#like. At least Ben apologizes to Locke at the end of the show

[fahclove]

Lost is one of those shows that ask the important questions, like “Would you kill baby Hitler?” and answers that with a resounding “Yes.”

[velunas]

can you do some nsfw five headcanons? thanksss

aw hell yea man. i want aidan gallagher so bad it’s criminal i need to be locked up in horny jail !! (surprise surprise i like another white man)

five hargreeves nsfw headcanons

tw: smut !! mdni plz xoxo 💋

ngl it took him a WHILE to stop cumming so quick after the two of u had sex for the first time. dude was alone for like 50 years with nothing but a mannequin and his left hand ok cut him some slack

but trust me when i say he always made up for it. if he’s cumming after 5 minutes he’s making u cum at LEAST two times that night (more for himself than for you bc busting so quick damaged his ego a bit)

had never eaten pussy before you so he was super hesitant going into it at first, even though he didn’t act like it

probably spent a few minutes exploring what you had down there before rlly going to town on you

picks up on things very quickly bc he’s so smart so it was easy for him to figure out what you liked and didn’t like

is able to make you cum the first time he goes down on you and will never forget it (huge ego boost)

blowjobs are one of his favorite things in the world, second only to actual sex with you

he’s heard his brothers talk about sex in passing but brushed it off as some stupid superficial thing they were obsessed with

but oh man after the first time you two do it he wants it all the time

for the first few months he’s practically insatiable, which is so far from his normally calm and collected persona

after a while, he’s able to control himself more. it becomes less of an addiction and more of a luxury to him

but don’t get me wrong, just because he doesn’t need it every day doesn’t mean he doesn’t need it often

he considers it the perfect way to unwind from a long and stressful day

or the best way to apologize after upsetting you

prefers using his fingers over his mouth on you because he gets a better view of your face and how good he’s making you feel

he gets super possessive sometimes (especially when he’s drunk) so he will occasionally leave dark bruises on your neck, just below your collar. easy enough to cover up but easy to show off as well

doesn’t like hickies on himself but appreciates scratches on his back from time to time

doesnt talk about your sex life with his siblings, but it’s clear by the way he relaxes around them more after the two of you get together that he’s getting that ‘good good’ (direct quote from diego said to a disgusted allison)

keeps his hair long because he likes when you tug it

favorite position is missionary bc he’s a classic man what can i say. he loves that he can see your entire body and your face all at the same time

however you on top is something he’ll never refuse

pls just top him every once and a while he’s so tired from saving the world thrice and taking care of his siblings and murdering people… he needs a break !

is always so hesitant to relinquish control to you but he knows he always enjoys himself in the end

doesn’t usually get into ‘roles’ during sex but he prefers being the one to call the shots

if ur able to get him to sub be prepared bc he’s a mouthy little brat

probably likes being slapped around a lil bit i can’t lie

is a secret sucker for soft romantic sex (but he saves that for special occasions like anniversaries and birthdays)

he’ll cradle your face and whisper how pretty you are and press gentle kisses to your cheeks. he’ll even hold ur hand the whole time!!

ok last addition but i feel like when he gets super drunk he’ll accidentally spill the beans about your sex life to klaus and ben and now ben can’t look at him or you the same without remembering that five told him you swallow LMAO

[princesspastel8]

Chapter 72

Third POV

It's now the end of Feburary. A lot of things have taken place. The first is Slenderman's punishment on Nina. It was brutal, to say the least, but much deserved. Yes, she was put into the white room, but under went intense shock therapy. Slenderman needed to destroy her obsession with Jeff or something like before would happen again.

With Nina out of the way, Eboni spent more time in the livingroom- trying to get accustomed to other proxies. This is her new home, after all, and she can't spend it locked away in Jeff's room - much to his dismay. Oddly enough, Eboni was given a chance to apologize to Helen. He just so happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

The two talked about many things, and a few proxies found it odd how talkative Helen would suddenly become when in Eboni's presence. Most thought he had fallen for the girl, but in reality, she was just his new muse. He has been lacking in inspiration, wanting to draw but having no motivation to do so. So when he first laid eyes on Eboni & Jeff, inspiration struck.

He enjoys observing their relationship, catching the way they'd look at one another within his art pieces. Of course, he would draw them without their knowledge until he randomly decided to give Eboni a beautiful pencil drawing of herself on the day before Valentine's Day and before the Valentine's Day party.

Jeff was pissed, seriously pissed. His anger only grew when Eboni tried to step in between the two before a fight broke out. He couldn't understand that the only thing the Bloody Panther felt towards Eboni was admiration. He felt comfortable around her. He could open up to her a bit and even ask for advice about certain things.

In fact, Eboni found out that the poor neutral faced painter is hopelessly in love with another proxy who has been gone on a year-long mission. This proxy is known as 'Judge Angel'. She went through his sketch book, noticing so many drawings of this one girl. She found it cute.

So, what are the odds that she randomly shows up right before the Valentine's Day party? Eboni had spent the first week and a half of February trying to play matchmaker. Jeff had no idea and just assumed she was losing interest in him. Long story short, Eboni learned not to test his patience once again - not that she didn't enjoy every minute of that fuck.

They did indeed have a party of their own all night long.

But Eboni's work did pay off. The next day, she witnessed Judge Angel showering Helen with kisses. The sight of his blushing yet blank face was memorable. Another match making attempt took place with Eyeless Jack & Ani the Wight. The poor ghost girl had an obvious crush on EJ. It became so painfully obvious that most proxies would shit on him for not noticing it.

But he did. He noticed. EJ isn't that stupid like BEN. He has strong feelings for the girl, but his moral code to only love one is keeping him from moving forward. But once again, thanks to Eboni, she's able to knock some sense into him. Leave his past in the past and finally live his new life to the fullest until his very last breath. Those words were enough to snap EJ out of it and make a bold move on the girl.

Now, currently, the group is in the livingroom- snacking on junk food while watching the boys shout and argue over if BEN cheated or not. Jeff is glaring daggers at the link demon, close to shanking him.

"Look you fucker, just admit you cheated and I won't rip your fucking eyes out!" Jeff shouts.

BEN quickly floats up, flipping Jeff off. "I didn't cheat! You just suck ass!"

"No...no BEN, I'm with Jeff here. You rigged this whole fucking game." EJ grumbles, tossing the controller to the side.

"Or maybe you all are just sore losers." Judge Angel, also known as Dina, said - snickering a bit.

"Not true....I never got a hit in against him." Helen said, voice flat but eyes showing frustration.

Eboni giggles, leaning forward to try and calm Jeff down. "I told you, no one wins against BEN in street fighters."

"But I can kick his ass at wii bowling! This shit is obviously rigged!" Jeff exclaims, pulling out his knife and stands to try and reach up to BEN.

"You're just a sore loser you dickhead!" BEN shouts, sticking his tongue out and flips him off again.

EJ at this point stands, moving up on the couch for a better chance to catch him. "I'll start at his ankles."

"And I'll go for his fucking throat!"

Ani watches, just a bundle of nerves. "Uh...you guys it's not that serious. You could get in trouble."

"Oh, don't ruin the fun. I doubt slenderman would punish them too badly for rough housing." Eboni shrugs, pulling out her phone to record it.

But before she can, Kate steps down the stairs, arms crossed over her chest. Everyone freezes, staring at the girl. She looks at Eboni & Jeff before speaking, "Slenderman is requesting you two in his office."

The couple share a look of annoyance, rolling their eyes as they follow Kate to the elevator. Once on the top floor, Kate leads them to his office - knocking on his door. The woman waits for an answer, opening the door once it's given. Kate steps out of the way, allowing the two to enter.

But once inside, the two share a look - shaking their heads and bolting out of the room. At this, Slenderman sends two tendrils out - dragging the two back into his office. He sends Kate away, keeping the two caged within his tendrils.

"Stop this foolish behavior."

"I'm not working with a blonde bimbo!"

"And a dude with a male superiority complex." Eboni huffs, rolling her eyes.

The faceless creature sighs, shaking his head. "I made myself clear, to you specifically Eboni, that the both of you will learn teamwork - even if it's with the ones you hate most."

Taylor and Masky haven't spoken a word, nor did they flinch at seeing Eboni & Jeff - both wearing their own porcelain mask. They both roll their eyes, scoffing. Two worthless people trying to seek fatherly validation from a manipulative faceless ceature.

"This is bullsh- ugh! Alright, alright, I get it! Just loosen your squid arm!" Jeff shouts.

Slender lowers them down, calling his tendrils back. He points to the files laid out on his desk, motioning for them to get and look over. Eboni goes first, opening her file - Jeff following suit. Both of them frown, looking at the faceless creature.

".....more gang members? Seriously?" Jeff grumbles, staring at the picture of his targets. A group of three.

Eboni sighs, also given three different gang members. She can only assume Taylor and Masky have similar targets. The girl raises a brow at Slenderman after reading more details within the flies. "And you want this finished... before midnight?"

Slenderman nods his head. "They're easy targets. It's been brought to my attention by the blue haired witch that Zalgo is controlling this gang from the inside out, forming his own army to try and take me down. The quicker we lower his numbers, our chances of winning increases. Understand?"

Eboni is the only one who now takes this more seriously. Anything involving Zalgo is enough to change her mood. Jeff, on the other hand, feels anxious. Just his name, Zalgo, sends his nerves into overdrive. He glances at Eboni, grabbing her hand.

"Alright, octopus." Jeff states flatly, roughly tugging Eboni out of the room - Masky & Taylor following behind.

Eboni frowns, noticing his shift in mood. "Jeff, what's the issue?"

"Just want to get this shit over with as soon as possible." He says, his voice giving away how on edge he is.

Eboni doesn't question him, at least not when her two most hated people are standing right behind her. Jeff presses the down button to the elevator, stepping inside and keeping Eboni close. Masky presses the lobby button, grabbing Taylor's hand into his own. The blonde flinches at first but relaxes either way.

Once the doors open, loud shouts can be heard right away. Masky drags Taylor to the front door, slamming it behind themselves. Eboni scoffs, rolling her eyes- everyone watching them walk to the front door.

"What's going on?" EJ asks, looking away from the TV - giving BEN the chance to beat him again.

"The faceless bitch thought it'll be a great idea to teach us 'team work'." Jeff said mockingly.

"....he's making you work...with them?" BEN asks before EJ smacks him upside his head for cheating again.

"Yeah... but we all have three separate targets. I don't see how this is teamwork when we'll have to focus on our kills.", Eboni shrugs. "Its a closer step to taking down Zalgo, so I'll put up with them for one night."

The room grows tense, everyone aware of Jeff's uneasiness from the mention of Zalgo. The smiling killer has indeed grown paranoid. He didn't want to risk putting Eboni's life in danger. He couldn't. Everyone has tried to push Eboni's curse within the back of their heads, yet it still lingers whenever the demon lord is mentioned. Everyone has grown attached to Eboni. She somehow makes the mansion for lively. Without her presence, bright smile, and daring attitude- the mansion would return to its dullness.

"Anyways, I'll cook up something once I'm ba-"

"No, you're not. We're gonna shower and go straight to bed." Jeff corrects.

Eboni rolls her eyes, mumbling under her breath.

Jeff opens the door, turning around to raise a brow. "Say that again, princess, a bit louder for me." He dares.

Eboni pouts, shaking her head. "....nothing, Daddy."

He grins, leaning down to steal a quick kiss while closing the door behind themselves. He leans down to whisper in her ear, "Good girl. Now let's get this night over with."

The four of them walk through the woods in silence, Jeff still keeping Eboni close. Eboni looks at Jeff, gripping his hand. He raises a brow, tilting his head. "I'm gonna be okay..." she whispers.

Jeff smiles, about to say something, but Taylor beats her to it. "Yeah fuckin' righ'."

"Masky, you better -"

Masky grips the back of Taylor's hair, whispering something in her ear that makes her lower her head in shame. This sparks Eboni curiosity. "I won't be okay? Says the one who didn't even have the guts to kill her abusive junkie mother."

Taylor whips her head around, glaring daggers at Eboni but doesn't say a word. "Cat, got your tongue?" She giggles, shaking her head.

"Look. How about we all shut the fuck up- yeah? The sooner we end this shit the quicker we'll be out of each other's sight." Masky tries to reason, growing annoyed.

"Still trying to work your way back into being Slenderman's favorite? Tch, pathetic." Jeff snickers.

It's Masky's turn to snap, but Taylor yanks his ear, pulling him along. It didn't take long for the four to reach the skate park where all of their victims are. Masky made an odd hand motion that Eboni didn't understand, but Jeff does. The smiling killer guides Eboni to the other side of the woods, picking up a small rock and throwing it ahead of them.

The girls look towards their direction, a bit shaken. Most of the girls egg on two other girls to go look, calling them names to add to the pressure. Surprisingly, both girls go to investigate, both girls also being one of Eboni & Jeff's target. The two share a look, their smiles turning wicked.

This would be Eboni's first victim besides her family. Her first victim she has zero attachment to. This is going to be fun. So the two hide behind a tree, waiting for the girls to get closer. Once close, each reach out to their respective victims, placing their hands over their mouths.

The girls are pretty weak, so its easy to overpower them. Eboni pins her first target to the ground, placing her custom blade to her throat and slits it - watching the girl choke on her own blood, life quickly fading from her eyes. Eboni's smile grows, having no idea how much she would enjoy this.

Jeff, on the other hand, takes his time, stabbing his victim repeatedly until she stops fighting back. Two down, four more left to go. Masky goes for a different tactic, making Taylor scream. Two of his targets and one of Taylor's rush towards the other side of the woods, thinking their friend is in danger.

Masky easily takes down his targets with a quick blow to their heads with his crowbar, but Taylor is...struggling. Eboni & Jeff aren't close enough to see, but a scream is enough to alert them on what could be happening. As that scream is heard, their targets begin to scatter. Jeff sighs heavily, jumping out of the woods and stabbing the first girl he gets his hands on, slitting her throat.

"That useless bitch- princess! There's two coming towards your right!"

Eboni already takes down the first one, thanks to her staying hidden- but she has to chase after the other. Once she catches her, Eboni jumps onto the girl- beating her to the ground. She raises her knife, stabbing the girl straight in her heart - twisting the blade.

Masky ends up taking out Taylor's target but is out numbered by four other girls. He looks over at Taylor, shouting at her to snap out of it - but she doesn't, standing their trembling. Eboni rushes over, as did Jeff, tackling two girls to the ground. Both of them stab them to death, giving Masky a chance to knock two other girls to the ground- smashing their skulls in.

Ten down. Two more to go, but they're nowhere to be seen.

Jeff stands, glaring at Taylor. "What the fuck!?"

Eboni stands, frowning at Taylor. Masky walks over, shaking Taylor out of her trance. "And I thought you were ready for this."

"I...I-I.."

"Don't bother. Get your shit together, blondie. We got two more to kill."

"I saw the other two run east towards the mansion." Eboni explains.

Jeff nods, walking towards the direction of the mansion. "Then let's go. I swear if that faceless fucker chews up my ass over that bimbo's mistake- imma lose it."

Eboni giggles, following behind Jeff while Masky drags Taylor along - mumbling curses. Jeff & Eboni keep an eye out, hearing for anything out of the ordinary. Then they hear a twig snap. Jeff grins, slowly approaching where the sound came from. He notices the second girl trembling behind a short yet wide tree.

The smiling killer laughs, quickly snatching the girl before she can run off again. "Well, you made this too easy." Jeff said as he repeatedly stabs the girl to death....not noticing the second girl up in the tree.

But Eboni does. Her eyes widen, rushing over to Jeff after hearing the sound of a gun clocking. Masky too rushes forward, realizing this was a trap. How could they have miscalculated this so poorly?

Masky doesn't make it in time, but Eboni did.

"Jeff!" She shouts, quickly pushing Jeff out of shooting range.

The smiling killer stumbles back, looking at Eboni questioningly - but when he figures out why she pushed him, it's far too late.

"I'm sor-"

BANG!

[cookie-crumblr]

Corrupted Feathers

Part 1~

F!Reader X Zachriel ~ Angel OC

His Info: ⛅️📯✨

Part 1 2

!!MINORS DNI!!

CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! DARK FIC, reader has a vagina, swearing, pet names, worship(religious themes), NON CON, p in v, creampie,

!!MINORS DNI!!

Maybe it was the right time and the right place, with the right type of person…

Maybe it really was some kind of cosmic destiny.

whatever it was, you are now the target of a soon to be ex guardian angel.

Zachriel is a beautiful, glorious being, that has existed for centuries, millennia even.

They have 6 pairs of gorgeous white feathered wings spouting from different parts of their body.

Their eyes have never once strayed from their focus, their known purpose…

Until you.

The first time you see them, he appears as a man, even trying to blend in with mortals, you can see that the sunlight circles atop his perfect head and glistens, proving to anyone he’s the blessed being he’s trying to hide.

Some secretes you can’t keep.

As that halo, there’s something else about him that tips you off.

Once he shows you his wings, they’re pure white…

The third time you lay your eyes upon them, they have a feather stained crimson.

You offer to help, clean it…

Maybe he’s bleeding, you think…

But the red stain won’t clean…

This is your new life…

Present~

You kiss your boyfriend of a few years on his cheek before he steps out the door for work. “Love you Ben! good luck today, hon!”

