gives me a lopsided grin before continuing.

“Would you like to get dinner with me on Friday?”

“I just had dinner with you” I remind him, slightly confused by his question.

“I mean not here, and not with Lukas”

“Why not with Lukas?”

“Because,” he sighs dramatically before continuing. “Elaina, I’m asking you on a date”

“A date? You want to go on a date with me?” I’m sure my face is screaming confusion but Chris just lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Yes, I want to go on a date with you. Is that a yes?”

“Yes, of course it’s a yes, I just. Wow.” My brain is going a hundred miles a minute trying to put together the idea that he actually likes me and want to try this. I don’t notice Chris moving until his arms are wrapping around my waist. I fall against his easily, and wrap my arms around his neck.

“I’ll see you on Wednesday” He says while giving me a tight squeeze. He loosens his arms slightly and leans down to kiss my cheek before releasing me completely.

“Bye” I get in my car quickly to stop any further embarrassment. I’m giddy and anxious the whole way home. I take a shower and prepare for bed, the whole time the only thing that’s running through my head is I can’t believe I have a date with Chris Evans.

Permanent Tags: @amistillmyself @megandrawsspace @giftofdreams @wildestdreamsrps @iamwarrenspeace

Private Lessons Tags: @our-chaoticwhispers (I’m sorry it didn’t work)

[anon-e-miss]

A Dark Praxus Mini-Fic

The restrained Enforcer remained as unresistant of his stasis cuffs and shackles as he had the time Jazz had seen him. It could not be said that the drone was relaxed, in fact his posture was absolutely rigid. As the operative turned interrogator scanned the small and secure interview room that served as the Praxian Enforcer's cell, he noted the energon cube sitting on the table, in front of the preprog Enforcer; it was completely untouched. Jazz frowned and he re-calibrated his visor to take a more indepth scan of the captive's frame. To his consternation, his scans showed that the mech's fuel levels were approaching critically low levels.

A question nibbled at the back of Jazz's processor and he walked around the table and lifted the cube. It was almost certainly the same one that had been sitting on the table during their last interrogation. The fluid energon inside had formed a thick film, as only stale energon did. The Polihexian twisted the cube in his servos and watched the mech. There were no signs of the desperate hunger the captive Enforcer had to have been feeling. Though the preprog watched him, his cold optics were focused on Jazz's faceplates, not on the cube. With the stasis cuffs in place, there was no way for the drone to hold the cube and the saboteur wondered if his jailers, Autobots, not Praxians at this point, had actually thought of that. Angry with the fate of Althihex, had they placed the cube close but hopelessly out of reach on purpose?

“This cube's been sittin' a long time,” Jazz said, conversationally. He received no response but this came as no surprise. The mech was choosy over what he consider within his dignity to answer. “Enforcer 093426, you can't tell me ya aren't hungry. Have they kept your cuffs on the whole time?”

“My jailers have removed my cuffs for a total of seven joor each mega-cycle,” the pre-prog replied in the same monotone shared by all the Praxian pre-prog Enforcers. Unlike forged mechanisms, who’s frames were built in the gestation tanks of their originators, pre-progs, also called cold-constructs were mass manufactured, with identical frames powered by second-tier sparks taken from Vector Sigma.

“Then why haven't you drunk this?” The Polihexian asked. “Fool's Energon, or not are you really in the position to be choosy?”

“I have not been given permission to drink,” the Enforcer replied. There was no affect in his voice, he was not capable of emotion, like all pre-prog dones. Yes, there was something in the drone’s posture that made Jazz thing the Praxian Enforcer thought he was an idiot.

“Seriously, mech?” Jazz scoffed. “You single-handedly rerouted the Autobot advance by hacking into the datanet, 'n sendin' them off towards Nova Cronum. You sure as Pit didn't have permission to do that.”

“That was a different matter,” the Enforcer replied. Naturally, he made no move to elaborate. This drone made absolutely no sense. The Praxian pre-programmed Enforcers were classed as state of the art drones, rather than cold-constructs. They had sparks, failed creations of Vector Sigma, merely pure energy, these second-tier sparks were not emotion centres like first-tier or standard sparks. The fact that this drone had independently hacked the datanet, the fact that he had had the inspiration to do so was what Autobot Command found so troubling. That the Praxians seemed less troubled by this development, was also a concern.

“How is it different?” The saboteur asked. “You haven't been hacked, so we know the 'Cons didn't get to you that way. So either you worked alone, or you had orders from inside the Enforcers.”

“I was given no command to reroute the advance,” the Praxian pre-grog said. “I have received no orders regarding the Autobots, at any point.”

