#in case anyone else ever actually reads all of this i’m officially rather than just vaguely talking to just my girlfriend from here

[magefeathers]

In honor of TMBTE’s first birthday I’ve decided to finally unleash my dissertation on my unusual interpretation(s) of Sleep! I’ve only ever seen one person who had a similar outlook to me, and they said they received some Negative Feedback on their views, so uh, don’t shoot me?

My favorite thing about this band's fandom is exploration of the lore, how open to interpretation everything is, and how welcome we are to find our own stories within the source material. I love reading how other people interpret certain songs, or the overarching story, differently from each other based on their own outlooks and experiences. That's what I think the point is. So I want to be clear that I'm not trying to say I'm right, I'm not trying to say anyone else is wrong, I'm just expressing my own opinion.

Grab a drink, it's a long one. I won't give a TL;DR because I don't want people to reactively shoot down my theory without reading my reasoning, but I will say it deviates from the more standard interpretations in two ways:

I don't believe Sleep is meant to be an actual deity, I think it's meant to be more allegorical, a metaphor for something real.

I don't think the music, or the story being told, is about Sleep.

I'm sorry if I've already lost you with the first point. I'm sorry if I seem like a party pooper. I love the aesthetic and the worldbuilding and the symbolism, and I love the creativity of the fans who build out the story on the premise of Vessel actually communing with and having some manner of relationship with this great, unknowable, ancient deity. The issue for me is that I can only read that story if I already have that story in my mind, if that makes sense. Sure, I can make the songs fit that narrative, but I never would have arrived at that narrative on my own, without first reading that the band was made to worship this deity. And in my mind, if I couldn't arrive at that conclusion naturally, without being led there, then it probably wasn't the conclusion I was meant to arrive at.

For a while, I could vibe with the idea that Sleep was supposed to be a metaphor for a lover, either present or former, and a toxic relationship he was struggling or had struggled with. But as I delved deeper into their catalogue I very much lost the impression that all of these songs were about one singular person, or even that all of the songs were about romantic relationships in general. And as I got more into the fandom and found out that there was more official dialogue from the band than just the "One Single Interview" everyone talked about, I realized that trying to fit the songs to all be about one person or thing would never work, because the songs weren't about Sleep, there were merely gifts to Sleep.

Now, I could have sworn that when I first got into the band’s lore I read on their official website that their songs are offerings to Sleep - not about Sleep, the way everyone seems to interpret them. That no longer appears to be the case. I have this screenshot that I took of part of what I remember reading, but I distinctly recall there being another paragraph or two in addition to what I cropped, and unfortunately my PC doesn’t show me the link the screenshot was taken on, like my phone would. And in re-reading the text in the screenshot, it does seem to be speaking about Sleep Token as a separate entity so I may be entirely misremembering how official of a source it was ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Regardless, I’ve seen multiple articles that word it in this manner, that the songs are for Sleep rather than about Sleep, and nowhere in the official sources I’ve found is it said that the songs are about Sleep, so I’m going to assume I’m right and continue under the assumption I’ve worked under all along: that the songs are not, in fact, about Sleep.

They are, however, for Sleep. This has never been debated. The songs are tokens, or offerings, to Sleep.

So, let me share with you the official communications that developed my theory. In addition to what I've commonly seen referred to as their "only interview" before II's drumeo video, I've found (poor quality) scans of two magazine spreads, one from Kerrang! and another I'm unsure of the source of, both featuring Jaws. I read most of these after having watched videos of rituals and reading transcripts of the conversation between Vessel and, presumably, his mask, that took place on last year's tour, as well as the monologue from The Room Below. I started to notice a common theme between that more recent conversation and these much earlier interviews, that for some reason surprised me: Vessel had wanted the fans to project onto the music all along.

Noteworthy quotes from the linked sources, in roughly chronological order:

“Our verses are a token, crafted to magnify and embody the multitude of emotion that writhes in our subconscious. Sonically our voice is rooted in the resonation between the notes and your emotion.”

“As musicians we are inspired by the human condition [...]. As followers we are bound by a duty to combine our crafts to create music that conveys some of our most primal, and powerful emotions.”

“We are here to deliver a message; touch people in their hearts and subconscious minds.”

“There exists a considerable body of art that explores the deeper recesses of the human mind. Sleep Token serve as a means to explore this on an individual basis. The music is a representation of one individual’s deepest and most fundamental emotions and desires. This is what people connect to. They see themselves in this individual, and the music becomes about them.”

“The aim is to provide something people can engage with without being obstructed by the identity of its creator.”

“The ultimate goal is to engender a constructive emotional process within as many people as possible. Simply the basic concept of understanding oneself better, understanding others better as a result.”

“Sleep Token draw from the most profound experiences we have in life and, most crucially, where they intersect. [...] To see this within yourself, and then to see it reflected in others - this is the essence of worship.”

“We all desire to see the darkest, most profound aspects of ourselves reflected in the expressions of others. [...] We’re here to provide this expression, so it may serve as a device with which people might understand themselves better.”

"We are here to silently collect. To project ourselves onto one-another."

"Perhaps that is another reason why we are here. At the very least, we have all suffered."

"I think they just want to know that I am feeling something, feeling what they are feeling, perhaps."

"In order for all of this to work there has to be a certain boundary in place. They need to be able to project themselves onto this without anyone else's identity getting in the way. In turn, I need to be able to show my true self to them in a way that does not compromise their ability to connect."

"They, too, are pained. They, too, do not know who they truly are. They are each stood alone on a stage of their own. And yet, they are here. United by that sense of never truly belonging. They see something beyond their own bleak horizons, and they reach for it. Together. So let us join now, to reflect their joy and to serve as a conduit for their anguish. To swallow their fear."

And finally, from the Fall For Me music video: "So for now let me serve as a living drama of your pain. If we are to be submerged let us be submerged together."

When I place them right next to each other, it's probably easier to see the common theme that I caught onto. I cycled through a few ideas - including Vessel himself being Sleep, or Sleep representing music and the connection it can foster between people - but I kept coming back to the way Vessel has repeatedly talked about fans projecting onto the music, examining themselves through it, understanding themselves through it. Projecting ourselves onto him, seeing ourselves in him, trying to understand ourselves through our interpretations of his story.

He's a Vessel for us. The songs are tokens, offerings, to us. We, the fans, are Sleep. The songs are gifts for us to examine ourselves through, to help us delve into our own experiences and emotional responses and understand ourselves - and, in turn, understand each other. It isn't Vessel that we are worshipping, it's ourselves and each other that we see in Vessel. I could even get really sentimental and cheesy if I wanted and say that Vessel directly worships us as well, albeit wordlessly, with his deep bows and falling to his knees in appreciation of his audience.

And just to reiterate, I don't think the songs are about Sleep. Although I think an argument could possibly be made about the toxic relationship between Vessel and Sleep being a metaphor for the parasocial relationship between an entertainer and their audience, I... won't get into that. Today, at least. Although I think it's a really interesting take that deserves exploration, I don't genuinely think any of the songs are directed toward or written about the fans/audience. I just think he's sharing the story of his life with us and allowing us to project our own lives upon it, to remind us that none of us are alone in this world. None of us are alone in our feelings, or in our experiences, no matter how isolated we may feel in them.

[EDIT: After making this post I found yet another magazine interview, in which Vessel kind of.... confirms this whole theory?

"He is everyone. He is you. There is a power in music that binds us all, every note relates to another."

The power of music uniting people and allowing us to see ourselves in each other and connect through that was exactly what I had in mind when I formed this theory, so it's kind of validating that I'm interpreting things correctly to see it put so bluntly lol]

If you made it to the end of this, thank you for hearing me out! \owo/ I had been wanting to make a post about this for a while as it seemed a very clear-cut take to me that I didn't think would be controversial. Speaking with the person I mentioned at the beginning who had a similar theory kind of scared me off it, since they said they received some outright hate for it, but talking to them also really got me excited to dig into my theory and provide my sources and show everyone the breadcrumb trail of how I arrived at this conclusion. So I hope at least a couple people enjoyed it!

If this is received well maybe I'll be brave enough to actually post about some of my song interpretations ^^; As I said, I don't think they're all about any one thing. My favorite quote from the ones listed above is this one: "Sleep Token draw from the most profound experiences we have in life and, most crucially, where they intersect." The intersectionality of it all is what's most interesting to me, so that quote was a little bit vindicating to read, lol. It's not all about romantic relationships, to me. It's about how every experience we go through in life, how we feel about them, how we react to them - all of those experiences overlap and intersect and color each other. It's about how everything you've ever been through will affect everything else you ever go through. But now I am genuinely rambling ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Thank you again for reading, and feel free to slide into my DMs to talk about this god-given band whensoever you wish.

[scuttling]

Stay at Home DILF

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,863 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Insecure Hotch, Oral sex, Fingering, Unprotected sex, A little angsty by accident Summary: Aaron retires from the BAU when the new baby is born, but a year later the lack of structure, sleep, and time for himself means changes to his body he's not very proud of. When the thought of having another child is brought up, how will he and his wife work through his insecurities to make the perfectly imperfect, happy family? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Honey, I have to get going—do you need me to drop Jack off at school, or are you good?” Professor Hotchner slides her foot into a flesh-toned pump, leaning against the kitchen table for support and stealing a grape from Jack’s fruit salad. He narrows his eyes, then sticks out his tongue, and she does the same. “Do you want me to starve, Jackrabbit?”

“You won’t starve. Get your own grapes.” So full of sass, that one. Seven is such a fun age. She decides to blame the mixture of Aaron’s genes and Haley’s, and she pulls out her phone to send Haley a quick text.

Your son is a menace in the morning.

Haley: Gets that from his dad.

Aaron enters the kitchen, holding their one year old daughter Mia, and he sticks her in her highchair, puts her breakfast in front of her, and leans toward his wife.

“I’m good, I’ll take him,” he says, and kisses her lips. “Mia and I will take big brother Jack to school, won’t we?” Mia is obsessed with Jack—her first word was Jack, or rather, Ack, which was super cute—so she giggles happily, and her mother can’t help but smile. Their little family is absolutely perfect.

She leans in for another kiss from Aaron, and then another, and then maybe one more...

“You’re getting distracted,” Jack says, and she looks over at him with a raised eyebrow, then back to Aaron. He shrugs.

“It was on one of his vocabulary sheets.” Figures.

“Well, maybe I find my boys distracting. Let me give you kisses and we’ll find out!” She launches herself at him, kissing his head and his cheeks, and he laughs, and she knows she’s going to be late for work, but she can’t pass up moments like these, she just can’t.

She gives him a hug and tells him to have a good day, then she kisses Mia, and then she puts her arms around Aaron’s neck and kisses him goodbye. Before she pulls away, something comes over her—the warmth of this perfect morning, the overwhelming love for both of their sassy, silly kids, or maybe the fact that they’ve been too busy for sex lately and she’s constantly horny for him—and she looks up at him and whispers, “we should have another baby.”

Aaron grins immediately.

“Yeah we should.” They kiss a few more times, quickly, smiling against each other's lips, and he pats her hip because he knows she has to go. “We’ll talk more later, but yes. I want to. I love you.” He takes her face in his hands and kisses her deeply, and she sighs, grabs her bags, and heads out the door. Work is work; as the youngest professor in the English department, her schedule is jam packed with classes, lectures, morning office hours, but despite all that, it seems that Aaron is having the more difficult day.

They both love that he was able to retire from the BAU early to be a stay at home dad when Mia was born—he does consult for them occasionally, but has no official title, doesn’t have to travel—and he’s amazing at it, but she knows her baby can be a handful even on a good day. The texts she’s been getting all morning only solidify that knowledge.

Aaron: FYI - Mia hates bananas this week.

Aaron: What do they put in this applesauce, crack? She’s tearing around here like a bat out of hell.

Aaron: Okay, she’s your child, I officially renounce her. I put on The White Album and she started crying.

Maybe she prefers Abbey Road?

Aaron: No. Unlike her mother, she has taste.

You wound me, Hotchner.

She works through lunch, grading papers on The Call of the Wild, but when Aaron’s name lights up the display on her phone, she puts her pen down and smiles, puts it on speaker.

She’s sorry she did, because Mia is wailing in the background, and it’s very clearly her, I’m exhausted, asshole, leave me alone, cry, which makes her wonder why she’s not taking a nap. She knows she resists Aaron sometimes, doesn’t want him to leave her alone in her room, which is so sweet and also so, so annoying.

“Hi, sweetheart. Are you having a little trouble over there?” He takes a deep breath and sighs.

“She won’t go down, baby, even if I sit in the rocking chair beside her. It’s been twenty minutes.” Wow. He put up with it longer than she would have.

“Put her in her crib with Stuffy Bear and just let her cry; I know you hate that, but she’ll give up eventually.” He groans softly.

“I can’t; I feel so bad.”

She smiles. Her warm-hearted man.

“She does this because she knows you’ll give in and do whatever she wants. I promise you, she’ll be happier for it; she sounds miserable.”

“I don’t know…” he says, and she can tell he’s not going to do it. She picks up her pen and skims the paper she abandoned.

“Are you tired?” She doesn't wait for an answer, because she knows he is: Jack had a bad dream last night and woke them both up, and Aaron went to lay with him until he fell asleep because he knew she had an early morning. It was almost time for her alarm when he made it back to bed. “If you want to try to nap, she’s going to have to nap. Do it for her, yourself, me, a combination of the three of us. She won’t be mad at you; she won’t even remember.”

“What if I give her abandonment issues?” he presses, and she closes her eyes for a moment.

“Aaron, I love you so much. You’re such a great dad, and our kids are lucky to have you. But you have to loosen the reins just a little, especially if… if we are going to have another baby.” The thought makes her smile, and she can tell he’s smiling down the line, too.

“Right. Loosen the reins. Just put her in her crib,” she can hear that he does that, “and give her Stuffy Bear, and let her cry.” He blows out a breath, and she can hear the door click shut behind him as he leaves her room. She’s proud of him, but she also knows he’s going to sit in front of the video monitor and watch to make sure she falls asleep, and that he’ll probably work on laundry after that and not actually take a nap of his own.

He insists he’s doing fine when she brings it up, but the way he sacks out like a corpse when they get into bed doesn’t exactly have her convinced.

“I love you, and miss you,” he says when it’s slightly quieter, though she can faintly hear the cries through the monitor. “It made me really happy this morning when you said we should have another baby. We make perfect babies, have you noticed?” She hides her grin behind her hand, because if anyone walked by her office they’d think she’s insane with how widely she’s smiling.

“I have noticed, but since we only have the one and I can’t take any credit for Jack, I figured we should probably make another. Maybe the same way we made Mia…” They’re both convinced it was a weekend when Jack was at Haley’s and the two of them went to town on each other, true marathon sex where they only stopped for food and water and she coaxed him to hardness so many times she felt like a damn sex goddess.

“Hmm. I remember that with fondness, and would love to do that again. You know Haley said she’d take Mia on one of Jack’s weekends if we ever needed her to.”

Her life is pretty damn perfect, with her gorgeous, caring husband, and her two awesome kiddos, and a job she loves, but the most unexpectedly sweet part is that Haley is so comfortable with her, and that she and Aaron were able to get past the ugliness of their divorce to eventually become friends again. It’s not something they take for granted.

“Maybe we should take her up on it this weekend,” she says, trying to sound a little sultry. “We’ve both been so busy; it’s been a while since you pet my kitty.” For some reason, this particular phrase makes Aaron blush and get insanely horny, and she’s hoping to tease him so much the rest of the week that their weekend is one neither of them ever forget, so she’s pulling out the big guns.

“It’s been far too long, and I’m sorry. I can’t wait, baby. I’ll call her here in a few; I know you have to get to your next lecture.” She looks down at her watch, and it is about time to clean up and head over. She sighs happily down the line.

“Okay, I love and miss you; try to take a power nap. I promise, she’ll be fine.”

“I will.” He won’t. “Talk to you soon.” When she gets home, Aaron has dinner ready; she told him to hold off, that she’d help when she got there, but he has always been an overachiever.

Mia is already in her high-chair, waiting patiently for once in her little life; she kisses her forehead, breathes in her sweet baby smell, and then makes her way to her husband.

“Looks good, honey,” she says as he sets the table, and she leans up for a kiss, but when she presses her hand to his stomach like she always does, he pulls back a little. “Is everything okay? Did you have a bad afternoon?”

“No, it wasn’t bad after the nap fiasco,” he responds, but he sounds distracted. Maybe he was asked to look at a case, or something, and that’s still on his mind? She leans against his shoulder, puts a hand on his back and attempts to push up his t-shirt, to skim her hand up along his spine, which always comforts him, but again, he shifts away from her touch. She sighs and steps back.

“You're going to give me a complex, Aaron. If I did something to upset you, please tell me so I can apologize and try to make it better.” He turns to look at her face, and his formerly tense jaw softens a little; he presses his lips to hers, just a peck.

“No, you didn’t do anything. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.” He smiles softly, and she’s sure he is tired, but this seems like something more.

“You’d tell me if something else was bothering you, right? You know I’m here for you.”

“Of course I would, and of course I do. I love you,” he breathes against her mouth, and then he goes in for a longer kiss and she gets, as Jack said earlier, a little distracted. When the kiss breaks, she sighs happily.

“I love you. Missed those lips,” she murmurs, and then she runs a hand over his hair. “If the kids wake up again tonight, I’ll get them. You need to rest.” He shakes his head.

“You have another full day tomorrow,” he counters, and it’s so sweet that he keeps up with the schedule she has posted on the fridge, but still. She puts her hand on her hip.

“And you don’t? It’s my turn. Let me help.” He looks like he wants to argue, but she gives him the glare he knows means she will talk about this all night if he doesn’t agree; she’s not the sponsor of the university’s debate team for nothing, and even his prosecutorial ways have nothing on her.

“Okay,” he sighs, and she smiles and kisses him and then goes to get Jack and make sure he’s cleaned up for dinner.

That night when the two of them are getting ready for bed, she’s surprised as hell when he stops her from pulling one of his t-shirts—her typical sleepwear—over her head. She sets it down, arches her brow, and he guides her back onto the bed with a grin and puts his hands on her hips.

“What’s happening right now?” she asks, because before Mia, sure, Aaron would treat her to all manner of orgasm-inducing behavior at random, and she would do the same, but since Mia—especially in the last six months or so—their sexual encounters have been few and far between. It’s no one’s fault, and they’re both very clearly still attracted to each other; it’s just one of those things that falls by the wayside when you have a new baby and a hectic life and you don’t get enough sleep.

Needless to say, she is a little confused by this turn of events.

“I’m attempting to worship my gorgeous fucking wife,” he murmurs, and he leans up and kisses her stomach, licks a long line up from her belly button. Her breath hitches. “Gonna put another little baby in here—but it’s always beautiful.” He slowly moves his lips higher, over her ribcage, and holds her there. “You’re perfect, you know?”

“Aaron.” Her fingers come up to sweep through his hair; her heart aches with love and tenderness. He moves up, presses open-mouthed kisses to each of her breasts, then covers them with his hands and squeezes. She’s a panting, dripping mess, and more than anything she wants to strip him naked, pull him closer, get him inside her.

“I love you just as you are; I want you just as you are. Always have, always will.” He smooths his hands up over her throat, and brings her mouth to his for a deep, soulful kiss. She hadn’t even realized she’s been feeling repressed, but his touch tonight makes her feel so beautiful and special… It's incredible how close she is from only that.

“Make love to me,” she whispers, and he kisses her again, but then he slides back down her body.

“Want to taste you,” he says instead, and he gets his hands on her hips again and his mouth on her pussy, looks up at her while he licks and sucks like he’s gone without for ages—which he has, she figures, but it’s blowing her mind, her fingers scratching at the sheets, her neck arched. He massages her hips as his tongue works, as he grinds against the bed, and she comes with a whimper, because her body is so overwhelmed by how good she feels that she can’t even properly vocalize it.

Aaron comes up, just a little, rests his head on her stomach, and she smooths her hands over his hair and his shoulders, since that’s all she can reach.

“Come up and let me touch you—or you can come inside me.” She will happily take either option, but he just kisses her belly and shakes his head.

“No, I’m good. Just really tired.” She frowns, can’t recall a time in her life when they didn’t both get off during sex; he catches her expression and runs his hands up her body. “Really, I’m okay. I just wanted to do that before I passed out.” He smiles, and she doesn’t like it, but he climbs off of her and goes to the bathroom, and she pulls on the t-shirt and crawls into bed. Two days later, she’s sitting in her office grading tests when she hears a knock at the door. She looks up, and it’s Aaron, of course, looking so gorgeous in a black polo and jeans.

“Hey, what are you doing here? Where’s Mia?” she asks with a smile. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“She’s with her Aunt Penelope for a few hours.”

“Why? Is everything okay?” Penelope is at work, she knows, because she texted her earlier about something unrelated and she’d mentioned that she and Spencer were having coffee and that he said hello.

“Everything‘s fine,” he assures her, and he enters the room fully, closes the door behind him… and locks it. “Can’t your husband come visit you during your super secret not-really-office-hours?” She raises an eyebrow, both at his question and the fact that he locked the door. What exactly is he planning to do, she wonders?

“You can, but you don’t. I guess I’m just surprised.”

“Well today I decided to. I missed you so much.” He walks around her desk and leans over her for a couple of kisses. “Have you missed me?” She rolls her eyes, smiles.

“Of course I missed you. I miss you every second I’m away from you.” She reaches out, wants to hug him, pull him closer, but he takes a step back and crooks his finger, encouraging her to follow him.

He’s being really weird, but he’s also being really hot. She decides to play along.

She stands, walks over to him, and he carefully clears a spot on her desk, knows she has a system and doesn’t like a mess; when she’s within reach, he puts his hands on her waist and lifts her up onto it, her ass where a stack of tests had just been. Fuck.

“I want to get this dress off of you,” he says, voice low, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses her, rough and deep. “Can I take it off, baby? Can I make you come?”

Everything is happening so fast her head is spinning—it’s not like him to just show up at her office, to try to have sex with her there, especially when their dry spell has been, up until recently, like the damn Sahara.

He must sense her confusion, her apprehension, because he kisses slowly along the side of her throat, down the v-neck of her dress, making her eyelids flutter.

“The door’s locked, and no one even knows we’re in here. Can I take it off?” She pants, thinks about this for a second, but then he slides a hand over her thigh, pushing her skirt up, and she gets a little distracted. She nods, and he kisses her hard and unties the sash of her wrap dress, pushes it off her shoulders. She’s glad she wore a matching set of bra and panties, because this is like prime fantasy material and she wants to try to remember every detail.

He kisses her mouth, soft and sweet, then tugs the straps of her bra down her shoulders, pulls the cups down so her breasts fall out of them. She moans, a little startled, and he dips his head to mouth at her nipples, rests one hand on her lower back and one on her stomach—probably because she looks like she’s about to slide off the desk and onto the floor like a blob of jelly. She knows that’s how she feels.

When he’s gotten her thoroughly worked up, almost trembling with the need for more, he pushes her panties aside and presses a finger into her, and she whimpers, wraps her hand around his neck for support when he starts to pump it deeply inside.

“What has gotten into you?” she breathes, and her hips chase the pleasure he brings; the hand on her back moves to her ass, squeezes it.

“I love you and I want you. I want to make you happy, I want you to feel good.”

“Me—me too,” she gasps as he moves faster, staring right into his eyes. “I love you, want you. Want to make you happy, feel good.” She cards her fingers through his hair and stretches for a desperate, eager kiss. “I want you so badly, baby, please.”

“I’m right here. You have me,” he murmurs, but that’s not what she means and he has to know it. Just in case he doesn’t, though, she makes herself loud and clear; relationships are all about communication, after all.

“I want you to put your cock in my pussy, I want you to come in me. I want you to fucking ruin me, Aaron, I want you to shove your dick in me and keep shoving.” She sounds unhinged, but she can’t stop.

He adds a second finger—not what she wants—and roughly gropes her breast—it feels so good, but it’s not what she wants. Why won’t he give her what she wants?

“Shh, just come on my hand, it’s okay. I’ll fuck you later, in our bed, baby,” he promises. “Just come now, okay? Right here, right now for me.”

She does, because even if he’s being unnecessarily aggravating, it’s still Aaron. She’s desperate for him, always has been, always will be. She comes loud and high and she clutches him tightly and he kisses her and coos words of love and affection into her ear. She gets cleaned up, and they go for lunch, and they can’t take their eyes off each other.

Something’s very wrong, and she can’t quite put her finger on it.

That evening when she gets home, Aaron is feeling guilty. She’s not sure why, but he’s executing all of his patented guilty trademark behaviors: he offers her a glass of wine, runs her a bath, rubs her feet, even though he’s been the one home with the baby all day. She’s tempted to ask if he’s cheating on her, as a joke, but that’s never funny, especially when she knows he’s being shifty and weird about something.

When they’re laying in bed, he sets down his book and looks over at her.

“I meant to tell you, Haley isn’t able to take Mia tomorrow. Maybe the weekend after, we can have our special alone time.” She won’t say she’s not disappointed, but she doesn’t want to inconvenience Haley, when she’s already being so great. She smiles softly, covers his hand with hers.

“That’s okay. It was short notice, anyway. I’ll still enjoy my weekend, with you and Mia.” He smiles too, but it doesn’t quite touch his eyes.

The kids sleep through the night, but she doesn’t. On Friday, she picks Jack up from school and takes him to Haley’s, who sends him to wash up so she can make him a snack. When he’s gone, she smiles warmly and invites her into the kitchen for coffee; she takes a cup, and they make pleasant small talk like they always do.

“Are you sure you don’t want to bring Mia over?” Haley asks after a few minutes. It sounds like she’s double checking. “It’s really no trouble.” She frowns, sets her cup down.

“I thought you weren’t able to watch Mia this weekend. I thought… I thought that’s what Aaron said. I must have misunderstood him.” That’s the only logical conclusion, because Aaron wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t.

“He was being a little weird on the phone the other day. He asked me if I would watch her, and I said yes. He told me about your plans,” she says with raised eyebrows, “and then I told him, you know. That he better treat you right, because you just had a baby not that long ago and you might be a little self-conscious about jumping back into the sack like that; not that you should be, because you look amazing.” She racks her brain for the first time he started acting strangely, pulling away from her, and it would have been after his conversation with Haley. She asks, just to confirm.

“Is that when he got weird?”

“Actually yeah. He changed his mind, said you might not need me to watch her after all, but I told him the offer stood. He was pretty quick to get off the phone after that.” She would sip her coffee, but she’s pretty sure her hands are shaking. Why would he lie about that?

“You know, I should go. I’m sure Aaron’s pulling his hair out with her, she’s been a devil today. Tell Jack I love him and I’ll talk to him tonight, will you?”

“Of course. If you change your mind about Mia, just let me know,” Haley says, and she gets into her car with tears stinging her eyes.

When she gets home, Aaron is playing with Mia on the living room floor. He looks up at her with a smile that abruptly falls when he takes in her facial expression.

“What’s wrong?” She composes herself, takes a deep breath. They vowed a long time ago not to argue in front of Jack or Mia. She tries to sound conversational.

“You lied to me. You said Haley couldn’t take Mia this weekend.” He swallows and looks properly guilty. She’s not sure how he was able to lie to her in the first place; he’s never been any good at it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I just didn’t know how to say it.” She looks up, shakes her head, wills her eyes not to water while she’s trying to have this conversation.

“You didn’t know how to say what? What is it that’s made you distance yourself from me?” She recalls him physically pulling away, then doing a complete 180 and initiating sex, but never penetrative sex, never letting her touch him or return the favor in any way. “Haley told me about your conversation. So do you think I’m unhappy with my body, or are you unhappy with my body?” He has the nerve to look confused, gets Mia set up with some toys she can play with safely on her own and stands up, comes close to her. She’s not sure she even wants his touch right now, which is saying something; when she’s unhappy, that’s usually all she wants.

“Neither of those things. I swear to god. I love you and I love your body; you’re so beautiful. Too beautiful for me, you always have been.” He’s looking down at her so seriously, and she wants so badly to believe him, but how could she, when faced with the evidence?

“Okay. If it’s neither of those things…” Her voice is small when she says the one option that hurts her most. “Did you change your mind? Do you not want to have another baby with me?” He sighs, deflates, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“No, listen to me. It’s not that I don’t want that; I want that more than anything, but it will… further complicate, things...” He trails off, and she tries to follow what he’s saying. “The problem isn’t you in any way. It’s me.” She huffs, squeezes her eyes briefly shut.

“You? How can it be you, when you’ve been the only man to catch my eye for years? From the moment you set foot on my campus looking for your bad guy, I’ve been attracted to you, aroused by you, wrapped around your finger. You’re so perfect for me: perfect husband, perfect dad, perfect lover. My best friend. Never a day has gone by where I haven’t wanted you.” He wets his lips, sighs.

“Surely you’ve noticed that since I quit my job and started staying home with Mia, I… I don’t look the same. I’ve… let myself go.” His brows are deeply furrowed, and he’s clearly struggling with this; she reaches for him, no longer angry—at least for the time being—puts a hand on his arm.

“I’ve noticed that you don’t quite look the same. Doesn’t mean you’ve ‘let yourself go,’ or that I’m not still attracted to you; you just have a dad bod now instead of an ‘FBI guy who punches people for a living’ bod.” Her other hand hovers, then comes to rest on his stomach, and she smiles. “I’m actually really into the way you look now. I’ve been fantasizing about it for ages. I wish I’d known you were feeling self-conscious.”

“I’m not used to feeling… self-conscious, vulnerable,” he breathes, but he presses into her touch, so she considers that a good thing. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“I get that baby, I do, but this is me. I would have done anything I could to make you feel better. You didn’t have to hide it from me. You didn’t have to lie. We could have talked about it.” She moves the hand on his arm to his face, guides him down for a loving kiss. “We’re equally to blame, because I know you haven’t been getting good sleep, and I know you barely have time for yourself, and I didn’t step in; but you never let me help. If roles were reversed, and it was me staying home with Mia, you would never expect me to do all the cooking and cleaning and homework and bath time without your help. So you need to let me help, Aaron, please.” She looks up at him, eyes warm and sincere, and he nods, bends to press a kiss to her lips.

“I’m sorry. I still don’t feel great about… myself, but maybe I could. If I let you help. If I took some time for me.” She nods and wraps her arms around him—finally—for a hug.

“I love you so much. Just like this. Big, cuddly papa bear, taking care of our babies, making our home a safe and happy place for them. How could I not love the body that brings me so much happiness? That makes me excited to get in my car and come home at the end of every day?”

They kiss some more, deep, healing kisses and soft, sweet kisses, but she doesn’t get distracted by them. She’s very focused, caresses him and brushes loving fingertips over his chest and arms and sides. But speaking of distractions…

“Were you doing all those sexy things to try to distract me from wanting you to get all up on me?” she asks, pulling back, and at least he has the decency to flush.

“Kind of? I figured if it was sex you wanted, you’d be happy to get off however it happened; it was great for me too, don’t get me wrong, I just didn’t really want to be touched, feeling the way I felt.” She frowns, rests her head against his chest and holds him tighter.

“That makes me sad. What I wanted was an intimate moment with my husband, and while yes, what you did for me was great, because you’re super hot and very capable,” she says, leaning back in his embrace with a soft smile, “it’s not what I’ve been wanting. I want you all naked and sweaty and heavy on top of me, going to pound town.” He presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows.

“Pound town? What are you, twelve?” She grins, shoves his chest, and he laughs.

“I’m surrounded by college kids all day, please forgive me. I think it got my message across though.” She touches his cheek, looks up into his eyes, and sighs. “Can we take Mia over to Haley’s and give it a shot? I’ll do anything to make you feel happy and comfortable, any position that makes you feel better—though what I’d really like most, if you’ll trust me, is to suck your dick, and then hop on your dick, and then later when we’re ready to go again, we do the pound town thing and make another goddamn baby.”

She’s so serious, and he looks so serious, and then he kisses her and says yes and they pack up their kid and take her to his ex-wife’s so they can get it on, which sounds so much crazier than it actually is. She gets him out of his clothes, doesn’t move slow or spend lots of time focusing on what he thinks are flaws; instead, she proves how desirable he is by practically tearing his pants off and pushing him against the bed and swallowing around his dick just so she can hear all those delicious moans she’s been missing.