He smiles back, “Love you too sweetie, have a good day, don’t miss me too much!” With that, he takes his leave and you lock the door behind him.

You sigh contently, you’ve never known a peace like this.

He makes your once horrible life so easy and pleasant. You have recovered with him. He supports you.

Zachriel has never strayed this far from Ben, their current charge…

But Zach can no longer stand living with you vicariously through him. He can no longer stand him.

They can no longer stand seeing you smile and make love to him.

pretending your making love to them instead.

Zach wants you.

Zach needs you.

And he’ll have you. He’ll worship you and craft you into the new goddess that he knows in his very being that you are.

His goddess.

That is why he’s left Ben to his own devices for the first time since his birth.

Poor, blessed Ben. Never knowing hardships thanks to his protector, his all powerful, most holy guide.

He’ll know now.

He’ll never know the pain you endured, but he’ll at least know a couple hardships before his pitiful end.

And Zach will see to that personally.

Zach sculpted his body into the perfect vision, your dream human, just for you. He made his skin the perfect shade, his hair flawlessly tousled the way you’ve always gravitated toward, his eyes what will make you swoon, forever losing yourself in. He gave himself the perfect skills, the perfect appendages, and body type you cannot resist.

He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and far more than you’d ever ask for.

More than you’ve ever dreamed of.

And now that perfect being stands before you, in your bedroom in front of your open window.

Lace curtains flutter around him, and the sun surrounds him warmly as if it gave up its sedentary station in the center and now revolves around him.

You back up, eyes wide, and trip over the ottoman in front of your bed.

“W-what do you w-want?! please! we don’t have much to take!! I’ll give you any money we have! Please d-don’t hurt me!” your eyes begin to water.

“Do you not like what you see, Y/N?” he asks,

“I know you are frightened now, but you will learn to accept me,” his voice is heavenly, it sounds almost song like as it drifts to your ears.

“W-what?” your confusion shows on your face, “H-how do you know my name?”

“Y/N, I apologize for the nature of this meeting, I could no longer sit back and watch you from behind Ben’s shoulder,”

You sit still dumbfounded. What is this psycho talking about?

He stepped forward and you try to clamor backwards, getting the ottoman fully in between you two.

Feathered wings unfurled from behind his body, and in the light they seemed to illuminate.

You stare, awestruck and horrified at the same time. “A-am i h-hallucinating?”

“I am an angel, precious human. I am no hallucination. My name is Zachriel, and i was to guard and watch over Ben… But i no longer care for my purpose.”

“G-get out of my home…”

He steps forward again, “please, Y/N, answer my prayers,”

your body is frozen, your eyes locked on his predatory ones.

He pulls you upward with some kind of light magic that’s swirling around you, it’s warm and it tingles. You feel it even in your core, so you put your hands between your legs to try and stop it.

It only makes it worse.

The light’s tendrils bring you to his body, and he wraps his wings and arms around you, as if shielding you from the world…

from the once comfort of your own home.

your safe place… ruined.

“ah!” you shudder as the tingling doesn’t cease. your back arches without your permission, and your pressing hands only add to the heat building.

“Perfect, beautiful, Y/N, I love you so much. I can give you everything. Protect you from everything…”

“Not even death will take you from me.” He states in a rasped tone.

The light dissolved both of your wardrobes, left stark in eachothers embrace. you whimper, unable to to do anything with your mind focused solely of the sensation of the magic surrounding you.

He’s gorgeous but… “p-please, don’t do this” you beg.

Your eyes prickle with tears as they traverse the fluffy feathers that cradle you.

Your body feels relaxed, safe even, but your mind is rushing miles a minute with fear.

“Y/N,” he rasps in your ear, while putting his hand under your chin then sliding it gently up your jawline.

The magic has you wet already, and he knows it. It’s edged you beyond your comprehension.

Then you feel something… Something solid…

rutting between your folds.

“I have been blessed enough already to feel you through Ben… But it’s not enough anymore, and i want you to feel me. To feel this body i have created, perfect in the image you most desire.” He speaks calmingly, but it does nothing to soothe you.

He pushes his glands past your entrance, to him it’s as if your holy gates are opening finally for him. Granting him the heaven he’s always craved.

He groans deeply on your shoulder, vibrating your neck.

He takes you slowly, easing past every gasp replacing the pain with a fulfilling, and heavy pleasure.

He bottoms out inside you, deeper in your cunt than you’ve ever felt, but just the right amount of pressure to have you mewling and coming undone for the first time around him.

Your body is betraying you. “Please… S-stop” your voice comes out more of a moan.

The tingling light hasn’t left you either, you feel perfectly entwined with this celestial being.

Everything feels right, but you know it’s wrong.

“Ben…” you whimper a prayer to your partner, wishing he could save you.

“Ben can’t hear your cries as I can, even while being so painfully away from you, I can hear your songs.” he pulls you in tighter. “Ben will die for you my love.”

He rolls his hips, his dick sliding against your most spongey spot. You’ve never felt anything like it before, to be so perfectly stimulated, so perfectly filled. You came again within the first couple thrusts.

His mouth found your chest, you feel like you’re being consumed.

Your mind blanks out, as you leave rings of your pleasure around his pulsing member.

He comes inside you and lays you down softly on the bed. Grabbing pillows to surround you with.

he caresses your face. “I’ll be back my love…” sighing most happily, he, and everything else fades as you drift away.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

could you write the sensory overload prompt with fallout new vegas companions as well (including benny)? and maybe butch deloria if thats not too much ^^

Romanced! FO3 & FONV Companions React to Autistic!Six/Lone with Sensory Overload Anxiety

Whoops, I ended up doing all of the companions from FO3 as well, my bad 🤷‍♀️

But here they are! Thank you so much for the ask, and I hope you enjoy!

This prompt with FO4 R!Companions

FONV

Arcade:

The doctor would want to help, would actually know how to help, but he may just get overwhelmed as well. He tends to focus on Six themself, rather than the situation surrounding them, that’s where the panic tends to get to him. But Six, he can deal with. If possible, he will try to remove his companion from their stressful surroundings, but whether or not he is able, Arcade tries to stay calm, using his voice, and breathing techniques and exercises he’s read about to try and deflate their rising anxieties. He tends to make sarcastic comments in the aftermath, more so to expel his own pent up anxiety than to help Six, but they don’t need to know that.

Benny:

He's scared out of his mind the first time it happens. Six is pretty much invincible in his eyes, so this… just being around loud noises and such? That's what's rustling their jimmies? Wack. For a small moment, he feels like it's his fault, and even after the courier informs him that this is just a part of who they are, that they have always been this way, he still feels another dizzying pang of regret, knowing that a couple of bullets to the brain probably couldn't have helped their preexisting condition in any way. Over time, he'd get better about helping to calm his partner down, but he starts out rather overbearing, touching them too much, talking too quickly, having a panicked reaction that tends to only escalate the sensory overload they're experiencing. At least Six wouldn't have to worry about their safety in a combat situation with the Ben-man at their side. He's one of the best shots in the Mojave (if not the best). No one is getting past him. He may be an old hat when it comes to injuring Six, but he'll be hot diggidy damned if he's gonna let someone else lay a finger on them under his watch.

Boone:

First off, the sniper would try to prevent Six from entering into any stress-filled situations at all, reminding them that he is more dangerous from a distance anyway. However, he knows that, in the Mojave, avoiding dangerous or overwhelming environments altogether is damn near impossible, so he’ll try to be prepared. He’s dealt with his own vicious bouts of PTSD long enough to have developed coping mechanisms to help him, and has actively used tools like sunglasses and ear plugs in his time with the 1st Recon, which he would recommend to them as well. Boone would approach his partner in their time of need, trying to refrain from being overbearing, but ultimately his support wouldn’t waver as he helped Six try to come down from their state of panic.

Cass:

She honestly doesn't understand how Six has been able to survive in this world with their sensory overload anxiety, and she respects them even more now that she knows they have managed to. She may not be the best at helping them handle their stress, so she usually leaves Six to their own devices while she works on removing anything that could be causing her partner's apprehension. Once the threat is gone, she'll stand nearby until Six has managed to calm themself down, just to cover them and keep an eye out. When it seems to be over, she likes to bring them somewhere to unwind; and enjoys simply sitting with them and maybe having a drink or two as they recover their strength, and bearings.

Raul:

He’ll talk them through the whole ordeal. Is he nervous about their state of panic? Probably. But his partner doesn’t need to know that. The ghoul doesn’t know a lot in terms of dealing with meltdowns, but for Six, he’ll try. Whatever sort of exercises they start to engage in to get their anxiety under control, he’ll be beside them, trying to participate, to help them through it if they seem to be struggling. He’ll get better at dealing with it over time, but it always scares him a bit to see his partner this way. Evidently, he will become more and more aware of his surroundings the more they travel together, and will try to keep them away from the situations he finds tend to set them off.

Veronica:

Whatever it was that seemed to have Six panicked, Veronica would seek to expel it in whatever way she can (but she's most enthusiastic when it involves punching). Her physical assault of the enemies responsible would be relentless, but should the episode be caused by something else, Veronica would be less comfortable dealing with it, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t try. She mostly leaves Six to figure out their meltdown on their own, maybe going through breathing exercises with them and sticking by their side, but letting them calm themself of their own accord. Her involvement with the Berotherhood has taught her enough to know not to add any pressure to someone enduring this amount of stress. However, when they do eventually tell her that they are through the worst of it, she would try to give them some form of physical contact to help reassure them that she’s there for them, if they are comfortable with it.

FO3

Butch:

He’s known Lone a long time, and since they were kids, he’s been learning about the sort of situations that set them off. Now that they’re together, he’ll try his hardest to think back to all the times they were overwhelmed, and would attempt to keep them from these types of environments as best as he can. That doesn’t always work though, given the differences between the vault and the unpredictable outside world. Despite this, he also tends to remember the way their father used to help them when they became panicked like this, and will try to replicate these actions in order to best help his companion. Once he's succeeded in helping them calm down, they might have to return the favor, as their panic tends to do a number on Butch. Though he has seen them in such a state more than a few times, that doesn’t mean he likes it one bit, or will ever be truly used to it.

Charon:

Calm and collected as ever, Charon would systematically eliminate all stressful factors that could be affecting Lone. When he had seen to that task, he would turn to his partner, standing by their side and waiting for direction of how best he could help them. If they can recover on their own, he’ll be nearby to cover them, but if they are in need of his assistance, as long as they tell him what they need, he will oblige. In the aftermath of Lone’s meltdown, Charon would keep his blue eyes locked on them as his worry wears away at his stoic exterior. They will need to tell him that they are okay, or else he will refuse to carry on with their travels. Until he knows they can handle it, he won’t allow them to set off again.

Clover:

The poor thing would do everything wrong in this instance. She would try so damn hard to help her partner in their time of need, but ultimately she would prove to only add to the list of overwhelming factors surrounding Lone. As soon as she saw the panic wash over her companion, she would be by their side, speaking to them quickly, and as quietly as she could, but her own anxiety would cause a high pitch to sound from her throat as she tried to talk her companion down, running her hands over their arms as she does her best to support them, her frantic touches only serving to quicken their heartbeat further as they felt trapped by her concerned caresses. Once Lone finally does manage to settle down, Clover would be almost hurt by their lack of reciprocation when she tried to aid them; that is, until Lone explains to her that there are better ways for her to help. Now Clover just has to remember this for future instances...

Cross:

She’s been a soldier long enough to know how to deal with stress on the battlefield, but it’s somehow different when it’s her partner going through the ordeal. She’ll be uncharacteristically tender as she takes them through the motions she was taught to use in order to calm her fellow soldiers’ nerves. Her voice would remain soft, her touches gentle, her brows knitted together in concern until Lone finally showed signs of calming down. The paladin would release a long breath, as though finally expelling her own apprehension at the situation, and then would straighten herself up, returning to the seasoned soldier she was in order to face whatever was left of the situation at hand.

Fawkes:

The super mutant has a difficult time with subdelty, and would be worried about overwhelming Lone from his own loud tendencies. Should they start becoming uncomfortable while in his presence, he would actually distance himself from them, trying to turn away any additional factors that could be playing a part in their overload. Once they appear to have calmed themself, Fawkes will check in, apologize, and ask if there was anything he could do to prevent such occurrences from happening while they are in his company.

Jericho:

Fucking hell. We live in the Capital Wasteland. The whole damn place is just one big ass stressful situation. Are they serious?! He’d be confused, and a little pissed off, but if he has a soft spot for anyone, it’s Lone. Dammit. He won’t really know what to do, but he’ll try his best to cover them and keep them from harm’s way as they attempt to calm down and deal with their overload. Afterwards, he’ll gruffly ask if they’re okay, telling them that what they did could’ve gotten them killed, his expression would be a combination of sternness and annoyance, but his body would betray him as it shook in relief at the sight of his companion standing uninjured in front of him. Jericho would nod for the pair to continue on their way impatiently, but his eyes wouldn’t leave Lone as they set off in front of him, concern shining in their depths when he knew no one was there to see it.

[jasontoddssoulmate]

I made an account for the sole purpose of this TUA fic concept

I’m a sucker for those “the characters read the books/watch the series” fics and I’ve read a little for TUA but I just had the idea:

The Hargreeves kids watching the two seasons but instead of just the seven of them, their birth mothers are brought in to watch as well

Maybe have the birth mothers family (if they have any) watch it with them 

This happens before everything. Before Ben’s death, before Five’s disappearance, before they even have their names. The kids, One through Seven, are brought in. Maybe when they’re old enough to get the gist of what’s going on, but before they’re 13.

These 6 young women are brought in (because I adore that Luther and Five being twins is canon in the comics and I love the mention of it), and they’re confused because maybe The Umbrella Academy isn’t internationally well known so the kids are familiar but they can’t put the name to the face. Not until they introduce themselves, anyways, and suddenly they’re face to face with the baby that they gave away years ago.

Maybe a few of them regret it, maybe they tried to forget it, maybe they spend so much of their time thinking about it or maybe they’re overjoyed that their baby seems to be doing so well. 

But their names. 

There’s just so much about them that doesn’t feel,,, so right? Maybe that’s not the word for it but they’re too polite sometimes, their casually cruel treatment towards their sister isn’t normal and the way that they simultaneously act entitled and inferior towards each other isn’t suppose to be as normal as the kids make it out to be. 

All in all, the women are confused and maybe a bit wary of their casual usage of powers among each other that’s normal to the siblings as much as it is abnormal to the birth mothers. 

But communication is easy since each child learned their own mother language as well as the language of their siblings birth place and then some which only seems to remind the women that holy shit these kids are technically rich because of their father

The Hargreeves though? They’re confused and wary as hell. They may not have been introduced as The Inaugural Class of The Umbrella Academy yet (or maybe they have considering what your timeline is) but they’ve been training for most of their life and the situation is baffling. Here are these random people that they’ve never met before (at least to their knowledge) and they’ve never had to go outside to interact with others, not really at least. 

So it makes sense that they go for polite but threatening. They maybe decide unanimously that the weaker willed ones like Four, Six and Seven are discreetly protected behind their older (in spirit) siblings, One, Two, Three and Five. 

But they’re no real threat, its obvious in the way that the Hispanic woman uses such an endearing term like “mijo/a” and the way that the Russian woman has an ever present smile on her face and such a sweet disposition that reminds them of their littlest sibling and hey her eyes look just like Seven 

So after a while, they’re more open to being relaxed. Not Five though, he’s always been just a little paranoid and being a 58-year-old in a 13-year-old body never had anything to do with it. So he’s got a harsh personality but the Danish woman doesn’t seem to be deterred. He kind of reminds her of her older twin brother who acts so harshly, but who she knows loves her so much.  

So here are 7 siblings and 6 women and maybe family that was there for the women when they needed them the most. And maybe the person(s) behind this decide to be kept anonymous but they oh so want the children to get to know what being cared for is like. Maybe these women get to know the consequences of their actions or the children learn that the one who birthed them had their reasons. And it’s no excuse but it’s also not their fault. Both parties should be able to feel what they feel because it’s a complicated and maybe painful situation. 

The children lose their respect for their father every episode. Even One, who they all know cherished the favoritism but it doesn’t get in the way of his horror when he finds out that he used to lock Four in the mausoleum, still does if the flashbacks are anything to go by because not Four, not the kindest and brightest of their siblings. 

And when they learn of Seven’s powers and the reason why they are never present, they are understandably upset. They feel rage and disbelief that she had such a crucial part of herself ripped away at such a young age, because they know that their powers are like another limb. They’re born with it and they grow up with it and they were able to live their life with it so they feel rage. Rage that Seven had been so violated. Rage that the Seven they know isn’t really the Seven she was suppose to grow up to be. The Seven they knew as toddlers was sweet towards them but had a mean protective streak a mile wide that could never be controlled, not even by their father. The Seven they know now is so meek and desperate for attention. The Russian woman looks the most devastated as she thinks of the baby girl she got to hold for only a few hours before she was whisked away by a rich old man who is turning out to be the monster that one often hears about in television. 

But the women? They watch as the children in front of them, maybe a little damaged and emotionally constipated but so obviously protective and caring for each other, grow to be the grow ups in the screen above them that grow up and grow apart after so much tragedy. 

They watch as seven eventually becomes five. 