“But you did it,” Jazz said. “You did it, but you won't drink a cube because no one's given you permission.”

Again, thedrone elected not to answer. Though he was incapable of emotion, he mimicked stubbornness with considerable skill. Jazz put the cube in his subspace, it was beyond drinking at this point, so far as he was concerned at least. He had no interest in rescheduling this interrogation session. If the Enforcer did not get energon soon, he would be in stasis, and the saboteur had no idea just what fall out might come from that. The Praxians were very clear that they wanted their drone back. He put two digits to the side of his helm and commed the guard on the other side of the door.

“Get me a cube of Fool's Energon.”

“He won't touch it,” the reply came.

“Humour a mech,” Jazz replied, and he removed his digits, severing the call. As he waited, Jazz watched the pre-prog. The longer he waited, and the longer he looked, the Polihexian found small signs of the Enforcer's state. His optics were dimmer, the gleam of his finish duller, still he sat as straight and as perfect as he had when he had taken is seat in that chair.

Jazz heard the guard's approached before the war-frame reached the door. The faint sound of the code being entered followed and the Polihexian stuck out his servo. Ironfist took one step into the door, optic glowing bright as he saw Jazz and his open servo. He moved to pass the cube over but paused at the sight of the Enforcer, seeing the pre-prog was still restrained, his shoulders relax.

“Thank you,” Jazz said, gently taking the cube from the Autobot's servos. “So, I've got this... Now get.”

“If you're going to released the cuffs...” Ironfist argued.

“Nothin' personal or anything, but I don't need your help to manage a half starved pre-prog,” the saboteur repled. He herded the guard through the doorway and latched it without another thought.

The operative vented and shook his helm. Warriors often still forgot that mech of his sort did quite well on their own. Jazz turned back to the Enforcer, and found him watching him, with a focus the Polihexian had not seen in him before. Caught off guard and unwilling to show it, Jazz walked to the drone's side.

“Don't cross me,” he warned as he deactivated the stasis cuffs, and tossed them across the table.  “I'll kill you before you can take another vent.”

“Consider me warned,” the pre-prog replied. Though he reminded himself of it time and again, Jazz kept on thinking of this Enforcer as a sentient mech, rather than an intelligent machine. Perhaps, that was where the feeling of unease came from. Had a 'Con made that remark, Jazz would have taken it for sarcasm, but this was a pre-prog; he should not have been capable of sarcasm. The Praxians had described this drone as a state of the art construction. Jazz found him eerie. Machines were not meant to mimic living mechanisms. And still, the drone did not reach for the cube.

“Do you need an engraved invitation?” Jazz asked, exasperation setting in. The mech gave the cube a cursory glance and looked back up at his interrogator.

“The fact remains, I do not have permission to drink,” he replied.

“For Primus' sake, I give you permission,” the saboteur exclaimed. “The Enforcers gave authority of you over to me, so drink!.

With a slow, perhaps even tentative servo, the pre-prog reached for the cube. His digits curled around it, and he stared at it for a long klik. Jazz watched, wondering just what he was seeing. It seemed as though the pre-prog did not know what to do with the cube. Perhaps he just did not yet have the strength to life it; the affects of stasis cuffs could linger. Finally, under the Polihexian's watchful optics, the Enforcer lifted the cube to his lipplates, and took a small sip.

He promptly aspirated it. Secondary vents opened as his primaries choked. Jazz snatched the cube up before his charge could spill it. Alarm flared in his processor. It only took a klik for the pre-prog to regain his composure and if Jazz did not know better, he would have thought that the Enforcer looked annoyed.

“Have you forgotten how to drink?” Jazz asked with a small chuckle.

“It has been forty-two vorn since I last drank a cube,” the pre-prog said. “It would appear my primary fuel intake no longer functions.”

“You haven't drunk a cube in how long?” The saboteur asked, and his optics brightened behind his visor. “How in the Pit have you fuelled?”

The mech looked down at his chassis, and Jazz followed his gaze. To the Polihexian's surprise, the secondary fuel intake, located directly over the pre-prog's fuel take on his abdomen, was uncovered.  Keeping his optics on the Enforcer, Jazz touched the valve, normally sealed except when utilized by a medic and found that it no longer even had a cover. In fact, the edges were scarred.

“What in the name of Primus,” he swore. “What have they been doin' with you?”

“I am the Core,” the Enforcer replied. “I have been stationed in the Tactical Hub beneath Enforcer commander for three thousand, four hundred and eighty six stellar-cycles. The Hub supplies all the necessities for my upkeep.”