After that, she rides him hard, kisses him harder, plants her hands on his chest and stomach and moans and groans against his mouth. “So fucking hot, seriously so fucking hot, Aaron—if I saw you across the room today I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing, I would still pursue you, I’d make you blush like I did back then. I’d be so forward because I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about how good this would feel.”

She’s rocking his world, no doubt about that; it’s written all over his face, in the hardness of his hands on her hips as she grinds down on his cock, in the way his chest is heaving despite not actually doing any of the work at all. He comes first, and then rubs her clit while she continues to fuck him until she finds her own orgasm; she scratches her nails down his stomach, and he leans up and grabs her face for a rough, perfect kiss.

They take a break, cuddling and kissing and enjoying the feel of bare skin, comfy bed, soft lips. Aaron touches her cheek, tells her how much he loves and appreciates her.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been keeping this inside, and not being truthful. It’s hard, when you’re as perfect as the day I met you, and I’m…” She presses a finger to his lips, shushes him, kisses him.

“You’re as perfect as the day I met you, too. More perfect, even, because every day since then you’ve chosen me, and our family. I could not ask for a better man. Simply could not, Aaron. And if you want me to come home early so you can go to the park to run, or to the gym, then that’s what I'll do, but if you look like you do right now, forever, I’ll be happy with that too. Whatever makes you happy.”

They snuggle and kiss and talk and laugh, and then laughing becomes sex in that way everything becomes sex when you’re genuinely obsessed with the person in your bed.

He gets her on her back, kisses all over, teases her—“mmm, rubbing your kitty, baby, how does it feel?”—and then puts her legs over his shoulders, plants his hands, and fucks, taking every ounce of his pent-up frustration out on her, and it’s incredible.

“Yes, Aaron, yes, baby, oh, god.” Her head is thrown back, and she’s torn between laughing, because she’s been wanting this for months and it’s exactly as awesome as she’d dreamed it would be, and crying, because she fucking loves him, so much it puts a lump in her throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, speeds up, sweaty and gorgeous and smiling. “You’re going to come with me—not just for me, but with me, so my come gets deep inside, so it works and we get another perfect baby who never lets us fucking sleep.” She nods frantically, presses her hips against his, and it’s not simultaneous, but it’s a near damn thing, when they both come groaning each other’s names. A little less than a year later, they have Mason. Aaron is at home in his dad bod, Mia doesn’t cry at naptime, Jack is still a menace in the mornings, and their perfect little family got a little more perfect. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul

[fruitcoops]

I think it would be really interesting for leo and sirius to talk ab how they both didn’t go to college and how they both joined the nhl at 18 but had v different upbringings

Ooo, I like this one! I’m always down for some Cap and Knutty bonding. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentioned bad parenting

“Kinda weird, isn’t it?” Leo said, breaking the nighttime silence after many long minutes of just their breathing. Sirius hummed in question. “Starting all this so young.”

Sirius made a noncommittal noise and Leo shifted, never taking his eyes off the sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars properly in Gryffindor, but the roof of the rink didn’t have a bad view; the planes flying overhead brought pinpricks of brightness to the indigo blur.

“Was it hard for you?”

He heard Sirius’ coat move. “Was what hard?”

“Starting the NHL at eighteen.”

There was a long beat of silence. “Sometimes.”

“I didn’t know if I would make it,” Leo confessed, still barely above a murmur. Nobody else was around, but it didn’t feel right to talk in normal voices. The whole world was muted, save for the noise of the city below them. “There was just so much to do.”

Sirius laughed softly. “I hate to break it to you, rookie, but that doesn’t change.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Before, or now?”

Leo thought for a moment. “Both.”

“Before, I would go home and shoot pucks until I was too tired to stand up. Sometimes I would read.” It wasn’t a secret, but it still made Leo’s heart hurt to remember. Nobody as kind and hardworking as Sirius deserved that. “Now, I make myself some food, take a shower, and steal Re’s softest hoodie.”

Leo could hear his smile in the dark—it echoed his own. “Nothing better, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Finn’s fit me best,” he mused. “But Lo’s smell better.”

“Ah, he finally discovered deodorant?”

“Shut up,” Leo teased, elbowing his ribs. Sirius laughed a little louder; in the light of the streetlamps and the absence of his granite-hard focus, it was easy to remember that he was only 26. Leo had worshipped him as a kid, but now he just saw Sirius for what he was. His captain, who guided him through the playoffs even when his personal life was crumbling apart. His older brother, though Sirius certainly wouldn’t think of him that way. His friend.

“Really, though, it’s important to have those connections,” Sirius said when they both calmed down. “Being alone is good, but only if you know you have people to talk to when you need them.”

“Was it easier when you weren’t living with someone?”

“No.” The answer was immediate.

“Sometimes I want the apartment to myself.” Leo lowered his voice unconsciously, then sighed. “It’s not because I don’t want them there. I just need to be alone. Wash the dishes. Clean my room. Call my mom.”

“You should tell them.”

He turned his head slightly; Sirius was still scanning the sky. “Is that what you did?”

“It took a couple hiccups, but yeah. If one of us needs some alone time, the other will go to the grocery store or take a walk, maybe hang out with friends. You just have to make sure your boys know that it’s not personal.”

“You’re freakishly good at sage advice.”

Sirius snorted. “Merci, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.” He raised his hands, as if outlining a marquee. “The Eternal Rookie, starring Leo Knut.”

Leo stuck his tongue out, feeling rather petulant about the whole thing. “Watch it, Cap, I’m gonna sic Dumo on you.”

“My own father?” Sirius gasped dramatically. “How could you?”

“Did you ever get homesick?”

The question was out of the blue—he didn’t blame Sirius for faltering. Honestly, Leo was kicking himself for asking in the first place, though he had been keeping it in for ages. Unspoken rule of the Lions #1: Don’t ask Cap about his childhood.

“I…” Sirius fell silent once more.

“I’m sorry,” Leo apologized, and he meant it. “That came out of nowhere.”

“I missed Regulus,” Sirius continued carefully without acknowledging him. “But no, I didn’t get homesick. I didn’t have time, or a real reason.”

Alone in a new city, finally out of a horrible living situation, but desperately missing the little brother he left behind… Leo couldn’t even begin to imagine going through it when the NHL by itself was already overwhelming to his teenage brain. He scooted an inch closer until their shoulders touched. “I get homesick every couple of months.”

“You have a kind family.”

“Have you even met them?”

“At the party.” Sirius’ smile was practically audible. “Your mother was very excited to see me.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned. “What happened?”

“She—“ He broke off with a laugh. “She was very nice, I promise, but I think I surprised her because she squeaked when I said ‘hello’.”

Leo shook his head. “Did you sneak up on her?”

“I’m six two, I can’t sneak up on anyone!”

“You walk like a fucking ghost, dude! It’s creepy!”

“Okay, rude.”

“I swear, you and Loops need to be belled like cats,” Leo huffed.

They lapsed back into comfortable quiet for a few more minutes as a train rattled past on one side and the metro busses rolled down Main Street on the other. It had taken Leo a long time to figure out Gryff’s layout, and even longer to get used to the sounds of the city.

“What does it feel like?”

Leo blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. “What?”

“Being homesick.” Sirius shifted again and folded his hands over his stomach. “I didn’t notice much of a difference in practices when I started the NHL, and going back to my parents’ house wasn’t my exactly a highlight of my year.”

Curiosity overrode his tact and reasoning skills. “You never asked Logan?”

“Non. It was different, with him. He had already left to go to college before I knew him, and spent four years away from his family.”

“Right.” Leo forgot about that on occasion. That Finn and Logan might be five years older than him, but they had only been rookies a year or two prior. Not everyone went straight from their city select team to an official draft. “It’s hard to describe.”

Sirius made an understanding noise, but he couldn’t entirely mask his disappointment. Leo licked his lips and tried again.

“It’s like a piece of you isn’t where it’s supposed to be. And it keeps tugging on your chest, but you never know when it’s going to start and stop so you just… deal with it. You ignore it some days and you think about it other days.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The hard days are when you remember you can’t go back to the way things were before. I don’t even call my mom sometimes, ‘cause I know it’ll make me sadder.”

“The way things were before?”

“Yeah, like—like all my classmates are in college, and I’m laying on a roof with one of the most famous hockey players in the history of forever.” That drew a light laugh from them both. “I’m gonna go back to my reunion in a couple years and have literally nothing in common with the people I used to be friends with.”

“Sometimes I wish I went to college,” Sirius said. “But I would have missed so much if I did. I don’t think I would have been happy there.”

“Finn and Logan get weird about college.” Maybe he shouldn’t be talking about it, but Leo had the feeling none of their conversation would leave the rooftop. “It was hard for them, with all their shit.”

“Re does, too.” He recognized the sad edge in Sirius’ voice; it was the same as his own. “For a different reason. It started good, and ended bad.”

“I’m glad I missed out on that,” Leo said, biting down the urge to scream at the universe for putting their significant others through so much hardship at an already-difficult time. None of them deserved the pain they went through. “Besides, it’s not like we need degrees to play hockey, and we’ll have plenty of money afterward.”

“I never thought about my life after hockey until my ankle.”

“My parents always pushed me to make sure I wanted to do the NHL instead of more school.”

“You’re lucky to have them.”

“I wish you did.”

The words hung suspended between them before Leo could swallow them back down, somehow dangerous and calming at the same time. It wasn’t like he had never thought about it before; he just hadn’t said it out loud. The first time he had seen Sirius’ parents across the rink had given him a case of the heebie-jeebies so strong he had to shower twice. All the times after that just made him angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sirius’ voice was quiet, but not upset. “You’re not the first person to say it. I’m glad you feel like you can be honest with me.”

Leo frowned. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

“I try really hard to not be an asshole captain, so it actually does mean a lot.”

“I don’t think you could be an asshole if you tried.”

The barking laugh that split the night startled Leo so bad he nearly jumped out of his skin; Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth, though he was still snickering. “Sorry, sorry, I just—holy shit, I forgot you didn’t know me before. Mon dieu.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Leo protested. “Pots said you used to be grumpier, but that’s it.”

Sirius shook his head, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I was such a dick. There’s not a single picture of the whole team where I’m smiling for about two years and I was such a stickler for the rules.”

Leo gaped at him. “You followed rules?”

“To the fucking letter. It was awful.”

“What happened?”

Sirius shrugged. “I got friends. Idiot friends who did things like showing me the easiest way onto the roof. Pots used to drag me up here every Friday.”

“Really?”

“Ouais.” Mischief flitted over his face. “He skipped date night with Lily once on accident, and she tracked us up here like a bloodhound. It was terrifying.”

“What did you do?” Lily was one of the nicest people Leo knew, but he knew better than to get on her bad side.

“Lied to her face while James hid behind that strobe light.”

“Did it work?”

“Are you kidding?” he snorted. “She called me a liar and suggested getting a better best friend. That was after she told James he’s better have something nice planned for their next date if he ever wanted to get in her pants again.”

“And yet you didn’t listen to her.” Leo tsked. “Of all the people on the team, you chose the hot mess.”

“Trust me, rookie, James had his whole life figured out compared to me.”

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and but his lip. He had pushed his luck a lot already; who knew if one more question would be the tipping point? “Did you ever think about coming out? Even just to Pots.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “After every single game.”

“For seven years?”

“Up until the day those pictures were leaked. Even more after Re and I were together.”

“How old were you when you knew?”

“13. You?”

Leo exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure. I think I had an idea of it as a kid, but didn’t really get it until I was in high school. My parents were even more worried about the NHL after I told them.”

“They worry a lot about you.”

“Only child, and I was going for a wildly unstable career path with no guarantee that I would ever see the ice.”

“They’re proud of you. More than you know.” Sirius’ watch beeped. “It’s ten o’clock. Are you supposed to be home?”

“I should probably make sure my boys haven’t burned down the apartment.” Neither of them made an attempt to move. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course.”

You’re like a brother to me, he wanted to say. I don’t know who else I can talk to like this. “Thank you.”

“Any time. We don’t have to do extra practice beforehand, either.”

Leo nudged him gently. “You’re the best captain ever.”

“You’re the best rookie, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Yeah, I am, he thought as they laid side-by-side in silence once more with the past behind them and the future ahead. And if I end up like you, it means I did something right.

[nobodyfamousposts]

My-Crack-ulous: Aku-Maid

In which I am a horrible person...

No seriously. Don’t read this.

For @mermain123, for bringing up the cursed image that started this mess in the first place.

Mermain: i said i was suffering

Mermain: i didn't want you to make the internet suffer

Me: That sounds like the internet’s problem.

Also for @bloody-writes. You know why...   ; )

_________________________

Hawk Moth was a supervillain who had been terrorizing Paris for the better part of two years.

But no one could really argue that not all of his ideas have been good. Or well thought out. Or in any way sensible even.

Like the time he akumatized a baby.

Or the time he akumatized a girl to transform people into exact replicas of herself.

Or the fact he keeps akumatizing Mr. Ramier for going on 29 times at this point…

Or the other time he akumatized a baby…

Times that he destroyed Paris. Times that he nearly destroyed the world. Times that he gave people powers that were completely contradictory to the goals of getting the Miraculous he was after by erasing the heroes from existence or transforming them in ways that made the Miraculous inaccessible.

But none of his akumatizations had ever gotten him as much hate, caused as much misery, were were ultimately as pointless as this most recent incident.

Aku-maid.

It was known the instant she was akumatized. As soon as she was transformed, a wave of power enveloped the city. And within that wave, half of the people of Paris were transformed as well. 

…the male half.

Her power was to transform all the men of Paris. She didn’t even have a weapon or attack that did it, it just happened almost instantaneously. All men suddenly found themselves changed.

Or rather, their outfits…

“Ah!”

“What the hell—!?”

“I can’t get it off!”

One by one, every male in Paris suddenly found themselves in a much different state of attire. What had just been a normal day full of various styles and appearances had all suddenly become very…frilly.

“WHY AM I A MAID?!”

Much as implied her namesake, the akuma’s power involved transforming whatever any man was wearing into some variation of a maid outfit.

Every man.

All over Paris.

From Andre Bourgeois, who has refused to leave his office to make an official statement…

“ANDRE!” Audrey shouted, banging on the door. “Get out here this instant!”

“But, honey, I can’t be seen like this!”

To Roger Raincomprix, who has tried to continue his normal duties despite the…change of uniform…

“Stop in the name of the law!” Roger shouted, reaching into his pockets in an automatic reaction to try to get his handcuffs. While the dress he was wearing did still have pockets, the only item they procured was a cleaning rag, which was notably less threatening as the suspect in question stared for a moment before deciding to take off.

“HEY!”

And yes, even to…

“I’m a Macrophage!” Adrien gushed happily as he lifted his lengthy skirt to give a twirl.

…even to Adrien Agreste, who was apparently the only one to find anything pleasant about the current crisis.

Nino stared.

“Dude. Seriously?”

“I’ve always wanted to cosplay!”

Nino, having been long-since exposed to his friend’s deep love for anime in its many forms, at least knew what a Macrophage was. But even so, he couldn’t help but feel there was something odd about the way Adrien took to the long pale dress and cap.

Kim rested a hand on Nino’s shoulder. “Just let the guy enjoy this.”

“At least somebody is.” Nathaniel muttered bitterly as he tried to hide as behind his sketchbook. It was a futile attempt, of course, as he at most only covered his face, leaving the red dress, white apron with pockets, and knee-high boots on full display.

“I don’t understand how he can.” Max complained. He tugged at his own skirt in vain, looking at Adrien’s ankle-length ensemble enviously. The skirt was much shorter than he would have liked—reaching a couple inches above his thigh and almost seemed to be defying gravity to stay that way despite his attempts to get it to either flatten or otherwise lower. “I question the design choices.”

“But you look just like Misaki from Maid Sama! And Nathaniel looks like Lizbeth!” Adrien insisted. “It’s totally a cosplay!”

Max just stared incredulously. He was wearing a black dress with puffy sleeves that tapered off just shy of his elbow, white apron, a cap, and thigh-high black stockings and knee-high boots, it seemed Adrien did have a point.

Max, in all fairness, didn’t particularly care in favor of the problems that came with suddenly finding himself in a short dress, heels, and a corset.

“I just can’t peg where Kim or Nino’s outfits are from.” He continued, studying the outfits in question contemplatively. “But give me a little time! It’ll come to me!”

The boys had been having an afternoon hangout session in the park. No girls. No teachers. No Gabriel Agreste or bodyguards to whisk certain teen models away. It was supposed to be a normal non-drama-filled day.

…which was naturally when it became something less than normal and certainly more than drama-filled.

“I think I get why girls complain about this sort of thing now.” Kim said, looking at his shoes. “These heels are kind of uncomfortable…”

“Are you sure it’s the heels and not the flippers?” Nino asked, annoyed.

Sure enough, Kim was wearing flipper-heels. They were black and also had black ankle straps with a little bow on each. This strange footwear did seem to go with Kim’s talent in swimming, which was also emphasized by the ruffle maid swimsuit they matched with.

“Nah, it’s definitely the heels.” Kim insisted.

So this was what their all-boys’ afternoon had come to.

Kim was wobbling on unsteady heels.

Nathaniel groaned and kept his ever reddening face covered.

Max was questioning where they could procure jackets. Long jackets.

Adrien was giggling to himself and asking if they could do a full Cells at Work group cosplay.

And Nino paled, suddenly realizing something.

"Guys. Guys, we have to hide!"

"Why?" Kim asked. "It's annoying, but this akuma doesn't seem really dangerous."

"No, you don't get it!" Nino hissed. "If Alya catches us, we will NEVER live this down!"

Nathaniel looked over the edge of his sketchbook. “Alya wouldn’t actually post pictures of us to the Ladyblog, would she?”

A long pause followed.

The boys paled.

Except for Adrien, who turned to them with a gasp of excitement. “Do you think she would? We could do a group picture!”

All the other boys paled even more, looking downright ill.

And immediately took off running.

Or at least as well as they could with heels. None of them made it very far without tripping, stumbling, or simply struggling to stay upright as they still tried to move away from the area as quickly as the heels would allow.

“But what’s wrong with—?”

“JUST RUN, ADRIEN!”

“Who thought maid outfits with high heels was a good idea?! How can anyone be expected to clean in these things?

“I will never draw high heels on a super heroine again.”

“I can’t breathe! Who created corsets?! What objective does this achieve besides crushing one’s lungs?”

Nino groaned, still running. “I hope Hawk Moth is suffering as much as we are!”

_____________________

If Nino Lahiffe had the ability to break the fourth wall and peer into the events happening outside of his immediate vicinity, he would be happy to find this was actually the case.

And he would laugh.

Oh, how he would laugh.

“Sir…?”

“Don’t.” Came the dark growl from a very unhappy supervillain. “Don’t say anything, Nathalie..."

This was an akuma that impacted every male in Paris. Every male.

…even to Hawk Moth, himself.

“Why did this happen?”

It would appear that even Hawk Moth was not immune to Aku-Maid’s power as he had been similarly transformed. And unfortunately, due to the change, he could no longer access his Miraculous. The Butterfly broach had disappeared, having been transformed along with his outfit.

And his outfit had…actually left much to be desired.

Which was truthfully just a nice way of saying it was ugly.

Really, really ugly.

Normally the picture of stoicism, Nathalie had to pretend to cough to avoid reacting.

“Can’t you order the akuma to undo it?” She eventually was able to ask.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes in concentration. “No. It’s no good. I’ve lost the link!”

His eyes widened and he clutched his chest in a panic.

“Where is the Miraculous?!” Hawk Moth demanded, trying—and failing to pull at the tasteless dress. But as others across the city had already discovered, the clothes were magic and would not be removed or displaced. Not even the frock or the cap he now wore.

“Sir, you were transformed when you changed. It looks like the Butterfly Miraculous was transformed along with you.”

He froze, eyes widening in horror. “But that’s—”

He grasped at the empty place on his chest. Where once had been his lapel and pin now only had ruffles and a leathery texture. His mask remained in place, though it was now fully black except for the openings around his eyes and mouth, which were bordered with a lighter grey color. The material and outfit overall had a shine to it that could be found on any wetsuit.

To put it nicely: he looked atrocious.

To put it bluntly: he looked like some sort of BDSM role-player with a maid kink.

So it was fortunate, perhaps, that no one else in Paris would have to be subject to the sight.

Except Nathalie. Who was probably going to have nightmares.

Or a coronary from the laughter she was trying to hold back.

It was admittedly a bit hard to tell.

But it seemed she was handling the situation a bit better than Hawk Moth, despite the fact that the man was currently unable to see himself or the full extent of the monstrosity he now wore.

…this was probably for the best. Given the man’s fashion sense, there was really no telling whether he would be horrified or inspired, and nobody would want to find out.

“I can’t contact the akuma! And I can’t call it back!”

He moaned, covering his…already covered face with his hands. “I’ll never be taken seriously again!”

Nathalie resolutely held back from pointing out he was barely being taken seriously now.

“It’s…not that bad?” She tried. Not very well, but she tried.

Hawk Moth clutched his head in horror. “Unless Ladybug and Chat Noir can stop this akuma, we’re doomed!”

“Sir, it’s just an akuma that puts men in maid outfits. It’s really not that bad.”

“DOOOOOOMED!!!”

__________________________

The akuma, for her part, was unaware of her benefactor’s misery, too busy enjoying the abject misery of everyone else around her.

Nobody knew just what had set the girl off to get her akumatized in the first place. Her comments about men being “the eye-candy now” suggested an argument. The maid outfits involved suggested what the topic of the argument had been regarding.

To be honest, nobody had actually realized she was the akuma responsible. She did appear fairly normal by akuma terms, dressed in a seemingly authentic Victorian era dress more befitting as an authentic Lady’s Maid compared the frillier, lacier varieties that the men around her had suddenly found themselves in. What would normally have gotten her a few odds looks was mostly ignored in the face of the sudden change. Few even took notice of her dark purple skin or black hair. Or the fan in her hand.

“THAT’S RIGHT! SEE HOW YOU LIKE BEING OBJECTIFIED!”

The yelling…was a bit harder to miss.

It was the first thing that drew the attention of the three girls settled at the cafe.

The second thing was the various cries of horror as several of the men around them suddenly discovered their state of dress transformed into…well…dresses. Of a variety that made the little cafe appear more like a maid cafe than anything.

The third thing was the appearance of a familiar face running down the road, holding up his long white dress to make running easier as he looked for a place to hide.

Marinette stared.

“ADRIEN?!”

Adrien Agreste was running around in a long white and pale cream Victorian-era dress and cap, looking like Cinderella running from the ball. Except a maid.

A quick glance to her companions showed that both Alya and Kagami were similarly staring in befuddlement, so this was neither her imagination or a fever dream.

“Adrien? What’s going on?” Alya asked for everyone.

“It’s an akuma!” He replied, quickly. “She’s putting everybody into cosplay!”

“…cosplay?”

“Yeah!”

“…everybody?”

He paused, glancing around. “Well…all the guys, I think?”

Marinette stared.

“…Just that?” Alya asked, thankfully taking over while Marinette’s brain started to become aware that this WAS Adrien she was talking to. “She’s not doing anything else besides putting guys into…‘cosplays’?”

He blinked in confusion. “I…think so?”

“She isn’t…I don’t know…commanding you or anything?”

“Well, she hasn’t yet. Which, really, isn’t so bad for an akuma if you think about it.” He said with a frown before he noticed the strange look on Kagami’s face. “Kagami, are you okay?”

Kagami made a strangled sound.

“Marinette?”

Marinette pretended to choke on a drink from an empty glass to avoid speaking.

“Can I add to your order?” The waiter came by, seeming unconcerned by the ruckus or the act that he was now wearing a rather cutesy maid outfit the likes of which would be seen in a maid cafe in Japan.

“You don’t seem put off by this.” Alya pointed out, noting his relatively unfazed attitude compared to the panicking of the other men around them…or the gushing from Adrien.

The waiter took it in stride.

“It’s okay.” He replied blankly. “I’m already dead inside.”

“Oh.”

He turned to Kagami. “Do you need anything else, Miss?”

Kagami was still staring at Adrien, blushing furiously.

“I think I have a problem.”

“You mean a kink?”

“A. Problem.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“Story of my life.” The waiter replied as he refilled her glass of water, either unaware or uncaring of the specific nature of her trouble.

Alya gasped in sudden realization. “Wait! If this is happening here then…” She turned to Adrien. “Where were Nino and the boys?” He blinked, curious. “Oh, they decided to head home. Why?”

An almost sinister smirk formed on Alya’s face. One that would have anyone it was directed at cowering in fear. And strong enough to be felt from several blocks away.

Unbeknownst to them, Nino felt that smirk like a trail of cold fingers down his back, and promptly threw himself into his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

As if she sensed this, Alya slammed several bills on the table and dashed out the door.

“GOTTA GO!”

Realizing an akuma was about, Marinette was right on her heels. She found a nearby alleyway and immediately prepared to transform and face this latest threat.

“Oh my god. OH MY GOD.” She broke down, letting out the laughter she’d been trying so hard to hold in. “He’s a dork! The boy I’m crushing on is a complete DORK who is in to cosplaying! He thinks maid outfits are COSPLAY!”

…or she would be.

“And here I’ve been driving myself nuts with anxiety over just asking him out and he doesn’t even—”

Any minute now…

“Marinette!” Tikki hissed. “You need to stop the akuma!”

“Can’t I just take a picture first?”

“MARINETTE!”

“Oh fine…”

_____________________

Luka didn’t realize anything had happened. He felt a bit off balanced for a moment, and a bit colder, but attributed that to being on the Liberty. So he simply shifted his stance to be a bit more steady and continued playing. It wasn’t until the drum stopped that he realized something was actually wrong.

The look of shock from Mylene and the following shriek from Ivan cemented it.

He spun around, not sure what could have elicited such a cry from his fellow bandmate. And at first, he couldn’t really tell what had happened. Ivan was crouched behind the drum set, covering his face with his hands and trembling in what appeared to be mortification.

Then he noticed the mobcap on Ivan’s head, which he was pretty sure hadn’t been there before. And Ivan’s shirt seemed distinctly…fluffier and frillier than he remembered seeing a few minutes ago. He tried to move closer to offer help, only for his own balance to be off. And when he looked down…

Oh.

The dress was new.

As were the stockings.

And the notably thinner and sleeker heels on his boots.

He hummed to himself, considering the change.

“Akuma?” Juleka asked him.

“Most likely.” He replied.

Mylene had rushed up to their practice stage and to Ivan’s side, even as he moaned for her to not look at him. The poor guy was completely red in embarrassment. Seeing how upset he was, the other three had backed away, leaving Mylene to try to help her boyfriend.

“Luka, are you okay?” Rose asked worriedly, trying to respect Ivan’s need for space while also checking in on their other effected bandmate.

“I’m fine. It was just a surprise at first.” He replied.

It wasn’t every day that you suddenly found yourself in a maid outfit, after all. It was a simple outfit. White off the shoulder puffy sleeves with black frills. A black tube skirt. White apron. And…he reached to his neck where a weight was, feeling a choker.

Huh…

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Honestly, he could be in worse.

Rose seemed surprised at that. “Really? Even with those shoes?”

He looked down at the shoes in question. The boots were his style—surprisingly, given it was an akuma. The higher heels were definitely different from his norm, and clearly what Rose was referring to. In any other circumstances, she would be right.

But...

Luka smiled, shifting his stance and resting a hand on his hip. “Well, someone had to teach Jules to walk in heels. And I couldn’t show her if I didn’t know how myself.

Juleka huffed. “Don’t say that like you didn’t enjoy playing dress up.”

Luka merely curtsied, not only showing off more of his slightly ripped and punk-looking fishnet stockings, but almost proudly displaying his ability to move fluently in heels.

Rose appropriately “oo-ed” and “aah-ed” at his display. Juleka merely shook her head and smiled. Ivan was still recovering from his panic attack and had resolutely refused to come out from behind the drums, despite Mylene’s reassurances.

“So it has to be an akuma, right?” Rose asked.

“If it is, I want a picture or two, at least.” Juleka muttered as she admired Luka’s outfit, mumbling about commissioning Marinette to recreate it in her size. She hadn’t known maids could come in this style.

Mylene nodded from her place at Ivan’s side. “Though it seems rather fortunate if this is all the akuma is doing.”

“We don’t know if that is it, though.” Luka warned. “For all we know, there could be some other ability she has if she catches us. It would probably be safer if we hid out inside until this is over.”

The others agreed. And Anarka, bless her soul, actually came up with a large blanket for Ivan to wrap himself in to preserve his dignity. Then she and Mylene helped the taller teen to safely relocate to inside. Much like Luka, Ivan’s shoes had changed, but he was substantially less able to maneuver in them. And no amount of effort or force on his part could seem to separate the heels from his feet.

Once he and the others were inside, Luka moved to follow. He hesitated, however, at the sound of something landing behind him.

“Viperion? We’ll need your help.”

He turned to see Ladybug standing tall. And was that perhaps a hint of blush on her face?

Oh. 

A shame.

It looked like Juleka wouldn’t be getting her pictures, after all...

_____________________

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

He shuddered, backing away from the door as far as possible.

“Ninoooooo…”

It was a fight for survival.

“C’mon, Nino. Just open the door.”

The survival of his dignity, but still!

He’d lost track of the others and immediately rushed home and to the safety of his room. His room, which he could lock and hide away in until this all blew over.

“I have a key!” Came Chris’s voice. “Somewhere…”

“Give it and I won’t take any pictures of you.”

“Deal!”

His room, which his traitorous little brother was willing to allow the enemy entry into.

Under any normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be this desperate. But if Alya caught him like this…

Black dress. Puffy at the shoulder, sleeves that extended to his wrists and were bound by white cuffs. A white smock tied back with a white ribbon. White bow at the neck and white frills along the bottom of the dress?

Oh yeah…Alya would never let this go…

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten into all those anime Adrien pushed him into! So what if the maids were cute? And sure, he’d admit he's had a thought or two of Alya in such attire...

But how was he supposed to know Alya had such thoughts as well? And in the complete opposite direction! Clearly this was the akuma’s magic punishing him!

Nino looked to his window.

It would be a long fall, but it was his only escape.

But would the broken legs be worth it when Alya would soon figure out what he did and be able to catch up to him easily?

Maybe he could try to climb up instead…but in these heels? It was suicide!

“Fufufu!”

…screw it. 

He opened up his window, only to meet a new pair of eyes.

Ladybug stared in surprise from her place at his windowsill, a certain box in hand.

“…hi?”

“Oh thank god!” He exclaimed. He took her by her shoulders, half leaning out and half pulling her in. “Alya’s insisting on taking pictures! Please tell me you have my Miraculous with you!”

“Actually, about that—”

“I don’t care! I’ll do anything! Just please—SAVE ME!”

Ladybug looked back behind her to a distant rooftop and the other allies she’d left behind.

The sound of a key jingling could be heard and Nino stared up at her, pleadingly.

Well, she could never resist the eyes…

By the time they’d gotten the door open, the room was empty.

Nino was gone.

_____________________

Six heroes stood assembled.

Ladybug.

Chat Noir.

Carapace.

Viperion.

King Monkey.

Pegasus.

Six heroes.

Five of whom were male.

And…still wearing some semblance of feminine maid-like outfits.

Ladybug wasn’t sure if she should be impressed or worried.

“What the hell?! I thought the Miraculous were supposed to change us into our hero suits?” Nino groused.

Contrary to his hopes and expectations, using the Miraculous had not transformed him into his normal Carapace look, but had rather simply given him a different outfit. The dress itself was green and had a turtle shell pattern, while the apron and waist belts were a brown color. The bowknot around his neck was a dark green and a brown to match the apron. He wore stockings. And to his very limited relief, his shoes were flats instead of heels.

“Well, at least this skirt is longer.” Pegasus said, now wearing a dark brown blouse and bicycle skirt. The skirt went to just above his ankles, for which he was grateful. But this seemed to be countered by the increase of height to his heels.

Plus no corset. The outfit was still fit tightly and not very comfortable, but at least he could breathe now.