How Luther is sent to isolation for years and he goes along with it in a bid to continue to please their father.

How Diego continues to rebel because he wasn’t able to growing up but also maybe because he wants to spite his father, no matter how much he protests that he could care less what his father thinks.

How Allison goes through a divorce and loses her parental rights to even see her daughter due to her dependence of her powers that leaves her devastated. 

How Klaus is an addict who desperately wishes to get rid of the ghosts that have followed him all his life. 

How Five disappears only a little while after their current timeline.

How Ben was brutally killed by his own powers, never getting to grow up and become his own person. 

How Vanya can’t seem to do anything but go through the motions of her life, maybe having a little hope that she’ll be seen this time around, but is quickly squashed from Diego’s disparaging comments and the casual dismissal of her from her living siblings. 

They watch all this, and feel sadness and rightful anger that their babies lead the life of ex-child superheroes. The life of abused children. The life of children who had only each other. 

But was it really enough? Was it enough to know that they loved each other but had a hard time showing it and owning up to it due to fear of their father? Due to the constant comparisons and the way Sir Reginald had them turn on each other. 

But they knew it was enough. They see it in how Diego waits for Klaus to drive him around even after he had expresses annoyance beforehand, in the joy on Allison’s face when she sees Klaus again after so long, in how Five makes sure to check up on Klaus after his kidnapping, on Luther’s face when he apologizes to Vanya after realizing his own misgivings, in Ben’s task of continuing to follow his brother around even when it pains him and in Klaus trying to comfort Luther after he finds the unopened correspondents. They see it in the support they show Vanya as she goes to check on Harlan.

It had to be enough to know that after all they went through, they still care for one another and at the end of the day, would protect one another just as they were as One through Seven. 

So they watch what would be the Hargreeve’s kids misadventures, they watch as they grow together and grow apart just to grow together again, much stronger than before. 

They express sadness and disbelief when they see where Five ends up, they get mad when Leonard throws Vanya’s pills away, they grieve when they learn that Ben is dead, they’re embarrassed but find it hilarious whenever Klaus cracks an inappropriate joke, they become protective when there’s allusion to Vanya having sex, and are rightfully ready to throw down with Leonard as they watch their littlest sibling get gaslit into believing her family hates her as he nitpicks all of her interactions with her family. 

But just as they express their feelings over what happens to their family, they feel an immense amount of exasperation towards their older selves because so much could be fixed if they only talked to each other. 

They watch and despair over the missed opportunity that is Leonard in the same house as them just as they find out what his role is in the apocalypse.

Four tears up as he watched Klaus and Dave’s reunion be undone after all the heartache. 

Seven cringes when Vanya dismisses Five’s claims that he had been stuck in an apocalyptic wasteland and suggests that he’s gone crazy after his stint with time travel. 

Three feels her heart drop to her stomach as the flashback shows what becomes the moment that she faces the hard truth that come with her use of her powers.

Five feels himself flush in embarrassment as he watched two version of himself in the future, one that looks not much older than he does currently, go through paradox psychosis. 

Six feels frustration and a fierce grief that leaves him confused because he’s still alive he’s not dead, but I don’t have much longer. 

One feels horror as he watches himself hurt his siblings one after the other with a sense of helplessness because this isn’t me, I wouldn’t do this but I already did, why would I hurt my siblings, I’m Number One I have to be the one who protects them- 

The women, on the other hand, see themselves in their children. 

The French woman sees how her daughter and granddaughter, it seems, both look like a carbon copy of herself and her own mother. 

The Danish woman sees herself and her twin brother in Luther and Five. Sees her own personality reflected in Luther and her brothers personality in Five. Sees how her twins care just as much for each other and their siblings as herself and her brother do each other.

The Hispanic woman sees Diego’s fierce sense of justice that leaves others in the dust, and sees herself as she fought to keep her boy but ultimately lost him just as Diego loses Eudora. She thinks to herself like mother like son and bitterly laughs to herself but she’s so grateful that Diego had a mother who cared for him just as she cared for him because she often though about him and always made sure to commemorate his birthday. 

The German woman can’t help but see herself in her boy. Can’t help but see her little brother in him. Can’t help but see her older brother in him. Because Klaus is so joyful but he hides his pain behind a mask like her younger brother, he’s so loving towards his siblings like her older brother, and so nonsensical like herself. So like herself, down to the curly hair and the addiction. Even if she was able to overcome it with support from her family, it pains her and leaves her in despair to see Klaus and can’t find fault in those he had around him because she sees how much they try and sees how hard the Hargreeves find expressing emotion is to others. 

The Asian woman sees how sweet and shy her youngest is and thinks only of her oldest, who reminds her so much of him and can only despair in seeing that he didn’t live as long as her oldest had. She can only ask herself why her children don’t seem to be able to see themselves to adulthood but can only be grateful that even in death he has someone with him.

The Russian woman knows that her husband sees her in little number Seven, in Vanya, no matter how little that is. Maybe their personalities aren’t so similar because Seven is shy but she’s got the sweetest heart and so clearly loves her siblings. She has the same smile that she has and her little doe eyes remind her of herself when she was younger. She’s so small next to her siblings, just like herself. 

So they see themselves in these kids, these grown ups. But so do the Hargreeves. 

They see how Luther looks like what the Danish woman would look like as a man and how Five looks exactly like a younger version of the Danish man who introduced himself as the woman's older brother. 

They see how Two has the same skin tone and facial structure as the Hispanic woman. 

They see that Allison looks exactly like the French woman and see the same in Claire. 

They see Four’s curly hair and slim build in the German woman. 

They notice how Six shares the same dark hair and lower facial features. 

They see Seven’s eyes and smile and short stature in the Russian woman. 

So maybe they don’t know them well enough to see what the women see, but they grow to see it overtime because they spend so much time there, in this suspended room in time.

The women insist on getting to know them and vice versa. They insist that they have to talk about their feelings and assure them or gently scold them, depending on the reason, for what they feel because god do these children need to learn how to talk more about their emotions in a healthy way.

They get closer to the children and start to really see their childish side. They all fight over the silliest things, and become pouty when attention isn’t being drawn over to them. They crave physical affection, even Five who won’t admit that his maternal uncle patting him and One of the head made him feel all gooey inside. They make faces towards foods that they don’t like and still prefer junk food over real food. 

So maybe it’s harder to let themselves act like children because they’re being conditioned to not “be childish” but even then they have their lapses in control. Four enters a state of panic after being reminded of his time in the mausoleum. One feels overwhelming guilt when he sees how Luther hurts Klaus and reminds himself that he’s the one that needs to protect them, as the leader and self proclaimed older sibling. Five feels himself cry for the first time in a long while when he sees how his siblings act towards him in the future and realize it hurts him deeply because he knows that he’s messed up their lives a lot but can’t they see that he only want to keep them alive, he doesn’t want to see them die again, he can’t-

But instead of being shamed into controlling their emotions, they are comforted and reassured. Four’s birth mother helps ground him and counts his breathing with him to keep him from falling further into his panic. One get’s reassured by his birth mother that his future self isn’t his current self. That everyone in the room has seen just how much he cares for his siblings and knows he would do anything for them. The twins uncle gives into his urge and hugs Five, whispering in a hushed tone that it’s okay to cry, to let it all out. He whispers that his older siblings are being idiots and if they knew just how much their actions were hurting you, they wouldn’t hesitate to apologize and hug you too. His words only make Five cry harder. 

So they are cared for and allowed to be themselves fully and can be childish to their hearts content. And their birth families watch on in amazement and adoration. 

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I have so much more that I’ll probably add later, but basically I want them to be cared for, allowed to care for each other and learn to express themselves better. I want to see them get to have a good relationship with an adult and if possible their birth mothers. 

Pls share links and stuff if you get inspired, I’m not much for writing fanfic but I really do want to see something like this. I’d read the shit out of it. I have so much more that I want to add but I’ll probably do something about it later. 

[qiqi-media]

How I feel about Mal Bertha and her character PART 1

 This is not a Mal bertha Biography and it is biased in the sense that I don’t like her at all. Read with caution.

Descendants 2 was actually the first movie of the trilogy that I had watched. My little sister was watching it and I happened to be passing by and sat to watch it with her when it caught my eye. 2017 me had a completely different opinion of Mal bertha than today not because I was younger but simply because D3 hadn’t come out yet and I hadn’t watched the first movie or even knew there was books. I can’t stand Mal bertha, not even the D1 version of her and that’s the one even Mal antis love. I didn’t like her in the first movie but it was more of a “I wouldn’t be friends with her.” I didn’t think that she was unforgiveable and that it was impossible to give her a second chance. She made her own bad choices but she expressed genuine regret for them and was only 16. Despite me, loathing Mal’s existence I related to her in sense that it’s scary wanting to change but you don’t know whether or not your actions have caused too much damage. 

In D2 watching it as a stand alone I saw a girl wanting something other than the ‘happily ever after’ and deciding she would go for what would make her happy when she went back to isle. I was desperately hoping that after the ‘It’s going down’ scene that she would go back to the isle and not choose to stay somewhere she wanted to leave. But we know how that went and the ending left me bitter and sad not for her, but for Uma. She began to leave a bitter taste in my mouth when she broke up with Ben and came back and just expected him to get back together with her. I’m going to go around every version of her character.

PRE D1

She was a dick. That’s the simplest way I can put it. I don’t like even acknowledging pre d1 Mal because it leaves me with this very negative view of her character that I don’t think was necessary. I feel like this is a big fuck up, wanting to have Mal be her ‘evilest’ before coming to Auradon. I understand the reason why they wanted to show her growth and change throughout the series. But after looking at some real life scenarios with a similar Mal situation it made me look at it differently. Imagine this: someone who severely bullied you and harassed you and everyone around getting to go to a new place and get the best treatment there, then she’s congratulated with becoming queen of that land and not only that she then decides she’s going to be queen of the place she was bullying and harassing people at without ever properly apologizing. This happens in real life and these people get exposed which is why I don’t like it. It would be different if Mal actual grew throughout the series but it was real just her gaining more power and the scenery changing from Pre D1-D3. She also continued to make the same type of ‘mistakes’ with no actual direct consequences all she had to do was cry and they forgave her. She would be okay if it Descendants was a stand alone movie. But knowing the type of life she would get to live after all of this behavior puts me off from reading it. It would also be different if Mal lived a simple life in Auradon (Aka not trying to take control by dating the king and then stepping all over said king) She got more than what she deserved to have. In my opinion she did deserve the chance at all better life just like all the other kids who didn’t commit any crimes to be locked up. But in the eyes of people she victimized she wouldn’t deserve to be Queen become royalty, live in castles and get gifted with limos and bikes. 

D1

 D1 is the version of Mal everyone generally likes however, like I stated before I didn’t like her even then. At the start we see someone who is clearly trying to please her mother so if her mother wants bad behavior she gives her that. Throughout the main plot she did things of her own accord that she can’t use her mom as an excuse for. There’s a couple different things but a lot of them had to do with Ben and I’m making a whole post on how Ben was treated like shit throughout the franchise so that will be addressed then and not in this post. However for a reference she drugged him with a spelled cookie into falling in love with her for the wand. He wasn’t even willing to eat the cookie at first but she guilt tripped him into eating it. We could brush this off as her doing whatever she needed to do to get to the crown but to me she took advantage of the situation by actually going on dates with him. He was already spelled and willing to listen to whatever she wanted so besides for her own personal interest why would she go on the dates? (Granted a 16 year old wanting to get cute and have a nice date with a nice boy is not a fault or wrong in any way the fault here is all of this was happening when Ben was not in his right state of mind until the spell washed off.) Her taking advantage of Jane’s insecurities was not cool either and I’m interested in what ways she would’ve tried to use Jane if it was easier to get to the wand through her. Since her main crime in my opinion was Ben and since he’ll have his own essay post I’ll focus on Audrey here.

Her disrespect to Audrey

It was unnecessary, she had no reason to have had Audrey’s name in her mouth as much as she did D1. It would make more sense for Mal to like Audrey’s sassy boldness to me not shit talk her every chance she got. At the start they had a small passive aggressive conversation that could’ve just been left at that because technically they burred the hatchet between the two families. It was a “hey I don’t fuck with you, you don’t fuck with me” type of a situation that could’ve grown civil. However, throughout the movie in comparison to Audrey who really just had a problem with Mal’s mother until she spelled ben then it became direct problems with each other. Mal was continuously talking shit about Audrey as if Audrey was the one who fucked with her family. This time her upbringing can be referenced, on the Isle she most likely was allowed to openly hate things and Audrey was most likely raised to at least pretend to be polite. But from the Audrey we’ve seen she clearly doesn’t care about holding her tongue she’s straightforward with how she feels and she didn’t have a problem with Mal she had a problem with her mother. The only time she talked about Mal directly was about the hair spells which she ended up being right about (Mal’s addictive reliance on magic in D2 and Jane at the end of D1).  After completely ignoring Audrey’s feelings and literally stole her boyfriend (not even on the the you can’t steal a loyal man type of shit she literally stole him he wasn’t even allowed to consent to it.) She later in Audrey’s Diary multiple times tries to reason this with she never meant to directly hurt Audrey and that she didn’t really want Ben she just wanted the wand etc etc. The evidence doesn’t back this up Mal, you’ve made your disdain for Audrey clear and talked shit about her to Evie right after you spelled Ben the did I mention bs claiming “Chad will see her horrible personally” as if you knew her personally and that Chad didn’t grow up with her. Mal can say she didn’t mean to hurt Audrey but she clearly didn’t mind that she did.

 I’m going to make a whole separate on Audrey and how I do think she gets a lot of slack because people can relate to her, but also how her treatment in comparison to Mal’s is unfair. 

 I did think she deserved a chance to show remorse for her behavior (spoiler: she didnt) Again, I like to look at things from the pov of other characters for things like this. If I was an Auradon kid who was friends with Mal and ended up finding out she was using me and plotting to take over and destroy the place I lived with/for her mother but changed her mind last minute. I would see her as forgivable I just wouldn’t want her around me. In other words I would expect her to start her own new life, not continue trying to live the one where she was plotting without even actually apologizing to people. AU: After descendants instead of continuing to date Ben she breaks it off and goes to an Art school frequently coming back to visit Auradon and after high school she goes on a quest (with the C4 of course) exploring all kinds of different kingdoms and countries because she was locked up on the isle her whole life. In the future she possibly returns to Auardon and even could get back together with Ben with a proper start.

D2

The first Descendants Movie I ever saw so it holds a special place with me and I actually rooted for Mal the first time I watched it. I sat in to watch at the argument scene and knowing all of the plots now and after rewatching  it my opinion has change greatly. We see a blonde and very stressed Mal who’s dealing with the pressures of becoming a royal in order to secure her place with Ben. I do feel bad for Mal when she was talking to Evie, she was trying to reach out to her friend about her situation and was basically told to stop talking about it. I understand Evie’s feelings of wanting to leave the past behind but I can also understand Mal feeling like she’s cornered and can’t even talk to her best friend. I can also understand her feelings of ending up overwhelmed with her decisions from going to somebody who did whatever whenever to becoming a royal with duties I get the pressure. If Mal decided that wasn’t the life she wanted to live and went back to the isle where she felt more comfortable I don’t see anything wrong with that. She wasn’t required to stay in Auradon if she felt like she was unhappy there. That says a little something about Auradon to me if somebody would rather live where they ate rotten food than live there.  My sympathy for Mal stops there because everything else was a result of her own actions and things she brought onto herself.

1. The royal situation

Let’s get one thing clear nobody was forcing Mal to hand sign up for the prime and proper royal life. She did that herself.

Nobody told her that she had to dye her hair blonde and have a complete wardrobe change, she did.

Nobody said she even had to continue the terrible relationship she had with Ben and go straight into being a royal in order to basically become Ben’s wifey, she did.

She’s saying all of these people are expecting things of her when 6 months ago she was stealing candy from babies when she was the one who let people have these expectations. She decided to take up the role herself because that was what she wanted. Let’s be honest with how it happened Mal would not live in Auradon if she had to be a regular citizen she wanted to be in control of everybody and to have power because that how she always lived. However once she realized that nobody was just about to hand her this power just for being with Ben unlike with her Mom  (getting to rule the isle just because she was her daughter and not because she actually worked her way up there) and that she actually had duties and work to fulfill if she wanted to be the boss. She let her pride get in the way by feeling she had to prove she could last with Ben and become an Auradon girl and ended up miserable and blaming Ben for  something she decided to do herself.

She then had the responsibility to fulfill all of those duties and she was struggling unlike anybody else who would’ve had to abide by the “don’t use magic” quote on quote rule she decided to use Magic after claiming she’d give it up and was still a hot ass mess. She can’t even use the excuse that was to help her with her lady in training because she was using it to not be late to class and later to try and manipulate Ben.  @ishiphumasohard made a good response on why it was unfair for Mal to use magic as her ‘right’ because at what point would it be unfair to other kids? While all the other kids have to show up on time to school Mal gets to use magic to turn back time instead of just being on time. If other kids studied all night for a test Mal can use a speed reading spell. If there was a cooking contest Mal can spell her way into a feast while the others would have to the actual labor. You get the point, because magic is not universally used by everyone in Auradon and it’s an unspoken rule that it’s not to be used then she should have followed this rule.