“You were plugged into your work station?” Jazz asked, both horrified and stunned. “For over three millenia?”

“Yes,” the pre-prog confirmed.

“That's.... that's...” the saboteur stammered.

“It would be horrifying, were I a mech,” the Enforcer interrupted. “Except I am not.”

“Are you?” Jazz asked. “Are you not?”

“I hardly have the authority to claim otherwise,” the pre-prog replied. Jazz shook his helm, and at the same time, stepped back and placed his digits to his helm.

“Get me Ratchet, get me Ratchet now.”

***

Jazz stood outside the “cell” doors, scowling at the guards as they murmured at each other. They thought he was insane. It raised his hackles that they dared to theorize together just how this pre-prog or some other filth might have corrupted his processor. He was Special Operations, and Primus only knows what sorts of mechanism and things Jazz had run across in his vorns of service. As if a drone could hack him! The glitches whispered together, thinking he could not hear them. There were be payback for this insult. Later.

“You do realize I could still hear you even if you were on the other side of slaggin' door?” He hissed, and gestured to the door behind his back. The cluster of guards stammered incoherently.

“Jazz.”

The saboteur jerked his helm to see Optimus approaching, alongside Ratchet. Internally he berated himself for allowing his temper to distract him. Fools forgotten, the saboteur turned his attention to the Autobot leader.

“For the record, I haven't lost my processor,” he said.

“Yes, you have,” Ratchet replied, sarcastically. “Vorns ago.”

“The Lord of Praxus was concerned when I raised the question of an examination,” Optimus explained. “The Praxians guard their security zealously. If the Enforcer Core's schematics were to fall into the wrong servos...”

“I've got this, Prime,” Jazz insisted. “Me and Ratch can keep a secret.”

“I trust you,” the Matrix-Bearer replied. “It is the Lord's protests that have convinced me to allow Ratchet to exam the prisoner.”

“You think they're hidin't somethin'?” The saboteur asked. “I was thinkin' the same thing.”

“I want him restrained the entire time,” Optimus said.

“Boss Bot, he's been chained up the entire he's been here, even for recharge,” Jazz said. “I'll be right next to Ratchet through the whole thing.”

“Crowd me and I'll put a dent in your helm,” Ratchet replied. “Everyone here seems to be forgetting that this pre-prog hasn't actually lifted a digit against anyone. Everything he's done has been through the data-net.”

“I will be waiting for Ratchet's verdict,” the Prime said. “Go.”

Jazz typed the code into the door and stepped in even as it was still opening. Ratchet followed on his heels. The moment the medic set optics on the Enforcer, his engine growled. The saboteur knew that sound well. It was reserved for patients he deemed foolish, and saboteur almost pitied the pre-prog who watched Ratchet stalk over with unwavering optics.

“What's your designation?” Ratchet asked.

“I am Enforcer 093...” the pre-prog began.

“Your designation, not your serial number,” the medic interrupted. Ratchet held the pre-prog's optics as Jazz looked on, curious.

“Prowl,” he replied, keeping the medics gaze, when he noticed the Polihexian’s visor focuses on him, he caste his optics to the table.

“Even drones have nicknames, Jazz,” Ratchet chided the saboteur. “And if this one's a drone, I'll eat my wrench.”

“Ratch?” Jazz asked.

“Cursory scans show systems comparable to the standard Praxian frame-type,” the medic said. “Prowl, open you diagnostic port for me.”

The Enforcer, hesitated for a klik. A soft puff from his vents, with his helm still bowed, he relented. A small panel twisted away, revealing a port at the back of his neck. Every mechanism Jazz had ever met had this same port, in this same spot. He supposed drones likely hand them as well, and yet... Jazz watched keenly as Ratchet unspooled cabling from inside his forearm and inserted the end into the Enforcers... Prowl's port.  

“Grant me access to your firewalls,” Ratchet ordered.  “Bring up your self-diagnostics for me, and your system's log. Good. I'll take care of your fuel warnings in a klik. Low coolant too, hmm? Yes, your frame deactivated your primary intake after they were out of use for a dozen stellar-cycles. Reactivating it now. Good. Now what are these errors? ATS? What the Pit is that? Prowl!”

Ratchet reared back, and Jazz leapt forward, yanking the medics cable from the pre-prog's port without hesitation. Prowl, as Ratchet called him, winced and then stilled. Jazz ignored him in favour of Ratchet. The medic shuddered, his vents heaved and his platting clattered. Just as the saboteur was about to take the Enforcer apart, Ratchet pulled himself together.