“Though I believe we’re getting away from maid-wear now.” Chat said, conversationally.

Pegasus gave him a flat look. “I’m not complaining.”

If Chat had witnessed his earlier ensemble, surely he would understand.

King Monkey, for his part, seemed somewhat appeased with his Miraculous suit. It was a notably more Eastern style of dress, appearing more like robes worn by palace servants. He wore a light brown waistcoat with wide sleeves over a blouse and a wrap-around skirt. It looked heavy, but Kim seemed to have no trouble with it. Maybe it was made of a lighter material…?

And Viperion’s dress was different in style as well. Whereas his maid outfit as Luka had been more punk, this was more sleek. Wearing a green sleeveless dress and white smock, as well as what appeared to be a green corset. The dress had a slit at the sides, giving more maneuverability for his legs…as well as more show, given the appearance of a garter belt and stockings. His shoes were high heeled but including a beautiful snake design that wrapped around his ankles. To finish it off, rather than remain bare, his arms were covered in what appeared to be loose green sleeves that started at his elbows and extended to his wrists.

…maybe a picture or two wouldn’t hurt? Or three? Because the amount of details on these outfits were amazing and she was just brimming with ideas now…

Ladybug broke out of her musings when someone tugged on her shoulder to get her attention.

It was Chat. Chat who, much like the other heroes, as dressed in a fantastical outfit. Though a maid outfit, it was definitely more cat-themed with a giant paw-like gloves covering his hands, a paw print on his apron, and bow and bell on his tail which rang as he shifted.

What material was that made of, anyway? She kind of wanted to give it a feel and see if she could find something to compare it to. Maybe a quick sketch?

Oh. Right.

Akuma.

Maybe if she was lucky, they could finish this quickly so she could rush back home and take notes while she still had the ideas bouncing in her brain.

…maybe someone would have gotten pictures by then…?

“Ladybug?” Chat whispered, snapping her back to reality.

“Yes?”

Chat frowned in concern. “Is the Guardian okay with this?”

Ladybug froze.

“PSST! Ladybug!” Came a voice from a nearby rooftop, drawing her attention.

“Master Fu?”

“Ladybug! Here’s the Miracle Box. Take as many allies as you can and resolve this as soon as possible!”

“Master? Are…you hiding in a box?”

“No questions! Just go!”

“…he’s fine.”

Chat seemed uncertain, but decided not to pry.

“Let’s just split up and find the akuma.” Ladybug said. “But don’t engage until we’re all together!”

With that, the six split into three groups, with Chat and Carapace going one way and King Monkey and Pegasus going another, leaving Ladybug and Viperion searching together with the former trying not to get caught stealing peeks at the latter.

“Is something wrong?” He asked with a smile.

…trying. The key word was trying not to get caught.

“No! Nothing!” She replied quickly. “I’m just…surprised that you can still move so quickly in those heels.”

“I’ve had practice.” He explained, still smiling. He even lifted one leg behind him, managing to stand perfectly balanced even on one leg in heels.

“I…see.”

Part of her wanted very much to laugh. It was the same part that had found this entire day ridiculous. The other part of her was her inner artist at work and really wanted to make a few sketches inspired from the presented outfits. Like Viperion’s sleeves…and those shoes with a snake coil wrapping around the ankle…

“Ladybug!”

Gaah! Focus!

She turned towards the shout to find King Monkey and Pegasus stumbling towards her.

Her fingers twitched. She ignored it.

“We found the akuma.” King Monkey reported. “She doesn’t seem to be doing anything. Just…kind or roaming around.”

“And laughing.” Pegasus added bitterly. “She appears to be doing a lot of that.”

“How’s THAT for ‘doll them up’?” Came a shout from street level. “HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, HUH?!”

As if on cue…

Ladybug and the others peeked over the edge of the roof.

“Has she displayed any other powers?” She asked.

“No.” Pegasus replied. “From what we could see, her power has already been activated to…obvious effect.” He hesitated, resolutely avoiding mentioning his new outfit or the indignity he’d already suffered. “She has only been laughing. And tripping the occasional person while searching for someone in particular—possibly the one responsible for her ire.”

Ladybug nodded. “At least she’s distracted and doesn’t know we’re here. We just need a plan of attack before we try to fight her.”

“No problem!” King Monkey said with a grin as he reached for his weapon. “We can just do a head on attack with our weapons and—”

They stared.

In place of his staff was a broom. A normal cleaning broom.

They sent cautious glances to each other before they checked their own inventory.

Said inventory consisted of a broom, a bucket, and a feather duster.

“I believe that constitutes as a problem.” Pegasus stated worriedly.

“That’s no fair!” King Monkey exclaimed. “Adrien was able to summon a machete!”

Ladybug blanched at that. “A what?!”

Pegasus pushed up his glasses. “I believe it’s a component of his…‘cosplay’?”

“Pfft!” Ladybug covered her mouth with her hand.

“Ladybug?”

“I-it’s nothing!” She replied hurriedly.

Viperion raised his eyebrow at her but didn’t comment.

King Monkey at least seemed to take it in stride.

“Now we just need a plan for attack!”

“With what?!” Pegasus questioned, waving the feather duster in frustration. “Our weapons don’t work!”

“More like our weapons aren’t actually weapons.” Viperion said, considering his bucket.

“I could smack her.” King Monkey offered, holding up his broom. “Maybe your feather duster has dust on it and could make her sneeze?”

Pegasus gave him a flat look.

“I think the broom is the best weapon we have right now.”

“Don’t knock a bucket!” King Monkey commanded, resolutely. “I got one stick on my head one time and it took hours to get it off! Buckets are evil, man!”

Pegasus sighed and rubbed his head. “It concerns me that you’re the second person I know whom that has happened to.”

Ladybug coughed, discretely trying to draw attention off that particular subject lest identities be at risk. “Anyway, I think I have a plan...”

______________________

To be honest, it wasn’t that difficult of an akuma. Especially not with six of them teaming up against it.

Akumaid truly see to have no ability other than the initial one of transforming what any male in Paris was wearing into something embarrassing...unless you were Adrien, apparently. Aside from that, she showed no other power—neither over the clothes themselves or the people wearing them. Well, she wasn’t controlling any of the victims or shrinking the clothing to choke them at any rate...which if you think about it, was rather lame for an akuma in the power department.

The only real disadvantage in battle came in the difficulty the boys had moving freely in their current outfits. And the afore noted lack of proper weaponry.

Their advantage of surprising was ruined by Chat’s bell ringing before they could ambush her, and both Carapace and Pegasus losing balance with their heels and falling over. King Monkey’s outfit, while longer, also meant more fabric to flap about and resist his movements regardless of how light it may have been, so he wasn’t able to get a hit in fast enough before the akuma turned on him and knocked him away.

Chat was able to get a hit in though.

With his…Kitty Wand…

“THIS IS MAGICAL PUNISHMENT!” He shouted as he smacked the akuma over the head.

“Chat. Chat no. Chat why?”

And Ladybug had hopelessly lost her composure by this point and was laughing. Just laughing. Laughing so hard she was crying actual tears as she smacked her own thigh in her struggle to breathe. Viperion was trying to help her stay standing, keeping an arm around her to support her as she half leaned and half chuckled tears into his chest.

“What’s going on? Does the akuma have some power over Ladybug, too?” King Monkey asked.

…

Viperion sighed.

“Sure. Something to that effect.”

Ladybug wheezed.

“LADYBUG!”

“Lu-haha-lucky haha-charm!”

It said something when her own Lucky Charm magicked up a paper bag. With Ladybug still victim to her fit of giggles, Viperion simply put the bag over her face and had her try to breathe.

“A paper bag doesn’t help with out of control laughing.” Pegasus noted as he forced himself to his feet.

“Do you want to try to figure out the Lucky Charm?” Viperion bit out in annoyance, Ladybug still shaking in his arms.

Pegasus coughed and backed away. “No, thank you.”

Ladybug let out another giggle.

“All right, enough! I’ll stop her!” Carapace shouted, reaching for his back. “With my…serving plate.”

His shield.

His precious shield was gone.

“…Carapace?” Ladybug asked.

The newly rendered Turtle Maid sighed and simply threw the plate as he had his shield, not expecting much.

��the plate slice flew through the air at a surprising speed, but missed the akuma entirely. Instead, it sailed past her, hitting a light post.

Ladybug had expected it to bounce, but instead there was a sound of shredding metal as the serving plate actually tore through the lamp post and into the concrete itself.

The lamp post, now detached, tilted and fell over—conveniently on top of the akuma before she had the time to realize what was happening and move out of the way.

SLAM!

It fell on top of her and she hit the ground.

“Huzzah?” Kim asked.

“Well…that’s one way to defeat an akuma.” Pegasus marveled.

“Great. Now can we fix this already?” Carapace asked impatiently. If they took too much longer, someone was bound to catch them.

That someone would probably be Alya.

And that was the last thing he wanted at this point.

“But I kind of wanted to make a sketch at least…” Ladybug muttered to herself, holding the paper bag Charm to her chest.

“LADYBUG!”

She waved her hands insistently. “I’m on it!”

But she could dream…

“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

It was with some disappointment that the Miraculous Cure wiped away the outfits of the other heroes, returning them to their original costumes.

“OH THANK GOD!”

“That was…horrible…”

“Corsets were invented as a torture method, I swear…”

“Shieldy!” Carapace exclaimed, hugging the shield in relief. “Never leave me again!”

“You okay now, Ladybug?” Chat asked her in worry.

“I’m fine.” She said, even though she wasn’t really. She felt like she’d missed a chance, even if it was for the greater good. But it would have been an abuse of her power to be taking pictures of the guys in that state and she already felt bad enough for breaking down laughing in the middle of the fight.

In that moment, however, the loveliness of ladybugs that made up the Cure returned from their task of restoring Paris to flow over Ladybug herself before vanishing, leaving her holding an envelope in their wake. Curious, she opened the envelope…

She gasped.

Inside were a multitude of photos of the other heroes. From different angles. In different positions. All of them in their new outfits.

Ladybug bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding and drawing attention to herself.

…Thank you, Tikki.

Best. Kwami. Ever. “Ladybug…” Carapace said in growing wariness. “What is that?”

“Nothing!”

“Ladybug. That better not be what I think it is…”

She shoved the photos back in the envelope.

“It’s nothing at all!”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Noticing the stand off, the others approached as well.

“It was just something I was missing, yeah.”

“Then let us see it.”

“Can’t.” She replied, clutching the envelope to her chest. “It’s…Ladybug stuff.”

“Hand it over. Right now!”

"NOOO! THESE ARE FOR THE FUTURE OF FASHIOOOON!”

“GIVE US THE PHOTOS!”

“Wait—did she get any of all of us in a group cosplay pic?”

“NOT NOW, CHAT!”

Unfortunately, that small distraction was all she needed to get away.

Viperion, the only one having been pretty nonchalant this whole time, simply watched her leave and the others shout after her.

“…isn’t she going to take our Miraculous back?”

_________________________

Angela sighed, already dreading what was to come.

It was a humiliating end to an already humiliating week as the former akuma victim had been forced to return to her job to go over the updates for the new Ladybug game with the rest of her team.

Said updates were apparently to include maid outfits for the female heroes thanks to one particular coworker who had decided to work on maid outfits for the female heroes instead of the level he was assigned. It had been part of the reason she had been angry enough to be akumatized.

The fact that he was insistent on shoving his maid fetish into the game for no good reason other than having them be eye candy was the other part.

The images in question that he insisted on bringing featured the three female super heroes of the city: Ladybug, Rena Rouge, and Queen Bee.

But not as anyone had ever seen them.

Instead of their usual hero suits, the three girls were portrayed in sultry, even provocative poses. And most notably, all three were wearing some mockery of a French Maid outfit…as what would be believed by Americans, no less.

They might as well have been the initial sketches of pinup posters.

“You can’t still be serious!”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got akumatized just because I was jealous that someone else had a good idea.” He said bitingly and giving her a pointed look, perhaps still a bit bitter of the aforementioned experience that her akumatization had caused.

“It’s not a good idea, John.” Angela countered. “There was no reason to have the girls be running in maid outfits.”

He shrugged. “We could just say an akuma did it. After all, we did just get an akuma who did exactly that.” He said, giving her another look.

She clenched her fists and was about to retort when their team lead entered the room.

The meeting commenced and she’d been forced to bite her tongue. Each of the team members went over their progress and updates for their contribution to the game. Level design. Enemies. Testing.

And then came his grand achievement. Instead of the level he was assigned, he gave scantily clad designs for three of the eight known heroes.

What effort.

“I was thinking we really need to include something to make our game stand out, so I made some extra skins for the heroes.” He bragged, sending her a smug look. “The appeal would sell plenty of copies.”

“Or the controversy.” Angela muttered back before turning to the team lead and hoping that the man leading their group had more empathy…or sense.

The team lead looked over the designs with an analyzing gaze. Tiffeny, despite the initial impression his name would give, was a rather buff man who took no shit. But was also a guy. Who liked guy things. But did those things include young women in maid costumes?

After a moment, Tiffeny dropped the pictures on the table and looked at John incredulously. “You know, if you were going to base skins off recent events, you could at least have been authentic.”

John stared. “What?”

“It was the guys who were affected by Akumaid. Not the girls. If we’re going to do maids, we need to keep it true to life, just like the rest of the designs we’ve included. We talked about this when we started this project.”

“But it’s what the audience wants!” John argued.

“Do you know who comprises the majority of our audience?” Tiffeny asked. “Girls. Girls, gay guys, and those who are exploring their interests. Guys in the outfits would sell leagues more than the girls.” He started ticking his fingers “It’s different. It’s original. And it’s based in actual events. People would love it.”

“But…they’ll love this!”

“Man, if people wanted to see sexy girls in skimpy clothing, they’d play literally any other game! Or watch porn.” Tiffeny explained. “But what game do you know of has had guys in maid outfits?”

“Well...”

“Exactly. We want to stand out. And we even have recent events as justification. So if you’re going to be wasting time you should be spending on level-making to put people in maid skins, then get those male heroes some maid costumes.”

“But that’s not fair!” John exclaimed.

Tiffeny paused at that. “Hmm…you’re right.”

With that, he turned to her. “You’re good at designing. Make some butler outfits for the girls. Something dashing to serve as a counter for the guys.”

Angela blinked in surprise for a moment before smiling.

“Sure thing!”

“You know…” one of the other workers noted. “While we’re on the subject, I WAS thinking of some medieval armor designs for the girls and princess dresses for the guys.”

“Hey yeah! Like a light green for Viperion!”

“Maybe teal might be better?”

“Ooo! How about…”

Soon enough, everyone seemed to be invested in the new plan.

Everyone that is, except John.

“Lovely!” Tiffeny said cheerfully. “Plan it out and bring the concepts to me later.”

With a new task in hand and John’s pouting to forever be a memory to hold onto, it seemed her day was looking up…

_________________________

“That was some akuma battle.” Marinette said as she slid into her seat next to Alya.

The reporter, however, only looked annoyed. “Ladybug had apparently called all the male heroes and I completely missed it!” She groaned and leaned back in her seat, bemoaning the lost opportunity.

If she’d hadn’t been so focused on tracking Nino for the purpose of collecting blackmail ensuring his safety, she would have been able to catch all of the male heroes in their maid outfits.

Marinette smiled. “You know…I may have a connection…”

Alya gasped.

“No.”

Marinette giggled and slid over her phone with a picture showing.

“NO WAY!” She cried out before staring up at Marinette in shock. “Girl, you have to send me these!”

“Wait—you have what now?” Nino had arrived, initially hopeful that he had avoided the worst of that day only to have those hopes immediately dashed upon arriving to see the two girls sharing what could only have been one thing…

“I have pictures of the heroes in their new outfits.” Marinette replied cheerfully as she swiped through her phone. “Oh look, Nino! You’re in here, too!”

“WHAT?! NO!” He shouted, rushing forward.

Marinette quickly grabbed back her phone and hid it in her pocket with an overly sweet and not at all innocent grin.

“Mari, come on, no! Don’t do this to me!” He begged.

“Don’t do this to ME!” Alya cut in. “You can’t just show me that and take it away! That’s just not fair!”

“Don’t worry.” Marinette assured them. “It’s going where all my blackmail material goes.”

“Wait what?”

“Since when do you have blackmail material?”

“Since somebody started a game of ‘let’s take pictures of Marinette while she’s asleep and post them online’.” Marinette replied dryly.

Nino groaned. “Come on! I said I was sorry!”

“And now I can be just as sorry.” She replied blithely.

Which was to say: not sorry at all.

“Come on! Alya made me do it!”

“It was just in fun! Marinette! Please!”

“Do you want me to beg? Cry? I’ll cry.”

“I’ll pay you! Pretty please! At least the heroes if nothing else!”

“Oh no you don’t!”

“My blog NEEDS this!”

Marinette smiled at the minor chaos she had caused as the normally happy couple bickered with each other.

Sweet sweet music.

“Hey, Marinette!”

And speaking of sweet…

She turned to look up at a certain blond-haired model as he arrived at his own desk. Though he seemed to be a bit distracted by the arguing couple.

“Hey, Adrien!” She greeted, for once with no stutter to speak of.

“Hey, um…are they okay?” He asked, gesturing to the two.

“Oh, they’re fine.” She said, waving them off. “Just…a bit excited over the recent akuma.”

At that, Adrien brightened. “Wasn’t it awesome?”

She nodded, trying to keep her laughter inside.

“You…ah…enjoyed yourself then?”

Adrien shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “Well, it’s not often I get to dress up in a way that’s ‘silly’. Or in anything that isn’t promoting Father’s brand. And I’ve never gotten to cosplay. So it was…really fun.”

Oh. Ouch. Okay, that one kind of hurt. The poor Sunshine Child…

“You know…” Marinette said, leaning over her desk and smiling at him. “I’ve seen a bit of that one anime you mentioned.”

“Cells at Work?” He asked, brightening up.

She nodded. “Mmhmm. I could make you a jacket based off the lead Red Blood Cell. And if you like, I can keep it so you can wear it whenever we hang out.”

He gasped. “Really?”

“Sure! Maybe you can come over sometime so we can try a fitting. We could even play Mecha Strike.”

Adrien beamed. “That sounds great! Thanks, Marinette!”

She waved him off and went back to full sitting in her seat.

Alya and Nino both became distracted from their arguing by the miracle they had just witnessed.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had just spoken to Adrien Agreste…and not a stutter to be heard!

“What the heck, girl?” Alya whispered, sliding into her seat beside her friend. “Since when could you do THAT and why haven’t you done it sooner? I could swear I saw hearts in his eyes!”

Marinette shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “After seeing Adrien Agreste in a maid dress, I kind of wondered why I was so scared of talking to him to begin with.”

Alya laughed. “Well, at least something good came out of this, then.”

“You know...more good WOULD come out of this if I had pics of those heroes..." 

“Really, Alya?”

“You’re pretty much the only one who managed to get any shots of the male heroes!” Alya exclaimed. “Seriously, how?!”

Marinette giggled.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

________________________

OMAKE 1:

Knock! Knock!

“Felix?” His mother called on the other side of the locked and barricaded door. “Will you be coming out?”

“That depends. Do you have a camera?”

A pause. Which was all the answer he needed.

“Then no.”

OMAKE 2:

Fortunately, in the midst of their searching, the team had managed to find the akuma and her primary target, getting between the two.

“So what happened?” Ladybug asked him.

John gripped his skirt, nervously. “She’s my coworker in developing a new video game and she didn’t like my input.”

“What set her off?”

The guy rolled his eyes. “She’s one of those types who wants to take the fun out of video games.”

“What?” Ladybug blinked.

“Okay, so I wanted to put some maid costumes in the game! It was just for fun! Besides, it would have added a bit of pizazz! Something for the players to enjoy!”

“You could just try making a good game.” Pegasus pointed out. “If you have to rely on a cheap gimmick to get buyers, it may not be a good product.”

"I'm sorry, really! I mean, sure, I'm still going to put it in the game, because who wouldn't want hot maids, but still! That doesn't mean I deserve this!"

The akuma raised her fist and shouted at him. “THEY ARE HEROES, DAMMIT! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN MAID SKINS JUST BECAUSE THEY’RE GIRLS!”

Ladybug blanched. “Wait…is the game about me?”

Pegasus coughed and looked away. “There have been…rumors, yes.”

Viperion tilted his head. “That seems like a double standard though…since we’re the ones in maid outfits...”

“Not the point, Viperion!”

Ladybug frowned.

“I don’t think I want to help now.”

“Ladybug!”

[blackwoolncrown]

”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

Do

not

fucking

talk

to

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

[bees--in-my--bones]

Mission: New Asgard

Character: Loki x reader (completely gender neutral. There are zero indications of the readers gender, no pronouns at all. Note that this is written from the perspective of a woman, though, so if something is too biased, please let me know!)

Summary: You are assigned to help integrate the Asgardians to Midgardian society, but your mission ends a whole lot different than you expect.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 5,493

A/N: My second fic! The title is supposed to be a play on the Mission: Impossible movies, but I've never actually seen one, so sorry if it's wrong lol. Now that I officially have more than one fic, I'm gonna make a masterlist, so that will be coming soon. I hope you like the story!

You rapped your knuckles on the office door that had been left slightly ajar. “Director Mackenzie? You asked to see me?”

“Come on in, Y/N. Elena was just leaving.”

You opened the door and nodded at Agent Rodriguez as she made her way out. She gave you a curt nod in return.

Alphonso Mackenzie, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., leaned back into the chair behind his desk and gestured for you to have a seat. “And for the last time, Y/N, you are one of my most trusted operatives. Call me Mack, please.”

You sat down. “Sorry, Mack.”

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file folder stuffed to the brim with documents, which he dropped onto the desk between you, the loud thwap resounding in the small office.

“I have a mission for you, Agent. A few days ago, the planet Asgard was completely destroyed.”

“Asgard?” you interjected. “Like where Thor is from?”

He nodded. “You’ll find all of that and more in these files. Thor and his brother Loki have set up a colony in a small town in Norway. We need you to supervise the integration of the Asgardian people onto Earth. This is the first known mass migration of aliens that our planet has ever seen, and we need to be keeping a close eye on this, or it could go sideways real fast.”

You pulled the files closer and began to flip through a few pages. “I thought Loki was a bad guy. What was it? 80 people in 2 days? Plus the invasion of New York. Why are we letting him back here?”

Mack sighed and rubbed his temple. “I can’t personally vouch for the man, but Thor claims he was being mind controlled. According to Thor, Loki eventually broke free of the control and killed the guy who was behind the whole thing. Some alien named Thanos? Tony Stark himself seems okay with this New Asgard business, and you know how paranoid he gets. So for now, we observe, not attack.”

“Gotcha,” you said. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you can get your stuff together and get out of here. Say the word and we'll start prepping a Quinjet.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you said, standing up and grabbing the files. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get an idea of my timeline.”

“Thank you Agent L/N, and good luck.”

------

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, barely making a rather sharp turn. When you finished this assignment, you were going to have to have a talk with whoever designed these roads. Despite the unsafe driving conditions, though, you sighed in contentment. You were back in the field, this is where you belonged.

You pulled a van loaded to the brim with various tech items mixed in with your personal possessions down a bumpy road, coming to a stop before a small, rustic-looking, seaside town, where two men and a woman stood for you. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. You turned the key and shut off the van, trying to get a read on each of the people standing before you.

The buff blond man was clearly Thor. You recognized him from the news and the files you had read. Next to him was a tall woman with dark hair who had wan air of confidence about her. You had never seen her, nor did S.H.I.E.L.D. have any data on her. The third man was lanky, but clearly still fit, with dark hair that fell just past his shoulders. He was clad in green and had a demeanor that made you shiver. This was Loki, scourge of New York and would-be king of Midgard. But Thor and Tony Stark had vouched for him, and that would have to be enough for Y/N L/N, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You exited the van and heard Thor call to you. “Welcome, newcomer! Our scouts observed your vehicle approaching our home!”

You walked briskly towards the group. Game time. Put on the 'no time for your shit' face and get to business. Coming to a stop in front of them, you began to speak. “My name is Y/N L/N and I am here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division of the American government. We have been granted permission from the government of Norway to oversee this colony's development. This is an unprecedented situation on Earth, and as such, we have written new protocols. I am the agent assigned to this case, and I will be supervising the construction of New Asgard and its integration into Midgardian society.”

Thor furrowed his brow. “I was under the impression that S.H.I.E.L.D. was controlled by Hydra.”

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. The previous incarnation of S.H.I.E.L.D. was corrupt, but we are a hardy breed, so to speak. A much smaller branch has survived, and deals with various situations across the world, aliens being one of them.”

Thor nodded. “Then we welcome your presence here with open arms.”

Loki scoffed. “You are too trusting, brother. This so-called agent could be anyone. What cause do we have to believe this story?”

You turned to him. “Loki, God of Mischief, Chaos, and Lies, correct? You of all people should know, am I lying?”

He stared at you, long and hard, before shaking his head. “No, I suppose you aren’t,” he admitted.

“There’s that then,” you said. “Now, I will need to ask the three of you some questions regarding yourselves, if you don’t mind.”

-----

The strange woman was first. You had been given a small shack to conduct your interviews out of, the woman stared at you from across the table, looking for all the world like she had somewhere better to be.

“Name?”

“Brunnhilde.”

“No family name?”

“I am a Valkyrie. I have no blood other than my sisters.”

“Right,” you said, “You lived on Asgard then?”

Her face took on a sour look. “A long time ago. I’ve spent the last few centuries on a different planet, Sakaar.”

You scribbled the information into your notepad. “What do you do then? If you were gone so long, why are you back with the Asgardians?”

Her chest puffed with pride. “I am to be the new King of Asgard. On the Summer Solstice we will hold a coronation. It will give the people enough time to accept the transfer of power from Odin’s bloodline to me, and for me to learn how to lead.”

You nodded and took note of it. “Congratulations,Your Majesty-to-be. I believe that’s all I need for now, but I expect we will see a lot of each other over the months.”

-----

Thor. The large man sat across from you, seemingly happy to be there.

“Thor Odinson, correct?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“And I hear you're passing on the title of King to Brunnhilde?”

A dark look came over his face. “I have learned recently that my family has done many wrongs by Asgard. As long as I breathe, I will fight for Asgard and her people, but I do not believe it is my place to rule. Brunnhilde loves the people and has a talent for leadership. She will be a much better King than I.”

“A very noble decision, Thor. Thank you very much, and please send your brother in on your way out.”

-----

“Name?”

“I believe you know who I am.”

You sighed. “It's a formality, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Friggason.”

“What?”

“I prefer Loki Friggason.”

You nodded, and made the necessary changes to his file. “Noted. Anything else I should know about?”

“Just a warning,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dangerously low. “I am the God of Lies. The truth is a luxury I will afford no one, especially your little government. The God of Chaos is an enemy you do not want to have.”

You raised an eyebrow, and wrote a single word in your file, exaggerating each syllable as you wrote it out. “Dra. Ma. Tic.”

Truth be told, you were a little scared, given this guy’s reputation, but you would be damned before you let your exterior crack.

Loki scowled. He seemed to do that a lot. “You mortals think you are so funny, do you not?”

You shrugged. “I’m delightful.” You slipped your papers into your file folder and stood up. “See you around, Friggason.”

You left, leaving Loki slightly aghast that you had managed to get the last word in.

-----

You walked calmly out of the hut, then quickened your pace as you made your way back to your van. Loki, as much as it pained you to say, had been intimidating, and your heart was beating a mile a minute.

You opened the door and climbed inside, shoving your paperwork into a filing cabinet, which you promptly locked. You turned to your computers, fiddling with the buttons, atttempting to establish your connection back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

"It's quite rude to walk out on a prince, you know."

You jumped and whipped around to see Loki standing outside your van.

"What the hell!"

"I said-"

"I know what you said, Your Highness," you interrupted. "But you scared the shit out of me. “

"Many apologies," he said as he hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the van, his insincerity clear. "And I grant you permission to refer to me as Loki."

"How generous," you muttered, before going back to your instruction manual. Technology had never been your forte. You chose being a field agent over a scientist for a reason.

The both of you sat in silence for a while, you working slowly through the instructions that Fitz, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent much more qualified in machinery than you, had given you.

You glanced up at Loki, half expecting to see him sleeping against the van's frame, only to find his gaze resting on you.

"Can I help you?" you asked.

He just laughed a bit, like staring at you had been the most normal thing in the world. "I am watching you, Midgardian, lest you sabotage the society my brother is trying to build."

"I never took you for the loyal type," you said, putting away your things. "I'm gonna have to ask you to get outta here though."

“Why?”

You gestured to the twilight outside. “It’s late. I’ve had a long day. I’m going to bed.”

Loki strained his head slightly, attempting to peek into the van. “Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Not breaking eye contact, you grabbed a cord on the wall and yanked, and the rusty old pull-down bed flopped out with a loud groan. The rickety old thing was probably going to give you back problems by the time you were done here, but such was life. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s money was usually spent on more pressing things than upgrading amenities for field agents.

Loki’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “You are not sleeping in that. We’ve built a larger house for Thor, Brunnhilde, and I. You’ll stay in one of the guest rooms there.”

You shrugged. “It’s not too bad out here.”

“Mortals,” he said under his breath, almost indecipherably, before speaking again, at a normal volume this time. “I insist. Whether I like it or not, you are a guest of Asgard, and you will be treated as such. Besides, that bed looks seconds away from collapsing.”

You nodded, trying not to betray your confusion at the combination of his kindness and rudeness. “Thank you, just give me a second to lock up.” You grabbed the pieces you had been fiddling with, then paused, your hand hovering over the satellite dish. “Actually, if you’re just gonna sit there, you may as well make yourself useful. You can teleport right?”

Suspicion crossed his face. “Yes?”

You held out the device. “Hop up to the top of the van, there should be a little cord. It’ll fit into this port here,” you said gesturing. “Plug it in for me, please?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You ask a god to do your bidding?”

You scoffed. “You’re not a god, you're an alien. And I just asked for a favor. You’re free to say no, but I’m exhausted, and as much as I would like to put off climbing on the roof off until tomorrow, I need to send a check in to headquarters ASAP.”

He begrudgingly reached out and took the dish and you watched as his form rippled green and faded away. You heard shuffling on the roof for a moment, then silence, before the Asgardian reappeared in front of you.

“If that’s all, Midgardian?” he said.

“Thank you, Highness,” you said, ignoring his tone. “And thank you for offering the room.” The monitor beeped a confirmation that your signal had connected and you punched in a code to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know you had made it to New Asgard. You grabbed the bag you had packed and hopped out of the van, waiting for Loki to follow suit before closing the doors and locking the vehicle.

You offered him your arm. “Shall we?”

He brushed past you, rolling his eyes at your mock-politeness.

“Alright then,” you muttered, “This is gonna be fun, isn’t it?” Taking one last look at the van behind you, you moved to catch up with the Asgardian walking briskly away from you.

-----

Loki had not been talkative on the way to the house, and after being curtly shown to your room, he quickly left. You had settled into a decently sized room complete with a desk and a small bathroom attached. Undoubtedly, the house was a far cry from an Asgardian palace, but it was much larger than needed for three, even four, people. Surprisingly, you got a sound night’s sleep.

You woke to rambunctious laughter, and, wiping bleariness from your eyes, got out of bed. You stood in front of a small mirror on the wall and attempted to make yourself look slightly less like you had just woken up. Moving to your bag, you put on clothes that were much more professional than the old sweatshirt you were currently wearing.

Finally satisfied, you stepped out of your room and followed the sounds of conversation into the kitchen, where you found Brunnhilde and Thor joking at the counter while Loki sat at a dining room table, reading a book.

Seeing you, Thor broke into a smile. “Y/N! Loki had told us you would be staying here!”

You returned the smile. “Thank you for letting me stay here, Thor. I really appreciate this.”

The large man set a plate heaping with food on the table and gestured for you to sit. You did, glancing at Loki as you took the seat across from him, but he made no move to acknowledge that you were there. Brunnhidle began to speak. “We will be building fishing boats today down at the docks today. Will you be joining us, Y/N? We could use an extra set of hands.”