I will say the girl was stressed and was feeling alone, I already gave my sympathies for that.

The magic situation really hit the fan when she felt comfortable enough to spell the boyfriend who had already put enough trust in her to continue their relationship that started with her drugging him for her own benefit. Compared to her Ben did seem to be taking it easy but maybe like her, he didn’t want to show it. It seems Ben and Mal had a sort of pack to work hard together to become ‘the king and queen’ of Auradon they were supposed to be in it together. In my opinion it would make more sense for Ben to be hiding things from Mal than the other way around due to the nature of their shitty relationship. But that’s just not how it went down and after Mal tries to spell Ben into not finding her spellbook he gets RIGHTFULLY ANGRY. That entire scene was her fault, she could’ve explained herself and why she was using magic and that she was having a hard time but she once again decides to take advantage of Ben’s trust. Then proceeds to make sure she ends the  fight with her being the victim. So much so that the entire fact that she spelled Ben was never brought up again.

Going back to the isle 

She then decides to go back to the isle, if this was really her decision I wouldn’t mind it. There’s nothing wrong with her liking the isle better than Auradon if that’s where she felt at home. The problem was she was clearly emotional and let’s be honest, if she had called all of her friends together and actually broke up with Ben and told them this was her decision to go back to the isle before leaving they MIGHT (hard might) not have ran after her like they did. Not only that the duties that we were speaking of earlier, she didn’t formally pull out of anything which is why it irked me when she was so irritated that they came back for her.

Some people actually didn’t like her attitude as soon as she got back on the isle because she expected to run it. That wasn’t surprising to me honestly, because for her whole life that’s how it was, only person she was scared of was her mother. She quickly realized however now that her mom isn’t around and in lizard form nobody was scared of her. Most unrealistic part of D2 was how Mal didn’t get jumped as soon as people realized she got back. Like I said Isle Mal was a straight dickhead and had too many enemies to be walking around like she was. 

Another point was when she got her hair dyed by dizzy, the shop wasn’t open, she saw this, ignored it and went in anyway. Not even because her and Dizzy were tight like that she just expected her to do what she wanted (get the pattern with Mal here?)

 Skipping her scene with harry because it did nothing to the plot.

The rest of the C4 and Ben come to get Mal back as expected and she acts all surprised and angry. Ben apologizes to her and instead of apologizing for what she did and then explaining that she doesn’t want to go back to Auradon and be a lady of the court. She continues the narrative that Ben wanted her to change and that she’s not good for Auradon so she’s going to stay on the isle. What’s the difference between the two? The first one is her taking responsibility of her actions and deciding for herself that that’s not the life she wants. While the other is acknowledging none of the blame and deciding to run away not because that’s not what she really wants but because everyone will turn on her so she has to run first. It painted a narrative that nothing of this was her own doing while at the same time making it seem like she is doing the right thing by backing away which in hindsight probably was the better decision. Mal’s feelings weren’t the problem I understand them, she thinks she won’t be accepted as herself so she wants to leave before they can kick her out but that’s not what caused her to leave and she knows it. You got caught doing something shitty and instead of apologizing you ran away.

After Ben gets kidnapped she lectures the C4, again she does have some blame in this. With the way the fight ended it made it look like Ben was in the wrong so he was going to try and apologize regardless if they brought him or not. The rest of them came to keep him safe and as her gang members come back for her. Was this not something she considered after she calmed herself down? Ben honestly had no reason to be directly on the isle unprotected besides to sneak and apologize to you so are you really going to just blame the C4 for bringing him there and getting him captured?

Then when Uma, who has him captured plans a meeting she antagonizes her like that’s what is best for Ben at the time. Even in the mist of Ben being in danger she thought it was a good idea to try and piss off the person holding him captive. If you don’t remember what she did she called her shrimpy, insulted the smell of the restaurant and said she never thought of Uma while implying that Uma always had her on her mind for no reason. None of that was necessary to ask what Uma’s conditions were to give Ben back she just couldn’t help herself. 

She didn’t care about Dizzy

Who had just performed a task for her and right after she paid her got robbed and had the place trashed just for Mal to say she’ll be alright. This should’ve been foreshadowing at the very least that she wasn’t ready to be making decisions for other people’s lives because besides her own and her friends she didn’t care for many especially those on the isle.

It’s going down

Even though it was in the song and not directly her words again antagonizing the person who has Ben held captive and threatening his life, insulting them is stupid. This entire scene is messy and they shouldn’t even had been able to win a fight against pirates outnumbered. When has Mal ever picked up a sword???

Car ride Back

She gets mad when Ben has sympathy/ shows understanding for Uma. She somehow realizes that it’s wrong Uma kidnapped him but was comfortable spelling him without a second thought. In my opinion she thought she had some type of ownership over Ben she could do what she wanted to him and if somebody else did it was wrong. (Even though this can be applied to what she did in D1, I’m only talking about D2 because most people agree she showed regret for her actions in D1) When he calls her out on her hypocrisy she goes mute and does that thing, of letting her mouth hang opened whenever she gets called out on her shit.

END OF PART 1

I was going to make this one long post but I’ve been putting this off long enough so here is part 1, no idea when part 2 will be up. I do hope to have the Ben posts up before that.

[parkers-gal]

Reader meet Tom during a Meet and greet for the first time. She’s European (like Belgian perhaps. You can choose that) and she catches his attention. They start as close friends and whenever she gets to London, they meet up. After a while they start a relationship (can be long distance) and they just adore eachother a lot.

a good story

wc | 3k (SORRY i rly went off)

i chose france because i heard they have a bit more diversity...? i hope that makes it a bit more universal :) plsss i didn't proofread — hope u like it ! <3

—

You try to wipe the sweat off your hand for the fifth time in the last two minutes. Your pulse picks up while the line moves up again. You’ve been waiting for about an hour and a half, but you really don’t mind. Not when that mop of curls and pile of muscles is so close. Besides, you get to fangirl with the rest of the fans in line around you.

You’d been in deep conversation with a girl and her girlfriend for a good while until one of them went off to get coffee and the other asked to use the bathroom. The security guard assured them that they’d return to their exact position in line, ensuring they wouldn’t have to wait all over again. You missed them, though, because they weren’t back within seven minutes so you preoccupied yourself with the lanyard around your neck with your VIP Access pass attached to the end.

You play with the strings of the Spider-man hoodie; it’s the midtown hoodie that Peter Parker wears in the first movie. You wore it to be cute — and it is, especially with these jeans — but now you’re afraid you might die of heat exhaustion. As the security guards usher yet another fan through the curtains, your feet move forward a couple of feet until the movement stops and you’re stuck waiting again.

The girl and her girlfriend return not a minute later, one of them offering you a bite of their croissants from Starbucks. You ponder the offer before politely declining; you don’t want your breath to smell, or something to get stuck in your teeth. You know you’re overthinking this entire situation, but you can’t help but be nervous when you’re about to meet the one person you’ve spent so much of your time gawking over — and through a screen, at that. It’s pathetic, you admit, but you can’t help it. There’s just something about him.

Another fan goes through the curtains and suddenly you’re less than five turns away from meeting the beloved Brit. You can’t help but feel a little more connected to him, knowing that you’d flown all the way from Paris, France for this London Meet-and-Greet. It’s a wonder how you got your schedule to work so well.

You move forward another spot, tapping your index and middle fingers on your hip while tracing the lines of the tiled floor. You try to distract yourself — counting every prime number you can think of, naming all the superheroes in the Marvel Franchise — until you’re one spot away from going through the black curtains.

“You’ll be in in less than three minutes,” the girl smiles while informing you of the estimated time frame. You thank her, taking note of the tag attached to her uniform.

You take a deep breath, shaking away all nerves and last jitters before wiping your hands one last fateful time. And then all at once, the curtain opens and allows you to step through and into the room where a young actor awaits your arrival. It’s so surreal that you have to watch your feet to ensure they don’t trip and cause you to stumble.

“Hello, love. How’re you?”

Your breath hitches and when he finally takes a good look at you, his breath does too. Your eyes lock for a beat, the two of you lost in a trance before you finally spit out a response.

“I’m… really good. How’re you?”

He smiles, eyes crinkling and face lifting up. “I’m great, thank you.”

You nod, the tip of your tongue playing with your front tooth. You shake out of it, though, setting your bag and your lanyard down on the provided table before stepping a little closer to him.

“Ah, the Midtown hoodie,” He points out, holding your wrists out so he can examine the sweatshirt himself.

“Yeah,” you smile bashfully. “It’s… stylish.”

He laughs wholeheartedly, something that eats away at your shell and causes you to join his chuckling.

“What’s your name, darling?”

You bite your lip, inhaling sharply at the term of endearment. “Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tom,” he offers a hand, something that makes your face scrunch up with a laugh.

“Can we hug instead?”

“Please?” He insists, realizing how embarrassing his last move was. The two of you embrace strongly, and you inhale the scent of Tom Holland while you can.

When you separate, you grow a little more courage, and pick up the conversation. “I loved you in The Impossibly. Obviously in the Spider-man movies, too, but your other movies are really good, too.”

“Thank you, love. That means a lot,” he scratches his neck with a sheepish smile, a blush rising from his neck and onto his cheeks. He smiles, an action you mirror. “Is this your first Meet-and-Greet?”

You nod, “Yeah, I’m a bit nervous.”

He nods in understanding. “Are you from England?”

You shake your head, “I’m currently living in Paris.”

“Ah, the country of romance,” He looks as if he’s thinking of what to say next — as if he shouldn’t say it. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” You smile again, and the glint in Tom’s eye changes just a shade, as if he’s just unlocked a new level. He looks excited for a different reason now.

“How long are you staying in England?”

“Till the end of the week,” You can’t help but feel giddy because it’s only Monday, which means you have until Saturday night to explore the great country of Britain, home to Tom Holland and Tom Hiddleston and Benedict Cumberbatch and basically every celebrity you’ve ever been a fan of. You can’t anticipate what Tom’s to say next, because you don’t want to turn your experience into a Wattpad story, but you hope he’s about to offer something in relation to sightseeing.

“Would you want to… could I show you around? Show you all the best places?” He looks shyer than you, almost, and you swallow your heart so you can answer calmly.

“You’d do that?’

“Of course,” He smiles softly. “You look like a lot of fun.”

You’re taken aback at the compliment, and you stumble out a reply as best you can. The two of you are reminded to take the picture so the line can move forward again, and you will yourself not to frown at the coming end of your encounter with the famous Brit.

“Could we do this?” You show him a picture from your phone and he nods excitedly.

The two of you link hands, standing close together while you smile into the camera. Your encounter comes to an end, and though you’re disappointed, Tom asks for your number, giving you his phone for the occasion. You’re giddy as you wave goodbye, leaving the tent with your picture and his lingering energy.

A day passes, giving you time to recover from your celebrity-interaction and time to get settled into your comforting hotel room on the seventh floor. You’re a bit wary that Tom won’t ever text you, and seeing as you don’t have his number, you realize you have to wait it out. You don’t want to risk waiting for the entirety of your stay here, though, so you grow worried. But alas, Tom texts late on Tuesday night, apologizing for the radio silence that came when he had to finish up the Meet-and-Greet event. You’re relieved, to say the least.

He exchanges details, telling you to meet him at a corner cafe at ten in the morning tomorrow. You comply, promising to get a good night’s rest before saying your goodnights and sleeping the hours away. You’re promptly awoke but your eight-thirty alarm. With a groan, you get up to shower, and the cold water wakes you right up.

An hour later and you’re ready for some quality, top-notch sightseeing. You grab what you need, locking your hotel room door before going down the elevator with a sweet elderly couple. You follow the map on your phone until you arrive at a small shop on the corner, just as Tom had said. You pull the door open, the smell of coffee beans entering your airways. You exhale the familiarity of it all, smiling to yourself before searching the shop. You spot Tom in a corner booth, and as you make your way over, he sets his phone face-down on the table with a smile, waving at you. You take a seat across from him.

“This place is cute.”

“Right? Best tea in London.”

Your stomach grumbles, loud enough for the both of you to hear and then share a laugh about. “I suppose I should eat breakfast.”

“I suppose I should join you,” he replies in the same tone, the two of you sharing tender smiles before someone comes over to take your order.

The conversation picks up and all tension and awkwardness wafts away in the air, leaving you in Tom’s comfortable aura. You talk until the check is paid, and as you step out on the crisp air of the city’s streets, you turn to Tom for the agenda.

The day goes on like that. The two of you go all around the city, visiting The British Museum, the Tower Bridge, Big Ben the clock tower, the Buckingham Palace, the Portobello Road Market, the National Gallery, and even the London eye. Tom knows everything like the back of his hand, and the ancient city makes you feel so significant. Your last stop is Cambridge University, something you’ve always wanted to see in person.

Tom’s been taking your picture all day. On polaroids, your iPhones, and even some of the tourist-profiting workers who beg for sales. He claims it’s so you can start scrapbooking, a conversation the two of you had covered during your many word exchanges.

The two of you have been all over the city since the end of breakfast at almost eleven o’clock. Now, it’s almost eight o’clock and you’re hungry as fuck. After some debate, the two of you decide to take a big red bus back to your hotel for some room service or hotel-restaurant food.

Tom sits in the seat beside you on the bus, the two of you up top and enjoying the city. You get lost in conversation again, the two of you going through today’s latest pictures and video-memories. You end up goofing off, so much so that you almost miss your stop.

The two of you stumble to the entrance of your hotel. Tom smiles, grabbing the door for you. You reply with a sheepish “thank you,” before waving hello to the front desk women.

“Do you want room service or do you want to dine in the restaurant?”

“Would you mind if I joined you for room service?”

You shake your head with a gentle smile, the two of you racing to the elevators. After hitting your floor number, the elevator goes up and the two of you talk again and again. Tom excuses himself to the bathroom when you get into your room; it gives you the opportunity to change out of your clothes and into a pair of sweats and a loose tank. Tom comes out ready for room service but is grown flustered at the sight of a different outfit on you.

“Getting comfortable?”

“Duh,” you lean back on the queen sized bed, back hitting the headboard. “Stay for a movie?”

He smiles, “Hand me the menu.”

He ends up staying until ten o’clock. You promise to go clubbing with him, for a full London experience, and the two of you schedule to do just that on Friday night. You book the entirety of Thursday to finish your sightseeing with him, and before you know it, you’re spending every day in London with Tom.

On your last day, Saturday, you eat breakfast with him at that first fateful cafe. He tells you he can’t take you to the airport — he’d probably get mobbed by fans — and you understand, promising to call him once you land. He promises to come with you to France one day, so the roles can reverse.

You finish your final cup of coffee just as Tom finishes his tea. He smiles sadly, one you mirror.

“I’ll see you soon, you know. And you can still drop me off at the airport.”

“I know,” he smiles sheepishly, hand reaching across the table for yours. “But I’ll miss sightseeing with you. I forget how amazing my own country is, sometimes.”

“Well,” you smile, “I’ll be back, so don’t worry too much, Tom. It’s not like I’m going across the world.”

“Yeah,” He chuckles, “And besides, I can come see you sometime.”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s just so weird to have friends in France and shit,” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Like you live there and I can just go and visit you whenever.”

“I’m still a call away.”

“And thank god for that.”

You exhale after a beat of silence. “This is so fucking crazy.”

“What?”

“This. You, us hanging out. Just four days ago I was paying to see you, and now I’m having breakfast with you for the third time?”

“I promise, I’ll refund that Meet-and-Greet money.”

“Why?” You look at him quizzically and he bites his bottom lip.

“Well we’re friends, so you don’t really need to waste that money and I can get it back so-”

“Don’t,” you look up at him. “It makes for a good story.”

He nods, and after the two of you pay the check, you’re standing from the booth of the quaint little shop one final time, making your way to your door and settling in the passenger seat of Tom’s car. With your luggage in the backseat, he drives all the way to the airport, the loud sound of plane engines filling your ears. He drops you off at the terminal with a hug and a watery smile.

“See you soon!” He waves until you’re out of sight and the security guard is threatening to give him a ticket.

Half a year goes by, with quick three-day weekend trips back and forth, to London and to France even. You’ve seen Tom a total of seven times in the past six months, and you’ve grown closer than ever.

About a month goes by after your last trip, until your boss is telling you that you’re getting a week off for the upcoming paid break. You’ve already confirmed your flight and hotel plans to London, wanting to surprise Tom.

You decide to do it the night before you’re due on the airplane to the country of Brits.

You can’t help but grin at your phone, eventually laying down to sleep while you can before your early morning flight. Tom’s on your mind, in your future, and in your dreams. The last month of FaceTimes and text messages have been amazing, but unbearable because you miss his presence. The extreme amounts of flirting, however, have definitely picked up over text. Your week long trip to London marks the eighth time you’ve seen Tom since that first fateful Meet-and-Greet. You can’t help but feel like the dynamic is changing a bit, though. The two of you have upped the levels a bit, and now you’re more cuddly, more flirty, and definitely more interested.

When you land, you text Tom but frown when the usual immediate response doesn’t come. Moving past a crowd of waiting people, you head to baggage claim to get your luggage. After excruciatingly lifting it off of the conveyor belt, it lands with a thud on the ground and you start wheeling it towards the exit.