“Those are some nasty booby traps,” he hissed, rubbing his forehelm. “I'm fine, Jazz. I just poked something I shouldn't have.”

“My apologies, Medic,” Prowl said.

“My fault, should've known better,” Ratchet replied. “Relax, Jazz. The Praxian's have some traps built into his processor to protect their investment.”

“Explain that one to me,” Jazz ordered.

“The ATS is a collection of tactical systems and processors,” the Enforcer explained. “It is why I am the Core.”

“It's a fragging mess,” the medic grumbled. “You are a fragging mess. But before we argue on that one, you need that cube.”

Ratchet stood, old joints creaking as he did. Though the medic chastised his patients for poor frame maintenance, Ratchet was often lax on the care of his own frame. He took the cube off the table, then turned and glowered and the saboteur.

“Don't look at me like that, mech,” Jazz replied, servos up in a placating gesture. “Standard practice.”

“He needs real energon,” the medic snapped. “Medical grade, really. And coolant. Never mind his repair nanites are tanking.”

“Have you forgotten this is the mech that sent the Autobot army on a wild cybergoose chase, leaving Althihex to the smelter.”

“He's spend millenia in a basement cage, he made a mistake,” Ratchet argued.

“I made no mistake,” the pre-prog stated, bluntly. His glyphs silenced the other mechs' argument. “Althihex was already lost. I diverted the Autobots to prevent them from walking blindly to their slaughter.”

“What are you talkin' about?” Jazz asked.

“The Decepticons captured Althihex six orns before the call for help was made to Iacon,” Prowl explained. “In the time they held the base, the Decepticons infected their hostages with Cosmic Rust. In case the army laying in wait outside Altihex’s walls failed to crush the advancing Autobots, the infection waiting within the base would sweep through the ranks before they realized it was happening. With a 56.44% chance of the infection being carried back to Iacon.”

“You led them right to the Decepticons,” the saboteur pointed out.

“Into the Decepticon flank,” the Enforcer replied. “The weakest point of the battalion. The Decepticons were defeated with minimal casualties. When the Decepticon retreat began, in order to hide their use of viral warfare, they bombed the base.”

“You could have warned us,” Jazz argued.

“Enough,” Ratchet ordered. “He needs fuel and it isn't going to be this slag.”

Jazz should have intervened when the medic pulled a cube of medical grade from his subspace, but he stayed silent. What the Enforcer was saying had the ring of truth to it. It would not be difficult to prove if it was the truth either. For the time being, he would allow the pre-prog the benefit of a little trust and a little mercy, and he thought Optimus would approve. Still, the saboteur was not prepared to trust too easily and he did not remove the stasis cuffs from Prowl's servos.

Ratchet turned his back to the Polihexian and held the cube to the pre-prog's lipplates as he gently cradle his helm. It was rare to see the medic treat a patient so tenderly. It was generally a sign that they were too fragile for his tough love. Slowly, the shackled Enforcer drained the cube and when it was finished, whispered a glyph of thanks.

“It was not my intent to be discovered,” Prowl said. “Had I revealed that I had connected the Hub to the data-net and accessed the grids of every city, I would have been destroyed.”

“But I caught wind too fast,” the Polihexian replied. “And you couldn't cover your tracks fast enough. Why did you do it, hack the 'net, in the first place.”

“Stare at the same four walls, at the same screens long enough, you might get bored too, Jazz,” Ratchet interjected. “Tacticians need to know, it's the nature of the function. Am I right, Prowl?”

“That is as accurate an explanation as I might offer,” the pre-prog replied.

“If I can find evidence that you're right, you just might make it out of this in one piece,” Jazz said. “You outta have said somethin'.”

“I have revealed the ability, and the inclination to think for myself,” Prowl countered. “Whatever your conclusions, when I am returned to Praxus, I will be terminated.”

“Get Prime in here,” Ratchet ordered. Jazz remained where he stood, earning him a snarl. “Haven't you figured it out? He isn't a pre-prog. Odds are, none of them are. Their cold-constructs with programming to dumb them down so they can pass as drones. They don't have pseudo-sparks, they have real sparks.”

“Ratchet, that's insane,” Jazz tried to argue. “Did it occur to you that he might be lying?”

“I am telling you, he is a sentient mechanism, not a smart drone,” the medic hissed. “The fact that we even try and pretend there's a distinction is dicey at best. He's a mech, Jazz. Praxus might be running one of the biggest slavery rings in Cybertronian history.”

Note: I was intending to turn this into a full size fic, but the world is a bit cumbersome, and I haven’t had the mind to hash it out. Maybe some day.