You nodded. “I don’t mind helping out. I have a few things to take care of first, though, so I’ll meet you all down there.”

Thor clapped. “Excellent! We’ll make an Asgardian out of you yet!”

You laughed softly and finished your meal as Thor and Brunnhilde began to tell you the plans for the day.

------

After breakfast, you ran up to your room to grab your laptop and then met the rest of the group on the stairs of the house. “I’ll see you guys in a little while,” you said, waving while walking in the opposite direction.

Thor and Brunnhidle branched off from you, but Loki, still silent, walked beside you towards your van.

You looked at him quizzically, but he seemed to have no intention of indicating why he was with you, and not with Thor and Brunnhilde.

Finally, as you approached your van, you caved and asked. “Why are you with me instead of your brother?”

“I’ve consulted with Thor. I will be supervising you for the remainder of your stay here.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “I’m supposed to be supervising you guys!”

“You are a stranger,” he replied, “and there’s something about you that I don’t trust. I have harmed Asgard many times over, and I don’t intend to let you get away with hurting these people any more.” There was an edge to his voice, that you had to admit, scared you.

After a long moment, you sighed. “Fine. I could use an assistant, I guess.” Which was apparently the right thing to say, because it made him clearly flustered.

“I am no one’s assistant, I am a prince of Asgard,” he argued as you turned away from him, partially to unlock your van and partially to hide your laughter.

You hopped up into the vehicle and grabbed a folder and tossed it to Loki, who was still sputtering about his status behind you. “Scan those in, would you?” you said gesturing at a machine in the back corner of the van.

He huffed but snatched the folder from your hand and went to fiddle with the machine.

You glanced over. “Do you know how to use that?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “This is primitive technology compared to what I have seen in my travels.”

You shrugged. “Okay.” You turned to your computer and queued up a call to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. “I’m gonna need you to be quiet for a second,” you said, right before Mack’s face popped onto the screen.

“Y/N! How’s Norway treating you?” he said with a smile.

“Colder than I thought, but not too bad. They’ve given me an actual bed to sleep in. You really need to update the beds in these vans,” you joked.

“I’ll let the budget committee know,” he replied. “I trust Thor and Loki are being cooperative, then?”

“More or less,” you said before stepping to the side, putting Loki in full view of your webcam.

Mack’s eyes widened. The change was subtle, but you could tell he was surprised. “That’s Loki.”

“Yup.”

“In your van.”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“His Highness has deemed me untrustworthy, and decided I need a chaperone.”

“Right,” said Mack, suspicion in his voice. “Well you know the drill. Weekly check-ins, and don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any problems,” he said, looking at Loki.

“Gotcha, Mack. Talk to you next week,” you said, turning off the call. You turned to Loki, who had yet to even turn the scanner on. “You don’t know how to work that, do you?”

He glared at you and did not reply.

“Come here, Your Highness, I’ll show you. It really isn’t that hard.”

“You know the honorific loses its value when you say it so sarcastically,” he said, while watching your motions intensely, memorizing the steps to work the machine.

“Sorry, Highness.”

-----

The two of you walked down to the beach shortly after, meeting Brunnhilde and Thor at the docks. You were allotted supplies and miraculously, you and Loki ended up caulking the same boat.

Great.

The silence was deafening at first, until you decided to break it.

“You know I never would have assumed that someone of such status would be out here doing the dirty work,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

He grimaced. “I owe Asgard a debt. I intend to repay it, however I can offer service.”

“A very noble stance from Loki, God of Mischief.”

He grinned and looked up, meeting your eyes. “I find that one can be noble while still being quite mischievous.”

You felt your face heat up, and ducked your head, looking down at your work. He had smiled at you, for the first time, and what he had said had sounded almost like flirting. Why had that made your stomach turn in such a strange way?

“Oh my,” he laughed. “Seems that the Midgardian is finally speechless.”

“Just trying to hold my tongue around my betters, Highness,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Now let’s get to work before Brunnhilde has our heads.”

-----

Finally, late that afternoon, the work was done, and the New Asgard armada of fishing boats was ready for a celebratory launch. You and Loki stood in the crowd, watching Brunnhilde give a speech in front of the flagship, which really wasn’t much larger than the rest of the fleet. Loki leaned over and whispered to you, “You know, back in the day, the Norse would give a human sacrifice to the sea god to ensure safe passage.”

You wrinkled your nose, put off by the suggestion. “I think I prefer the more English tradition,” you replied, watching as Brunnhilde smashed a bottle of champagne against the hull of the ship.

Loki sighed. “Such a waste of perfectly good champagne.”

“I’m sure there's plenty more alcohol around here somewhere,” you said as you walked over to your boat, preparing for her maiden voyage. You hopped in and offered Loki your hand to help him in. He hesitated, but he took it.

“What should we name her?” you asked.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “We have to give our ship a name.”

Loki seemed to ponder it a moment before deciding. “How about The Midgardian?”

You put your hand on your chest in mock flattery. “Aww, you named her after me, didn’t you?”

He laughed. “It’s a fitting name. She’s lackluster and hardly even worthy of being called a boat.” His words were biting, and maybe you were imagining things, but you could have sworn you heard the playfulness in his voice.

You laughed and tossed him an oar. “For you, Highness.”

“Many thanks, Midgardian.”

The two of you followed the rest of New Asgard, rowing out to sea. Suddenly, you noticed a small sprig of water in the bottom of the boat. “Loki,” you said, the fear dawning on you, “I think the boat is leaking.”

He turned to see the small leak coming through the floorboards. “Okay,” he said, suddenly serious, “Don’t panic. Let’s turn around.”

You switched the side you were paddling on, beginning to move the boat in a circle. Before you could completely orient yourselves, the floorboards cracked, and a large chunk of wood detached from the boat. You yelped as the water came flooding in.

Loki swore. “Can you swim?” he asked you, speaking quickly.

You nodded. All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents knew how to swim.

“Then jump!” he said, and you did, without a second thought. Your boat was sinking fast, and there was no way you were going to make it back to shore dry.

You hit the water, and a second later, heard Loki behind you.

“Swim towards Thor’s boat, he can get us-”

You missed the rest of his sentence as you were pulled away from him.

You fought the current that had taken hold of you, but your panic was making things worse. In the confusion, you lost control, and dipped under water. The ocean filled your mouth. Breaking the surface again, you choked out most of the water, trying to stay calm and find a way out, but every second you were being pulled further out to sea. Falling under once again, you were prepared to accept your fate when a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around you and pulled you into calmer waters.

You gasped for air as Loki held you against himself, allowing you time to recover.

“Wha- How did-” you began, once you could speak.

“Don’t talk, just breathe,” he said. “I am a god, I can overpower currents much easier than your mortal bodies can.”

“Thank you, Loki,” you said.

“You are welcome, Y/N.”

A larger boat pulled up next to you, Thor leaning over the side. “Brother, Agent Y/N! Take my hand!”

Loki helped you onto the deck of the boat before climbing over the side himself.

You flopped onto the deck, panting. “Rest in peace, SS Midgardian.”

-----

Later that night, you and Loki sat together watching the fire crackle. Thor had brought you a hot drink, and after plenty of fussing ensuring that you were okay, had left to do something leader-ish with Brunnhilde.

Suddenly, a loud scuffling at the door broke the silence and a series of thudding footsteps made their way toward you. Upon seeing your company, Loki sighed, exasperated. You turned and saw a large figure that appeared to be made out of rock alongside a smaller, insect-looking creature.

The large one began to speak, his gentle tone in contrast with his threatening form. “Hello. Um, I’m Korg and this is my friend Meik. We came to apologize for the whole boat thing. Thor put us in charge of wood collection, so it’s our bad, really. Sorry.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright,” you said, still processing the fact that there were two very large, very strange-looking, aliens in the living room. “You couldn’t have known the wood was rotting, and no one’s dead, so we’re good.”

“Alright, cool,” said Korg. “No harm, no foul, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Right then,” he said, scooping up Miek. “We’ve gotta get going. Thor put us on clean up duty for the next week.”

“Thank you, Korg!” you called, but he was already out the door.

Loki let out another sigh. “Idiots.”

You turned back to him. “I had no idea there were other aliens here! How many species came with you?”

“Just Korg and Meik. And unfortunately, they are around a lot.”

You settled into your armchair. “I’m gonna have to document this.” But even as you said it, you could feel yourself drifting off.

-----

The next day you woke in your own bed, slightly embarrassed at the implication that Loki had carried you there, but he never brought it up, so neither did you.

The next few weeks were filled with collecting information and helping with the construction of New Asgard to fill the rest of your time. Always, of course, accompanied by Loki. In a strange way, you were becoming friends. The two of you never exchanged a single kind word, but your actions said otherwise. Before long, it seemed less like Loki was breathing down your neck and more like he was genuinely relaxing around you.

“Hey, Mack,” you said, beginning your weekly call-in, Loki now sitting beside you instead of hiding in the background.

“Hey there, Y/N. How’s it going, Loki?”

“Quite well, thank you, Director Mackenzie.”

You stared at him in shock. You had never heard Loki use honorifics for a Midgardian.

The rest of the call was uneventful, and as soon as you hung up, you whirled toward Loki.

“You were polite!” you said, your tone accusatory.

Loki sniffed. “I do have manners, you know.”

“You called him Director Mackenzie.”

“And?”

“And I can count the number of times you’ve used my real name on one hand. It’s always ‘Midgardian’ this ‘Midgardian’ that. You know Mack’s a Midgardian too, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “And you call me ‘Highness’ in that terrible mocking tone of yours. The disrespect is mutual.”

You sighed. “Fine, we’ll call a truce. I’ll call you Loki, you call me Y/N, deal?” You stuck out your hand, waiting for his response.

He seemed to be considering his options, before he settled on his choice. “Deal.” He grasped your hand firmly within his and shook it.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Loki,” you said, leaning back into your chair.

“What now, Y/N?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I dunno. Brunnhilde and Thor don’t have anything going on, and I’m done with what I need to do.” You started clicking around on your computer. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“I’ve heard of movies, but never seen one.”

“You’ve never seen a movie?” you asked. “I guess that makes sense. It’s basically just a recorded play. You’ll love it.” You pulled up a movie. One of the lesser known perks of working for S.H.I.E.L.D.: free Netflix. “This is one of my favorites,” you said as the opening credits rolled.

“I suppose you aren’t giving me a choice then?” he asked.

“Nope,” you replied. “Now be quiet and watch.”

-----

Later that night, you were in the kitchen with Thor, cleaning up after dinner. The two of you worked in comfortable silence until suddenly-

“Are you and my brother involved romantically?”

The plate you were washing fell into the soapy water with a splash.

“What?”

“I have never seen him willingly be around a person as he is you,” Thor explained. “And he has changed. He is happier than he was before Midgard.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t- I thought he was just ‘supervising’ in case I tried to kill you all.”

“Hardly. The man just has no clue how to adjust to a more… domestic lifestyle. He wants to be around you, he just does not know how to express that.”

“Huh,” was all you managed to say, not looking up from the dishes.

Thor let out a small chuckle. “One day you two will figure it out,” he said so quietly you weren’t even sure he said it.

-----

More time passed, you and Loki still spending your days together. Before you knew it, the Summer Solstice was here, and you spent the morning preparing.

Rushing around your van, alone for once, you scrambled to get your work done quickly before Brunnhidle’s coronation began.

Finishing up you glanced at your monitor when you saw a message pop up.

Alphonso Mackenzie: I forgot to mention it in our call this week, but you’re coming up on the six month mark, and there seems to be no complications with Asgard’s transition, so we’ll be pulling you back to HQ. We’ll sort out the details in next week’s meeting.

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest, which was quickly replaced by determination as you began to type your response.

-----

You hurried to Loki’s side, panting slightly, making it to the coronation just in time for Brunnhidle to make her entrance.

“You’re late,” he whispered.

“Shh,” you said. “They’re starting.”

-----

After every great coronation comes an even greater feast, and the Asgardians spent the rest of the day revealing and celebrating their new leader.

Surprisingly, you had seen very little of Loki. That wouldn’t last long though, because as the sun dipped below the horizon, your closest friend in New Asgard appeared from the crowd and said nothing as he led you to a private space away from the partygoers.

“I’ve hardly seen you all night,” he said, as soon as the two of you had a moment of relative silence.

“I know,” you laughed softly. “It’s been strange to not be around you.”

Your smile fell and you looked up at him. “Look, Loki, I have some news, and I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”

His expression turned serious and he led you to a small bench, where the both of you sat. He stayed silent, waiting for you to speak.

“I got a message from Mack today. They want me back in America.”

Loki’s entire demeanor changed. “What? You can’t go back. There’s still so much I- so much supervising to be done here.”

“That’s where the part I’m unsure of comes in,” you said. “I talked to Mack, and the specifics still need to be discussed, but if we can get agreement from all parties, he wants to create a new position at S.H.I.E.L.D. I’d be the first permanent Asgardian-Midgardian liaison that S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had.”

His face broke into a grin and he clasped your hands into his. “That’s wonderful! Why would I have any problems with that?”

“You haven’t always been my biggest fan,” you said, nudging his arm gently.

He was silent for a moment, looking for the words. “Maybe not at first,” he began slowly, looking you directly in your eyes, “but now, I’d argue that you are closer to me than anyone else.”

You suddenly became all too aware of his hands resting on yours, and the closeness of his face to yours. “Loki…”

“I hate to admit it, but after a long talk with Thor, I’ve realized that I’ve grown quite fond of you, Y/N.”

“I guess I’ve grown fond of you too, Your Highness,” you said, smiling softly.

“Oh, Midgardian,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as his face drew nearer.

You didn’t remember which of you closed the gap, only that it was the most magical kiss you had ever had.

A/N: Thanks for reading! :)

[astridthevalkyrie]

summer rain: chapter 1

Your days in the Training Corp aren’t too out of the ordinary. You make friends, you train hard, and you eat dinner every day.

Oh, and you’re also hellbent on getting revenge against Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. 

Chapter 2

Read on FF.net or AO3.

Helloooo, beautiful people. I’m so excited about this story! This is now the official first part of the series, so it’s a prequel to the three oneshots I’ve already posted. If you haven’t read them, no worries, you can read this just fine. If you want to, just know they all have an established relationship and will reference the past, so you may possibly get spoiled. 

I plan for this to have five or so chapters, so buckle up, and as always, happy reading!

You’ve been expecting more.

Maybe that’s the wrong perspective to have. It’s still the military, and it’s still your first day and sure, that’s exciting and all, but you’ve heard stories. People always describe their first day of training as absolutely terrifying, but life-changing. They say that the first day is the day all the baby-faced cadets realize they’re in over their heads. It’s an introduction to the rest of their lives. At least, that’s the case for the people who stay. If one can’t handle a verbal beating, how can they stand any chance against the titans? The first day changes everything.

This, however, isn’t life-changing. It’s not terrifying. It’s rather...dull.

To be fair, the man in front doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it either.

You’ve heard of him, of course you have. Even back within Sina, people talk. A newcomer, a gift from the walls, humanity’s savior. Recently joined the Survey Corp and yet already a lieutenant, a definite shoe-in for the next available section commander position. Apparently his origins are a bit of a mystery, but he’s either the long lost son of a rich merchant or he’s come from outside the walls themselves because it’s just impossible that any common person can possess the skills he’s rumored to have. You’re not sure you believe all of it - apparently he’s so fast that the titans can’t even see him coming? yeah, sure - and yet there’s just something about him that gives off a truly well-earned confident aura. That’s been the most exciting part so far, the chance to see him up close, to see that he’s actually real.

Still, since he began talking, Lieutenant Levi hasn’t once raised his voice. He hasn’t screamed at them all for being the weakest pieces of shit he’s ever seen. He hasn’t even told them about how they’re going to train to become snacks for the titans. It’s disappointing. You’ve been ready to stand your ground, to show you’re made of some tough stuff. That can’t happen when your trainer won’t even bother to strike fear into your heart. Where other people may be relieved, you are mourning this loss of the traditional military experience.

At the very least, he’s not the actual trainer. He started his speech with a complaint that their actual instructor was sick for the day so now he had the absolute pleasure to welcome dozens of new fucking brats to their new home and occupation. His words drip with venom and boredom - clearly, he didn’t join to do any of this. It’s beneath him. All in all, Lieutenant Levi seems rather...arrogant. Maybe it’s well-deserved. But you don’t have to like it.

As he walks up to people at random who shout out their bare identities, the lieutenant snaps out comments that seem like they’re meant to bully rather than to frighten.

“Your posture is shit.”

“Oh wow, I bet the titans will be real scared of your noodle arms.”

“And here I thought these villages would send their best and brightest. Instead they sent you.”

But you’re not one to let things get to you so easily. You have your fist balled to your chest proudly, ready to serve humanity. You’ve fought to get where you are, and now you’re really, actually standing here, with your new comrades besides you, and you couldn’t be more proud. A bright smile settles on your face. You will make the best out of this, no matter your humanity-saving trainer’s dour mood. 

Unfortunately, said humanity-saving trainer takes notice of your smile, and with his gaze locked on his new target, he walks up to you, eyes narrowed in irritation.

“What’s your deal?”

You straighten your back, snap to attention, and look directly ahead as you know is appropriate. “Cadet (F/N) (L/N), sir, from Stohess District!”

His expression doesn’t throw you off, despite it looking like he’s never been so irritated in his life. You know you haven’t done anything wrong (at least not yet), so him looking that pissed off must be an internal issue, nothing to do with you. You’re not any different than any of the other cadets that have introduced themselves.

“Cadet (F/N) (L/N),” he says as though he’s testing out a brand new curse word, with just a hint of mockery in his voice. “I didn’t ask for your name or where you were from. I asked what your deal was.”

Well what in the holy hells is that supposed to mean?

Is what you want to say, but instead you simply furrow your brows and ask curly. “Sir?”

“What the fuck are you so happy about?” he clarifies, annoyance displayed clearly on his face.

Well damn, no need to be so edgy. You aren’t necessarily required to be as serious as everyone else here, and smiling isn’t a crime last time you checked. But this is obviously Lieutenant Levi’s thing, to be snarky and mean, and the sooner you answer, the sooner he’ll move on and find a new victim. “Just happy to be here, sir.”

Your smile stays right where it is.

“Oh, is that it?” He stares at you, deadpan. “You like the thought of being eaten? Does the idea just make your day? Do you fantasize about it at night? Let it lull you to sleep?”

Your smile grows a little strained.

Passion aggression is nothing new. You grew up in Stohess, you’re used to your fair share of cattiness. The lieutenant must take lessons from the tea-sipping high class ladies you’d basically grown up with, because he reminds you of them vividly. Ironic, considering you thought the military would be an escape to a life that was real and included less passive bullshit. It’s that frustration at the similarity that makes your polite mask crack.

The response slips through your lips before you can stop yourself. “No, sir, but last night I did happen to dream of a trainer that was tough enough to handle one of his subordinates smiling.”

You can be catty too. 

The grounds become more silent than they already were. It’s as though everyone is suddenly holding their breath at this new confrontation, just waiting to see what the newly dubbed hope of humanity will do if someone matches his sass. The loud silence is what finally makes you just a smidge nervous - surely, they won’t kick you out on your very first day just because of a smart comment, right?

Impatient and a bit anxious, you finally allow yourself to look directly in his eyes, and you’re suddenly stricken by how grey they are. You don’t think you’ve ever met anyone with grey eyes. They’re damn gorgeous. And there’s a hint of...something in them, and to your surprise it’s not rage. He looks calculatingly gleeful, as though he’s just been waiting for someone to say something back to him. He appears cruel and delighted all at once, and the contrast of it along with the striking silver hue is more personality than you’ve ever seen in someone’s eyes before.

It’s a breathtaking sight. You move in just a millionth of a centimeter to get a closer look -

And then he moves, lightning fast, reeling back and swinging his leg around to sweep your legs from under you. With a gasp, you hit the ground hard, head ringing and vision blurring for a few seconds. Your hair, which was loose around your shoulders, flies across your face, some of it entering your mouth. From above you, grey eyes are triumphant, looking down on you as though to ask whether or not that’s tough enough for you. You’d love to answer, but your head is throbbing and you can only let out a pathetic, confused noise that causes titters to spread throughout the room.

What the hell just happened?

You move to get up, but he’s quicker, slamming his foot down on your leg and holding you right where you are. For someone with such a short stature, he looks pretty damn tall from down here. Maybe this is the sight that the titans barely get to see before he slices through them. 

Everyone is watching, even if they’re not turning their hands. This is their entertainment today, and the fool has just made its move. The fool being you, of course. They’re all hungry to see how this will play out.

Your cheeks glow bright with embarrassment, but you are not going to waver. Not on the first day. This is what you wanted, right? You wanted someone who’d be a hardass, who’d strike fear in you and make this a day you’d never forget. Well, Lieutenant Levi is your wish come true.

“Please remove your foot, sir,” you muster as politely as you can, looking up at him icily.

He digs the heel of his shoe into your thigh to make a point, and maybe to see if you’ll cry out in pain. But you look him in his strange grey eyes and you only blink, a small smile returning to your face. Will he kick someone who’s already down?

The moment seems to last forever, and you briefly entertain the fantasy that time is freezing for him as much as it is for you.

And then it’s all broken - he takes his foot off and walks right by you, and the only words you’re spared after being humiliated are, “Tie your hair up, you look ridiculous.”

Thus goes your first meeting with Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

____________________

Dinner that night is filled with chatter. It seems people have found their loyal companions pretty fast, and cliques are forming faster than a speeding bullet. 

Luckily, you don’t need to worry about making friends. Besides the fact that you’re charming and perfect (according to everyone else and definitely not just you), you joined the military with your best friend from childhood. Millie Shackel is every bit the Stohess lady you are, the Rose to your Maria, the jelly to your butter. It’s amazing how much two girls can bond over a shared hate for the lack of activity happening within their stuffy town.

You gnaw at the bread on your plate, squeezing your eyes shut in pain after a particularly hard bite makes the back of your head throb. Not for the first time, you place your hand gingerly on the back of your skull, confirming that there’s no blood pouring out.

“Shouldn’t have mouthed off,” Millie quips from across the table, looking at you amusedly.

“Thanks,” you mutter bitterly, abandoning the bread for now until the soreness goes away. “Didn’t think one stupid comment was going to make him go berserk on me.”

She laughs, confirming you sound every bit as stupid as you feel. “I don’t think that classifies as berserk. That was a superior putting you in your place.”

“Suck-up,” you accuse, eyes narrowed. She only rolls her eyes, and you bring the cup of water to your lips and begin simply guzzling it down when someone claps you on the back, making you choke.

You turn to glare, still coughing up water, at two guys behind you. The one who nearly killed you is tall, with hair the color of bananas, and he’s grinning with no regrets, the shameful bastard. The other one behind him looks apologetic, red-haired with pretty green eyes. He whacks his friend on the arm. “You idiot, you nearly sent her to the infirmary!”

“Oh, come on.” The tall guy slides next to you without permission, slinging an arm around you as though you’re the closest of chums. Back in Stohess, you’d have called for his execution or some shit. “Surely the girl who talked back to Lieutenant Levi can handle some water going down the wrong way.”

Millie does not look pleased at the intruder, and looks even more grouchy when his friend sits down next to her, albeit keeping a much more respectful distance. When you finally stop coughing violently, you shove the guy’s arm away.

“A-asshole, what the hell’s your problem?” 

“There’s no problem, kid.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “I just wanted to see the balls on you. Guess it was overexaggerated.”

“Obviously,” you snap, “I just talked back, I didn’t hop over the wall and kill a titan.”

“Regardless, good job with the way you handled it. The others are talking about you.”

Millie gives you a stern look. “Hear that? Now we’re the troublemakers.”

You shrug apologetically, and decide to take another crack at eating your bread. This time, it goes down easier, with only a light sting to remind you of the lieutenant’s cruelty. 

“I’m Stephen,” the redhead says with a shy smile, extending his hand. You shake it, then turn your gaze questioningly to the one next to you. He grins cockily, waiting for you to ask. You don’t.

“This is Ricky.” Stephen spoils his fun, sounding exasperated. 

“I assume you two are close.” Millie wrinkles her nose distastefully. You bite back a laugh - there’s that Stohess bitchiness that you love about her.

“We met this morning,” Ricky responds, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

The two of you warm up to the boys soon enough. Ricky is rather friendly when he’s not trying to steal your food thinking you won’t notice, and Stephen is downright sweet, his emerald eyes brightening when you ask him where he’s from. He goes off on a ramble about his village which is somewhere smack dab in the middle of the land within Wall Rose. Apparently their local stew is the best there is. You privately disagree; nothing quite tastes like the stew they make in the Orvud District, least of all this bland loaf of bread in your hand.

Ricky, on the other hand, is from Shiganshina, which is apparently an outer city of Wall Maria (so the two boys really had just met that morning). 

“So, I’m guessing it’s the MP for you two?” Ricky says. Millie looks offended.

“That’s not right for you to assume!” She deflates a little. “But yes, it is.”

“Hey.” You shoot her a scowl. “It’s the MP for you. I don’t have any intention of hurrying back to precious Sina.”

Millie gazes at you with her we’ll talk about this later look like she has every time you’ve brought up that you have no intention of returning to fucking Stohess where nothing ever happens. Before she can say anything, Ricky ruffles your hair fondly. 

“Should’ve known you were made of tougher shit than that. So what, you like playing hero?”

You shrug. “No, I just have a sob story. Dead old Dad was a Scout, and then he was titan chowder.”

Stephen looks disturbed at how bluntly you say it, and even Ricky is a bit thrown off. You chuckle at their expressions, waving a hand nonchalantly. “It’s fine, it happened a while ago. I barely remember him. But you know, what better way to connect with your dead dad than to align yourself with the people who let him die, right?”

Ricky’s mouth hangs open as Millie snorts. “You can laugh, she’s making a joke. Get used to her sense of humor, it’s always this bad.”

“I resent that.”

“So you don’t care about getting into the top ten?” Stephen asks carefully - scoping out the competition, you realize.

“Couldn’t give less of a shit,” you answer coolly, “but Millie obviously does.”

“I’ll get into the top ten, it’s not about that.” Millie says confidently, shaking her head as though it’s ridiculous to even imagine that she wouldn’t. After all, you two were raised to be perfect. “The real goal is to be first.”

Ignoring the madly ambitious look in her eyes, you focus on Stephen. “So what is it for you? The Scouts?”

He winces bashfully. “I’m...undecided.”

You laugh out loud, a bit meanly. “What, undecided like you’re going to some top university in Mitras? This is the Training Corp, Stephen, you’re not gonna get to try out a bit of everything. Just choose whether or not you wanna be shipped off to a pointless death, and then you’ve made your decision.”

Stephen frowns, shaking his head. “If it was that simple, then what would be the point of choosing?”

Who in the holy hells asked for his philosophical wisdom, that’s what you want to know. Rolling your eyes, you turn to Ricky, who is chewing on your bread, abandoned after your taste buds just wouldn’t adjust without the butter you were used to. With his mouth full, he answers easily. “Scouts.”

You nod. At least he’s sure.

____________________

“That wasn’t right,” Millie says later, right as you’re about to lie down on a scratchy-looking bed.

“What?”

“What you said to him. He can take his time deciding if he wants to. And it’s just rich, coming from you.”

Your eye twitches in irritation. “You’re just pissed because I don’t wanna take on the most boring job in the world.”

“Grow up,” Millie hisses, venom laced in her voice. “Not everything’s about your entertainment.”

Turning around, you see your best friend with arms crossed, giving you a disapproving look that reminds you of your mother. How odd. What’s that old saying about people becoming what they most hate?

“You’re gonna lecture me now too? Hit me with some philosophy, maybe?” You raise your brow, daring her to say more. “Or do you wanna knock me over again? Maybe I’ll get a concussion this time.”

Millie scoffs, sitting down on the bed she’s claimed. “You know what, it was nice. Seeing someone put you in your place like that.” Her lips quirk under your hard gaze. “Maybe he’ll teach you a thing or two about taking things seriously. Give you some actual goals to achieve.”

The only thing Lieutenant Levi will teach you is to never get distracted by something like how beautiful someone’s eyes look ever again. Even now, you can still picture him, the way he stood in front of you, startled you, threw you off. The way his eyes were filled with more duality than you’d ever expected to see in a person.

Pretending like you didn’t just fantasize about his pretty grey irises, you roll your eyes and flop down on the bed next to her’s. “He’s not gonna teach me jack shit. He’s not even our trainer.”

Millie hums, whether it’s to you or to herself you don’t know, and when you look at her again she’s closed her eyes, clearly wanting to end what was a very long day. It’s not long before you join her.

“(F/N).”

“Yeah?”

“I miss home.”

You don’t, but you keep it to yourself.

The last thing you think of before you fall asleep is how cold the lieutenant had looked when he humiliated you, and your cheeks burn angrily.

____________________

Two weeks pass by in a blur. Once training starts, there’s not much time to think about something like goals, because everyone’s goal is simply living until dinner each night. Avoid getting yelled at, attend classes, study hard, and for the love of all things holy don’t fall on your face when you’re balancing in the practice ODM gear. 

It’s a rush, and you actually find yourself enjoying it. The food still tastes stale and the bed is still too hard to be comfortable, but there’s an easy routine that’s so much more than sit still and look pretty. While you’ve never been a fan of routine, this is different. There’s a purpose to this, even if everyone has different things they’re working towards. Whether they’re trying their best to show what they’re made of and get into the top ten like Millie, or pushing themselves because they get starry-eyed at the thought of saving humanity like Rashad, or simply staying out of trouble to avoid getting meal privileges taken away like Clara, everyone is working towards something, and it’s thrilling to be in the midst of it, to be a part of something meaningful.

You and Ricky are fast friends - he’s surprisingly not too insufferable and he shares your enthusiasm for not taking things so seriously. He also seems like he’s looking for a partner in crime, someone to partake in the oh-so delightful task of slacking off with. Millie is throwing herself into perfecting everything, and Stephen, while not as crazy as she is, is more nervous about losing respectability in front of their trainers and comrades. So the two of you naturally gravitate towards each other, because jeez, at least a few people here need to remember that life still exists outside of all of the training and military drama. 

Today is the first time they’re letting you practice hand-to-hand combat, and while that’s obviously ridiculous since you’re training to fight titans (or just bully people, if you’re joining the MP, but Millie didn’t appreciate you voicing that out loud), it’s also a chance for you to show off a natural talent. 

You’re flexible. And fairly fast too.

Sure, you’re no fighter, but back home you were put into dancing lessons since you were a wee young thing, so you have a much higher tolerance than most of these chumps. You can take a few hard punches here and there, and you’re fluid with your movements, so you’re giving as good as you get. Even combat is a dance in a certain way, it has all the same elements at any rate. Everything comes down to the placement of the feet, and every other body is an accessory that has to be utilized perfectly to do any damage. 

Unfortunately, Ricky’s fought, like actually fought - fucking peasants from Maria and their street fights - and so as much as you put up a damn good fight, he eventually gets you in a hold from behind. You squirm in his grasp as he laughs, digging his fingers in your side. You try to protest, but it’s hard when he’s tickling you so hard.

“H-hey, hey!” Your giggling only gets two octaves louder when Ricky doesn’t let up. “Stop!” Ricky’s laugh mixes in with yours, until he’s lifting you off the ground. Your breathing becomes painful as you struggle against his grip, clawing at his hands. “Ricky! Let go!”

Finally, he decides to show mercy, dropping you. He regrets it pretty soon, though, because then you’re on him quickly, throwing a hard punch against his shoulder. He groans, letting out a pained, “What the hell, (F/N)?” but you’re not done. You grab the collar of his uniform, and tug it forward briefly to give yourself some momentum to shove him back as hard as you can.

Ricky stumbles on his feet, catching himself before he falls at the last second. There’s a determined expression in his eyes, not quite competitive but suddenly eager to show off.

“So, think your dainty dancing is gonna give you the advantage here?” he challenges, balling his fists in front of his chest. You do the same. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but that’s not how that works.”

“Beat me, then. Properly.” You smirk, planting your feet firmly. Let him throw the first punch, you decide. “I have to be on the ground for you to win.”