The building is extremely less crowded thanks to your early flight booking. When you look up, you see that familiar head of precious brown locks, and you squeal. Tom never leaves the car when picking you up or dropping you off at the airport, for fear of paparazzi and fans catching him. But this time, he’s out and in the building to come get you.

Abandoning your luggage, you drop your carry-on on the floor as you run over to him as fast as you can. He can sense you’re about to jump into his embrace, so he prepares for the bone-crushing hug.

Your arms go around his neck while his hands settle on your waist. He smiles, chin settled in the crook of your neck while he inhales the scent of you.

“Tommy, oh my god. I missed you so much.”

When you pull apart, you’re each a jumbled mess of excitement and tears, so much so that when Tom’s hands grip your face to pull you in to a passionate kiss, you’re immediately calmed. Though you’ve never kissed before, it feels so right.

Your lips chase after his, deepening it as your hands go to his hair and his to the small of your back. When you separate, your foreheads lean against each other while you pant.

“That’s new.”

“Sorry, I should’ve asked.”

You chuckle, “I would’ve said yes.”

He interlocks your fingers, smiling. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more.”

Suddenly, he’s reminded of the fact that the two of you are in public, and when he looks up, he sees a group of girls holding their phones up and capturing the moment he’s just shared with you. Quickly, he pulls you into his chest protectively, hiding your face in your neck.

“We need to hide or else they’re gonna know it’s m-”

“Don’t,” you settle him. “It makes for a good story.”

[boomboxfic]

Assurance (Mike Logan/Ben Stone); drabble

I have two WIPs in mind regarding OG L&O Season 3x21 "Manhood" about the cops who left hung one of their own out to dry because he was gay.

One's an AU where Ben is a detective that hops on with Mike after Phil gets shot; the other is this comfort drabble. It will be expanded into a longer one-shot.

It was unforgivably early when Ben felt himself coming awake. He’d gone to sleep alone; he had called Mike’s apartment to check on him before he went to sleep, and it went straight to voicemail. Mike sometimes stayed at Lennie’s if they were working overtime on a case, and Ben went to sleep off that assumption. Cracking one eye open, Ben saw that it was 3 in the morning, and grunted. At least it wasn’t time to get ready for work yet. 

“Hey, sorry for waking you,” Mike apologized, exhaustion hanging on every word, “I know it’s late.” 

“It’s okay,” Ben replied, voice rough with sleep. He rolled over to face Mike, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling off his undershirt. Ben sat up and shifted closer, and Mike felt his presence as Ben pressed a kiss to his shoulder and held him from behind. Words didn’t need to be said; Ben understood the burden on Mike’s shoulders, how the cop shooting affected him. 

Ben thought about Max Greevey, gunned down outside his own home. It was roughly a year into Mike and Ben’s then off-and-on relationship, and Mike’s reckless actions nearly tore them apart again; two men trying their best to bring a cop-killer to justice. They’d weathered that storm.

Then Phil Ceretta, being shot during an UC bust. Ben remembered Mike’s rage; he couldn’t believe that Ben was willing to deal with a guy who nearly killed Phil. Phil gave his blessing, but that case ended with horrible implications. Ben and Mike weathered that storm as well. 

Max and Phil were cops shot by criminals, but this Newhouse case consisted of implications beyond that of typical criminal activity. 

The Officer Newhouse shooting was beginning to show shades of the unthinkable. Yes, Newhouse was killed by a drug dealer, and had taken that dealer’s life in trade before succumbing to his injuries. What was now coming out of Mike and Lennie’s investigation revealed the ultimate betrayal; cops hanging another cop out to dry. 

Because he was different. 

Because that cop was gay. 

Like Mike. 

Ben shook the thought out of his head, forcing himself to focus on the real, breathing human being in front of him. “I’m glad you’re here, Mike. I was worried about you.” 

That got a half-hearted chuckle out of Mike, but he understood. He held Ben’s hands in his and squeezed, a silent gesture of assurance. He shifted again, and Ben released him sliding back to his side of the bed as Mike moved to lay beside him. Neither man said a word as they lay on their sides facing one another, eyes locked on one another, convincing themselves that this nightmare of a case had not defeated them, not yet. 

Mike watched Ben's expressions, knowing that his partner was thinking. He watched as Ben’s hand cautiously caressed his shoulder and slid over to rest over Mike’s heart, feeling his heartbeat. Mike knew that he could have been Newhouse. That, by some inconceivable chance, Briscoe could have been dispatched elsewhere, and Mike would be in his worst nightmare, pinned down from both sides.

Then Ben’s worst nightmare - having to prosecute Mike’s killer. 

Mike reacted as Ben’s eyes squeezed shut, those blue eyes trying to shut out his darkest nightmare. Mike held Ben in his arms, protecting him, his low voice telling Ben that he was not Newhouse, comforting him with his words, his presence. 

“Ben. I’m right here,” Mike squeezed Ben’s hand, still pressed over his heart. In truth, he had the same fear. He kissed Ben’s temple, and held him closer, assuring himself with the same words he was using to comfort Ben, “I’m still here.” 

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 53

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,327

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Author’s Note: The title for this chapter will make more sense once you read it (as will the gif choice), and I am SO excited for y’all to read this one *smirks*

A Ship Has Sailed 

By the time the Sanctuary appeared through the trees, an orange halo had formed where the sun was edging towards the horizon. In another hour that orange would be joined with pink, and they would take over all of the remaining blue before being consumed by the black of night. The lighting gave the large building a bit of a glow, but it also accentuated shadows and dark corners, making them appear longer. 

It served as a metaphorical reminder of whatever was happening between you and Negan. There had been a warm glow inside of you for the past 24 hours, since the resolution of the pregnancy test argument, and you wanted nothing more than to bask in the beauty of it. However, there were also still shadows and dark corners, parts that you were ignoring or straight up avoiding. You knew they wouldn’t go away on their own, no matter how wonderful the glow, and only you and Negan could confront those shadows together. The question was if confronting them would make them disappear...or cause them to grow until they completely overtook that glow, like a cloudy night with no stars. 

Your subconscious pulled out a large stick and began popping the intrusive thought bubbles, wanting no part of this damper on what had been a wonderful day. Agreeing for the moment, you tabled the thoughts, attention instead focusing on the upcoming front gate. There was a different guard on duty than when you left, due to the 6pm shift change that allowed both day and night guards the opportunity to attend dinner. But that wasn’t what had your attention; no, what you were fixated on was the fact that, despite being only a few feet away from said gate, Negan was still holding your hand. 

The guard’s eyes were watching as you approached, so to pull away now would be even more obvious. Instead, you tried not to appear as though every muscle in your body was tensed with uncertainty as the gate swung open and you walked past. Negan only gave a slight nod of acknowledgement to the guard, before continuing on as if nothing had happened. 

Sliding the guard a look out of the corner of your eye, you saw with a start that he was looking right back at you. Eyes darting forward, you tried to copy Negan’s aloof demeanor and not look as though it was taking all of your mental energy to remember how to walk like a normal human being and not trip over air. Nothing to see here, my guy. Just a typical evening stroll with your volatile and totally-not-holding-my-hand-as-if-we’re-a-couple leader. 

Negan only let go of your hand when reaching the front door of the Sanctuary, so that he could pull open the heavy metal. He then stood back, arm braced at shoulder level to hold the door, and it took a good ten seconds of you awkwardly standing there to realize that he was waiting for you to go in first. Holy crap, Negan was being chivalrous, and in public! Your subconscious squealed at the gesture and darted inside, while your brain tipped its hat to him in thanks before also walking in. Still a bit stunned over what was now two blatantly affectionate gestures in front of anyone who happened to be watching, you silently ducked under his arm and entered the building. 

Adding to your shock, once he had followed you inside and shut the door, he put a palm on your lower back to guide you down the hallway. The heat from his hand practically singed the thin fabric of your shirt with its silent possession, and it was so distracting that you almost missed it when he started making the turn to the stairwell that would lead back to his room. You felt a surge of relief that he wasn’t just sending you back to your own room after the cold shoulder moment in the woods, and some of the ice shards that had earlier formed around your heart as protection started to thaw. 

“Hold on,” you said, putting a gentle hand on his forearm. When he looked down in question, you added, “Ben said he’d leave us some dinner leftovers in the kitchen’s fridge.”

You were glad that he didn’t make a smartass quip at the mention of Ben, instead silently turning with you down a different hallway that led to the kitchen, his warm hand still present. You tensed a bit when passing a few community members in the hall, but if they noticed his touch, they didn’t show it. Instead, they were too busy dropping to their knees and lowering their heads in greeting. Your subconscious loved this, strutting past as if a royal before its subjects. Negan barely acknowledged them, while you felt distinctly uncomfortable and hoped to never become desensitized to such an unsettling sight.

Arriving at the cafeteria, you entered the large empty space, which was dimly lit due to the fading evening light coming in from the windows. Passing the rows of tables and pushing open the swinging doors to the kitchen, you were surprised to see that, unlike in the cafeteria, the overhead lights were still on in here. Since the dish washers were usually the last to leave, you assumed they had forgotten to flick off the lights on their way out. You’d make sure to have a discussion with them tomorrow, since it was important not to waste precious electricity here. Negan and his engineering team might have a fancy setup going on that allowed such luxuries as working lights, but that didn’t mean it was okay to abuse the privilege.

Crossing the tiled floor to the fridge, you had just opened the door and pulled out two small plastic containers of leftover tuna noodle casserole when there was a distinct and sudden thump. Whirling around, you glanced over at Negan, even though it was obvious he hadn’t made the noise. His gaze was fixed on the entrance to the pantry, which was located at the back of the kitchen. It was apparent the sound had come from that direction, and it was too loud to have been caused by a rodent or a box falling over. No, it had definitely been more of a human-sized thump. Since no one was supposed to be in the kitchen after-hours, the thought of an intruder made a lump of fear rise in your throat.

Negan’s gloved hands were now both wrapped around Lucille, and she hovered a few inches off his shoulder in the locked-and-loaded position as he confidently yet stealthily started across the kitchen. You followed a couple of feet behind, ready to throw the leftover casserole at any potential thief or walkers as a distraction so that Negan could beat them to death, if needed. You also still clutched Ricardo in your other hand, if the leftovers-to-the-face and Lucille-for-dessert plan wasn’t enough. You tensed for action when Negan’s own hands tightened on the bat and he stepped into the pantry’s entryway. 

“Don’t fucking move,” he growled in a voice so deadly that it would’ve caused bladder complications if you were on the receiving end of it.

A clatter of cans and a muffled, “Shit!” came from the pantry. You saw Negan’s eyes go wide in shock, his mouth even dropping slightly open as the hands on Lucille relaxed and lowered. Now curious as hell, you came up behind him, standing on tiptoes and peeking over his shoulder for a view into the pantry. The sight that met your eyes almost made you drop both Ricardo and the food. 

The first thing you registered was the tall, broad man who was quickly pulling his shirt down over his head to cover a well-muscled, not to mention well-furred, chest. Your brain recognized that it was Simon and was wondering what the hell he was doing undressing in the pantry, when movement behind him caught your attention. The second, slightly shorter figure was running nervous fingers through his disheveled hair and looked about to vomit with fear at being caught. Then his eyes traveled over Negan’s shoulder and saw you were also standing there, and a flash of relief came across his face.

Since it was obvious there was no actual threat to your safety, you came up beside Negan and cleared your throat awkwardly before saying, “Hiya, Ben. Fancy seeing you here this late.”

His face was so flushed that it was a wonder steam wasn’t coming off his skin, but he played along with your attempt to diffuse the situation. His voice came out quiet and croaky when he said, “Yea, uh, must’ve lost track of time.” 

You wanted to rush forward with a squeal and give him a reassuring hug and high five for what had obviously been a hot and heavy make-out session with the man he’d been hardcore crushing on. However, you also realized that this situation could go downhill very quickly, depending on how Negan reacted to the revelation. There was also the uncertainty about how Simon would handle this, since you had no clue how open about his sexual interests he might or might not be. 

That latter question was quickly answered when Simon put a proprietary arm around Ben’s waist, looked at Negan with a huge, good ol’ boy grin, and said, “Apologies for the lack of professional conduct. I dropped by to see how the dinner clean-up was going and, well, you know how one thing can lead to another.”

He said the last with a bit of a glint in his eye, as if daring Negan to deny that yes, he did indeed know how one thing could lead to another, including here in this very kitchen. At least Simon and Ben had been smart enough to conceal themselves in the pantry, rather than fuck right on the counter for all to see, the way you and Negan had just a couple nights ago. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on fucking duty somewhere?” Negan asked, voice low and full of threat. If Simon was currently leaving a guard post unattended, you knew he was in for a world of hurt. 

However, instead of looking worried, the mustachioed grin got even wider as he joyfully said, “Nope! I switched out with Luis at 6, so my evening is free as a bird.”

You had to give the man credit for appearing so relaxed and carefree, especially with a boss who could literally remove his head with a hefty swing standing semi-pissed in front of him. You weren’t sure if Simon was just that confident, or if he was that unhinged. You hoped, for Ben’s sake, that it was the former. 

Negan unflinchingly stared Simon down for a couple of long seconds, until the other man quickly lost the grin and dutifully lowered his gaze to the floor. A glance at Ben showed he was wringing his hands together nervously and also staring down at the ground, as if hoping it would open up and swallow him whole.

Satisfied at the other men’s show of deference, Negan finally growled out, “The fuck is it with all my fucking Saviors sneaking around at night to fuck the fucking kitchen staff.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and marched back across the kitchen, towards the exit. Giving one last (and hopefully reassuring) look at a still-frozen-in-worry Ben, you scurried after him, stopping briefly at the cupboards to grab two forks and cups. When he reached the swinging doors and held them open for you to exit first, he threw sternly back over his shoulder, “You better fucking disinfect any surfaces you fucking desecrated.”

He belied his terse tone by throwing a wink and smirk in your direction, though Simon and Ben obviously wouldn’t be able to see it. Hoping that his nonverbals were a more telling predictor of how he felt about all of this than his verbals had been, you both crossed and exited the cafeteria, before starting the trek up to his private rooms. 

You passed a few more community members in the halls, but if they found the sight of you and their leader walking together strange, you were too consumed with what had just happened in the kitchen to notice or care. It was obvious that Negan also had no fucks to give about being seen with you, since he twirled Lucille and whistled in that playful yet threatening way that only he could pull off.

When you reached his rooms, he led the way into his bedroom and over to the little black table with two white armchairs. Setting down the containers and forks on the table, and propping Ricardo up against the nearby armoire, you went into the bathroom to fill the two glasses in the sink. It was only when you had returned and settled into the chair to eat that you realized your mistake.

“Shit,” you blurted, earning an eyebrow raise from the man already shoveling the first forkful of casserole into his mouth. “We didn’t heat it up.”

Giving an uncaring shrug, he said around the mouthful, “It’s tuna and noodles. Tastes fucking fine cold.” 

Taking a tentative bite, you found that he was correct. Sure, it wasn’t as gooey and creamy as when warm, but the flavor was still pretty darn good, so you forgave your lack of foresight in the face of processing the Ben and Simon situation.

The two of you ate in companionable silence, and you wondered if Negan’s thoughts were as preoccupied with the events in the kitchen as yours were. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long to learn that the answer was yes, Negan was definitely thinking about it. Out of nowhere, he let out a loud bark of laughter, causing you to jump and almost choke on the noodle you had been chewing. 

At your questioning look, he said, “I’m just remembering the fucking priceless look on ol’ Benny Boy’s face when he saw me standing in that fucking entryway.”

Hoping that his humorous response was a positive thing, and that Ben wasn’t further on Negan’s shit list, you questioned, “So you’re not upset about him messing around with one of your most devoted Saviors?”

Giving a quick shake of his head, he stabbed more noodles with his fork. “Fuck no. Simon deserves a bit of fucking fun.”

“What if it’s more than just fun to them?” 

You couldn’t help the question, trying to figure out just how okay with all of this Negan really was. You knew that it wasn’t only the fact that Ben had been caught in such a compromising and unprofessional position, but also that he had been caught with another man that could make this a potentially unsafe situation for him. Ben had always seemed to keep his interest in both men and women fairly quiet, which was his right to do so. If Negan showed any hint of discrimination, or gave any inclination that he would out Ben to the community, then you wouldn’t hesitate to rain holy hell down on him. 

Instead, Negan’s unexpected response was, “Well then, if it’s the real deal, I’ll throw them a fucking congratulations party.” 

Unable to hide your look of pleasant surprise, he said, “What? People deserve to find some fucking happiness where they can in this dreary-as-shit world we’re livin’ in. So long as they continue to get their fucking duties done, and follow my fucking rules, I don’t give a shit who they play ‘hide the salami’ with.”

You were a bit stunned at his progressive and open-minded thinking, and it only caused you to warm towards him even more. It also made you want to stop being so quick to see the worst in him, and the worst in yourself for liking him so much. Pushing that self-doubt from earlier in the woods even further to the back of your head, your subconscious jammed it down into a metal box so your brain could click it shut with a padlock. There it would stay, along with all the other questions still left unanswered between you and Negan, until you felt more ready to open it up and deal with them.

Finishing the last bite of casserole and feeling pleasantly full, you then registered that another basic need wasn’t being met: cleanliness. You felt a bit grimy from being out in the woods, not to mention the layer of dried sweat on your skin from both wandering around a hot forest and engaging in some extra-strenuous activities with Negan. 