Ricky’s clever too, knowing you intend to use his size against him. He lowers his arms, extending them as though he’s going to let you take a free shot. Yeah, you’re not that stupid. You stay right where you are, raising an unimpressed brow. The two of you stare each other down, trying your best not to break into smiles. 

“Hit me.”

“Hard pass.”

“Because you know your punch will be too weak?”

“How’s your shoulder, Ricky? Should be feeling fine, since my punch was so weak.”

He barks out a laugh, rolling his shoulder back experimentally. “Like getting hit by a feather.”

Okay, trash talk isn’t part of the combat training that the trainer, Instructor Grumman, has assigned. But it’s still fun, and it’s about a thousand times more preferable than actually fighting. Fighting is painful and pointless. Trash talk is entertaining and doable. 

Still, you hunch your shoulders. If Ricky really won’t move, you’ll come at him with full force. Digging your heel into the ground, you give yourself a boost and run towards him with a burst of speed. His eyes widen, and his first instinct is to hold out his hands to keep you at bay. But with the close proximity and his lanky figure, it won’t be enough. You’ll have him on his back within seconds if you ram into him in one, two -

You don’t make it.

You don’t make it because you’re suddenly flung into the air. You let out a frantic shriek and bring your arms up to shield your face. The ground approaches with dizzying speed and you hit it with a sickening thud. Your hands are suddenly covered in scratches and you open your mouth to furiously ask Ricky what the fuck he was thinking and how did he even do that and did he have to throw you so high -

But when you look up, it’s cold grey eyes that meet you.

Fuck.

The glare that was supposed to be for Ricky is now aimed at him, unadulterated hate coursing through your veins. This is the first time you’ve seen him since that day. Just what in the actual fuck is his problem, and just what had you done to deserve being thrown over his shoulder and up into the sky like a fucking ragdoll? You hadn’t mouthed off this time. Hell, you didn’t even know he was there, so just what the fuck was he punishing you for?

“People who don’t take their training seriously usually end up looking up like this,” he hisses. His glare matches yours, which is ridiculous, because he’s the one who knocked you down. Why is he pissed off? “‘Course, they’re usually looking up at a titan, but we don’t have any of those on hand for me to demonstrate.”

Yeah, he’s far from a titan. Fucking shrimp.

“I was taking my training very seriously, sir,” you say with gritted teeth. “In fact, I would have defeated my opponent had you not stepped in and shot me up in the air.” Your hands would also have significantly fewer bruises. 

He snorts, actually snorts, like you’ve just told a hilarious joke. “A real opponent isn’t going to let you run that mouth of yours before they come at you. You’d be dead in two fucking seconds.”

People are looking now. Everyone remembers that first day, and they all look as though their favorite stage actors have come to town to perform a show. They’re all waiting to see just what the girl who talked back to Lieutenant Levi will do now. A circus trick, perhaps? They don’t know what you’re made of - no one is going to see you crack. And definitely not because of this insufferable man.

“You don’t know that, sir.” You say it with a poisonous smile, wanting him to know that it’s not meant to be respectful. “I might just make it. Maybe I’ll even make it longer than you.”

There are hushed gasps all around you, but the lieutenant pays them no mind. He looks amused, as if you’re just a stupid little girl, an arrogant brat who somehow thinks she’s somehow stronger than him. You’re not an idiot, you know that he’s an excellent soldier who will probably make captain soon, and you’re a lowly cadet who doesn’t even know the basics yet. But once you’re trained up, once you have experience, you think you could take him on, and you could possibly win.

Lieutenant Levi leans down, crouching on his legs before leaning in. He grabs your shoulder harshly, and leans in to whisper in your ear. “I’ll be waiting, (L/N).”

You almost feel respected until he adds, “Waiting to see the day that fucking smile gets wiped off your face.”

With that, he stands up and turns. Turns to walk away. Turns as though you’re not still on the ground. Turns as though your comrades aren’t snickering around you, convinced that he just put you in your place a second time. Turns as though he didn’t just single you out for no damn reason - who even fucking asked him to watch? Who asked him to interfere in your business? Why didn’t anyone else demand his attention? You weren’t the only one goofing off. Hell, there were some people who were actually just lazing around! Where was their punishment?

Furiously, you speak before your brain can catch up.

“Why don’t you fight me, Lieutenant?” you say loudly as you get to your feet.

He stops.

Ricky, who is safely standing a few feet away now, gives you a wide-eyed look, silently asking if you’re brain damaged. But you pay him no mind, your eyes focused on the back of Lieutenant Levi’s head, probably burning a hole in him with your gaze by now. Immediately, the crowd changes sides again, hushed oohs spreading around. It’s not enthusiastic, no one actually believes you’ll triumph, but they are enthusiastic that you have the balls to try.

He turns, giving you the driest expression you’ve ever seen, and you half expect to be dismissed. To be told that you’re too weak to even think about fighting him.

Instead, his stance changes, his fists are raised, and he’s accepted your challenge.

You know you can’t win. That’s not the point. The point is to hold out. For a whole minute, at least. Half a minute. Was twenty seconds too generous?

There’s a small part of you that regrets mouthing off this time.

Lieutenant Levi doesn’t have to waste any time staring you down. He has no need to debate in his head about who should throw the first punch, and nor does he grant you the courtesy of devising a strategy in your head first. In half a second, he’s approaching you with dizzying speed, fist reeled back, about to knock you over for the second time today.

But you’re sick and tired of these fast maneuvers. 

You duck down just as he closes the gap between you, and you go for his legs. He grunts in surprise as you make contact, clutching tightly. It may look pathetic. Your arms are wrapped around his thighs, which you basically just dived into. Your face is squished against his hip. Your feet have left the ground, as you’ve thrown your entire body at him. At this moment, you look absolutely ridiculous.

But it’s worth it.

The lieutenant loses his balance as his feet slip from under him. You can feel him falling down, down, down, with a gasp that is just fucking music to your ears. This is turning out better than you’ve ever hoped for. You’ve proved everyone wrong, even yourself. He’s going to hit the floor, and you’re going to win. You’ll win.

Or at least, you would have.

You’re both hurtling through the air for one glorious moment. Then, recovering from his shock in an instant, Lieutenant Levi spins the two of you in midair, and despite all your efforts and quick calculations, it’s your back that hits the floor again with a loud crack, air knocked clean out of your lungs. You gasp for breath. His knees are digging into your neck, you’re going to choke -

He takes no time to recover. He’s up and on his feet in a second, brushing the nonexistent dirt off his pants, and you’re left panting with your hand on your throat, trying to recover what little dignity you have left as laughter erupts around you. Dizziness and confusion overwhelms you, as does something else. Just a few minutes ago, you’d been looking at him hatefully. Well, you from five minutes ago had no idea what hate was. You could kill him right now, this arrogant, pompous, cruel jerk. 

How dare he look so unperturbed? Like this is just a normal weekday for him?

A hand yanks you up by your hair, nails digging in your scalp painfully. You’re brought to your knees with a heaving gasp. He tugs your head up until you’re looking at him properly, and he has the nerve to smirk. It’s slight - perhaps he knows a full blown smile would look creepy on him - but it’s there, mocking you.

When he speaks, it’s just a little louder than a murmur. “I thought I told you to tie your hair up.”

Then he releases you, and your buckle over in pain. The position literally has you bowing down to him. White hot anger seeps through you. Consumes you. When he starts walking away, his every step thunders in your head, echoing a million times. He had no right. 

No right at all.

It seems like Millie’s wish has come true. You have a goal now. A goal that Lieutenant Levi has so graciously given you.

You’ve decided. No matter what happens, you’re going to get revenge on Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. He’s going to fucking pay.

____________________

You’re pacing out in the field later that day, muttering under your breath, the events from earlier replaying in your head on loop. Millie’s decided to give up on getting you to come study with her, and she’s blatantly refused to participate in your little quest for revenge, citing it as “pointless and foolhardy.” Well, this whole thing is pointless and foolhardy. The Training Corp is just a way to produce more dead bodies every year. But Millie didn’t agree with your line of logic and has left you to brood on your own.

Realistically, what are your options? It’s not an easy task to take on. Humiliating a man who is now so respected and admired will be difficult when his ego soars sky high. Something heavy will be needed to bring it down. Now you have no intention of ruining him for life, nothing major or extremely dangerous. If you did have such an intent, it would’ve been rather simple, just a letter back home to your mother to spread the word of what humanity’s hero was really like. Not that she’s inclined to listen to your demands nowadays, but it’s a doable plan that would work one way or another. But you want to embarrass Lieutenant Levi the exact same way he embarrassed you. You want to knock him flat on his back, while everyone watches, and you want to stand triumphantly as he kneels down to you.

Someone listening to your thoughts right about now would think you were having a vivid sexual fantasy. You groan, slumping down against the bark of a tree. It’s going to be dark soon. You have a curfew that you’re inclined to obey. But you simply can’t go back without thinking of a plan. He deserves it. He deserves to be utterly humiliated. Punishing you is one thing. Beating you in a fight is only natural. 

But holding you up by your hair like you’re one of the fucking spoils of war only to have you kneel to him - that’s sick. He’s sick, and probably perverted. You wonder if he’s always been like that, or if the glory has gone to his head. And you wonder why he’s chosen you to play this game with. Because of a smile and some cheek? That’s no excuse. 

Maybe you’re just the prettiest one here, and he has a crush.

Even the cocky thought can’t distract you enough from your frustration. You can’t possibly beat him. There’s a reason he’s getting so much attention. It’s because he can fight like no other, and it’s all natural talent too. Frankly, you call bullshit, no one is just that good without any practice, but whatever, not the point right now. Who could possibly make you capable enough to beat the lieutenant in a fight? Who could possibly know all his weaknesses? 

Probably only him.

Your eyes widen.

____________________

The sun shines brightly the next day. You feel the warm breeze from the open windows kissing your cheek as you run through the base. Most people passing by pay you no mind, although a few give you questioning looks. But they don’t say anything, probably figuring you’re just a lost newbie who’s inevitably going to get yelled at when you show up late for class. But they’re mistaken, you’re not lost at all. You’re running with purpose. And well, you might be late for class, but it’ll be fine, you know Stephen takes detailed notes that he’s willing to share, and even if he feels like being mean, this is much more important.

Originally, the plan was to go all the way to his office, the path pieced together from directions you’d gotten from Instructor Grumman who believed you were going to apologize (for what?). Hopefully, he won’t actually double check if you went through with it, because you have no intention of apologizing for a single damn thing. Your aim is far more sinister than that. Today is the first step of a plan that will take you a long while, but it’ll pay off eventually. You’re going to achieve your goal. 

That is, if he agrees.

The universe is on your side, because you don’t even need to go all the way to his office. There he is, in the flesh, talking to a blonde man you recognize as Captain Erwin Smith and a woman who you haven’t seen before. Maybe if he hadn’t been so callous yesterday, you’d have waited until he was away from his comrades before approaching him. It’s too late to care about appearances now.

You step up to the three of them and salute, clearing your throat.

He looks at you, and his eyes harden when he sees a smile plastered on your face yet again. 

“Can we help you?” Captain Erwin says gently, but there’s just the slightest edge in his tone. Clearly one is not supposed to just approach this dream team. Your bad.

You open your mouth to answer him, but Lieutenant Levi beats you to it, looking bored as he does. “She’s lost, Erwin. Classes are on the other side of the base,” he says dismissively, waving a hand like he’s swatting away a fly.

“I am not lost. Sir.” Your spine is still straightened and your fist is still balled against your heart. You’re not sacrificing it just yet, but you’re certainly sacrificing your pride here. “I have a request for you. After you pointed out my obvious flaws yesterday, I realized that if I don’t get help, I’m going to fall seriously behind.”

Captain Erwin shoots him an exasperated look, already having figured that his best friend (or whatever they are to each other) must have done something to you. Meanwhile, the woman cackles, nudging the lieutenant’s shoulder. 

“She’s being proactive! You appreciate that, don’t you, Levi?”

He doesn’t answer. His attention is now exclusively on you - you nearly feel special. 

“So what do you need from me, Cadet?” You ignore the way your stomach flip-flops violently from the way he stares at you, the corners of his mouth twitched upward in a light smirk. Something in him clearly enjoys the idea of you needing him for something. Something else to lord over your head, something else for him to be cocky about. “You want me to find someone to give you private lessons?”

“Close,” you say, mustering the brightest and happiest fucking expression you can, “I’d like you to give me private lessons. I want you to train me.”

The lieutenant’s eyes flash upwards. 

Your hair is neatly tied up in a tight bun.

Y’all have no idea how weird it is to write “Lieutenant Levi.” I loathe it.

Also, this is my first time writing in second person. Lots of firsts here, folks.

Please review, your comments are my source of life.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Nezu finding a younger Izuku and helping him hone his analysis skill (and build some confidence and ultimately creating a terrifying child who can analyze anyone in seconds and take them down just as fast with a smile) and then enlisting him to actually teach classes on the subject

just imagine Aizawa having to interact with this terrifying nightmare child who can read him better than a book

~Ah hell here we go again~ Read More Below!

Nezu doesn’t often leave UA’s grounds these days and even more rarely does he venture out unaccompanied in some way.  He has made it a habit of sorts to stay on the campus as much as possible ever since he solidified his hold on the school almost a decade ago.

It’s a move that is he admits, even if only to himself, fueled by equal parts pragmatism and paranoia.

After all UA has most of everything he needs within it already including a set of private apartments scaled just perfectly to his size and tastes despite what impression the large, human suited desk in his public office tends to give any visitors to his domain.  Why should he worry about venturing out into the city when anything the campus might not be able to provide for him can easily be procured by his minions dear employees or through delivery via secured drone?

And the fewer trips he makes off campus means the fewer opportunities there are for those who are still displeased with something someone such as himself holding such a position of power over such a prestigious hero school to take action.  He, of course, has all faith in his ability to protect himself from whatever ham-fisted assassin might come his way but Nezu is, above almost all else, pragmatic.

The fewer bodies left in his wake the smoother his daily life tends to run.

It had, after all, been such a pain to get the records from his time at the tender mercies of his human captors completely sealed and the quietly buried.

The humans involved in the case had finally agreed though and in the years since they did so like to tout how the illustrious UA Principle had been “rescued” from the laboratories.

Few remained who remembered what the heroes who’d raided that hellish place had actually found when they’d arrived.

Those unlucky few who did remember had long since been silenced by hook or by crook.  That had been one of the first things Nezu had done when he’d finally managed to accumulated enough power that his subtle threats and sharp toothed promises had finally come to hold real meaning on more than one level.

When he’d finally managed to bite and claw himself into a position of power that showed him as the threat he always had been for those who might dare cross him.

That had been the very first secret he’d ensured would be kept as it was one that posed the biggest threat to his reputations in a number of circles.

Nezu’s intellect wasn’t his only weapon after all, only his most dangerous. Though his teeth and claws could work in a pinch if the situation called for it.  And when they’d tried to take his eye it had certainly called for it.

A self professed level of resentment and sadism could be excused by most of humanity for someone of Nezu’s circumstances.

But a body count?  Well. That’s when humans tended to get ... tetchy. 

So while Nezu does, of course, have a residence of his own off campus for paperwork purposes and as a secondary fall back location, UA’s campus has been his unofficial residence for some number of years now.  And it will be his official one as well as soon as he manages to finally get the dorm system he’s been aching to implement passed through.

They will have to pry that school, his school, and what he’s attempting to build there from his cold, dead paws and whatever other insurance policies he manages to put into action between now and his inevitable death. Which will, of course, be some time in the far far future if he has anything to say or do about it.  And he will.

All of that aside there are times when leaving the campus is unavoidable, this being one of them.  An unfortunate scheduling conflict and a private meeting that absolutely had to be conducted in person had left him where he is now, strolling down the sidewalks of Musutafu and quietly lamenting how very oversized so many things were.

It truly was a pity that more accommodations had not been made for those whose quirks and circumstances of birth left them on the smaller side instead of on the larger scale.  But progress could be rather unfortunately slow and so it was just one more issue Nezu hoped to begin subtly influencing in the coming years.

He’s just turning a corner, intent on visiting a nearby cafe with an excellent tea selection before he returns to UA (one must have their indulgences and a good brew and a finely crafted cigarette have long been amongst Nezu’s chosen pleasures), when he hears it.

“Get back here and get what you deserve, Deku,” a voice, rough and young but edged with a viciousness that makes the backs of Nezu’s teeth itch, practically howls.

Nezu, attention instantly captured, pauses just long enough to avoid being mowed down by the child who comes tearing around the corner.

For a split second their eyes meet, a blazing green gaze Nezu can’t help but admire just a bit locking with his own, as the boy sees him and swerves to avoid running into Nezu in his obviously frantic escape.

Nezu hops backwards a half step just as the boy loses his footing and crashing painfully to the side walk beside him.

“A-Are you o-okay?” the boy half stutters, half pants as he looks up at him, eyes wide and seemingly uncaring of the blood Nezu can already smell on his scraped palms and likely ripped kneecaps.

“Are you?” Nezu asks back evenly, eyes tracking over the boy and instantly compiling details and facts as he takes in the tattered school uniform, the pale face, the singed backpack and the bruises he can see just peeking out from beneath unseasonal long sleeves.

Everything about the boy screams battered to Nezu’s sense.

And then he looks down at his feet and sees his shoes.

His distinctive red shoes at that, vibrant in color and thick soled, subtly different in make and construction than most ordinary shoes seen these days, much like the footwear Nezu himself wears even now.

Which means that this boy either has a quirk that affects his feet or ...

“Thought you were going to get away didn’t you, you Quirkless fuck?” A small group of boys rounds the corner then, ignoring Nezu entirely and focusing on the boy who abruptly goes even paler somehow.  “Just cause sensei couldn’t prove you cheated doesn’t mean we’re gonna let you get away with it.”

Ah, Nezu thinks even as he presses the urge to snarl down and away, option two then.

The green boy, because Nezu will not be calling him Deku even in his own mind, scrambled up onto his feet then.  But, surprisingly enough, he doesn’t turn to run.

Instead he edges forward just a bit, sliding a shoulder and a foot forward until he’s standing almost protectively in front of Nezu himself.

“K-Kacchan,” the green one stutters, “I-I didn’t cheat I s-swear!  I wouldn’t d-do that.”

“Tsk,” the blond leader, Kacchan, tisks then, a snarl thick and heavy on his young face.  At his sides his hands flex in a move Nezu knows must be related to his quirk.  “Bullshit.  No way you’d get top of the class in anything without cheating, you worm.”

Nezu has known this child for roughly 6 seconds and he finds that he does not care for him at all.  But then he’s never been overly fond of most of humanity either so perhaps that’s to be expected.

“H-Heroes don’t cheat,” Green insists, the naïve if well meant words sounding like a declaration.  “If I’m g-going to be a hero then I c-can’t either.”

That explanation only seems to enrage Kacchan even further if the way his hands begin to pop and crackle is anything to go by.

This, Nezu knows as the scent of burnt caramel begins to fill the air around them, is going to escalate quickly.

“Public quirk usage is ~illegal~,” Nezu singsongs as he steps around the green boy and plants himself firmly in front of him instead, abruptly drawing the blond boy and his followers attention toward him.  One paw slips into his vest pocket to remove the specially designed cell phone he’s never without.  “I would hate to be forced to report this to the proper authorities.”

Never mind that, technically, he is the proper authorities.

The blond glares at him for a long moment before he huffs.

“This isn’t over Deku,” he snarls.  “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

It’s an obvious threat but the boy turns on his heel, shoves his way through his friends, and stalks off back around the corner in the direction he came.

So Nezu lets it go.  For now.

“Now that that has been handled for the moment, young man,” Nezu turns towards the green boy beside him with all of the showmanship that’s come to define his patented introduction, “let me introduce myself! Am I a dog, a rat, or a bear? Either way I am Nezu th-”

“Y-You’re the Intel Hero Nezu,” the green boy says brightly, cutting Nezu’s introduction off even as he rubs raw and bloody palms against his black slacks and starts to dig through his backpack, “You solved the H-Hanamura kidnapping and the Inugami murders! You’re one of my favorite heroes!”

Nezu can’t help the way he stalls out just a bit at that because ... well he’s never been anyone’s favorite anything.  Their nightmare yes but not their favorite.  Especially not a child.  Children around this age normally tend to have more simplistic reactions to him.  And most of them don’t know about the string of rather gruesome ritualistic homicides he’d solved or the high profile kidnapping cases he consults on in his down time.

“C-Can you please sign my notebook?” the boy says then, head bowed low and a notebook and pen held out in Nezu’s direction.

Nezu admits to being slightly intrigued when he sees the way the cover is labeled Hero Analysis For The Future Vol 8.

That intrigue only grows when he opens it and his attention is immediately captured by the rather impressively done sketch of Pro Hero Starstreak that he finds there.

Unable to help himself Nezu reads over the page quickly and then keeps going.

Well now, Nezu can’t help but think just a bit gleefully as he sees the absolutely unbelieve level of analysis this young, quirkless boy has compiled, isn’t this interesting.

[babybamf]

Meeting and Dating Warren Worthington III

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(We’re just gonna throw together a little au, alright?)

- You met Warren after Xavier brought him back to the school. Most people stayed away from him and rightfully so; he had teamed up with a malicious god and was partially responsible for the destruction of your school.

- You’d stayed away as well, which is what he seemed to want. He wasn’t exactly putting himself out there to make friends, not with his glaring and standoffish demeanor.

- A part of you figured that he really didn’t want people around him. That, no, he wasn’t just being “cruelly” ostracized by his peers; he was actively and consciously making sure people stayed away.

- But then another part of you reasoned that few people had actually attempted to get close to him, and to be fair, you hadn’t liked those people either.

- You’d contemplated going up and introducing yourself. In fact, you’d tried to, taking a deep breath and maneuvering your way across the school grounds towards him with that exact idea in mind. But the minute you came almost close enough to throw away any doubt that you were approaching him, he’d looked up at you with such cold and venomous fervor that you’d lost your nerve.

- Instead, you’d; thankfully, managed to continue on walking and coincidentally run into a younger student that you’d known, making it seem like that was your intention all along. You decided that day that Warren Worthington just hated people and you shouldn’t interfere with that.

- That would have been the end of it, and at the time you wished that it was, but that wasn’t the case. The moment you walked past the boy, it was like you’d painted a target on your forehead.

- Everywhere you went, Warren Worthington was there to stare at you from across the way. He’d set his sights on you and you weren’t sure which emotion was behind his gaze, though you were pretty sure it wasn’t one of the good ones.

- It took a few months of this, and you wondering if he was planning on killing you, for anything to actually happen.

- You’d been sitting in the lunchroom, reading a book when you heard the rooms chatter die down. There, at the entrance, stood Warren.

- He scanned the room, his eyes landing on you; much more passively than most other times, before moving to the nearly empty table across from yours. He made his way towards it, unfazed by the students who’d been occupying it scrambling to leave, and soon enough he was seated a few yards away with a perfect view of you.

- You tried to ignore him, turning to the book you’d brought in hopes of just forgetting he was there. Although, it was easier said than done when you could feel his eyes on you.

- More than once, you’d glanced over and caught him watching you; albeit it a bit more casually than usual. You wondered if he’d specifically come into the room just to look at you, you’d never seen him inside before; and he wasn’t eating, so you had to assume so.

- Finally, you turned back to your book and promised yourself you wouldn’t look at him, no matter how much your body was screaming for you to. The monkey part of you brain told you that this was a test and that averting your eyes was the proper move to make; so you made it ...up until you could feel someone standing in front of/at your side.

“I’m Warren,” Boy were you not expecting him to be British. His voice was like honey, even though there was a twinge of; what seemed to be, discomfort to it. He seemed out of his element. “I’ve seen you around. You’re Y/n, right?”

“Yeah uh, yeah, that’s right. ...Hi.” You answered nervously. He nodded and a long moment of silence passed between the two of you before he asked if he could sit down.

- It was awkward at first but then he asked you about a band and you started a near hour long discussion about music.

- Soon enough you were talking like it was a normal thing to happen, up until you were interrupted by a peer who told you that someone wanted to see you. You excused yourself and walked away, feeling more confident now that you knew you weren’t going to be murdered.

- Warren was sort of like a changed person after your first few initially awkward conversations; at least he was to you. He was still his intimidating self to everyone else but you; and in some regards Storm, seemed to be an exception.

- After a few weeks of you slowly seeing more and more of each other, he finally decided it was time to ask you out like he’d been intending all along. Well, he asked you out in his own way.

- It was late, he’d caught your attention with a “psst” and a flash of a bottle of liquor and motioned for you to follow him as he led the two of you outside. You soon found yourself sitting with him in the dark of the night, taking swigs from the bottle he’d snuck with you.

- You caught him watching you while you brought the bottle to your lips, taking a small gulp before moving to pass it back, only to be met with his face close to yours and his hand sliding onto your cheek. It was a matter of seconds before his lips were on yours but that short moment of anticipation had your heart racing.

- You spent the rest of the night talking and kissing and by morning you were official.

- Soo much Pda. He’s constantly touching you and trying to get you to kiss him.

- He loves when you kiss him. Surprise him with a little smooch; you’ll never see anyone look more in love than he will.

- Hand kisses.

- His hand in your back pocket.

- His arm wrapped around you constantly.

- Warren alternates between only calling you pet names and only calling you your name. When he is using pet names, he’ll call you things like babe, birdie, and love.

- He’s surprisingly loving considering how violent he used to be. You don’t expect it at first but he’s absolutely adorable when he’s around you.

- The instant he sees you, his day gets 100x better. Even if his face just goes from glaring to neutral whenever his eyes land on you, rest assured that his bad mood goes away the minute you appear.

- He’s always incredibly gentle whenever he puts his hands on you with innocent intent, like when he’s pushing your hair back or helping you put in an earring.

- He’s definitely affection starved and heartclenchingly so. You’ll go to gently touch his face for one reason or another and he’ll act like he’s never felt something better in his life.

- Cuddling is a bit difficult with the whole wing thing but you try your best. Sometimes you’ll just lay side by side and hold hands, other times he’ll cocoon the two of you while you lay on top of him, and other times he’ll lay down and you’ll just snuggle yourself into him the best that you can.

- Going flying. He rarely goes really high up with you in his arms, he himself is afraid he’ll accidentally drop you or you’ll get hurt in some other way.

- Stargazing or watching the sunset/rise on roofs of buildings.

- Sneaking out to spend time with each other away from everyone else.

- Blasting rock music as you drive through town.

- Abandoned building picnics? Abandoned building picnics. What’s better than being able to destroy everything around you and not being bothered by anyone.

- Nighttime walks around town. He sorta likes just wandering around the city with you.

- Helping him shop for clothes that will actually fit him, or helping him cut holes into his clothing.

- He’s grown to love his wings over the years so he always straightens up with pride whenever you compliment or touch them.

- Hickeys.

- Constant making out. He can’t get enough of you.

- Groping, blatantly too, just right in the middle of the street or hallway.

- Innuendos that make you blush.

- You’re either treated like a queen or being harassed like you’re dating a horny teenager. There is no in between.

- Kissing his scars.

- Occasionally, he’ll tell you stories about his fighting days. He finds it amusing to watch your face change whenever he recounts something particularly painful or malicious.

- He’s been known to get drunk for several different reasons so you’ll just have to find out which one it is while making sure he doesn’t die from alcohol poisoning or any dumbass decision he may make while wasted.

- Sharing booze.

- He probably has a tattoo of you or your name somewhere on his body. He’s a reckless person; it fits the vibe.

- He loves people knowing that the two of you are together, he’s so proud.

- Sooo many compliments.

- Sarcasm and affectionate name calling.

- He always gives you the cutest smile and a kiss on the cheek whenever you get him a gift.

- As surprising as it may be; considering the way he acts, he’s genuinely charming; and his face isn’t that bad either. He’s capable of making literally any girl swoon yet he still feels lucky to have you in his life.

- I feel like Warren just doesn’t like people and probably for a number of reasons. With that being said, he prefers to keep to himself, though he’ll tolerate social events; and your friends, for your sake.

- Warren is the type of boyfriend that would rather be seen than heard. Sure he loves talking with you, but he would rather listen to you talk instead of actually talking himself.

- With that being said, he can talk your ear off whenever he gets angry or jealous, wanting nothing more than to divert your attention from everything else and make you focus on only him.

- He’s a pretty jealous guy. He hates seeing other men around you, especially if it seems like you’re really close or that the guy has a thing for you.

- He’s definitely fought a man for flirting with or disrespecting you. The man does not play when it comes to you.

- Whenever the two of you fight, he’ll turn into the biggest sarcastic asshole that you will ever see. That being said, he’ll never yell at you unless you’re walking away from him and he’s calling after you in exasperation.

- If he’s in the wrong then he’ll apologize; albeit slightly begrudgingly. He isn’t very used to it so bear with him, he’s trying his best.

- He doesn’t tell you he loves you very often but you’ll definitely be able to tell that he does, especially as your relationship progresses.

- Though he may not vocally express it, he doesn’t intend on giving you up any time soon so let’s hope you’re in it for the long run.

[wonlouvre]

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and future angst word count: 2.8k WARNINGS: hospital, injury, child trafficking, child abuse, hostage taking, guns, police, violence

author’s note: we have reached part 4!!! i think our couple’s relationship development is quite slow. please bear with me/them, they’re getting there!!! :’((( also, i am still very much thankful and overjoyed for the kind feedback that you guys gave for the previous chapter. i hope you guys are looking forward for this one. enjoy!!! :)))

four: let’s get you home, princess | masterlist

Wonwoo is not addressed as Your Highness inside the hospital premises. It’s actually rare for him to hear Your Highness ever since the royal decrees have been relaxed. His close friends, family and even colleagues have been calling him by his name or profession for the longest time. However, the King and Queen still must be addressed with utmost respect, regardless of who the person may be to the Royal Family. 

Things just got different when he started living and working at your kingdom. He had said that it’s okay for him to be called Wonwoo most especially by senior doctors who have been practicing even before he was born. But it was still awkward so they stuck with Dr. Jeon. These days, some young residents and interns still stutter and it just makes Wonwoo laugh. 

From time to time, Wonwoo is withdrawn from the hospital because of his duties as the Prince. Duties such as to make an appearance, attend a meeting or speak at an event. Said duties usually eat up most of his days in a week. Days where he could and should have been at the hospital, doing what he pledged to do until he dies. 

Wonwoo is loyal to the crown, but he is also committed to the people he promised to serve. 

The wedding planning has started and he’s relieved that you and him both have reached an agreement to hire a full-time planner that will arrange whatever the desires of your hearts may be. He’s grateful that just like him, you are happily married to your job. It’s a lame joke, but Wonwoo can never be bothered to care. So far as the wedding planning goes, you have been looking at venues such as hotels, private gardens or beach resorts. Initially, his parents offered to hold the wedding at their kingdom but you humbly requested to have it at your homeland instead. 

It was no issue to the King and Queen, definitely understanding where you were coming from.

Wonwoo admires that side of you. You seem to always know what you want and when you do, you speak up at the right time with elegance and confidence. He believes it’s the lawyer and princess in you altogether. 

The thought of you puts a smile on his face. He hopes you wake up soon so he can see you.

“Wonwoo?” 

His thoughts popped like a bubble when his name was suddenly called. He clears his throat and faces the owner of the voice. It was Soonyoung and by the looks of his grin, Wonwoo’s sure he witnessed him daydreaming. 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes and goes back to the charts he’s been reading. “What do you want?”

“That’s not how you return the favor of your friend who brought you a fresh batch of clothing,” his friend chides, bumping his shoulder against his tall friend. “You seemed to have had a great night, our Prince.”

It’s trivial, really. But Wonwoo’s cheeks blushed at the reminder. He will never tell anyone but staying with you yesterday until the early hours of today made him feel something he doesn’t know. It’s absurd how he can’t pinpoint what that something is, but he won’t deny that there is. 

“Shut up,” he grumbles like a child, ignoring the cheeky giggle Soonyoung emits. 

Speaking of Soonyoung, he was born in your kingdom and moved to the neighboring one when he was only a baby. Both his parents are doctors also who have the heart and passion to offer their services voluntarily. They were only set for a medical mission before going back in a month, but the King and Queen (Wonwoo’s parents) recognized and applauded their kindness, offering them a place to stay and permanent positions at their Royal Hospital. 

Being of the same age, Wonwoo and Soonyoung grew up together and became best of friends. 

It’s no question that he’s attached to the Prince wherever he goes. 

“Dr. Jeon,” another voice calls for him and this time, it sounded desperate. 

Wonwoo looks up and finds a young resident, looking disheveled and stressed. “What is it?”

“I have a young boy, 10-11-years-old, crying in pain while clutching his left arm,” she explains the basics before continuing, “He was brought by someone who seemed like his brother not older than 14-years-old. They weren’t accompanied by anyone.”

“Ask for their names and address,” Soonyoung suggests while standing straight and crossing his arms. “I’m sure we can find some contact details from the statistics office.”

The young intern shakes her head. “They’re not talking. All the older boy is saying, begging rather, is for us to help them.”

“X-ray?” Wonwoo asks and pumps some sanitizer on his hands. 

“The result is on the way.”

Wonwoo nods and starts walking to where the boys are. “Let’s see what we got then.”

The emergency department is always hectic and anyone that says otherwise is unbelievable. Regardless of what the case may be, Wonwoo stands that if they are brought here, it is an emergency. Usually, they range from new parents bringing their newborn baby who can’t stop crying in the middle of the night or some bringing their seven-year-old for a cast because they fell off the bike while playing with their friends. They all seem to be treatable and can be discharged in an hour or so. But sometimes, you can never be too sure. 

Wonwoo knows because he has witnessed it already. That one baby that’s been crying was actually fighting a fever and that one kid who fell from the bike? It was having trouble with his balance and movement. 

It’s not the first time that young children came to the hospital by themselves. They’re soon followed by their parents or guardian afterwards most of the time. Wonwoo supposes the kids this time around are in shock that they can’t form any clear thoughts at the moment. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t think that’s the case at all once the curtains were pulled open. 

“Oh my,” Soonyoung blurts out, surprised. 

Wonwoo expected two boys looking dirty and blushing from playing under the sun all throughout the day. He expected them to be silently crying for their mom or dad. He expected them to be at least healthy and on their way for a speedy recovery once they got treatment. But no, Wonwoo was wrong.

The boys looked awfully hungry and dehydrated. Their clothes were smaller than what their body looks like and the older brother is missing one pair of his shoes. He noticed bruises on some parts of their body. There’s even a nasty cut on the older boy’s bottom lip. 

Something’s wrong and Wonwoo is not a fool to not notice it. 

Wonwoo releases the breath he’s been holding and smiles genuinely. “Hello, I’m Wonwoo.”

Silence. 

He looked at Soonyoung before proceeding to meet the boy’s height who’s sitting on the chair beside his brother’s bed. “I’m going to take a look at your brother now, if you don’t mind.” 

The older one finally looks at him, his eyes dead serious. “That’s what they have been saying ever since we got here. Why can’t you just treat him already?”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Wonwoo tries to calm him down, noticing his tear-stained face and shaking voice. “Your brother will probably need a cast. We’re just waiting for the x-ray results to come out to know for sure. I just need to ask some questions, alright?”

The boy’s bloodied lip trembles as he nods his head. 

“I’ll go get the result,” Soonyoung says and leaves without forgetting to close the curtains.

“What’s your name?” 

“They call me Jung,” the boy answers, weak and unsure. He then points at his sleeping brother, “He’s called Sam.”

Wonwoo’s brows furrow in both confusion and doubt. Why wouldn’t they have official names? Looking at the brothers’ state all over again, it didn’t take Wonwoo long to comprehend what’s really going on. He turns his head to the resident and locks eyes with her, who’s already grasping the situation at hand. He then gives her a nod, signalling her to immediately call children’s services.

Once she leaves, Soonyoung arrives with an envelope. 

“It’s a fracture, but won’t need surgery,” He says happily and Jung sighs in relief. 

“But, you’re staying here for a while,” Wonwoo takes hold of the envelope from his friend. “We just need to run some more tests.”

Soonyoung looks at his friend with wide eyes asking, what are you talking about? But Wonwoo ignores him and keeps his smile in the hopes that the boy doesn’t grow any more agitated.

“Your brother is okay,” he assures Jung and squeezes his shoulder. “We’ll put the cast on his arm and clean the cut on your lip shortly. Stay here, okay?”

He pushes his friend out after the boy gives them a nod. Soonyoung was still glaring at him at the nonsense he spewed out earlier. Wonwoo puts a finger on his lip, gesturing for him to not say a thing yet until they move to somewhere more quiet. 

“What is going on?” Soonyoung whispered-shouts when they reached what seemed to be the fire exit. “What tests are we still running?”

“It’s a lie,” Wonwoo answers and smooths the lines on his forehead, thinking and thinking on what he should do. “We need to keep them here. I think… they’re victims of abuse and trafficking.”

Soonyoung’s jaw drops while his legs grow weak, making him stumble. This is nothing new to them. But even so, it still makes him sick to the stomach. He just nodded as he didn’t need to say anything else.

“I already asked for children’s services and they could arrive here anytime soon,” Wonwoo continues. “They looked like they escaped. I won’t be surprised if someone suddenly barges here, claiming they’re the parent or guardian.”

“What do we do when that happens?”

“We keep them safe,” he answers firmly. “No matter what.”

Every staff at the Emergency Room was alerted about the situation of the boys. Authorities were also called and they’ll be arriving soon. Wonwoo gave strict orders to not disclose any information about them to anyone who claims they are the parent or guardian. Any affiliation they assume is not acceptable unless they can prove it. 

The boys were transferred to a ward once Sam’s treatment was done. Wonwoo brought them some food, water and spare gowns to rid them of the excuse of clothes they’ve been wearing for who knows how long. It’s unbearable to imagine what they have gone through but seeing them get comfortable is enough to bring some peace to Wonwoo’s mind. 

He requested Soonyoung to stay with them or at least check on them from time to time and make sure no one goes inside their room other than the designated staff. He just needs the representative of the children’s services to arrive and they’ll start knowing what the next steps to take from there. 

Now that’s settled, Wonwoo can now go back to his routine and job.

Or not. 

“You’re Highness.”

His security detail stands before him, complete and blocking his way to the elevator that could bring him back to the Emergency Room. Wonwoo can notice the tense and nervous expressions on their faces like children about to admit the trouble they just caused. He had requested before that they be posted on the sides to not hinder him from working. They’re only to jump into action when it’s life threatening and by the looks of it they’re here in his face just to do that but he still asks.

“What are you doing here?”

The head of the group bows his head. “The Emergency Room is being held hostage by armed men. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

Wonwoo’s heart almost felt like it stopped beating. “No.” 

He needs to move. He needs to go back there. He can’t just leave.

Wonwoo forces his body against the men standing firm on their positions, only to be held back. His head of security nods at his men to not let him go and carry him if they have to. 

“No, no, no!”

Wonwoo thrashes from their hold as he screamed for them to let him go. He can hear his security speaking to his mic to prepare the vehicle that would transfer him to safety but in that second all men drop to the ground and shield him when an ear-splitting clap suddenly reverberates through the walls.

A gunshot was fired.

Meanwhile, you were brought to the top floor of the hospital at one of the private rooms reserved for the members of the Royal Family when you insisted on staying. Jeongyeon and the rest of your security detail were more than distressed at your stubbornness, fearing for the earful they’re going to get once this is all over. But they would rather have that than leave you and neglect their duty.

“Your Highness, we really have to go,” Jeongyeon reiterates, still trying to convince you while shaking your shoulders. 

You shake your head and avoid her eyes. “No, we can’t just leave the people here. We can’t leave…” you pause then whisper softly, “Wonwoo.”

Jeongyeon nods. “I know, I know. But the Royal Police are on their way and the Prince’s security detail is already with him. The two of you cannot stay here any longer. It’s an order from His Majesty.”

You swallow the lump on your throat. You can’t think. You can’t process whatever the hell is ensuing downstairs. The lives of innocent people, your innocent people, are at stake. 

You just can’t leave. You have to do something. 

“We’re not leaving this hospital until those armed men are immobilized.”

Jeongyeon wishes to plead further but all you hear was ringing when the sound of what you’ve been fearing the most resonated inside the room. 

Security scrambles and moves at a speed of light to protect you with their bodies. They were screaming among themselves but you fail to register what they’re saying. You fail to hear nor see your surroundings.

Everything became a blur.

Everything became nothing as your heart beated a thousand times faster than normal and the only person running through your mind is no one else but the Prince who was beside you just last night but is now in imminent danger.

Please, Wonwoo. Please.

“Their Majesties condemns the hostage taking that occurred at the Royal Hospital,” Prime Minister Lee starts, looking straight at the camera. “Their Majesties assures and promises the public that they will be held accountable for the crime they have committed but most importantly for the distress and trauma they have caused the patients. They commend the prompt action that the Hospital’s Security and Royal Police have taken resulting in no casualties.”

“Prime Minister Lee!” A reporter raises their hand. “Can you confirm that His and Her Highness Jeon Wonwoo and Y/N were at the hospital when the hostage took place?”

“Yes,” he answers, “Her Highness, Princess Y/N, was admitted to the hospital yesterday after fainting at her office…”

You switch the TV off with the remote before throwing it on the couch. You walk to the window with crossed arms and watch the Royal Police vehicles leave one by one after clearing the Emergency Room and declaring it safe. It’s now back to its normal operations. 

Apparently, the gunshot was fired by the police, wounding one of the hostage takers. They took advantage of that distraction to finally hold them down and arrest them right away. There’s no official statement from the Royal Police yet as they are still investigating further. You make a commitment to get to the bottom of this.

They’re gone now.

But Wonwoo is still unheard of. 

He’s safe, they told you. But that didn’t stop you from biting your nails, walking back and forth and pulling your hairs from the roots. You need to see him. 

“Your Highness,” Jeongyeon calls for you and your head snaps up. She gives you a small smile before opening the door she’s holding wider.

Wonwoo enters with a tired smile and you almost burst into tears. You ran to him as fast as you could, but your legs were weakened by worry, you almost fell. It’s a good thing Wonwoo meets you halfway and catches you in his arms. 

You take every tangible thing about him. You take and you take as you hold his waist tightly and bury your face to his chest. “You can’t do that to me.”

Wonwoo sighs in content upon breathing in your scent and hearing your voice. He wraps his one arm around your waist while the other holds your head gently. He stays silent and just holds you for as long as he desires. After the horror that transpired earlier, holding you like this is what he desperately needed. 

“Let’s get you home, Princess.”

[marjansmarwani]

trust that there will be light always waiting behind

8.4k || ao3

TK has gone out of his way to prove to Carlos that being a paramedic is every bit as dangerous as being a firefighter, it seems.

But Carlos will do whatever it takes to find him and bring him home safe, and he always will. Even if it means he needs to face some personal demons on the way. But it's worth it - he refuses to lose TK for anything. ------ A 2x08 speculative fic

All the kudos and thanks to @officereyes for not only convincing me to actually write this but for also brainstorming with me, a lot. 

Will it happen like this? Probably not. But we can dream. All I can ask for is some quality Carlos and his dad content, and maybe Owen not being as shitty as he has been lately. But because I don't trust Fox to give us that, I wrote it.

Title from "Six" by Sleeping at Last

--------------

TK wasn’t sure how things had gone from normal to total nightmare in a matter of seconds, but here they were. 

In this case “here” meant that the pregnant woman they were meant to be helping was not in fact, pregnant and that he and his team were now being held at gunpoint in an empty parking garage. 

So yeah, total nightmare. And the day had started off so well. 

He stood quietly, body tense with his hands up wishing he had been paying more attention; that he had noticed them coming from behind before they had gotten the drop on them. That he had noticed before he and his team were in danger. But he hadn’t and here they were: at gunpoint looking at a critically injured patient they were expected to save with only the gear in their medpacks. Which was especially bad, considering it seemed pretty clear that their survival depended on his. 

He exchanged a glance with Nancy as he pulled open the bag to start grabbing gear, doing his best to shoot her a reassuring smile. All the while he couldn’t help but think about something Carlos had said when he had discussed becoming a paramedic with him. One of the pros, he had noted wryly as he planted a kiss on the top of TK’s head, was that at least his boyfriend being a paramedic instead of a firefighter would mean he would have to worry less. TK had rolled his eyes at the time but now he could say quite firmly that Carlos was wrong. 

After all, he had never been held at gunpoint as a firefighter. 

----------

A surprise party worked best when the person who is supposed to be surprised shows up, Carlos figured. 

If it were anyone else, he might have been amused. But it was TK, who was supposed to be at his parent’s house for his surprise party 40 minutes ago. Tommy and Nancy were going to bring him by after shift but instead, none of them had shown up and Carlos couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. 

He could see the unease growing in the eyes of some of the others too as they made the transition from amused to concerned as the time ticked by. Carlos had tried calling TK almost a dozen times now, only to get his voicemail each time. He knew that Tommy and Nancy had gotten calls too, from Judd and Marjan respectively, with the same result. Now, 40 minutes later it had moved from a feeling to a fact: something was wrong. He could see Owen off to the side of the yard now, speaking lowly into his phone as he tried to get an update from dispatch. His expression was grim and when he ended the call Carlos crossed the yard towards him. 

“Well?” he asked when he drew close enough, “what did they say?” 

Owen shook his head, “They can’t reach the unit, and it hasn’t been in contact for over an hour.” 

Carlos could feel the fear solidifying within him even as he asked the next question, “Were they able to tell you where?” 

“I’m waiting on that info now.” 

Even as he said it his phone dinged with an incoming text and Carlos craned his neck to read the address over Owen’s shoulder. 

“That’s not too far,” he said, “if we leave now we should be there within the hour.” At Owen’s surprised look he raised an eyebrow, “What? You thought I was just going to stay here while you go look for them? Not likely.” 

Owen nodded and managed a small smile, “Let’s go then. We have a paramedic team to find.” 

--------

It took some negotiating but Tommy had managed to ultimately convince the people with guns that their friend would be better off receiving treatment in the ambulance rather than in the back of a van. As they packed up their supplies and got the patient ready to move to the ambulance TK’s mind was racing through all the implications. This move meant that they were planning on relocating, which meant that they would be leaving their last known location. Once they left this parking garage unless they were somehow able to check-in, dispatch would have no way of knowing where they were and they would be officially labeled as MIA. 

Which was less than ideal, but did at least mean that someone would be looking for them. TK pushed the used gauze into a pile, taking care to make sure that his back was turned to their kidnappers as he reached for his neck and pulled at his necklace until the chain came undone. He slid it under the edge of the pile, where it would hopefully be spotted by anyone looking for clues. He looked up to see Nancy and Tommy both giving him curious looks. He met their eyes and mouthed, “Carlos.” 

Once they were reported missing there was a zero percent chance that his boyfriend would not be involved in the search, he knew that without a doubt. It was subtle enough that it would hopefully pass their captors’ notice, but Carlos would recognize it instantly. It was something that would tell him that they had been here, and that they were in danger. Carlos would know that TK wouldn’t have parted with the pendant otherwise. 

Nancy raised an eyebrow and Tommy shot him a quick smile as they finished their prep and got ready to move the patient. When they entered the ambulance and got the patient settled TK crossed to the cab and pulled himself into the driver’s seat, only to look down and get a sinking feeling. While traveling by ambulance would be ultimately better for the patient (and by extension, them) TK had also been banking on the fact that once in the ambulance there would be more opportunities to call for help. 

Which was a hope quickly dashed when he saw that their radio had been ripped out, effectively eliminating the possibility of getting help that way. TK bit his lip and turned his eyes to the road in front of him as the armed man climbed into the cab beside him. “Drive,” he instructed plainly and TK complied, switching on the engine and shifting the vehicle into gear, acutely aware of the gun leveled at his chest the entire time. Getting shot was not an experience he had been looking forward to relieving ever again if he could help it. 

“Where to?” he asked.

“Just drive and I direct you.” 

TK nodded and slowly pulled forward, keeping his eyes trained on the road. 

Maybe, just maybe these people were more reasonable than they seemed and maybe this wouldn’t end in disaster, TK thought to himself as he pulled out of the parking garage and headed to the right as instructed. They just need to keep everything calm until help arrived. Because it would, TK was sure of it. 

--------

The ride there was filled with tense silence, their combined anxiety filling the car to capacity and leaving no room for words. Carlos kept an eye on the phone in his hand, the small blue dot tracing their location and showing their progress as they grew closer and closer to the destination flag. They were almost there. They would have answers soon, one way or another. 

He spared a glance at Owen. The fire captain’s eyes were glued to the road and his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles shining white against the black upholstery. His jaw was set and his expression was full of a panic Carlos was sure was reflected in his own face. He wondered if Owen was thinking the same thing: things had been going so well. Possibly too well, and now the universe was looking to even the score. Carlos hated the thought — TK deserved all the good things the world had to offer, in his opinion — but it was one he couldn’t help but wonder. He just hoped that no matter what, TK would be okay. No matter what the universe was trying to throw at them as long as he was safe at the end, Carlos could take it. 

Reaching the parking garage had been the easy part, it turned out. He and Owen drove the levels in tense silence, each scanning for any clues, any signs of the missing paramedics. It wasn’t until he saw a black panel van parked haphazardly that Carlos broke the tense silence: “Stop the car!” 

Owen did and Carlos was out his door before the car had even lurched to a complete stop. He ran to the van, heart sinking as he noticed the back doors hanging open. He approached with increased trepidation, not sure what he was hoping to find. When he reached the back and got his first look inside the van, he was pretty sure this wasn’t it. 

Bloody gauze and other medical scraps littered the ground, along with three broken cell phones, all of which seemed to have been smashed. Carlos could feel dread building in his gut as he surveyed the destruction. He sensed Owen come up behind him, heard the low curse he let out at the scene. 

“There’s no saying any of the blood is theirs,” he reminded Carlos as if he could read the frantic thoughts racing through his mind, each possibility worse than the last. 

Carlos bit back a retort — there was no good in reminding Owen that there was no saying it wasn’t either — and was about to ask another question when he noticed something silver poking out from under one of the gauze scraps. He leaned forward to grab it, heart sinking when he pulled it out to reveal a very familiar necklace. 

“Maybe,” he told Owen as he turned, holding up the necklace while the FDNY pendant glinting in the low light of the parking garage, “but they were definitely here.”

Carlos hadn’t been sure it was possible but he was certain he saw the fear in Owen’s eyes grow as he took the necklace from Carlos, running his thumb over the numbers engraved in the pendant. “He left this as a clue,” he said quietly, and Carlos nodded. 

“Which probably means they were taken somewhere else and TK wanted us to know they were here.” 

Owen nodded, pulling his gaze up from the necklace to meet Carlos’s eyes, “We need to find them.”

His voice was tinged in desperation, a feeling Carlos knew well. He nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone as he took another look at the mess in the back of the van. “We will,” he told Owen, “and I think I know someone that can help.” 

------

Their destination had turned out to be an abandoned restaurant, shuttered by the pandemic. As workspaces went it wasn’t a bad one, if a little dusty, and they got their patient set up on a prep table in no time, falling into their usual rhythm as they returned to this relative familiarity. TK was currently retrieving supplies from one of their cases and running through the situation in his head, separating it into pros and cons. 

Pro: they had come here in an ambulance with their house number clearly painted on it in broad daylight. Once people started looking it shouldn’t be too hard to spot. 

Con: they were deep into a neighborhood known for being an entertainment district. While traffic had decreased significantly overall since the start of the pandemic it was nearly non-existent this early in the day. The odds of a casual observer being in the neighborhood were slim to none, which was not a thought that brought much comfort. 

The man shouted at him to hurry up and TK quickly added another con to his list as he grabbed the last thing and crossed back to the table: their kidnappers were not reasonable people and every moment that passed seemed to push them just that much closer to the edge. Even as he thought it the woman edged closer to Nancy, causing her to tense as the cold metal of the gun was pressed against her side. 

“Hey,” he said firmly, “if you want us to save your friend, you need to let us work. That means you and your guns should be at least 6 feet away. It’s a little hard to focus otherwise.” 

The woman glanced at the man, who was studying TK. TK met his gaze steadily, not looking away until the man nodded and turned to his companion, “Go wait by the door, just in case. They’re not going anywhere.” 

She nodded and TK could breathe easier as she stepped away from Nancy, who visibly relaxed and shot TK a grateful look. Tommy eyed him quickly before returning her focus to the patient. “I appreciate what you’re doing, Strand, but in the future maybe let’s try to not antagonize the criminals with guns, yeah?” 

TK nodded as he worked, “Sorry Cap, I just really don’t like guns. Chalk it up to bad personal experience.” 

Nancy grimaced at the reminder and Tommy nodded, “Then let's keep this calm, no one needs to get shot today. I’m not losing another member of my crew, you both got that?” 

“Yes Cap,” TK and Nancy chorused, lapsing into silence as they worked. Unfortunately, with their supplies, there was only so much they could do. They had had a busy morning before this call had come in and no time to restock in between. They were running low on pretty much everything, and everything they had would have hardly been enough to repair the damage before them on a good day. But, despite everything, he was still a patient and he was still in need of treatment so they did what they always did: everything they could. 

Even as they worked TK made sure to keep one eye on their kidnappers. With each passing minute, they seemed to get more and more restless, and increasingly desperate. The woman even seemed twitchy and TK vaguely wondered if she was going through withdrawal. All the signs were there and if she was that made their situation even worse. TK knew how that felt first hand and knew what it could do to a person’s mental state. The idea that she might be coming down from a high and was currently pointing a gun at them was less than ideal and he mentally added it to his con list. 

Surprisingly, she wasn’t the one to crack first. TK was helping Captain Vega to do what they could to clean and secure the entry wound when the man stepped closer, waving the gun around as he shouted, “What is taking so long? We’ve been here too long, we need to get moving!”  

“Do you want it done right or do you want it done fast?” Tommy asked evenly, her voice calm and level. 

The man scowled at that, but stepped away, “Just, go as fast as you can.”

TK watched him walk away, glancing at the clock above the door and cursing before running his free hand across his face, the hand holding the gun tapping against his leg. 

“He’s spiraling Cap,” TK noted softly, “we might need a plan if you want to avoid that whole one of us getting shot thing.” 

“And we’ll find one,” Tommy agreed, “but for now we stick with the original one: do our jobs and keep calm.” 

TK nodded tersely and continued with the task at hand. It was only a few more moments before his Captain gave a soft curse and he looked over to see her scowling at the bag next to her. “We’re out of saline,” she said in answer to his questioning look, “can you go see if there is any more in that bag by the door?” 

TK nodded and crossed the bag laying on the ground next to the door they had entered. As he grew closer he noticed that the bag wasn’t the only thing by the door: a fire alarm, bright red against the white of the walls and shining like a beacon of hope as he drew closer, was situated on the wall just past the bag. If he could reach it and pull it, dispatch would be notified. A fire company and at least one APD unit would be called and the alarm might be enough of a distraction for them to get out of here and get somewhere safe until help arrived. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder to see that the two armed assailants were not watching him and made up his mind. He was going to pull it, and hope for the best. If it doesn’t work it’ll have been his idea and his idea alone — the rest of his team doesn't need to be involved in this. This was a stupid choice he could make for himself and by himself. 

He stepped forward, hardly daring to breathe as he drew closer. He was just about to reach out his hand when he heard footsteps behind him, loud and fast. He turned in time to see a hand reaching for him, aiming to strike him with the side of the gun. He ducked, the hand missing his target as he dodged the blow. The man came for him again and TK managed to dodge the next blow as well, and the one after that. 

They moved away from the wall and TK had the frantic thought that maybe he could get the gun away from him, maybe he could actually get the upper hand. He reached for it, throwing himself into the man’s space and reaching around for his arm. He leaned closer, so intent on his goal that he didn’t notice the man rummaging on the nearby shelf with his free hand. He didn’t notice his other hand at all until a sharp pain ripped through his side, causing him to release his grip on the other man involuntarily. He stumbled back, hands reaching blindly to the source of the pain coursing through his body. He felt a warm and sticky wetness and was about to lift his hand to examine it when he felt another sharp pain which caused his vision to go white before everything went black and he knew no more. 

-----

Carlos hadn’t had to say too much before his dad had agreed to help out. One of the perks of being a Ranger, Gabriel reminded his son, was getting to choose the cases he focused on from time to time. He wasn’t sure if it was the words he had said or the tone of his voice that had done the convincing but within two minutes his dad had taken down the address and was on his way. He had said he was likely 10 minutes out but each one of those minutes seemed to stretch on endlessly. 

He and Owen waited in tense silence, neither saying a word since Carlos had hung up the phone with the news that a Texas Ranger was on the case. Owen had raised an eyebrow but after Carlos clarified that it was his dad his expression had shifted to something unreadable and Carlos wondered how much Owen knew about his parental situation in regards to TK. 

He didn’t have to wait long to find out, as it happened. About 4 minutes into their wait, after Owen had made a phone call to Gwyn and Carlos had sent out some updates to the team, Owen cleared his throat, turning to Carlos before he spoke. 

“I don’t want to pry, Carlos, but TK mentioned something about you and your parents a few months ago and I just want to know where that stands. I don’t want to make things weird for you, but I also don’t want to accidentally reveal any information you’re not okay with.”

Carlos nodded, feeling a rush of appreciation for the older man’s tact as he responded, “They know I’m gay,” he told Owen plainly, “but they don’t know I’m in a relationship. They’ve never known about any of my relationships, we just don’t talk about it. When TK and I ran into them at the farmer’s market I introduced him as a friend and as far as they know that’s the truth.” Carlos turned to see Owen’s reaction, not sure what to expect. Anger maybe? Frustration or upset? 

When he did turn he didn’t see any of those. Instead, the older man’s face was neutral as he nodded. “They won’t find out otherwise from me,” Owen promised him, and Carlos nodded his thanks, letting out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. He was surprised, however, when Owen continued talking. 

“I know it’s not my place to tell you how to interact with your parents,” he began, “but for what it’s worth, I would never want TK to keep something that was important to him from me because he was worried it might make me upset or uncomfortable. From everything you and TK have said about your parents, I wouldn’t be surprised if they felt the same way.” 

Carlos could feel Owen’s gaze on him, steady and reassuring despite everything, and he nodded. He could feel Owen’s words rattling inside his head, but there was no way to process them right now, not when the fear of possibly losing TK and the worry that his danger-prone boyfriend was missing was so soundly occupying the forefront of his thoughts. 

He was still trying to parse through it all when he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. He stood as he recognized his dad’s truck, crossing to meet him as he pulled to a stop. “Thank you,” he told his dad as he stepped out, “I really appreciate this.” 

“Anything for you, mijo,” his dad assured him with a smile, “all you have to do is ask. Which you rarely do, which tells me this is pretty important.”

There’s something else there, in his dad’s words and his expression, that tells Carlos that his dad knows there is something Carlos isn’t telling him, but he ignores it. It didn’t matter right now — nothing mattered except for finding TK. “Still,” he says instead before turning to Owen who has been hovering at the back of the van. “This is TK’s dad, Captain Owen Strand of the 126.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain,” Gabriel says with a nod, “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Likewise,” Owen replies quickly before diving right in. “Were you able to find out anything yet?”

“Actually yes,” Gabriel admitted and Carlos tensed at the expression on his dad’s face. It was the one he used when he tried to break bad news gently. “We think we may have identified the suspects. There was a bank robbery this morning and the suspects fled in a van matching the description Carlos gave me. There were three suspects — two who entered the bank and one getaway driver — and bank security thinks that they hit one of them while exchanging fire as they fled.” 

There was so much information trying to squeeze into Carlos’s head now. None of it was good but one fact jumped out amongst the others. The suspects had exchanged fire with the security guards which meant…

“They’re armed,” he said tersely, the dread he had already been feeling threatening to overtake him now, “the suspects are armed.” 

“And they needed the paramedics to treat their partner,” his dad agreed grimly.

“Do we know anything about what kind of shape the injured suspect was in?” Owen asked and Carlos could tell that his mind had gone to the same place his own had: if the paramedics were not able to save the injured bank robber, things didn’t look great for them. Their best hope was for a minor injury but judging by the amount of bloody gauze in the back of the van and the fact that it was a gunshot wound the chances for that were slim to non-existent. 

Gabriel shook his head, “No, and the security cams in this parking garage are just for show, I already had someone check.” 

So TK and his team were being held at gunpoint, being asked to provide medical care that should be done in a trauma room, and there was no way of saying where they had been taken or if they were okay. Carlos could feel his chest tighten in panic as the hopelessness of the situation set in. 

“Are there any leads?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the desperation in his voice. 

“Well, they did leave in an ambulance, and that’s not exactly subtle,” his dad reminded him bracingly. “We’ve put out a bulletin — every cop, sheriff, and ranger will be looking for it. We’ll find them, mjio.” 

Carlos nodded because he didn’t trust himself to speak and because he desperately needed it to be true. They needed to find them, and TK needed to be okay. Nothing short of that would be enough. 

----------

TK knew he was somewhere he shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

There were voices nearby, but TK couldn’t process any of them. Some of them sounded familiar but others were foreign; unknown with a hostile edge. He tried to open his eyes, to try and take stock of his surroundings but all he could see were vague and blurry shapes. He thought that someone called his name but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was in pain, and he was in danger. 

The pull of the darkness was stronger than any fear or curiosity, however, and it washed back over him without hesitation, pulling him back under.

---------

Riding in his dad’s truck with his dad and Owen Strand would have been awkward on a good day but today, with his mind full of fear for TK and the tension of the secret between them all, it was unbearable. Carlos couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing anxiously against the floor — the exact same nervous tick he teased TK about on an almost daily basis. The irony wasn’t lost on him, or Owen it seemed as the man leaned forward from the back seat to put a steadying hand on his shoulder, empathetic eyes meeting his own in the rearview. Gabriel kept up a steady stream of one-sided chatter, undaunted by the lack of response from his traveling companions. Every once in a while his radio would crackle to life and Carlos could swear that he could feel his heart seize each and every time. 

But every time it was the same: no news, no one had spotted the ambulance yet. Crime scene techs had scoured the van and surrounding area, pulling fingerprints and looking for anything else that could give them a lead on who these people were and where they may have gone. Carlos knew all too well that criminals, especially ones involved in crimes that took as much planning as a bank robbery did, were creatures of habit. If they had somewhere they felt was safe and secluded enough, they would go there. It was up to them to find it.  

Carlos knew that his anxiety had not gone unnoticed by his father. He sent him surreptitious glances from time to time, in between radio updates and idle chatter. Finally, he asked a question: “You really care about this TK, don’t you?” 

The opening was there, Carlos could see it. A part of his mind told him his dad must too, to open the door so plainly. But the fear of what could happen, of what he has convinced himself he stands to lose is too much. There was already so much fear in his heart from this nightmare he was trapped in, he can’t stand any more. So he nodded and simply answered, “Yeah, I do.” 

He tried not to notice the disappointment and pity he could feel from all sides as Owen met his eyes again in the mirror. But his boyfriend’s father stayed silent as promised and Carlos looked away, turning his attention to the window instead. He knew he needed to tell them, he had been coming closer to making that decision on his own with each passing day. Now he just had to hope that they both survived this one and that there would still be something to tell at the end of it all. 

His pessimistic spiral was interrupted by the familiar crackle of the radio. He listened absently as his dad grabbed it and at the words that came in response. At least he was only listening absently until some of the words processed in his mind: “Ambulance 126 has been spotted in an alley off W. Fourth St.” 

His heart was working on beating its way out of his chest now. He sat upright, looking around frantically to get their bearings. They were only a few blocks east of West Fourth, they could be there in minutes. He relayed this to his dad who nodded before flipping on his lightbar and heading in the direction of the address provided. As they drove Carlos sent his desperate hopes out to the universe. Let them all be okay, let them actually be in or at least nearby the ambulance. Above all, let TK be safe. 

As they sped through the city that was the thought that Carlos played on a loop in his head. Let TK be safe, and everything else would be fine 

----------

TK came to awareness slowly and at first, the only thing he was truly aware of was the feeling of someone repeatedly tapping his cheek. 

“Cut it out,” he whined and heard a relieved sigh in response. 