“Is it alright if I use your shower?”

You swore Negan’s eyes darkened a shade at that, and his voice sounded a bit lower than usual when he answered. “What’s mine is yours, doll.”

Wow. Pretty sure your subconscious had just slithered to the floor in a pile of goo at the promise in both the words and his tone. 

Rising on now-wobbly legs from the chair, you started towards the bathroom. Before you could overanalyze or second-guess the decision to death, you whipped the shirt up over your head and tossed it to the floor. Glancing back over your shoulder at him, you gave a playful grin and unhooked your bra while saying, “Care to join me?”

He was up out of the chair before the words even fully left your lips, and you had barely made it across the threshold of the bathroom before he was on you. Arms snagging around your waist, he turned you into him and crashed his lips down on yours.

The bathroom became littered with clothes as you hurriedly pulled them off each other before stumbling back into his massive shower. You abruptly yelped when he first turned on the water, the temperature borderline freezing as it pelted down on your bare back. He gave a husky chuckle and reached over to adjust the knobs, and you sighed in satisfaction when the stream heated up against your chilled flesh. 

Trailing greedy hands across his warm skin, you followed the path of a water droplet down his chest while thinking back to the various times you had fantasized about this very moment, about him naked and wet and yours. When he bent down for a kiss, you swore he poured not just his desire but also, dare you say it, his emotions into the kiss. You had felt these tiny hints of vulnerability he was trying to share with you throughout the entire day, ever since waking up in your bed this morning. He was trying to show that although he was terrifyingly deadly and intimidating as fuck with everyone else, he could be caring and gentle with you. 

And how had you reacted? By shutting down and questioning his motives. There was a part of you that still refused to fully believe this would last, but maybe it was time to start enjoying it while you could, and not think too much about tomorrow. Suddenly, you wanted to reciprocate, to show that you had noticed how hard he had been trying to connect. And while maybe words would work, you and Negan’s communication skills had always been more about nonverbals and actions. 

Pulling back from the kiss and visually drinking him in, you were caught off guard for the millionth time by how god damn attractive he was. His hair was damp from the spray, and you wanted to lick the water droplets clinging to his neck and shoulders. However, you had another destination in mind, one that you had yet to explore but didn’t want to leave unattended any longer.

Looking up into his tawny eyes, you gave a sly smile and whispered, “Just so you know, this is the only reason I will ever kneel for you.”

Then, with gazes still locked, you fell to your knees on the wet tile...and took his cock in your mouth.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[shintorikhazumi]

“Diana.”

A/N: To be honest, I had wanted this to be a Diana-centric fic, from Diana’s perspective. I struggled to find a concept, and had a little help from a friend who sent me a random generator. (Thanks, Kate :>) And when I thought I’d just choose from a randomly generated idea, I came across this video on youtube which was actually a compilation of a tiktok series of the story of two neighbors. Of course, I changed bits of it, and obv the end so if you think you know what the source vid is, dw. I won’t hurt y’all like that ;-; And I’ll just link it at the bottom so no plot spoilers for those who don’t know what it is. Eyyyy.

This fic has a few song recs for y’all to listen to if you haven’t heard them already, lol. ;)

I had been looking for something... “emotional” for Diana’s bday fic. And I think... this works. At least for me, it does.  It’s not from Diana’s perspective, but... I think this works. So without further ado, Happy birthday Diana and...

oh, thank you to @tracedinairlwa​ for some help with the music :> that y’all will see later in the fic :’>. Without further ado,

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

 It all started with a sunset and a few familiar notes from a piano.

No, it isn’t Akko’s piano. Her piano has been sitting in a corner of her room, collecting dust- untouched for months. And that is just the thing. Unless her piano has somehow become cursed and has decided to ghostly play on its own, then there had to be some other source.

The source of that gentle sound, Akko eventually pinpoints, is her apartment wall- or more accurately, what lies beyond that separator.

As she sits on her couch, admiring the expressive tones, her mind has decided that it wants to capture this special moment, and keep it stored lest she never experiences it again.

Making a quick dash for her bedroom, she opens her bedside drawer and fishes for her old camera from her university days in film club, back when she was an actual student of the Arts and all that creative jazz. She has tried to maintain it, but being under lockdown allows her few chances of seeing the outside world, and the few corners of her home don’t exactly spark ‘inspiration’ for any project.

Dusting the device off gently, she takes it back to the living room, placing it on her coffee table facing herself. She clicks the record button, thinking of making an introduction; but she quickly abandons that idea as she realizes it may take away from the sounds she wants to ring more apparent on tape.

Maybe she can just edit a few captions later on her laptop. Yes. That sounds good.

So she sits.

And the notes kept playing.

 //

[Video Diary(?) Diary? Is this a Diary? Day... Day 1. I hope it’s only Day 1. I hope there’s a day 2. And a three... and a five.

So anyway, Akko here. And uh... I got a new neighbor, I think. He/she plays the piano. I do too (kinda. Haven’t done that in a while, hehe).

I don’t know why I recorded this... this must seem like I’m being a creep, but... They just... played Chariot’s Melancholy from my favorite show and... it felt sadder than usual. The sound felt sorrowful. I don’t know...

I’m... moved.]

//-//-//-//-//

She does not know what compels her today, to slip that message under her neighbors door; but before she can even think about her actions, they’d already been done.

A simple, “can you please play ‘Ease My Mind’ by Ben Platt, maybe?” haphazardly scrawled on a piece of notebook paper is delivered with the anxious feelings of an interaction-craving Akko, starved of a social life since all this pandemic misfortune began.

She is sure she no longer knows how to string a proper introduction together after nearly a year of being by her lonesome.

This is about to change however. Starting today.

Maybe.

She counts down the hours ‘til sunset.

//

[Day 2! Yey! So uh... I kind of... went on the attack- no! I didn’t attack anyone! I just... You know how I have a new neighbor that plays the piano? I sent that neighbor a note.

And you might think that’s all fine and cute, but... I’ve never even met my neighbor... but...

I love his/her music. So much.

And I told them. On the note, of course. Duh, Akko.

I asked them to play ease my mind and... they did.

As you can hear in the video... I guess it was a yes. :>

 ...They eased my mind...

-Akko]

 //-//-//-//-//

She wants to try something today.

She has been thinking about it the past few days after continually being blessed with such beautiful music. Music that had attracted her like moth to a flame. The piano’s daily sunset singing compels her to come reunite with her own.

She had wiped it clean earlier in the morning and now sits awkwardly on the bench, punching down a random note here and there.

What a nostalgic tone.

The C major scale then the G. She plays it. A few arpeggios to warm up. F sharp major doesn’t sound too good, with her fingers tangling up as she traverses the scale. What was the fingering supposed to be like again? Right. Start with the fourth and second finger on the left and right hand respectively.

That sounds much better.

She hums a few tunes, choosing from a playlist arranged in her mind. She settles on something gentle and sweet. A Yiruma song. Just to get the feeling back in her hands.

A river flows as notes along the plain that is her silent room, adorning the quiet flourishes and curves, bringing color to her atmosphere.

She misses this. This tingle in her heart as music fills up her entire soul, not allowing her to think of anything else but this exact moment.

Yes.

This... This is nice.

And Akko plays until the sunset comes.

She can’t wait for it to come.

//

[Day 6. I... I haven’t played the piano in a while, and I’m a little rusty. But brave ol’ Akko here thought it’d be great to ask for a duet from the virtuoso across the drywall, haha. I left a note...

And I though we had something going. I was excited... I said that they could play once I stopped my part, but... did they forget? Or I guess they didn’t hear me.  

It’s okay... I can try again tomorrow.

I hope. Tomorrow...

-This has been Akko.]

//-//-//-//-//

She excitedly videos this weekend ‘meet-up’.

Akko still doesn’t know who lives across the wall, but she sure knows his or her favorite songs by now, hearing it daily at the same sunset hours.

She admires the music, as usual, but this time it’s different. This time, they had sent her a note. An apology for missing out last time.

They request a duet with her, to make up for it. Of course, Akko accepts. And now she starts it off, praying and hoping her sound is heard through the barrier that keeps their music apart.

She ends her part of the duet, waiting in the most agonizing few seconds of silence. She briefly worries that her neighbor had forgotten their proposition; or maybe they couldn’t hear her once more.

It’s fine, she thinks... It’s okay. She scratches her cheek, wondering if she should hold on until next time again-

There it is. That beautiful sound, so personal to the one living across the wall. A sound of emotion that could only belong to whoever it was living there.

Akko had never heard anyone else play the way her neighbor did.

She laughs, she feels herself tear up a little. It hurts so sweet in her chest. It’s a fizzy, bubbling excitement. It’s a stretched-out joy across her cheeks.

A success!

A beautiful one, indeed.

//

[Day 8: Akko here. My wish came true. I... got to play with my neighbor! Yay!

... Maybe I should go meet them now...]

//-//-//-//-//

They do it again.

Akko excitedly bounces in her warmed piano seat, listening to her neighbor go first this time around. She listens intently. Once the wall music stops, she starts. This was their agreement, their deal.

The river’s flow stills a moment, and that’s Akko’s cue to pick up the current’s pace once more.

She plays with shy gusto, caressing the keys in a way that shows how she’s fallen in love again. With the piano? With music? Yes. With- ...

Love, huh. It’s such perfect timing too.

Today is Valentine’s day.

Akko doesn’t know whether or not her neighbor has anyone special in her life like that, but if they share the same situation, all alone in their apartments, locked in by the pandemic, she just wants them to know she receives the message their music is trying to get across to one another.

Her heart feels it. It translates it.

It cherishes it.

//

[Day 13.

Dear Neighbor,

I just... wanted to share the words we’ve exchanged, not through any verbal means, but through the sounds that reverberate against the very foundations of our connected homes. Thank you for this message.

I know that music is... our way of simply saying

“I don’t know who you are ... But I’m here. You’re not Alone.” This is for you too.

-Sincerely, Akko.]

//-//-//-//-//

It is a challenge.

For Akko or for her neighbor, she doesn’t know. What she does know is that tomorrow is going to be the big day! She’s finally going to see the face behind the songs that have embraced her tenderly throughout the lonely struggle she hadn’t realized had weighed down on her so heavily.

The interactions they’ve had, the conversations, they brighten up her everyday, and Akko is somewhat afraid she’s gotten attached; addicted- if you will- to this unique bond she’s formed with another she has never actually met.

Her mind strays from her current piece, body autopiloting a song called, “Mind Conductor” that both of them just so happen to like, apparently. Another fact that makes Akko feel all giddy as they seem to share a taste in other media outside of music.

She feels herself vibrate with nerves and excitement.

It’s tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day.

//

[We’re Finally Meeting.

Tomorrow.]

//-//-//-//-//

Akko tells a story.

She’s met her neighbor, not knowing what to expect. Despite having a lack of said expectations, she could confidently say it was better than anything she could have anticipated.

She rolls up the sleeves of her flannel shirt, readying herself to write the melodious response to the already playing tune in the background of her video.

Though she tries to listen intently, waiting for her turn, she is distracted. She knows she is.

After meeting someone as wonderful as her neighbor.

Blonde hair and blue eyes invade her recall, flashes of a soft smile and calm voice playing over and over in her head.

Her neighbor is the most gorgeous woman she’s ever met. Breath-taking. Akko says this with utmost objectivity as her lungs struggle to function after first meeting the lady.

Hailing from Scotland, the twenty-five-year-old had introduced herself to Akko. They exchanged a few pleasantries, some questions and information.

Akko had asked how she’d never known she had such a talented neighbor, to which the response was an admission from the woman that she had just moved in and was only staying in the adjacent apartment temporarily while awaiting for a relative to come for her after selling their old house back in their hometown.

Her mother... rests. Having had a certain heart disease for a while, her immune system had proven very susceptible to the pandemic reaper that had claimed her life for its tallied count. She never knew her father, it seemed.

Akko’s heart breaks as she remembers these things.

“All I have left is the piano.”

That’s what she’d said to her earlier.

Akko’s fingers glide across the keys, playing her role in this drama for two.

“I play at sunset because my mother came home at that time from work... she was always stressed.

...I wanted to be of help to her. I was happy she loved it. As I grew up, it became a habit.”

Akko fumbles with a few keys, making a slight mistake. She hopes her neighbor can forgive her for being so distracted at the moment, and right after they’d finally met too.

“Thank you, Miss-”

“Akko is fine.”

“Thank you, Akko. You’re playing has, in truth, kept me motivated and less lonely.”

Akko remembers having promised before their parting to their respective units that she would keep playing with her until she moves out.

Akko blushes upon remembering the stunning smile she was offered afterwards.

Her neighbor had been camera shy and so Akko didn’t get the opportunity for a picture. She hopes for the best in the future. She’ll try again if ever the lovely lady was ready.

They have time, anyway.

They do.

//

[Day 20, folks! Akko here, writing another video caption entry, Diary, thing... haha. The song playing right now in the video is gorgeous right? It’s... her favorite song. It’s called, ‘In case you don’t live forever’. She said it keeps her loser to her mother. It keeps her in her heart.

She plays so beautifully...

She’s just as beautiful. She’s amazing.

She’s... a special soul.

I feel goosebumps.

I’m glad. For her. Her music doesn’t sound as sorrowful as when I first heard it. It’s still every bit as emotional, though. I could cry. Really, I could...

...I’m so happy she’s healing.

It’s a process, but... I’ll be here. I’ll be here for her.

I’ll be here for you,

“Diana.”]

//-//-//-//-//

There are times when Akko thinks she’d like to get to know her neighbor more, a little more chatting, a few more minutes talking. 

However, it always seems as though there’s this unspoken rule. This... ‘don’t-get-too-close’, ‘don’t-ask-more-than-you-should’. It’s like a boundary that keeps Akko from learning more, discovering more.

Neither of them purposely meet-up outside their closed doors either, this lockdown and what-not all up in their face.

They see each other around the building sometimes, wave a hand, shake a plastic bag of groceries, but building protocols don’t really allow loitering in the halls, and Akko feels she’d be crossing a line in inviting the girl over, and she doesn’t see herself getting invited instead either.

Despite this longing, she isn’t all too dissatisfied with the current standing of their relationship. Peculiar as it may be, she rather likes this.

A relationship built on a communication based on raw emotion delivered through their music.

If Akko ponders it deeply, it’s quite an intimate relationship, what they have. Thoughts and feelings in their purest form- unspoken, but not hidden.

She might not know too much about Diana. She may not know much of her past, or even her present, or general objective facts about the woman.

But what Akko does feel she knows is Diana’s heart. 

And Akko knows its utterly beautiful.

//-//-//-//-//

Moonlight Sonata has never felt so sad to her; its sounds reflecting something they both felt, Akko believed.

Akko feels her heart clench and ache in her chest, her face a little hot and her palms sweating.

Only a week left before the clock strikes twelve and the magic is broken.

Diana is finally moving out.

It is... their final duet.

How unfortunate.

Akko sighs, thinking about the pain she’ll feel later as she edits this portion of the video. Compared to the happy tones and build ups of all the others, this... is something she doesn’t know if she can do.

Maybe she can ask Amanda for a favor this time around?

She’s actually shown some of her closest friends her video logs, and they all had sent kind messages to Akko’s new friend, who in turn, felt worlds and worlds happier.

Akko feels happy as well.

Diana’s joy is contagious. It shows through her expressive music that gives away the feelings her face doesn’t show.

Speaking of Diana’s face... she still hasn’t agreed on showing her face on camera. Akko supposes it’s still too early. Maybe before she leaves? Oh Akko hopes so. She wants to have something to look at physically to remember Diana by. Not that she’d ever forget.

Still, a little memory help never hurt anyone.

Diana’s turn comes in smoothly through the wall, Akko unable to keep her smile from forming.

She’s going to miss this. The playing; the sometimes awkward, but unconventionally amazing duets; the letters shoved underneath door; and the very rare hallway meet-up where Akko can only smile at Diana as they exchange a literal word or two.

Akko reminisces.

The past... two months now, have been amazing. Incredible. Life-changing. Akko wonders what the future has in store for them both after they part.

Maybe they could meet again. Someday. Somehow. Somewhere.

Akko knows she’ll keep playing still. At the same time, on a weekend, as the sunsets. For Diana. She’s promised she’ll keep making the video logs. She’ll send them over to her so that they can still keep this music alive in some way.

//-//-//-//-//

[Day 62.

Hi, Diana. It’s me, Akko.

I... wrote you a song...? Or well, I started to... I’m not quite done yet, hihi. Got a little too ambitious and all... thought I could add some other instruments besides our- the piano... aha..haha...

When you first told me your story, I started picturing it out. A life dyed with all the colors of the spectrum. From the vivids to the grays, it was such a lovely imagery in my minds eye. A painting I could not get out of my head.

And so this song is... yeah. That.

A story.

A story about this wonderful twenty-five-year-old woman who so happened to move next door to this uninspired artist. She’d lost her mother to a stupid virus, and she’d never known her father. Her house got sold, and she had only one distant relative she knew of left.

She spends her days along in a box of white walls and empty silence. That is, until the sun decides to rest for the day, and it sends its golden rays of energy to the girl and to her piano that she thought to be her sole companion in this tragedy.

She plays her favorite songs, filling the emptiness with her own emotions; making the intangible manifest itself and cause a dumb girl next door to one day slip a scratch of paper underneath her door, asking for a song.

A note with a request... and with a message that she’d heard her feelings- her loneliness; and that she’d never let her be alone anymore.

And that’s how they became friends, huh, Diana?

Two pianos, Two people, and a wall that keeps them apart.

They didn’t know who was playing on the other side. But did it matter?

In this dreary, blackened time of the world,

‘You can be the light of somebody else’ darkness, so keep shining.’.

Dear Diana,

In case my playing isn’t as emotionally expressive as yours, I hope you at least know this now. Through this video.

That you were, and are... my light.

-Akko.

P.S. I hope I finish the song and give it to you before you leave.]

//-//-//-//-//

 She feels herself hyperventilating, her vision bleary. She can barely stand. She feels like vomiting, and dying, and screaming all at once.

Her anxieties run rampant all over the room.

If this keeps up, she may as well hurt herself beyond help.

She trudges over to the one thing that could ground her at the moment.

The piano.

Her hands are shaky as they do multiple attempts to turn on the keyboard, hitting the wrong buttons and turning the volume knob up too loud that when Akko accidentally leans against the keyboard, hand pressing down on many keys, the sound almost blows up her eardrums.

She curses, smashing a hand against those same keys, the cluster of notes echoing through her apartment walls.

“aaaaAAAAGGHHHHHHHH!!!!”

She allows the scream to tear out of her throat; emotions, wild horses finally released into the open.

“AGH! AGGHHHH!!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH”

She falls face first onto the keys, now ignoring the loudness of their noise, momentarily thinking it would be better to allow her ears to bleed out so she’d never hear a thing again.

She wants something, anything, to drown out the pain she feels right now.

...

She sobs against the keys, head lifting as she apologizes to her piano, wiping off the tears that are quickly replaced by fresh ones.

Akko gives up and plays a note. Then two.

Then she’s playing ‘you’ll be in my heart’ and she’s crying more.

She lets herself cry as she plays.

Today, she was supposed to see Diana off. She had left a final note the day before yesterday, asking if she could do so. Help Diana carry her things, maybe swap numbers, and just... maybe keep this connection going for years to come.

Last night, she’d said good night at Diana’s door.

The girl gave her the sweetest smile, an almost unnoticeable blush on her features.

Oh, but Akko noticed anyway.

Of course, she would. With how shamelessly she stared at Diana at that moment.

Diana laughed, stepping closer and patted Akko on the cheek- kissed her there- before turning about to shut the door, along with the lights Akko saw go off from underneath it.

She was excited for the morning.

But when morning came... Diana was gone.

Akko had been thrown into confusion and a frantic state that she’d bolted all around, searching for signs or a left behind message.

Nothing.

She had then run down to ask the land lady, and that’s where she’d found out.

The heart disease Diana’s mother had was hereditary.

Diana had had an attack, and with an emergency alerting device, she’d been able to contact her only family, and had been taken to the hospital.

That was good.

That gave Akko relief and joy.

...so why is she despairing now?

...She didn’t know.

No, not the reason for her despair. She knows that.

The reason she was in this state is because she didn’t know.

She didn’t know what had happened.

She didn’t know Diana had suddenly disappeared in the middle of the night.

She didn’t know where she was, or where whoever took her.

She didn’t know that Diana had that heart disease too.

She didn’t know because she never got to ask.

She never got to learn more, know more.

... Did she not know Diana then?

Her mind taunts her, her heart hurts her.

She doesn’t know a lot about Diana. Not as much as she thinks.

That’s what they tell her.

For all the emotions they’d exchanged through music, that was the extent of it. Had Akko been too presumptuous in thinking she’d known Diana so deeply because of what they’d shared?

When in reality she may as well be a random stranger playing her show tunes and disturbing her neighbors.

Akko almost believes it.

But no... no. She can’t do that. She can’t assume those things. Not about their connection. Not about Diana.

Because Diana had told her once upon a song that she- that Akko had been her light. Her comfort. Akko believes in Diana. So she believes these feelings as well.

Yet these feelings of her own were so conflicting, so daunting. They battle in her mind, questioning and justifying every little thing. All things relating to Diana. Diana and... Diana.

Akko coughs out a few more sobs, throat incredibly dry.

She stops playing for a moment, dragging herself to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Then she goes back to the piano.

She... doesn’t feel like playing again.

What should she play anyway?

What song does she want to play? What song... Song... Song... Diana... What was Diana’s favorite song?

Diana? Song? A song for Diana? A song about-

Akko falls off her piano bench as she scrambles for her coffee table, sighing in relief as the papers for her composition are still there.

With shaky hands, she takes the sheets and a pencil and brings them over to the piano.

And she writes a few notes, then a few bars.

Diana.

Diana.

Who is Diana.

What does Akko not know about her. Her other struggles? Her sickness? Her trials and her fears? Her past?

That melody... sounded too sad for a parting gift. Akko doesn’t want Diana to feel more sorrow when she moves out...

Then....

What does Akko know? About Diana?

“Diana is...”

Expressive, emotional.

Diana is intelligent, an intellectual.

Diana is sincere and sweet.

Diana is talented and tasteful in music.

Diana is... her neighbor, her... new friend,

....Akko’s... what?

What was she to Akko?

“You are my light.”

-Akko ends up writing as a title.

But that’s a little too embarrassing to give to someone who was just your neighbor and a new friend... right?

And maybe it didn’t exactly represent the whole thing Akko had written.

So she erases it, biting her pencil as she tries to come up with a new name, a new caption for this creation.

What could it be. That describes Diana in her entirety; her life, her struggles, her joys.

Who is she? Who is Akko’s neighbor?

Akko scratches her head in frustration, wracking her brains even more.

With a sigh, she replies to herself aloud, the simplest, somewhat plain, and stupidly obvious answer.

“Well, she’s Diana.”

And it clicks.

That she is.

She is Diana.

And Akko throws on a jacket, a mask, and some shoes and thinks no more.

//-//-//-//-//

[Dear Diana,

I know very little about you

But you’ve changed my life.

Really you have.

You gave me back my passion, and a little bit more of that even. Maybe aroused a new passion within me.

I’d say, “You’ll be in my heart”, but that sounds too much of a farewell, to be honest.

And I’d rather not say goodbye just yet.

Not like this.

Music... Is a powerful thing. Despite the rampaging emotions I’d felt as I found out what had happened to you today, I- I kept playing. It grounded me. It helped me.

Diana, you once told me I was your light.

And you know I’ve told you already. That you’ve been MINE.

Diana. This video might look incredibly shaky and chaotic.

But please forgive me for that, and know that it is because I’m running with all my might to find out where you are. I got a hint for the hospital you might have been taken too.

It kinda seems like I’m a stalker now, huh?

I’m sorry. I just... I-

I can’t say goodbye to you....

Not just yet...

I still... have a song for you.

So... wait for me?”]

//-//-//-//-//

Eyes blink, bright white melting into color. They scan the room, looking for hints to identify her location.

Her body aches, her chest hurts. Her throat is parched. Her head is throbbing.

What is that annoying beeping sound-

Ah. Of course.

The hospital.

Again.

She hates it. She hates the smell of antiseptic and sterile sheets. She hates the taste of badly prepared hospital meals, and too-dry food.

The water has this strange quality to it when you’re in the hospital.

She knows this well.

She hates that she does.

She sighs, sinking into her pillows. At least those are comfortable.

Ugh.

What bad timing, really. For an attack.

She was supposed to move out today. She was supposed to meet with her aunt- who actually has probably met up with her by now, seeing as Diana is in a hospital and her usual alert device seems to be charging within reach beside her. Also she sees Daryl’s purse on the seat.

Maybe the woman had gone out temporarily for something important.

That was fine.

It just meant Diana was left alone again. If only for a short while.

...Alone, huh.

These past two months, she hadn’t been that.

All because of one girl, one Atsuko Kagari that she’d met by chance through a piano and through a wall. The sound quite literally carrying over through a wall.

Diana can’t believe she used to be so skeptical of thin-walled living spaces, wondering how people kept their privacy.

Now, however, she feels blessed that that was the case.

Else she’d never have met... her light.

That’s right.

When everything, her vision, her hopes, her heart had steadily been dying out, through her dim came a glow. That glow was the connection she’d found through her neighbor across a wall.

It had surprised her the first time she realized someone was playing alongside her one sunset session, months ago. She would have thought it creepy had the person’s music been any less captivating.

There were just so many colors in the music, there was just so much warmth. It sounded a little rough, a few hinges rusty at first; but it came along after a few pseudo duets, and then Diana had found these duets to be a staple in her life.

Then she met Akko for the first time, and more warmth and color came into her life.

Diana found herself enjoying the musical conversations they had, intrigued by thoughts that they were actually able to communicate in that way and understand one another to that extent, no words attached.

And she enjoyed these nonverbal bonding moments.

But when they actually wrote to one another, or when they’d have their short greetings when they’d meet up in the hall, Diana found herself wanting to draw even closer, to get to know Akko even more.

And when Akko asked if she could do the same, Diana had found it so easy to open up.

She’d loved to know even more about the girl.

But how would she do it now?

They didn’t have the chance to exchange numbers, and Diana was probably moving as soon as she left the hospital. Her things were already being shipped to her new home, after all. There wasn’t much reason to return to her apartment, really.

“Idiot. Stupid, Diana. Not asking her sooner. What are you supposed to do no-”

Two knocks on her door.

It doesn’t open right away. It doesn’t seem to open at all.

Diana deduces it’s not a doctor or nurse then. And it might not be Daryl either because the woman would have already called the attending nurse to open the door already.

So then, who could it be?

Diana tries not to let her mind wander and get her hopes up, because there is no way- just no way- it’s who she hopes it will be.

The door opens, and her breath is unexpectedly bated- and she releases it, seeing it’s just the janitor.

Trying not to let disappointment leak into her tone, she greets him a good mor-

“I’m glad... I was right.... hah... hah... You’re here... Diana.”

And Diana really shouldn’t just assume things such as being wrong, and that maybe her neighbor was a creep two months back.

Because now her neighbor, all frazzled, sweaty, and out of breath, is right there in front of her, a bunch of papers crumpled in one hand as the other is held over her heart, trying to calm herself.

“You... hah... didn’t let m-me... Sa-ha-y goodbye... so... you’re not allowed... to leave me waiting in silence and never respond...” Akko huffs. “There’s no more wall preventing you from using words now.”

Her breathing finally slows, and she manages to look up.

“I still have a song for you, after all.”

Diana doesn’t realize, nor does she feel the tears flowing down her face.

Akko doesn’t either.

“L-Let me know what you think... It’s my first song and all...” She becomes this shy blushing school girl as she approaches Diana’s bedside, awkwardly handing over the worn pieces of paper, all wrinkled up from whatever adventure Akko had been on prior to arriving here. “... then maybe we could play a duet again or something...”

She mumbles it so quietly Diana almost didn’t catch it.

She smiles.

She doesn’t think about the reality that was supposed to occur today had she not been taken to the hospital.

Virtual duets aren’t really her thing. She much prefers hearing sound in person, in real-time. She prefers the ability to adapt and adjust to play alongside someone; to feel expression and emotion first hand; to experience a duet in full.

So it’s a simple reply that she has ready, along with a smile on her face as she takes Akko’s hand in hers.

“I’d love that.”

 //-//-//-//-//

 Diana has told her many times that it’s thanks to her that she was able to recover as quickly as she did, and be out of the hospital in only a week.

Akko sheepishly denies that every time.

They’re both just glad things seem to settle to be alright now.

Diana leans her head against Akko’s shoulder as they share a pair of earphones, listening to the composition play on the latter’s laptop.

“I love it.”

“I know. You’ve told me that the past 4 months, everyday.”

“And I will continue to.”

Akko tries her best to hide the smile that had grown on her face, but it’s impossible. It comes out in laughs and a few soft tears, and she rubs her head against Diana’s.

“You have all the time to, it seems.”

“Yes, and I won’t waste it.” Diana quips, turning her head up to look at Akko with the tenderest of smiles. “Care to play?”

Akko simply smiles, before wrapping Diana up in a hug so deep, and warm, and tender. Without a word, she stands them both up, walking them over to two keyboards now positioned side-by-side.

They take seat. With eyes meeting, and a small nod, they begin.

They don’t need words to figure out the rhythm they’ll fall into, or what they should do, or who plays what part for today.

Akko’s colors seep out, her warmth embedded in her music. Diana’s expressive emotions tell Akko all she needs to know, and they play in harmony.

Together, they tell a story.

A story that began with a sunset and a few familiar notes from a piano.

A story about its music and what lay beyond a wall.

A story once called, “Diana”.

Now,

“Diana and Akko”.

  A/N: ....  Hrmmm... I didn’t like how i ended it, tbh,,, hahaha. I just... lost my thought process now. I’m tired and lost.

Anyway.

Based off this story

The follow-up to this won’t be now, or anytime too soon. Or tbh, I could just end it like this. But there’s this ache in my heart that wants to know what happens next as well. Or more things such as how Diana ended up staying. But well,

...who knows.

Bye for now.

~Shintori Khazumi

[suna-reversed]

4 seats away

College!AU Iwaizumi x gn reader (part1/?)

Iwaizumi Hajime was an absolute mystery to you when you first met him. Despite being just 4 seats away, the distance between you seemed like oceans apart. Little did you know of just how the tides would turn to bring the two of you a little closer.

slowburn-friends to lovers-flufff

(warnings- cuss words, mentions of harassment)

a/n; this is my first ever fic so feedback would be appreciated!

Stepping onto your college campus for the first time, you felt both exhilarated and scared, but nonetheless, you were ready to take on your new life and all the adventures that it had in store for you. 

On the other hand, Iwaizumi Hajime was absolutely baffled by just how much california was different from the place that he had called his home. He had expected some adjustment difficulties but still, he wouldn't have guessed the cultural shock that hit him harder than that one ball he spiked at shittykawa’s head when they were second years. His lips twitched upwards at the thought of his best friend who he was miles away from. But then his eyes moved to the mess of cardboard boxes he still had to unpack, and just like that his face was set back into it’s usual stoic expression as his shoulders slumped and he got to work.

--------

2 months into college life and it had surpassed all your expectations of the freedom you had deemed to gain as a high school student. No, you weren't going to parties every single night, spending your day away drinking booze or getting high at 2 am while listening to arctic monkeys. But you could get waffles at 2:30 am if you wished to, eat nutella straight out the jar AND play the yarichin bitch club’s theme song on the living room television and dance around with your roommates with no judgment whatsoever. 

Who was there to judge you after all anyways?

Unfortunately, that carefree attitude crumbled to dust as you walked out your class, absentmindedly texting your friend, and immediately slammed into what seemed like a walking brick wall. It took you 3.5 seconds to hear the clutter of the books and stationery the stranger was carrying to fall onto the floor, and another second to snap back to reality. You hurriedly bent down and hastily gathered the mess while a string of almost incoherent apologies left your mouth.  Realising the lack of response from the mystery person, you snapped your head up wondering if you may have given them a concussion with just how hard you knocked into each other. Instead, you were met with honey brown orbs peering down at you from a face as cold as ice. You didn't even realise how hard you were staring until the unknown boy bent down, taking the items from your hands gently and gathering the rest from the floor. His husky but tender voice snapped you of your trance. He seemed to murmur an apology before slightly bowing and then stopping halfway as if he caught himself doing something wrong. Another “sorry” and a slight nod was all you got before he walked away. 

That was your first encounter with what seemed to be an ever perplexing and mysterious boy. Fortunately, it wasn't the last. 

---------

The next time you saw him was on the bus on your way to the cafe where you worked part-time. You didn’t realise his presence until you felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head with an intensity hard enough to cut through stone. As you turned your head around, your eyes locked onto each other. He was standing around 4 seats away from you, partially blocked by a middle aged man talking loudly on his phone. Instinctively, you waved at him with an awkward smile. To your surprise, he raised his hand back in greeting while giving you a slight nod. Just then, your pressed smile turned into a genuine one as the distance of those 4 seats seemed to lessen just a bit. 

-------

Since then, you had learned a little bit more about him. He had a class right next to yours. He didn't seem to interact much with too many people, but was always polite to everyone and had one constant friend who he was most often seen with. He was somehow also extremely oblivious to his popularity amongst the girls he had classes with (they had given him the title of the “mysterious hot foreign boy”). You truly questioned that when you once saw him try to baby talk to a cat while waiting for the bus, only for the cat to poke him right in the eye with its paw, leading to a very awkward 5 minutes of you asking him if he was okay and him reassuring you he was even though his eye twitched every two seconds. 

------

It was just another regular day for you travelling back from work. You had gotten onto the bus, followed your daily routine of acknowledgement given and received with “that one guy from college”, and went along your business bobbing your head along to the song you were listening to on your earphones. The bus was oddly crowded that day for a late afternoon in the middle of the week. Your senses seemed to heighten a little as you felt a tall figure enter your personal bubble. You tried to move around, but the task proved to be a little too difficult with the crowd and a seat right next to you blocking your way. A single road bump was all that was needed for the stranger to further invade your space as they pressed up against you, a hand slowly inching up your hip. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked around with a panic filled expression, your eyes locking onto a pair of almond orbs you had grown too familiar with. 