“He’s awake,” a voice — Nancy? — declared and TK tried to open his eyes. It took several tries but he managed, painstakingly blinking them open to reveal the worried faces of his Captain and his partner staring down at him. 

“Hey guys,” he said as he tried to pull himself into a sitting position, “why the long faces?” 

Captain Vega looked unimpressed with his efforts and pushed him back down onto the ground. “Don’t try to play nice with me Strand after you did that. Of all the reckless, foolhardy things. I really thought you had more sense than that.” 

TK frowned at her, trying to piece together all the uncategorized shapes and sensations floating through his hazy mind, “What do you…” he began, but broke off when a sharp pain ripped through his side and Nancy pressed gauze down onto his side, “oh.” 

It was coming back now. 

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” his Captain scoffed, “what were you thinking TK?” 

“I was thinking that they were getting more and more unhinged the longer we were here and that if I had been able to pull the fire alarm dispatch would be notified and it would have given us enough of a distraction we could have maybe saved ourselves,” he said defensively, trying hard to sound assertive when even just the dim lights of the kitchen were causing explosions of pain in his head. 

“And how did that go for you?” 

“Not great,” he admitted. “How long was I out?” 

“Not too long,” Nancy told him as she lifted up the gauze to check on his stab wound, “and I’ve got the bleeding slowed but this wound is pretty deep. Not to mention the knife did not look particularly sterile so this needs treatment, soon.” She nodded towards the abandoned blood-covered chef’s knife on the ground that the man must have grabbed during their scuffle, and TK groaned. 

“So probable infection,” he muttered, “great.” 

“Not to mention with the width of that knife likely some significant damage,” Tomy reminded him, her unimpressed look holding firm.

“It’s not like I had any way of knowing he was going to find a knife, to be fair.” 

“To be fair, I would think the guns should have been enough of a deterrent,” Tommy countered. “Wasn’t getting shot once enough for you?” 

TK shifted uncomfortably under his Captain’s gaze and was about to fire back a retort when Nancy interrupted, “Can you both knock it off? Yes, that was incredibly stupid TK and if you weren’t already hurt I probably would have hit you myself. But it was also pretty brave, Cap, and he meant well. Either way, arguing about it is not going to change the fact that we’re still being held hostage and TK is still hurt so maybe it would be best if you both stopped, for my sanity if nothing else.” 

She gave them both a hard look and TK did his best approximation of a nod with his throbbing head, not eager to be on his partner’s bad side. Tommy nodded as well, though the look she gave TK promised that they would be revisiting this later, assuming there was a later. He cleared his throat and glanced towards the table where their patient was still laid out, “How is he?” 

“Stable, for now,” Tommy answered, following his gaze. “He’s going to need more blood than we can give him though: his friends don’t know his blood type and we only have so much O neg on hand.” 

TK nodded, reading in between the lines of what his Captain wasn’t saying: he didn’t have much longer and if he didn’t, neither did they. “What are the others up to?” 

“Arguing,” Nancy said softly, “about what to do with us.” 

TK turned his gaze to them and though he couldn’t hear their words, he had a feeling he knew what they were saying and it wasn’t good. His suspicions were confirmed a few moments later when they approached. 

“That’s enough of that,” the man informed them, gesturing roughly to where Nancy was tending to TK’s stab wound, “get away from him.” 

“He needs—” Nancy tried to argue, but TK put a hand on her arm and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile before holding out a hand for the supplies.

“It’s okay,” he told her, “I can handle it from here.” 

She didn’t look impressed or convinced, but a wave of the gun prompted her to hand them over and pull herself up from the floor, stepping in the direction indicated by the woman. The man looked down at TK with disdain, “You’re done causing trouble,” he announced, “Because if you do it again, I will start shooting, but I won’t be aiming at you. Got it?” 

TK swallowed and nodded. What else could he really say to that? He wasn’t about to risk his team’s safety for anything. 

“Good,” the man declared with a nod, “glad we’re on the same page.” He turned to Nancy and Tommy now, “Is he stable enough to be moved right now?” 

“He’s as stable as we can make him with what we have on hand,” Tommy told him calmly. 

“Then we’re moving,” he declared, “we have another van stashed nearby. We’re going to move out,” he gestured towards himself and his companion, “and we’re taking our friend and this one with us.” 

When all eyes turned to him TK realized “this one” meant him with a start. Which was...less than ideal, but at least he would know that the other two were out of danger and could probably get help. 

“Absolutely not,” Tommy said in her firmest tone, “he’s injured, he needs treatment.” 

“Which is why I know he’ll be no trouble,” the man countered, “plus he’s a paramedic, isn’t he? He can treat himself. I’ll let you give him some supplies, I’m not unreasonable.” 

TK could practically see Tommy’s anger rising from his position on the floor and he spoke up before his Captain could say anymore, “It’s okay Cap,” he said, hoping his voice sounded more sure out loud than it did to his own ears, “I’ll be fine.” 

Tommy turned her gaze to him and was more likely than not going to tell him how many ways that was not happening, but any arguments she may have made were abruptly cut off by the sound of the door banging open and a barrage of police officers entering the scene, guns raised. 

TK let himself sag against the wall in relief as he saw their two assailants surrounded and even more when he spotted a familiar gaze in the crowd, filled with fear and worry as it grew closer to him. 

“Carlos,” he said quietly, managing to pull a small smile to his face. 

“Hey Ty,” Carlos said roughly, reaching out to run a hand through his hair even as he surveyed him for damage. His eyes widened and his jaw clenched as he spotted the bloody gauze poking out from underneath his hand just above his hip. 

He reached for it, but TK called his name softly before shaking his head ever so slightly, “leave it be, I’ll be fine. I’m just so happy to see you.”  

Carlos looked like he wanted to argue but he bit his lip, turning instead to the crowd behind them. TK followed his gaze and froze when he spotted Gabriel Reyes amongst the officers. He pulled away from Carlos ever so slightly, “Your dad…” he began, but Carlos shook his head, gripping TK hands tighter, not letting him pull away. 

“That doesn’t matter right now,” he told him, “all that matters is that you’re safe.” 

TK had so many questions, but his head was swimming. He wasn’t sure if it was the blood loss or the head injury, but it was getting harder and harder to follow a fluid thought. He opened his mouth to try and ask any of them but was saved from the trouble of doing that by his dad appearing at his side, expression anxious as he kneeled down. He looked him over before calling over his shoulder for a medic and TK tried really hard to follow what was happening but it was becoming so much harder with each passing moment. 

He was so disoriented he almost missed the commotion that erupted around them. All he knew was that Carlos’s hand was suddenly gone from his and he blinked several times, forcing himself to focus on what was happening around them. The woman had somehow managed to free herself of the officer cuffing her and had managed to grab her gun again. She was waving it frantically and shouting, but her words were a blur to TK. All he could focus on now was the fact that Carlos was closest to her, and that he was stepping closer to her. 

That he was standing firmly between her and TK. 

The rest of the world might be a blur of noise and light but this was clear as day. Carlos was stepping towards the woman, hands raised as he tried to speak calmly to her. But TK knew in his heart that he had been right about her state and knew that there would be no reasoning with her. But he also knew that Carlos would try, because that’s what Carlos did. He helped people, no matter what. 

The next moment happened in a blink of an eye but TK saw it as if in slow motion. Carlos took a step forward, his soothing voice still speaking to her, still vibrating its way through the air as another sound erupted between them, eclipsing Carlos’s voice. 

It was the sound of a gun firing and TK could do nothing but watch in horror as Carlos’s stride faltered before he stumbled. He could do nothing but try to call out his name with whatever breath he still had in his lungs as Carlos went down, and he could do nothing but feel his heart shatter when he didn’t get up. 

TK tried to go to him, tried to push himself off the ground. He needed to help, he needed to save Carlos. But his body wouldn’t listen. The pain in his side sliced through him again with a vengeance and the last thing TK saw was Carlos’s unmoving body before his vision faded to black and he knew no more; left with the worst sight he had ever seen in his life as company as he fell into the darkness.  

-------

Carlos woke slowly, bits and pieces of his surroundings making themselves known to him and helping to fill in the blanks in his mind: he was in the hospital, he had been hurt, he had been searching for TK…

And that was the thought that brought him back to consciousness. He opened his eyes with a gasp, feeling hands on him instantly. “TK,” he tried to ask, “is he…”

“Relax, mijo,” his dad told him soothingly, “TK is safe. He just woke up from his own surgery a short while ago. His dad assures me that he’s fine, and asking about you.” 

Carlos took a deep breath and willed his heartbeat to slow. TK was alive, they had found him. He was hurt, but he was doing okay and Owen was with him. That did answer a lot of his questions, but there were still so many left. Starting with, “What happened?” he asked his dad. 

Gabriel settled into the chair at the side of the bed, leaving a hand on Carlos’s arm as he studied him, “What do you remember, Carlos?”

“I remember TK and his team going missing, calling you, and finding them. After that, not much.” 

Gabriel nodded and his hand on Carlos’s arm tightened, “One of the kidnappers, the woman, went a little crazy when your colleagues tried to bring her in. She freed herself from the officer’s trying to cuff her and you were closest. Well,” he amended, “you and TK. But you put yourself between them and tried to talk her down. It…” his dad broke off, clearing his throat and continuing with a thick voice, “it didn’t go well. You were shot, Carlos, right in front of me. I was so scared I was going to lose you, mijo. You cannot scare me like that, I am an old man.” 

Despite it all, Carlos chuckled, “Please, you are not old dad. There are 20-year-olds older than you.” 

His teasing didn’t put a dent into his father’s upset, and Carlos sobered, “I’m sorry,” he said instead, “that can’t have been easy. I know what it’s like to see someone you care about hurt like that. I’m sorry you had to see that, dad.”

Gabriel shook his head, leaning forward again, “You have nothing to apologize for Carlos,” he said firmly, “you only did what you thought was best, what you needed to do to protect the man you love.” 

Carlos’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened, but his dad held his gaze, a small smile playing on his lips, “You are not subtle, mijo. I had a feeling since this all started, but the moment I saw you with him, I knew.” 

“I’m sorry I kept this from you and mom,” Carlos apologized softly, “that I lied to you when we met at the Farmer’s Market.” 

“Stop apologizing Carlos,” Gabriel instructed, his tone matching his son’s, “you have nothing to apologize for. If anyone should be apologizing I think it should be me. Clearly, I did something or said something that made you feel like you couldn’t share this and for that I am so, so sorry. I never wanted you to feel like you had to hide anything from us, especially not this. I’m...” he trailed off and Carlos was surprised to see tears in his dad’s eyes, “I’m just sorry,” Gabriel finished, “I need you to know that. That and the fact that both your mother and I love you so much, no matter what.”  

“I do know that,” Carlos assured him, “I never doubted that for a second.” 

His father smiled at him and Carlos could feel a weight that had been subtly resting on him for nearly 10 years lifted. He met his father’s eyes and returned the smile. 

“Dad,” he said clearly, with a confidence that had been so many years coming, “I have a boyfriend. His name is TK Strand, and I love him. He means everything to me.” 

“I’m happy for you Carlos,” his father told him, a soft smile covering his face, “you deserve nothing but the most wonderful love the world has to offer, and I hope this boy can give you that.” 

“He can,” Carlos assured him, “he does.” 

----------

TK was staring moodily at the dark ceiling of his hospital room. Yes, he was beyond grateful to have been rescued and that his teammates were safe. They had just been by actually — both women very clear that they would stab him themselves next time if he ever tried to do something so reckless again — and he had been happy to see them. Just as he had his parents and his friends, all who had stopped by before the doctor informed them all that he needed rest. 

That was all wonderful and he was grateful, but the one person he wanted to see more than anyone else — that he needed to see — was in a room of his own on the other side of the hospital. He had been assured by multiple reliable sources that he was fine: awake and alert and recovering nicely from his gsw (fuck, Carlos had been shot. That was a thought and a memory that was going to haunt him for a while, he knew it). But he had been denied any and all requests of seeing him with his own eyes due to his concussion — hence the dark room as light still wreaked havoc on his head — and the antibiotics slowly dripping their way into his system in an effort to cut off any possible infection from the dirty knife blade before it had a chance to take root. Which, as a paramedic, he recognized was reasonable. If it were anyone else he would have recommended the same. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was him and it was Carlos, and TK needed to see him with his own eyes before he could believe that he was really alright. 

Since that was beyond his control, that left him with pouting about it in the dark, which is what he intended to do about it for the foreseeable future.  

A soft knock at his door interrupted his plans and when he turned his head in the direction of the door, his breath caught in his throat. 

“Carlos,” he breathed, his name emerging from his lips like a prayer as the other man gave him a small, tired smile from his wheelchair in the door. Behind him stood his father, looking at TK with a smile that told him everything he needed to know. 

He waited as Gabriel pushed the wheelchair into the room, reaching out for Carlos, taking his hand in his own as soon as they were close enough to touch. He moved to the side of the bed, leaning over and meeting Carlos in a soft, tender kiss that he hoped did something to relay even a portion of the emotions he was feeling. They pulled apart and he met Carlos’s eyes, studying them and him for any signs that he wasn’t okay, but his study was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He looked up, startled, to see Carlos’s father watching them with a bemused expression. 

“I will leave you both alone,” he promised, “but first I just wanted to take a moment to meet you properly, TK. I am very glad you are okay.” 

“Thank you, sir,” TK said warmly, still clutching Carlos’s hand. 

Gabriel shook his head, “None of that ‘sir’ business now,” he told him, “as far as I’m concerned we’re family now. Call me Gabriel, please.” 

“Well Gabriel, TK said lightly, “I am happy to meet you, officially.” 

He grinned at Carlos, he matched his expression without a second thought. Gabriel watched the pair of them, smile growing. 

“I would love to talk more with you TK, take some time to get to know you, but I know when I’m not wanted so we’ll take care of that later. Just remember Carlos,” he told his son, voice suddenly firm, “you’re injured too. Don’t overdo it.” 

“Yes dad, thanks.” 

Gabriel gave them both a smile and with an affectionate squeeze of Carlos’s shoulder, he was gone. 

“So,” TK said as he watched the older man walk away, “you told him.” 

Carlos scoffed, “I didn’t have to. He spent all day with me, looking for you. He figured it out pretty quickly.” He paused here, swallowing thickly as he looked back at TK, “God Ty, I was so scared. I don’t know what I would have done…” 

TK cut him off, pressing a hand against his face, “Hey, none of that. We’re both okay, and that’s what matters.” 

But even as he said it, he could feel his voice waver. The last memory he had before blacking out of Carlos collapsing after being shot would be forever ingrained in his memories, a vision he was sure would come back to haunt him for many nights to come. Carlos leaned forward now, placing a hand on top of TK’s and pulling it away from his face so he could twist their fingers together. 

“Same goes for you,” he said firmly, as if he knew where TK’s mind had gone. Because of course he did. It was Carlos, and TK knew there was no part of him that was a mystery to the other man.   

“Hey, remember when you said being a Paramedic would be less dangerous than being a firefighter?” TK quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood and Carlos rolled his eyes. 

“Only you could manage to prove that wrong,” Carlos fired back, his voice a blend of fondness and exasperation. “Maybe you can try not to keep proving that wrong though, for my sake?”

“I guess I could try,” TK said softly, “if only for you. I love you an awful lot, you know.” 

Carlos leaned forward and pulled him into a kiss with more heat than before. It was warm and bright and so full of everything TK had been so afraid of losing for good. When they pulled apart, both breathing heavier and both leaning in, resting their foreheads on each other, Carlos responded, “I love you so much, Tyler Kennedy. Don’t you ever get kidnapped on me again.” 

“I’ll do my best,” TK promised, “but I know that if I do, you’d come find me.” 

“And I always will,” Carlos assured him, squeezing their linked hands, “no matter what.” 

[amusedyan]

Monthly Meetings

A Peaky Blinders commission!

Words: 2k

Once a month there was a meeting. It was something dreaded by both parties, but one that was necessary- it was neutral territory, where mutual suggestions were discussed, grievances were gone over and business settled. No one officially came armed- but that was never written into the deal. Just like it wasn’t discussed that both parties came with a small coterie of their most trusted, each eyeing the other and waiting for a twitchy trigger finger.

Tommy Shelby was never on time to any meeting.

He came early when he was the one to suggest it- to get the drop on the other person, to make an impression. You waste my time, and you have no right to ask anything of me, was the goal there. When told to meet someone, he always made it a point to arrive 5 minutes late, because you aren’t worth my time.

This meant that meeting Alfie Solomons put him in an uncomfortable position- he had to come on time. And sometimes Alfie was there already, smug, or sometimes Alfie was late and dismissive about it, but with a stack of papers and grievances to make up the difference.

Tommy was continually unimpressed with the Jewish mobster, though you could color him surprised when word got out through the grapevine that Alfie Solomon had started going steady with some bird from the local flower shop.

He’d never figure him to be one to settle down, but those same rumors claimed that he ws continually trailing after her. Considering how…temperamental his associate could be, Tommy could believe it.

When Alfie actually entered the restaurant, Tommy reflected that the rumors must be true because the man was practically glowing. More importantly though, his usual stack of gripes was noticeably absent.

“Tommy-boy!” The man grunted, taking his seat at the table. There was already whiskey poured- courtesy of Tommy, of course.

“Alfie,” Tommy greeted, watching the man settle.

It was such a waste of his time to come here, and it took active work not to lose his temper about it. He could be home now

“So, to business. Would you like to begin?” Tommy offered magnanimously.

Alfie drank from his glass and winced at the taste. “Shit, that is,” he mused, shaking his head. “How’ve you been, Tommy? How’s life treated you?”

Suspicion colored Tommy’s thoughts. What was Solomons up to? Small talk wasn’t part of the meeting, ever. As if reading his thoughts, Alfie chuckled. “Don’t be like that, Shelby. I’ve been advised to try diplomacy.”

“By your new conquest?” Tommy countered. The expression on Alfie’s face closed off, and no longer was he looking at a man blatantly in love and feeling charitable to the whole world for it. It made things much easier to deal with. But a moment later, a sly smile crept across Alfie Solomon’s face, and Tommy wasn’t much fond of that expression.

“You’d know all about conquests, wouldn’t you, Tom?” Alfie folded his hands across his midsection and leaned back against his seat, leveling Tommy with a look just as cold.

Fury unfolded, and beside that, fear. What did that mean? Who had talked?

Chuckling, Alfie waved it off. “Now, there’s no need for that look, my good man. There’s been whispers, same as there have been for me. About a pretty girl. What’s her name?”

“We aren’t here to discuss women, Alfie.” Tommy said flatly, trying not to growl. From the corner of his eye, he could see Finn watching intently. He was waiting for a signal. No, he needed to reign it in.

Alfie was just intent on pushing his buttons though, grinning broadly, damn near leering at Tommy. “Well, her name’s Margaret.” His finger drummed against the glass, the ring he was wearing clinking methodically. “I doubt her name’s in your network, yeah? Every fucking thing else, but not that.” He shook his head. “Beautiful name.” And there was that lovesick look again.

“Is that all?” Tommy asked. What would it take to get the meeting back on track? Alfie eyed him, and reached into his coat-

Finn and Isaiah were drawing their guns, Alfie’s men were responding-

“SIT THE FUCK DOWN!” Alfie boomed, stilling the room. Tommy saw that what he’d withdrawn was his wallet.

“What are you planning, Solomons?” He asked, withdrawing a cigarette from his case.

The Camden bastard rolled his eyes and withdrew a photo. “Here,” he grunted, “have a look at this.” He handed it over to Tommy.

And honestly the last thing that Tommy expected to see was the image of a young woman posing for the camera. Rather lewdly, to put it mildly. Like a whore if you wanted to be blunt.

“My Margaret,” pride dripped from Solomons’ voice, like he hadn’t just shown off the parts of a woman that only her husband would see.

Tommy weighed his answers- would Solomons light up with fury if he complimented the woman? Or would he be offended if he didn’t? The trouble was that you never knew with him. He took a contemplative drag of his cigarette.

“Lovely,” he settled on.

Alfie scowled. “Oh like yours is any better,” he taunted. “C’mon, let’s see ‘er then.”

“I don’t have pictures of my woman on me, Alfie.” Tommy said, unable to stop the slight condescension from creeping into his tone, like he was talking to a child, or else someone very simpleminded.

“Well why the fuck not? How’m I s’posed to know if this woman exists, eh?” Alfie accused, smacking the table.

This was all very confusing honestly. What the hell was he playing at? “I didn’t claim she was real.”

“What man doesn’t have a picture of the woman he loves?”

“What man carries filthy pictures of his?”

“Oi mate, those are fuckin art!” Alfie argued with surprising vehemence. It was a strange hill to make a stand on, but hey, he could relate.

“Whatever you say, Alfie,” Tommy sighed and blew out another cloud of smoke.

It was raining now. Storm clouds had been gathering all of yesterday, and he’d been able to taste the moisture, along with the filth in the city air. Rain was ugly here, didn’t clean a fuckin’ thing. He found himself thinking, longingly of the estate. The Shelby Estate, a grander name than something like Arrow House. But little things like a name change kept your feet on the ground. Sylvia would be there, reading. It was raining, so she couldn’t ride today.

At first she’d hated being in the house. She’d wanted to be back in Birmingham. Always liked the action, wanted to support him. It had been charming before, but now that they were together, it couldn’t be tolerated. Too many risks.

“Are you fucking ignoring me, Tommy-boy?” Alfie’s voice was dangerous now, angry and short. Shit. He stubbed out the remains of his smoke in the ashtray.

“No, Alfie, I’m not ignoring you,” he said on the exhale. Clearly, he reflected, nothing was going to get done with this meeting. It was a shame, but at least that meant things were secure where they stood.

Either Solomons was happy or about to betray him again.

“So, I’ve told you about my Margaret, tell me about your girl.” Alfie ordered, pouring another drink.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Tom said, but at the disbelieving look on Alfie’s face, he shrugged slightly.

“I just don’t understand how a man can have a woman and not want to talk about her. Obviously you’ve heard how proud I am, but you? Are you ashamed?” It sounded like it was amusing- the idea that Tommy Shelby would be ashamed of anything in his life.

But the idea of being ashamed of Sylvia? That struck a nerve and that pissed him off properly.

“I’m not ashamed of her.” He snapped.

Alfie’s grin was positively disgusting. “So she does exist? Well, come now, what’s her name?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. Then he spoke begrudgingly, “Sylvia.”

“Sylvia, aye.” He nodded, turning it over. “She a gypsy like you?”

“No. She is not a gypsy.” Eye contact was key. “It wouldn’t matter either way.”

“So why don’t you talk about her? I could talk all day about mine, as I’m sure that you’ve noticed,” of course he had. “You move her in yet?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Tommy mocked, making Alfie roll his eyes.

“Neither of us are gentlemen, Tom, no matter how you fuckin’ pretend. I moved Margaret in almost right away, you know? We just, we just had this connection- I saw her and I wanted her. Sent her gifts every day, came into the store when I could- her smiles, they lit up my fuckin’ life.”

“I’ve never known you to be so open about your business, Alfie. Aren’t you worried that someone might overhear?” It wasn’t a threat, not at all, not for once. This hit a little too close to home for it to be anything more than idle curiosity, and luckily Solomons knew it.

“No, mate. I need her to know how much I love her. And I need other people to know. Because if someone thinks that they can hurt her? I will…” he laughed, and it didn’t sound sane at all, but it didn’t bother Tommy, “well fuck, I think I’d burn the fuckin’ city down. But,” and he looked at Tommy, and that affable, unstable mask came off for a moment, and Tommy was looking at the emptiness that came from the war, the same emptiness in every soldier who’d been in the field, “but I think you know that, don’t you Tom?” He sighed and shook his head. “I figured, hell, if anyone on this Earth knew what I felt- how far I’d go- it’d be you.. And you do, don’t you?”

Tommy thought about Sylvia. He always thought about Sylvia.

He did horrible things on a daily basis. What would he do if something happened to her?

And the thing was, Tommy didn’t even need to ask himself that question. He’d known the moment that he’d seen her what he’d do for her, what he’d already done. She was safe, that was what he told himself, she was under constant watch, by men he trusted, where he didn’t need to worry about someone running off with her, or an accident, or any of the things that could take her away.

“And you just keep her in an apartment?” He muttered.

“How else would I see her?” Alfie countered evenly. “I take it you don’t?”

Tommy didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to, not in the context of the question.

“No, no, the way I see it, it’s better that I can keep an eye on ‘er. I get to come home to a nice meal, lovely company, and everyone knows what’ll happen if they fuck with her. You keep yours,” and he pointed at his business associate, “in some isolated fuckin’ kingdom and what happens? People get curious. You can’t see her as often. She goes missing. There’s no fuckin’ neighbors to pay to keep watch.” And hell, that was actually a very good point, but he didn’t want to hear that from Solomons.

“Let’s just agree to disagree.”

“Oh I fuckin’ disagree, mate. You don’t get that shit in hand-“

“And what might happen, Solomons?” Tommy asked calmly. He knew what this was- this was Solomons trying to knock him off his game, disturb him. And why? What the hell did Solomons have up his sleeve? “What are you planning?”

“Well I dunno mate.” The glass in Solomons’ hand was empty now, “what do you think I’m planning?”

“I think you’re just being a prick.” The other man barked out a laugh.

“Fair enough, so- grievances.”

And there it was.

When it was over, Tommy went over the meeting- all of it, bullshit included- in his head, thinking it over.

Alfie Solomons was a two faced bastard.

But Tommy found himself making plans to go visit Sylvia as a surprise, nonetheless.

[wrenhyperfixates]

The Raven Haired Rebel

Chapter 5

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After invading New York, it was decided that, as a punishment, Loki would work for SHIELD. Yeah, right. After escaping from their custody and stranded on Midgard, the God of Mischief decides to prove he’s the one thing no one ever thought he was: the good guy. Now a vigilante, Loki attempts to make amends for his past wrongdoings while also evading the Avengers, including their newest member. You. Brought in specially for the case, you notice more and more details about the prince’s story don’t add up. When you get the chance to turn him in, will you listen to your employers or your heart that believes Loki’s done nothing wrong? Chapter Summary: In which you enact your plan. Chapter Warnings: slight (fairly non-descriptive) violence A/N: Ok, this is the last chapter before the epilogue. I was a little bit on the fence about this series so I’m so thankful for the response it’s been getting. Happy reading! Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedficrecs @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163 @lokislittlesigyn @wolfish-trickster

RHR Tag List: @happygalaxymilkshake @electroma89 @stardust-walker @i-would-kneel-for-loki @fredweasleyandlokiaremylife @aestheticallyholland @loki-yoursaviourishere​

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

After your confessions, you really hoped that something would happen between the two of you. At first you worried that you’d understood him incorrectly, that he wasn’t trying to say he felt the same way. Even at the few quick rest stops, Loki seemed to not want to talk to you, and lord knows silence prevailed for most of the car ride. But when you finally finished the long drive and settled into yet another motel, Loki was quick to lead you to the bed and pull you to him.

“Get some rest, darling,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “We’ll have to leave for our interviews soon.”

“Ok, Loki,” you sighed happily, snuggling further against his chest. His arms wrapped around you even tighter. “Sleep well.”

“And you, my darling.”

You blacked out moments after, too wiped after so much driving. When you awoke hours later, Loki was still holding you. Though his eyes were closed, you could tell from his breathing that he was awake. You buried your nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling his comforting scent. You couldn’t exactly place what it was, but you’d come to associate it with him. Maybe there weren’t even actually any distinguishable smells in there. Maybe it was simply just Loki. You placed a small kiss on the soft skin of his neck, and when you pulled back, he was looking at you.

“Are you sure you are up for this?” Loki checked, concern in his eyes. “I do not want you to get hurt.”

“I’m sure. I can handle myself, I swear,” you reassured, cupping his cheek. “Besides, I’ll have you to protect me. And you’re the best sidekick in the universe, after all.”

“Oh, darling,” he chuckled. “I thought we agreed you were the sidekick. Alas, it is true; I will protect you.”

You laid together for another moment, contemplating in silence. There was still so much you wanted to say to him, but were too scared too. What about after this mission was over? Would he come back to SHIELD with you? Would you still see him at all? Or was this the end? And would you regret all the things left unsaid? You didn’t know, but you really wished you did.

Loki gave your body one final squeeze, holding you close for just a few seconds more before getting up from the bed. You watched him as he moved to grab his clothes, going into the bathroom to change. He came back out a few minutes later in a white dress shirt, green tie, and black dress slacks, the matching suit jacket draped over his arm. Your mouth hung open a little at how good he looked. He chuckled when he noticed, placing a tiny, hesitant kiss to the tip of your nose. He was also noticeably blushing, letting you know he felt just as flustered as you did.

You hadn’t really been planning on needing nice clothes when you’d packed your things, so were rifling through your bag now in hopes of throwing together an ensemble at least half as nice as Loki’s. Naturally, you were quite surprised when you pulled a rather dressy outfit from your stores. It was in Loki’s colors, so if you hadn’t already been thinking he’d conjured it for you, you certainly were now. You smiled at him, but he was pointedly avoiding looking at you, his blush still persisting.

“How do I look?” you asked, stepping out of the bathroom after changing.

Now it was his turn to have his jaw hang open a little as he finally looked at you. “Absolutely ravishing, darling,” he smiled.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, suddenly finding the floor very interesting as you became flustered once more. “You do too, by the way.”

“And thank you.” He walked over to you and hooked a finger under your chin, gently titling your head up to look at him. You wanted him to kiss you so badly, but you were afraid to scare him off. Besides, he turned the conversation back to the mission. “Are you prepared to alert SHIELD of our presence?”

“Yup,” you nodded. “I’ll let them know as soon as we get going.”

“Well,” he said, caressing your cheek. “Shall we?”

You nodded again. “We shall.”

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

“See, darling? Confidence is key,” Loki said as you helped him shove the knocked out guard into a closet.

Loki had talked his way out of the situation, pretending like you’d gotten lost on your way to the interview. Then, when he got close enough, it was lights out for the guard. If there was one thing this whole ordeal taught you, it was that you needed more experience out in the field. You were a lot more comfortable behind your computer.

“Yeah, yeah,” you huffed. “Can we just get to the computer lab, please?”

Once you’d gotten a chance to download the intel to present to SHIELD, you’d make your way back out of the building, hopefully meeting up with the Avengers before they stormed the building, telling them the information you’d learned. The first few floors in either direction were set up like this were to be a functioning facility, and that the rest of it was still undergoing remodeling. Of course, the deeper you got into the base, the more heavily guarded it was.

“Shh,” Loki whispered, pulling you into a tight little alcove in the wall, your bodies hidden by shadows.

As he held you to him, out of sight from the guards passing by, you could feel both your hearts thundering. Whether it was from the mission or close proximity to each other, you weren’t sure. Once clear, you moved back out into the hallway. Only a few steps later, you could hear more people approaching.

“Listen, darling,” Loki said. “You go ahead, I’ll hold them off.”

“But... Ok. Stay safe.”

“You too.”

You scurried off to your destination, hurrying to complete your task. Pulling the hard drive from your small bag, you plugged it in, tapping away at the computer. The sooner you were back with Loki, the better you would feel. Unfortunately, that meant you were paying more attention to what you were doing than keeping your presence a secret.

“Freeze,” a guard shouted as you cursed under your breath, quickly turning around and raising your hands. You became hyper aware of the gun pointed at your chest. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

Confidence is key, you reminded yourself, gulping. “The boss sent me to do a system update. You see, I’m supposed to be here to-”

“No. Actually, they are not,” a familiar, deep voice that used to bring you so much comfort cut you off. It felt like your heart shattered in your chest as Loki appeared in the doorway, sneering, followed by two official looking guys in suits. “In fact, they are moments away from turning you into SHIELD.”

“Loki,” you said, pain obvious in your voice. You almost thought you saw the hurt mirrored in his eyes, but it was gone in moments. “What are you doing?”

“I saw an opportunity, and I took it. I suppose you were wrong about me, after all, darling.” His lips curled into a malicious grin. “See, I am quite infamous around here, and they decided they would rather have me with them than against them. Ironic, is it not, that I came for a fake interview but they already wanted to hire me, anyway?”

“And what about me?”

“You? You are insignificant in all this. Merely a sidekick.” To anyone else, it would have sounded like an insult, but you caught on to his reference to your inside joke. A signal, you thought, that he wasn’t actually switching sides. Still, you wondered if you were looking for signs that weren’t there as a dagger appeared in his hands. “And I would be more than happy to take care of you myself.”

As Loki made ready to throw his weapon of choice, he mouthed one word to you. Scream. You decided to trust him and let one rip free from your lungs. Though he’d thrown his dagger, you didn’t feel any pain. Still, when you looked down, it looked as if had pierced your flesh, and your front appeared to be stained red with a dark sickly substance that could only be blood. That was when you understood; it was an illusion. Playing along, you fell the ground, gasping for air as if you truly were bleeding out.

“Loki. Loki, please,” you whimpered. Your acting seemed to catch him off guard, true fear flashing across his features before he regained composure. “Don’t do this.”

“It is too late. It is already done.”

Just when his hand met one of the official-looking men’s in a shake, he yanked them forward, throwing them into the guard that had caught you, who was in the middle of holstering his gun. You rolled to your bag and grabbed your own weapon, the one Loki had disguised when you went through security. You aimed it at the guard's shoulder, feeling an odd mix of satisfaction, horror, and disgust as the bullet made contact and he began bleeding. Loki was quick to finish them all off, leaving them unconscious on the ground as he rushed over to you.

“Darling,” he said, gripping your arms and pulling you from your state of shock. “We have to go; someone certainly heard all that, and backup will be on the way.”

You nodded, mouth too dry to speak. You pulled the hard drive from the computer, shoving it and your gun back into your bag, settling for whatever information had already been downloaded. Hands clasped together, you and Loki dashed out into the hall, only for another group of armed guards to yell for you to halt. You tried to retreat the other way, but it was the same story at that end of the hall.

“It is alright, darling,” Loki said, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “I am going to get you out of this.”

“I know. But don’t you dare sacrifice yourself,” you half threatened, half pleaded.

“We shall see.” You both began to to raise your hands up in surrender as the guards closed in. Loki turned his head to look at you and whispered, “On my word, duck.”

But before he could give the signal, a whirring came from your right. A flash of light later, most of the guards on that side were knocked down. Loki reacted immediately, putting up a shield as the group on the left began to fire. In tandem with a few powerful blasts of Loki’s magic, your savior from before finished off the rest of your attackers.

“Long time, no see, kid,” Tony’s voice said from inside his metal suit. “You too, Reindeer Games.”

“Stark,” was all Loki said in way of greeting, rolling his eyes.

“So you guys finally got here,” you smirked with a little laugh. “About time, old man.”

“Come on, is that any way to treat your hero?” he teased.

“If you’re done exchanging quips,” Clint said, coming around the corner, aiming an arrow at Loki, “Fury wants these two upstairs. Now.”

“Relax, we are going,” Loki said, nudging you forward. He dipped his head down to whisper to you as you walked. “Well, darling, I suppose this is it, our chance to prove my innocence. Though, knowing them, I would caution you to be prepared to run.”

“Well, with that attitude,” you tsked, interlocking your fingers. “You deserve a happy ending, Loki.”

“Oh, darling,” he chuckled.

You scrunched your nose. “What?”

He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I thought you knew; with you, I already have one.”

Once escorted outside the building, you were made to wait with a few guards constantly pointing their guns at you as the rest finished their sweep of the AIM base. It was scary, yes, but they hadn’t separated you from Loki, so it was more than bearable. Leaning against the wall, he kept playing with your intertwined fingers, both of you contemplating in silence. Every once in a while, Loki would whisper a sweet nothing in your ear, placing a kiss to your cheek or temple or head, letting you know everything would be alright.

You weren’t sure exactly how much time had elapsed before Tony came to collect you. He looked upset and exasperated, a combination that wasn’t exactly comforting given the current circumstances. You hoped it was just him being tired after the fight.

“I talked to Fury,” he told you as you walked. “I vouched for you, but he never really listens to me. I don’t really know how the future’s looking. Sorry, kid.”

“That’s ok, Tony,” you smiled, speaking truthfully. “I appreciate that you tried.”

“I am grateful, too,” Loki chimed in. As his eyes locked with Tony’s, it seemed they reached some kind of understanding. “It seems I have misjudged you, Stark.”

“Right back at you, Reindeer Games.”

You came to a stop in front of Thor and Director Fury. No one spoke for a moment, but you and Loki silently communicated by squeezing the other’s hand. Your heart was pounding so wildly, you wondered if it was about to reach its limit and burst. You took a deep breath as Fury opened his mouth to speak.

“Loki. Agent. I suppose you have a good reason for being here,” he said with a laugh that sounded more wry and mirthless than amused for you.

“Yes, actually,” you braved a reply. “We figured out this was AIM’s base. You’re welcome.”

“Even so, that doesn’t authorize you to break in. What if you had been wrong?”

“On the contrary,” Loki chimed in, “they let us in to the building of their own free will. Besides, we were right. You must know that; after all, no chains this time.”

“Yeah, that didn’t seem to be working too well. You're not Earth’s problem anymore, anyway. It’s time to go back home and face the consequences of your tantrum.”

“Wait. No, please,” you jumped in before you could think about it. “What I’ve been trying to tell you is right. New York isn’t his fault.”

“Then whose is it?”

“It’s...” you trailed off, realizing you never had gotten the full story. You threw Loki a desperate, pleading look.

He sighed. “It was the mad titan, Thanos. He controlled me with the mind stone and forced me to attack, told me to collect the tesseract for him.”

“Brother,” Thor said, furrowing his brow. “That is deeply troubling for all the nine realms. Why did you not tell me?”

“Because, brother, I could not live with the shame. You certainly would not have broken under any circumstances. But now I have my darling mortal to look out for, too, so I must come clean.”

“Loki, if there is one thing I know, you are not weak. Whatever he did, it must have been truly awful. And I believe it noble of you to protect your mortal love, for that is something I certainly understand.” Loki’s face burned a little at the fact Thor had so blatantly called you the trickster’s love. “I vow to have your charges on Asgard dropped, for you were not in your right mind. Or... perhaps not your mind at all. I am sorry, brother, for not being able to see so sooner.”

“You are forgiven, brother. And I too apologize for any wrong I may have done you and for not coming clean. I truly do not want any harm to come to this realm.”

“I believe you, brother. And can I trust his charges here on Midgard will be dropped too?” Thor asked, turning to Fury.

He mulled it over for a minute. “If we set some ground rules, I believe something can be worked out. I’m afraid that doesn’t excuse your actions, agent.”

You tried to come to your own defense, but Loki did it before you could. “Wait. They only wished to help me because they believed it was right. Certainly you cannot fault them for that. And, really, when you think of it, they have done a great service, whatever their methods. Stopping AIM, bringing me in, getting me to confess; truly impressive, you must admit.”

“See, that’s exactly my point,” Tony joined the conversation. “The kid did good.”

“Listen,” you said, finally getting a word in. “I understand that running off and doing this myself wasn’t the best decision ever, but no one was listening to me. And it’s like they said, you can’t argue with results. So please take that into account and, you know, maybe don’t lock me up?”

“You’re a hell of an agent,” Fury said. “So I will let it slide this time and drop the charges for you too. But on account of a series of stupid-ass decisions, I still have to fire you.”

“Thank you,” you nodded. “I understand.”

You shared a happy glance of victory with Loki. True, you’d always had hope for a happy ending floating around in your mind, but things had seemed pretty bleak there for a minute.

Fury pointed at you and Loki. “You two, off the property now. This is government business.”

“So long for now, kid,” Tony said as Loki and Thor shared a nod before parting.

Together, you and the raven haired God of Mischief walked toward your car. It seemed neither of you were exactly sure what to say. After all, you hadn’t really talked about what would come after all this.

“So what are you going to do next?” you finally asked, stopping in front of the vehicle’s door.

“Well, I do not think Asgard was ever really the place for me,” he replied as if he really had to think of it. You could tell he already knew, though. “Perhaps I can find somewhere to settle here on Midgard.”

“You know,” you replied, unable to control your grin, “it just so happens my apartment has room for two.”

“Then by all means,” he smiled, cupping your cheek. “Lead the way.”

Grabbing his shirt, you pulled him forward, meeting in a kiss. He responded immediately, once again communicating without speaking. You still didn’t know exactly why you had been drawn to him, but you would be forever grateful you’d listened to your gut. Because if there was one thing you had no doubt of, you were meant to be with Loki. And anyway, you were right; he was innocent. Well, mainly. The only crime this rebel was guilty of was stealing your heart. And now it was his to keep, always and forever.

[klvbxlove]

quietness (investigation team x gn! reader)

a/n: honestly, this drabble was not planned at all. but for the past days, i had been feeling really down, so i figured the best and easiest way to somehow vent (?) my feelings was making this drabble. also, i know it might not sound like this is actually an investigation team x reader, but i put that there just because. 

(damn, this is a really large GIF. but this is the only one i can find with all the investigation team members 😅)

reader type: gender neutral

reader specification(s): reader is an introvert

genre(s): angst

trigger warning(s): mentions of self-doubting thoughts, mentions of unworthiness

summary: a week ago, you left inaba for osaka without telling your friends, the investigation team. but before that you wrote them a letter talking about everything you’ve been feeling prior to moving.

word count: 1.3k words

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

key:

(f/n) = friend’s name (y/n) = your name

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

   To any one of you who reads this, 

   I will have to be completely honest. I didn’t want to tell you guys about what’s going on. But I felt like I just had to, but not over text. That’s why I will write this as a letter instead. 

   Just in case (F/N) hasn’t told you guys, I gave this letter to them the day I seemed to have vanished and asked them to keep it secret for a while. They would only be able to show it to one of you ONLY if you began wondering where I’ve gone. 

   So now that you’ve begun reading this, you’re probably curious. Where have I been? Why did I suddenly disappear without a trace?

   First and foremost, I’m not in danger. I’m perfectly safe, and so is my family. It’s just that I’m no longer living in Inaba anymore. A few weeks ago, one of my guardians got a new job near Osaka, and we had to move so they could be closer to the workplace. 

   But enough about that. I didn’t write this letter only to tell you where I’ve gone. I figured I could vent out my feelings to you guys and explain how I’ve been feeling lately for the past few months.

   See, when I had moved to Inaba a few months ago, I thought it would be a nice place to settle, especially since I’m an introvert. I mean, think about it. City life might sound a bit draining for someone like me, right? And I know many people here regard Inaba as a quiet place in the middle of nowhere, but I mean, I liked it! I did not hate living in the city or anything (It was nice at times, to be honest.), but I thought that living in a quieter area would also be good for me. 

   I had those thoughts just a few weeks after settling down here. And it took me less time to fully get comfortable. I mean, sure, it was a bit unusual to not hear many sounds in the town compared to the city, but I didn’t mind. It was nice! 

   But that’s where things took a not-so-great turn for me. For the next few months, I had been crying to sleep almost every night. Making sure to be as quiet as possible, I would sob non-stop in my pillow. And it would go up to the point where I just exhausted myself. At first, I thought that maybe it was just my emotions messing with me. It happens on a few occasions. I figured, if I just settle down with myself, I would feel better. That was just it, right? That I would be alright in a few days?

   Yeah, no. 

   My usual routine of crying every night became consistent. I’m not sure if anyone was able to tell, though. I mean, I did hide the fact that I was feeling down. Around people, I didn’t act overly happy, but I didn’t act depressed either. To put it simply, I was just fine. 

   Right then and there, that was when I realized that maybe Inaba is not the place for me. I appreciated the quiet this town has to offer (and of course, I would never hold a grudge against this rural area). However, I just hated the silence. I guess it was making me feel more alone than I used to be for some odd reason. And usually, I’m not that bothered about being alone. Yet lately, I just hated it. I hated being in my room in all this silence. 

   And I know I could have told you guys about my struggles. I am NOT trying to indicate that any of you would try to ignore me (or anyone else in our friend group, really) if I was crying out for help; I know you guys would never. There was just the fear of being a burden. I know you guys have days where you’re either busy or need to deal with other personal things. I would feel bad if I ever added more to your plate. And it was also why I was so quiet whenever we hung out. I had a gut feeling that whatever I said didn’t matter.

   Honestly, hearing about the fact that I was moving to Osaka, arguably one of the largest cities in Japan, did excite me a little bit. Maybe I was more accustomed to living in a city rather than a rural town. 

   Now that I got to say all of that, I wanted to say I’m sorry. 

   I know it seemed like I had no trust in you. 

   I know I wasn’t comfortable ranting or venting about anything to you. 

   I know I’ve been distant from you for the past weeks. 

   And I know I must have worried you when you thought I went missing.

   For everything I’ve mentioned here, I’m very, very sorry.   

   But then again, I feel like it wouldn’t make anything much better. I know you guys probably feel like I treated you as fake friends and that I was pushing myself away from you. Hell, I bet everyone is probably mad at me. You probably have no plans on forgiving me anytime soon. I understand.

   However, I also just wanted to thank you guys for being one of the best friend groups ever. I’m honestly a bit picky about the people I open up with, but you guys managed to break that wall. And for that, I am grateful. Maybe one day, I’ll talk to you guys again. And maybe, we can all hang out just like we used to. Only if you want me to, that is.

   But until then, goodbye.

   (Y/N). 

-

   It had officially been a week since you wrote that letter and gave it to (F/N). You had no idea if any of the Investigation Team members ever wondered where you went or if they cared at all. But chances are, they probably did not. After all, you were arguably one of the quietest members ever, so how were they supposed to know what you have been through before you moved?

   Sighing, you closed the book you were reading and walked over towards the window. While your new house was still a bit farther from the city, you could still see the tall buildings from afar. Night had settled down in Japan, and the sky was pitch black while illuminated by the stars. 

   If there was one thing you had missed about living in the city, it was the sounds that you heard during the night. Was it loud? No. But was it dead silent? Of course not! You could almost describe it as the Goldilocks zone. Osaka was not too loud nor too silent.

   After a small smile grew on your lips, you suddenly let out a yawn. It was time to sleep. You had a long day ahead of you tomorrow. So you closed the curtains of the window, walked over towards your bed, and crawled into it. From what you have noticed, you have not been crying every night as often as you used to back in Inaba. Sure, a few tears trickled here and there. But it was not up to the point where the only way you could fall asleep was by sobbing. 

   Osaka seemed to be the perfect place for you to live. You could only hope that your emotions will begin to improve now that you are in a city again. It was clear it was not going to happen overnight. That was for sure, but you would be patient. 

   Of course, you were sad that you were miles away from the Investigation Team. However, you hoped that they were doing well, wherever they were. 

   And you could not forget to mention that you stood by what you last said in your letter to them. Maybe one day you would have the courage to talk to them more often and hang out just like you used to.

[httpsaiki]

Campfires and Confessions (Kusuo Saiki x Reader)

Angsty at the start but ends off cute!  Reader is gender neutral in pronouns (as in no she/he) but it is slightly implied the reader is female in one small part.

WC: 1627

Italics are Kusuo “speaking�� aka telepathy.

In which the reader and friends are on a camping trip, but they convince themself that their feelings will not be reciprocated.

-----------------------------------------------------

You and your friend group had decided that going camping together would be a great idea this summer. That’s how you, 3 girls (being Teruhashi, Yumehara, and Mikoto) and 4 boys (being Nendou, Kaidou, Saiki, and Kuboyasu) ended up here, sitting around this campfire. Generally, you’d been having a wonderful time. All of you were somewhere that was free from regular day to day responsibilities and overbearing adult figures. It was rather nice, except for one small thing. 

Saiki Kusuo. One of your closest friends and incidentally also your crush. There had been many times you’d considered telling Saiki about how you felt but stopping yourself every time out of pure respect for his clear boundaries. Over the past couple of weeks, you started to realize maybe you weren't as close as you thought you were. You had begun to convince yourself you were nothing more than a bother for Saiki and had contemplated distancing yourself from him. Would it be better for him? Would it make him happy for you to give him the space you felt he desired so badly?

Ultimately, you decided it would be better to leave him alone. The very last thing you wanted was to cause any further trouble for Saiki and you knew that more than anything he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. It wouldn’t be easy, considering how close you thought you had become but you knew you’d be able to manage. You had all your other wonderful friends with you and this may be a great chance to get even closer with some of them. What’s a better way to bond than being stuck in the wilderness for a week? 

You had been zoned out for a while now and were surprised to see Teruhashi’s hand waving in front of your face. 

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Teruhashi asked you, a rather clear worried expression on her face. 

“Yeah! I’m fine.” You managed to get out unphased. Thankfully, the worried expression was wiped off of her face and was replaced with a gorgeous, glowing smile. 

“I’m glad, Y/N! Anyways, we were talking about heading back to our tents for the night, but some of the boys are staying out. Are you coming?” 

Thinking for a moment about her question, you glanced over at where Saiki was sitting, trying to deduce if he’d be heading in for the night too. Seeing that he was getting ready to pack up, you decided you were in the clear to stay out longer. 

“I think I’ll be staying out a little longer. I’d like to chat!” You said eagerly in reply. 

“Alright, Y/N. Just don’t stay out too late, okay? Good night!” 

“Goodnight, Teruhashi!” 

Moving your gaze towards whoever had chosen to stay outside, you see only Kuboyasu and Kaidou. They would be fun to talk to. The three of you talked about nothing and everything until the sun had fully set and countless stars painted the deep night sky. You decided to ask about Saiki. They were rather close to him, and you trusted them enough not to tattle. 

“I have a weird question. It’s about Saiki.” You tested the waters with that. If they didn’t react too well, you’d just ask something unimportant like his favourite sweets, or manga series. 

“What’s up Y/N?” Kuboyasu was quick to reply, obviously curious as to what you wanted to know. Kaidou also tilted his head out of curiosity.

“Well… do you know if Saiki likes anyone?” 

Kaidou was even faster to jump in. 

“I can’t say for sure, as he doesn’t express… much emotion. I’m not sure.”

The small look of victory on your face gave everything you felt towards Saiki away to the two boys in front of you. Maybe you did have some chance. Kuboyasu smirked at you, promising that he and Kaidou would keep quiet about your little crush. 

Finally getting tired, and rather satisfied with what you had learned tonight, you said your goodnights to Kuboyasu and Kaidou who promptly did the same. You quietly made your way into your shared tent with Teruhashi, seeing her already fast asleep. Settling in for the night, it wasn’t long before you fell asleep too. 

The next morning you were one of the first awake. Climbing out of the tent, you were greeted by none other than Nendou and Yumehara. The two of them were busy cooking breakfast for the group, something you were extremely thankful for. 

Once everyone was awake and had eaten, you all left for a hike up the trail that was near your campsite. The walk was nice, and it was a good time being with your friends. You were lucky enough to end up walking next to Mikoto and Yumehara at some points, actually having a nice time with her. You had forgotten how well the three of you got along. Nevertheless, you still managed to avoid Saiki. 

Meanwhile, during all of this, your thoughts were becoming unbearable to Saiki. He knew why you weren’t talking to him, but it didn’t mean a little part of him didn’t miss your company. Saiki was surprised to realize he couldn’t stand knowing you thought he disliked you or was picking someone else over you. It wasn’t the case, at all. It had taken his all not to telepathically tell you you’re wrong and he wanted you to come to talk to him. He knew he had to do something about it himself.

Walking up to you, he said he knew you’d been dodging him and asked you to meet him by the lake that evening when most of the group had turned in for the night. 

Surprised by Saiki’s sudden looming presence over your shoulder, you hesitantly agreed to meet him there tonight. A part of you was excited, not knowing what caused him to suddenly ask you that. Another part of you was filled with doubt. You had no idea what he wanted you for. Was it possible he was mad at you? For a split second, you considered not going. Then the rational part of you took over, this is Saiki we’re talking about, and suddenly you were nearly certain he wouldn’t pull you aside to yell at you. You made up your mind, you were going to meet Saiki by the lake tonight. 

Once night arrived, you quietly headed out towards the nearby river. As soon as you found it, you spotted Saiki, sitting on a picnic blanket, with a basket beside him. It was quite the sight to behold, Saiki was rather pretty, seemingly shining from the moonlight that wrapped around his shape.

And so was the scenery. The lake was serene, peaceful in every sense of the word. The moon and glowing stars reflected perfectly in the still water, with nothing daring to disturb the perfect atmosphere. It was stunning, and in any case, you were mesmerized by the seemingly glowing lake in front of you. 

Silently, you sat down beside Saiki, only for him to start talking right away. 

“Y/N. Listen. I know this is going to be a lot, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

This was worrying. Was he okay? You looked at him with a worried expression painted on your face, 

“What is it, Saiki?”

He took in air, clearly nervous. This was out of character for him. 

“I’m a psychic. I have many abilities, ones I won’t get into right now as there is one I need to tell you about. I can read minds… I constantly hear thoughts telepathically, including yours.”

Oh. Oh no. This wasn’t good. So he knew? Is that what this was about? Feeling the panic rush over you, you closed your eyes and hid your face as you started tearing up. You had no idea how to react. You’d never been more certain Saiki hates you.

“I like you too.”

Your head shot up immediately. Saiki.. felt the same way? Despite everything, he didn’t dislike you? He wasn’t annoyed by you? Even though he knew what you were thinking that whole time?

“Far from it. I do like you.” Saiki said, reaching to rub your back and help calm you down. 

“I can’t believe this...” You were practically shaking from shock. You were happy, despite knowing he could read your thoughts this whole time. If it couldn’t be helped then you supposed you’d have to accept it. Though, both you and Saiki were surprised at how easily you accepted his powers. He was still Saiki, after all. Nothing had changed that, nor would it ever. 

“I should ask to be official, Y/N, will you go out with me?”

“I think you already know the answer to that. Yes, of course, I will.” You were surprised by how calm and steady your voice was.

“I apologize I never said anything sooner. I didn’t want to give myself away.”

“Oh, Saiki, I understand. You don’t need to be sorry.”

“I know it was only a few days, I missed you.”

You smiled at him, “I missed you too.”

Saiki slid over towards you, adjusting his body so you could place your head on his shoulder. Which you did, and he placed his head on yours. Opening the picnic basket that had been long forgotten, you and Saiki enjoyed a nighttime snack sitting out by the gorgeous lake. 

“So... you’re a psychic? Will you show me what you can do?”

Saiki couldn’t believe what he was about to say. Good grief, you brought out the best in him. Not that he minded. He was glad you accepted him, and he trusted you enough to keep his secret. He looked over at you and gave a small smile. 

“Gladly.”

[solarwonux]

prince!mingyu x princess!reader

w.c: 2.2k

warnings: angst, just a lot of it. 

note: I KNOW YOU WANTED BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS BUT IT TOOK A TURN AND NOW I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THE CONSEQUENCES. I’M SORRY. anyway I hope you enjoy please please please let me know your thoughts .xx

masterlist || drabble game

Mingyu’s hand was intertwined tightly with yours as he led you further down the hallway of the palace. Away from the boisterous ballroom and the familiar low murmur of gossip and loud laughter of Kings and Queens, Princes and Princesses from all around the Kingdom.

It was the annual ball Mingyu’s parents—the King and Queen held a month after Mingyu’s birth. It was the one out of the two times a year where you got to see the tall handsome Prince, with now freshly teal dyed hair. A rebellious act on his part just to get under his parent’s skin. This is how he always was; his mischievous ways always gave you a certain rush of adrenaline, keeping you on the edge of excitement. The one in which you feared simply because if you hadn’t befriended the boy with the toy sword who went around challenging every single palace official he could spot within the limit of his parent’s ballroom; you wouldn’t be where you were now. With his fingers encased between the empty spots between your fingers as he took long strides down towards the forbidden ballroom the King and Queen always warned about. 

“Slow down Mingyu, I don’t have freakishly long legs like you.” You gripped the train of your off-white dress that oddly resembled a wedding dress. The thought alone made your heart race, simply because according to your mother, you were running out of time and needed to be wedded off soon. You figured that was the only reason for the way your dress looked, to give off the illusion of what you would like as a bride to the Kings and Queens that attended the annual ball looking for possible suitors for their offspring’s or in some cases themselves. Yet despite all that, the only person you ever wanted to spend the remainder of your life was with the boy who had stolen you away to chaos havoc around the dark corners of his castle one summer when the two of you had turned nine. The same one who was leading you away from the tiresome crowd, and the one who was already engaged to someone else. A Princess whose family was far better off than yours and checked off all the boxes in the eyes of the king and queen.

“You wouldn’t be having such a problem keeping up if you would’ve just grown a little more after I told you too.” The teasing tone wrapped ever so evidently around his vocal cords, hinting to the summer night a few years ago when the two of you had tried sneaking off into town together. But when you had failed to jump the fence after him, ripping your favorite dress in the process and getting caught by palace officials. He had expressed through gritted teeth and an angry gaze that the two of you would have been frolicking through town instead of getting lectured by both sets of parents if you had only been a little taller and not worn a dress. 

“Yes, I’m sorry your majesty next time I’ll let my gene pool know about your request.”  You huffed obviously annoyed. Clearly, Mingyu found it entertaining because instead of combating your comment with another teasing one of his he just stopped walking and let out a boyish laugh, causing you to trip and bump into the side of his body. “You’re annoying Mingyu.” You tore your hand away from his and crossed both your arms in front of your body. The gesture alone would’ve been followed by a lecture if your mother had been there to witness it. It was unladylike but who were you to care if it was or wasn’t. The only one you wanted and cared to impress already had his eyes locked on someone else. 

“Princess, are you…flirting with me because if so can’t say I’m impressed. Pretty disappointed actually.” He tsked shaking his head as he backed up against the familiar forbidden set of double doors.  You were panicked and looked around quickly to see if anyone was in sight, but to your surprise you and Mingyu were truly alone for the first time since sundown. “You would think that after years of knowing me, you would find me endearing instead of annoying, can’t say I’m not hurt by your indifference.” His hand moved slowly to the rustic gold handles and with a smirk followed up by a cheeky wink he opened them. The cold air from the untouched room folding over your lace trim covered arms. 

“Mingyu what the fuck are you doing, if they find us, we will never hear the end of it.” You yelled lowly. This had been a familiar sight during the years of your friendship. The two of you always found yourselves in front of the infamous double doors, hands itching to open them to reveal what was hiding behind. To finally see what the King and Queen were so adamant about keeping a secret. Each time you had been caught, lectured until the voices of his parents grew hoarse, while your parents begged them to spare your life. It had gotten to the point in which the two of you weren’t allowed to be alone anymore. The few times in which you found yourselves alone, there was always a palace guard inconspicuously watching from afar. 

“A Princess shouldn’t be speaking that way,” he opened the door widely, revealing a dark room where the only light known was the one that belonged to the moon as it filtered in through the skylight. The setting far too intimate for a relationship of your kind. Though, before you could protest and suggest going back to tiresome ball to listen to the same round of gossip for the umpteenth time, he grabbed your arm, dragged you inside and shut the door faster than you could form the words, “and we would only be caught if we stay outside. Now that we’re inside no one will ever know.” He whispered, the low vibrato of his voice sent shivers down your spine, and you thanked all your precious Gods for the limited lighting you found yourself facing. 

“Can I ask why we are here then?” You said, the famous rush of gut-wrenching adrenaline you only felt with Mingyu, returned. Instead of answering your million dollar question he simply shrugged and walked back, entering the faint spotlight supplied by the moon. As you looked around there wasn’t much to the ballroom, it was far smaller than the one you were used to spending time it, but it had a variety of glass sculptures that sparkled underneath the light of the moon slowly bringing them to life. Finally, you understood why this room was off limits. It wept with vulnerability so beautiful it took your breath away. 

“Care to share a dance with me?” Mingyu all but whispered holding his hand out inviting you in. Though, you had known the reckless prince for the entirety of your life. Never once did the two of you share a dance. It was an ongoing joke between the two of you that dances were only reserved for people you never wanted to see again. It made you wonder if this was Mingyu’s way of finally letting you go. To which you understood even though it brought an ache to your heart so awful that you would rather have someone cut it out completely. Somehow you had convinced yourself that hurt less then actually saying goodbye to the one person you had ever grown to love. 

After tonight, the secret trips into town would stop. The letters that shared equal amounts of adoration and frustration would stop. And the mystery of what was inside the forbidden ballroom would stop as well, because now you finally knew enough to be able to close the chapter you had kept opened for years. “Y-Yes.” You cleared your throat and pushed yourself away from your spot against the doors and slowly made your way to Mingyu. “There’s no music playing though.” You added once you were finally in front of him. It wasn’t entirely the truth, the faint melodies coming from the ballroom could still be heard as they bled through the dark walls of the ballroom. 

“Where is the rule book that says that you need music in order to dance?” He said wiggling the fingers of his extended hand as a sign that he was waiting for you to take it. “Even if such one exists; I wouldn’t care enough to read it. So just share a dance with me tonight, away from all the stares and all the whispers…but here…alone in the room where I’m meant to share my first dance with my wife.” 

“T-Then shouldn’t you save this moment for when it comes, why waste it on me?” You swallowed the thick lump that had formed at the base of your throat. It made sense why this room was off limits and it wasn’t because of how delicate it looked on the outside. It was meant to be shared between a husband and wife, and clearly not between childhood friends. With one suffering from unrequited love. 

Mingyu smiled a sad smile and it plucked your heartstrings creating a soft melody that longed for the times in which the two of you had no care for the world around your shared bubble. He grabbed your hand gently and intertwined your fingers together reeling you in and resting his hand against your lower back. “Your hands look so little compared to mind.” He deflected staring sweetly at your hand locked in his. You watched as he shook his head before lifting it, getting deeply lost in your eyes and he silently wondered if your heart was also beating ten times faster than it usually did. 

“I-I think we should go Mingyu, we shouldn’t be in here let alone toge—” 

“There’s no other person I would rather be in here with than you. I’ve always wanted you to be the one to enter this room with me. Where I can create such an intimate memory one no can take away from me no matter how hard they try to keep up as away from each other. I knew when I met you back when we were kids that I would always love you, but I also knew that my parents would never want you to be by my side when it came to ruling this kingdom. You challenge their views the only ones they have ever known, and it scares them, but their fear will never stop me from wanting you. I already failed once, obviously, but this time I’m not baking up. I’m going to fight for you and your heart even if it means leaving everything I have ever know behind.”

The only time you had ever heard such unfiltered determination in his voice was when the two of you were fifteen. After you had been caught having an unprompted picnic in his mother’s rose garden. 

“Don’t think about doing anything stupid Mingyu.” You blinked slowly. You were slow to process his confession because it was everything you had longed to hear. But you also had to make sure that you were in fact here and that it wasn’t your mind playing some sort of cruel joke on you because you had had two flutes of champagne and anything was possible.

“Leave your room open tonight, I have bribed some guards into secrecy, and we can leave tonight. Just you and me just like we’ve always talked about.” He rested his forehead against yours, holding you as close as your dress allowed him. His ears were as red as bricks and you knew that although he was determined to leave everything behind, he was also scared.

“Mingyu.” You sighed and pushed him away, creating enough space between the two of you, a frown forming along his usual soft features. “We can’t, I can’t let you do this. This isn’t some fairytale your mother used to read to you before bed. This is your life and my life on the line. If they find us do you think they’ll greet us back with open arms?” You reasoned backing away from him and the center of the room. Away from the moonlight and into the dark. 

“Who cares, they shouldn’t be able to keep us from loving each other. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and if that means living this hell hole, I’ve been so unfortunate enough to be born into then I will and I want you to be by my side.” 

“Mingyu, I can’t I’m so sorry.” You continued to move before your back hit the doors, the ridges digging into your back as your hand blindly looked for the handle. You were about to do the one thing you never thought to do. Sacrifice the many years of friendship that had blossomed between the two of you. You were about to break two hearts instead of one all because his safety was more important to you rather then your own happiness. 

“Why not?” He took a step forward and into the darkness. He was approaching you faster than you could have ever imagined, and you opened the door in a haste causing him to stop walking all together. Your grip on the door handle was so hard that your hand had started to grow numb. It took every last fiber of your being to not close it again and kiss him like you had always dreamed, but this wasn’t a dream . It was reality, and your reality was never meant to have a happy ending. 

“I just d-don’t love you, your majesty.”