It didn't even take Hajime a second to read your terror filled eyes and look down to realise the situation. And before he knew it, he was pushing through the crowd and physically placing himself right between you and the man. 

“Is there a problem?” he asked in an ever threatening tone to the man who was currently chuckling nervously as he cowarded away from Hajime's terrifying build. The man stuttered out an incoherent string of words that you were too shaken up to register before Hajime took one frightening step towards him, sending him scrambling away as far as possible in the stuffed bus. 

Hajime turned towards you, intending to move a step away from you to give you the much needed space. But before he could do that, he felt something tug onto the fabric of his jacket. Looking down, he saw your fist bundling up the corner of his jacket and he could have sworn he felt the sound of his heart break a little as he looked up to see a tear fall from your eyes as you sniffed slightly. 

“Hey, it's alright. Your name’s y/n right? You’re safe now y/n.” 

You were still too shaken up to wonder how he came to know your name or to even answer when he asked you if he should walk you back to your college dorm building. He took your fragile state as a yes as he simply signalled you to walk before him with a light tap to your arm when your stop came. You both walked in silence with you leading the way. When you reached right outside your dorm buidling, you finally looked up at him to thank him, only to see the smallest of smiles grace his lips as his eyes slightly darted down in between you two to where you still held onto his jacket. Your eyes widened as you realised you had never let go of it. That caused a small chuckle out of the usually stoic faced brunette. You found yourself letting out a nervous laugh as you pulled your hand away. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realise it. And also sorry for the extra journey you had to make. I honestly don't know how to thank you for what you just di-” 

“It’s really not a problem. Besides, anyone would have done that. I just hope you are okay?” 

---------

The ice between you and Hajime hadn't been a slow process of thawing and melting. Instead, it had come crashing down and swept away as if in a thunderstorm. From that day onwards, Hajime himself had taken the initiative to cross the everlasting distance of those 4 seats between you. Small talks while standing next to each other soon enough turned into dying of laughter as Hajime made stupid faces at the baby in the arms of the woman in front, or the time you sneaked in a wholeass tub of ben and jerry’s and shared it with him right in front of the “no-food” sign on the bus. 

You learned something new about him almost everyday. He was majoring in sports science. He used to play volleyball in high school. He has a best friend who currently plays volleyball in a professional team in argentina. The said best friend also blames himself for why they did not go to nationals as third years even though that is absolutely not the case. Not that Hajime would ever tell him that. Hajime sometimes has extremely soft moments when you’re texting late at night, thus leading to appreciative conversations about his best friend. Not that he would ever address him as that on a regular day, instead opting for shittykawa or trashykawa and many other terms, that, as pointed by you, seemed to be getting lazier by the day on a creative level. At this point, you’re sure you know his best friend more than he knows himself. 

Anyways, back to Hajime; he’s weirdly good at carnival games (much proven by his 5 time winning streak over you in the bucket toss). He always ends up choosing the dinosaur plushie as his prize (you now have an ever increasing collection of dinosaur plushies by your bed). 

He loves staying healthy and learned how to make all his favourite foods from back home in the first two months of coming to Cali. His favourite being agedashi tofu, which he now has to make for you at least once a week since you have been obsessed with it ever since you first tried it from his plate (he acts like he’s pissed about it but low key loves seeing how your face lights up whenever you see him with a lunchbox in front your class). He’s very attentive to whatever you say or do and will happily watch your favourite anime/movie/show as long as you're willing to watch all the godzilla movies with him. 

There is still so much to learn for you to learn about Hajime, and you are more than willing and ready to do so. However, there are a few things that you don’t know of and Hajime would like to keep it that way. Like how he looks over at you with such tenderness in his eyes while you’re laughing at a video of puppies falling over, or how his heart swells with joy whenever you get on your tiptoes to fix his hair, or how sometimes he’ll catch your face just right in the sunlight and suddenly he’ll feel like everything would fall apart if he so much as breathes too loud. But you’d always snap him out of it by poking your tongue out at him while making the silliest of faces and he’d flick your nose in response, and once again he’d ground himself into the moment, simply enjoying the fact that you exist, you’re here, and you’re with him. He mentally thanks himself for crossing those 4 seats that led him to being this close to you almost every other day. But he wonders if he’ll ever be able to get past his cowardice and admit that maybe he wants you to be just a little bit more closer. 

[smol-and-grumpy]

Good Morning - Chapter 5

Coffee shop!AU

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, owner of Dean’s Beans is living a humble and quiet life. Roasting beans and selling coffee in his little shop is what makes him happy. When she walked into his shop four months ago, his life changed, but is it for better or worse?

Chapter Warnings: Angst, mention of physical abuse, fluff too

WC: 2820

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Wednesday, September 9th

 Dean’s up before the alarm. It doesn’t happen that often since the alarm goes off at 5 AM and waking up before the set alarm doesn’t feel human to him. 

But this morning it happened because he laid awake the whole night. He laid awake last night too, if he’s honest. Sleep is not something that comes easily since he came back from the fishing trip with Ben and had time to be alone with his thoughts again. 

He thought it would be better if he sees her on Monday, that his heart would be calmer when she walks into his shop, and sets up her little workspace Dean had promised her she could have. But that never happened. She never showed up. And it irritates the shit out of him.

Dean pushes it off as she’s probably been busy, has gotten up late, and didn’t manage to come in to grab a coffee. And that she might have forgotten that he told her she could work in his shop. It’s just— it never happened before? She never stayed away on weekdays. Not in the four months he’s served her.

So yeah, he’s worried and he’s grumpy. 

The whole day went by and now it’s almost closing time. He had sent Benny home. Maybe because he had gotten on Dean’s nerves the whole day. Driving him nuts and pulling his leg because Dean’s overly grouchy. But maybe it’s also because it allows him to be alone with his thoughts without having to pretend as Benny’s rants about his girlfriend of the week. Dean’s sick of that too, not that he judges but maybe, if you don’t want to commit, then don’t? Benny’s not one who likes to be tied down, yet he always lets the girls talk him into it, only to dump them several weeks later. There had been scenes in the shop, not nice ones until Dean had had enough and told Benny to never bring a girl here ever again. 

Dean doesn’t know why he’s so sullen, alright? All he knows that it has been five fucking days since she was here last. It’s crazy how hung up he is on her. It’s not really a good thing.

He switches off the lights, only leaving the one at the coffee machine still shining brightly down at him while he starts to clean it. He thumbs over his phone, searches for some tunes to rock out to while cleaning. Because that’s also what he does. He likes to sing while cleaning, which annoys the fuck out of Benny.

His fingers work swiftly on the big machine, every move is programmed into his head, every motion sits right. It’s really mechanical. He's used to it, does it every day and by now, he thinks he’s able to do it with his eyes closed. Dean whistles to the tune of the music as he does, shaking his head, and mumbling the chorus. 

The art of coffee. Roasting the beans, grinding them, making coffee, cleaning the machine. It became his forte, his solace and form of therapy.  

He gets pulled out of his thoughts by a knock at the door.

Dean looks back, thinking it’s the back door. Thinking that maybe Benny’s forgotten something, and Dean has left the key in the lock so the other man can’t get in. When he looks back, there’s another knock and he realizes that it doesn’t come from the back.

He turns back around, sees a shadowy figure by the glass door. It has started to get dark outside, so he can only make out a shape.

Abandoning his task, he walks towards the door, the face of the person who’s knocking is hidden by the sign hanging on his shop door.

When he gets close enough to peek over the sign, Dean’s heart damn near stops beating.

He smiles, his hands are shaking and his legs almost give out, and yet, he still manages to turn the lock and open up.

Y/N looks tired, she looks a little thin. Looks like she hasn’t eaten for a couple of days. Her hair’s up in a ponytail, the circles around her eyes are dark. She hasn’t bothered with any kind of makeup. Dean doesn’t think that she needs any anyway.

“I’m sorry, I—, I didn’t,” She says, and pulls at her too large zipped hoodie that she’s wearing against the chill of the evening. 

Dean can’t help but wonder if it belongs to a man. Gets a little weird feeling deep down in his guts.

“Shit,” She mumbles, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come, you are closing and… god, it’s stupid, I’m sorry,” 

She turns around, and he knows that he has to stop her, and has the feeling that if he doesn’t, it’ll be a while until he’ll get to see her again.

So, Dean clears his throat, pushing words past his lips, “No, Y/N, wait,” He’s proud of himself for bringing anything past his lips, to be honest. Dean watches her turn back towards him and looks at him with that little frown as if she’s not sure. He grins, “Do you want a coffee?”

There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It makes her face light up and he watches in slow motion as the smile spreads into something bigger. She exhales, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “Yeah,” She nods, “I’d like that. Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

How can he say that it’s the least of his troubles? How can he say that he would do so much more if it means that he gets a chance to see that smile again?

Dean doesn’t know, so all he does is shake his head, “Not at all,” He smiles back and waits for her to walk in.

Locking the door behind her, Dean follows her in further, and he notices that she’s looking at the dismantled machine.

“Oh no, you already cleaned,”

“I’m not finished,” He says and slips back behind the counter, “It’s really no trouble. Go sit, I’ll be right up,” Dean reassures her, sees her frowning at him and he has to chuckle, “Really, Y/N. It’s no big deal,”

“‘K,” She nods, bites on her lips. 

He notices that there’s no gloss on it, notices a little cut too. He wonders what caused it.

As she walks further into the shop, Dean turns the music down and switches on some overhead lights. Not all of them of course. He doesn’t want to give people the impression that he’s still open, but just enough so they wouldn’t be sitting in the dark. 

Dean screws the parts back to the machine with skilled fingers. He risks a glance over, sees her sitting at the same table as last time. She’s watching him too, and he feels his face warm up.

Returning to his task, Dean refills the beans and waits for the machine to warm up. When he finishes heating up the milk, he sets two mugs below it and screws the piston in. Soon, the delicious smelling black liquid pours out. 

He makes her a cappuccino. Honestly, he doesn’t know if she drinks any other coffee, but he wants to find out some time. 

Dean drinks his coffee black.

Carrying over the two mugs, his heart thumps a little faster the closer he gets. 

“Thank you so much, you didn’t have to,” She says, her head is a little lowered. It sounds like she genuinely feels bad for stopping by.

“Really,” Dean sits down, “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” He waves her off, takes a sip of his coffee as he watches her wrap her hands around her mug, and tips it to her lips.

Y/N closes her eyes briefly as she swallows, probably letting the taste flood her nerves and mind. It shouldn’t affect him, but it does because there’s the drumming in his chest that gets slightly faster.

“I’m sorry, really,” She apologizes again, and keeps her mug at her lips, taking another sip, “I just… you know, I… Oh my god,” She sets the mug down and rubs herself over her face, “I can’t even talk,”

Dean chuckles lightly because he knows that feeling too well.

“Okay, again,” Y/N says, after she composes herself, “I didn’t know where to go and I kind of ended up here without me even realizing it. I’m sorry, I really didn’t want to hold you up. I’ll just drink the coffee and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Y/N, can you do me a favor?” Dean says with a straight face and a frown that’s not actually meant to intimidate her, but he realizes after he said it that it might have because he can look very intimidating, apparently. He doesn’t agree, but people have told him so.

“Huh?” She cocks an eyebrow at him and he can see the color rise in her face.

“Please stop apologizing? I mean, it’s really okay. It’s my pleasure, I’m actually happy to see you again.” 

There. He said it. Without stuttering too. Although he thinks his heart dropped to his balls for a second and is trying to climb back up.

She exhales audibly and there’s that small smile, “Thank you, I just… You must have other things to do.”

He thinks about her words. Thinks about what awaits him after he cleans the shop. Thinks about his empty apartment, his empty couch, empty bed. 

“I don’t,” He says truthfully, “Are you okay?” Dean asks, he doesn’t know why he does. Perhaps, because he wants to know if she’s okay. He still remembers the last time when she took off so suddenly.

“I am now, yeah,” She answers, her fingers playing with her mug.

“Why did you say you didn’t know where to go?”

“It’s been rough.” Y/N sighs and swallows. She’s about to lift her mug, but her hoodie gets in the way and she pulls the arms of them back a little subconsciously to be able to grip the mug and that’s when he sees it. Dean can not unsee it even if he would fucking try. 

The bruises. It’s a greenish-purple. Meaning that it’s healing.

Dean swallows hard, but he doesn’t say anything, waits for her to set the mug down. 

When she finishes her coffee, she has noticed him staring and is about to pull the arm of the sweater back. His hand shoots out, brushes over her wrist, and Dean thinks that she’s going to swat him away but she doesn’t.

“Who did this to you?” He asks with concern in his voice. 

“It’s nothing,” She mumbles. 

“Y/N,” Dean starts, has to swallow hard because he wonders what other bruises he would uncover if he lets her take off her hoodie. He swallows, because it physically hurts him, it irritates the fuck out of him, too. He calms himself down, at least enough to not burst out in a fit of anger, “I can see you’re not okay. You haven’t been here since Friday.”

“You’ve noticed?” She raises her eyebrow in question.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles, “I notice when you don’t come and get your coffee. To be honest,” Dean sighs and his heart is beating a little faster, “You’re the highlight of the day, so yeah, I notice.”

She doesn’t say anything, just dips her chin down a little, the color rises in her cheeks. 

“Who did this to you?” He asks again, wondering if it the one who left her a message in all caps last time. That Chris— something. Because Dean would like to rip that guy’s lungs out. “Do you need help? Can I help in any way?” He asks, when she still doesn’t answer.

“I—, It’s…. Ugh,” She closes her eyes, “It’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Ex. 

At least it’s an ex. Dean can live with that.

He doesn’t say anything. He sits there, perfectly still and waits until she speaks again because there’s no point in him getting angry, even if he would love to bash that guys head in, for sure. 

“It’s nothing, Dean. It’s over now.”

“Is that why he hurt you? Because you broke off with him?”

“Not necessarily. I was late getting home on Friday.”

Fuck. It was because of him, wasn’t it?

Dean swallows down the guilt he feels, “Shit, I’m sorr—”

“—No, it’s not your fault.” She’s quick to add, “It’s my fault, too.”

“Y/N, no. Someone hurting you is never your fault, you gotta know that.” 

She looks down at her hands in her lap.

“Is that why you didn’t show up? Because you wanted the bruises to heal? That’s why you came here? Because you said you didn’t know where to go?”

Dean sees one single teardrop falling from her eyes to the hand in her lap.

“Shit,” Dean gets up from his chair, walks around, and takes her hands out from her lap. He helps her up to her feet, wraps his arms around her, and lets her cry into his chest. 

While he lets her cry her eyes out, he strokes her back, stroke her head, feels fucking anger towards her ex. 

“Are you scared to go home?”

“Uh-huh,” She mumbles into his chest.

“Does he have a key?” 

“I changed the lock,”

He feels her hand coming around his middle, hugging him back. That’s a start, right? He just wishes he wouldn’t be semi-hard just from that. It’s not the fucking right time.

“Do you want to stay here? I mean, you don’t know me, but I just want to help. My apartment’s right above the shop and I have a spare bedroom.”

Y/N pushes herself away from him and looks up. Her nose is swollen and red, her eyes too. It’s too cute. 

“I can’t,” She says, “I—, I mean I can’t invade your space just because I don’t like to be alone at night.”

“What if I insist?”

“Dean, really, it’s too much.”

“Okay,” He chuckles, “What would you do if you won’t stay?”

She looks down, nibbles at her lips as she thinks, “I think I’d go to the diner close to here, they open till 2 AM.”

“The crowd there’s terrible,” Dean mumbles, he’s been in there before, nobody’s usually sober in there.

“I just have to kill some time.” She shrugs and winds herself out of his embrace. He didn’t even notice that he’s still holding her.

Dean lets his hand drop to his side, missing the feeling of her body pressed to his already, “Kill your time in my apartment,” He says, “That way I know nothing will happen to you.”

 *

 She lets him guide her up to his apartment, let him show her where her bed will be for the night, lets him show her the couch, and that he has a fridge stocked with edible things. 

He excuses himself to go down and lock up his shop, finishing cleaning up his machine in record time.

When Dean comes back up, she’s splayed on his couch, the blanket pulled up to her chin. Netflix is still on, some documentaries about serial killers. He hopes she doesn’t think that he is one. She’s sleeping, and Dean really doesn’t want to wake her, but he does because there’s a perfect bed in the room, she shouldn’t be sleeping on an uncomfortable couch.

“Hey,” He kneels down, hand reaching out to shake her gently.

Y/N stirs just a little before she turns and buries her face deeper into his couch. Dean wonders how much sleep she’d had lately. It might be the safest she felt in days. Maybe, weeks. He doesn’t know, doesn’t even want to think about it because it makes him mad again. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean tries again, waiting for a reaction.

When none is forthcoming, he decides to scoop her up and carry her to bed. Dean notices as he pulls the blanket from her body that she has stripped to her shirt. Her one forearm is bruised, as well as her upper arm. Fucker must have had a tight grip around her. 

He curses to himself as he carries her over to his guest room and lays her down. Dean covers her and the shirt and strokes her hair out of her face. His finger brushes along her throat, catching the collar of her shirt. The lighting is not very good, but his eyes can’t miss the bruise along her shoulder. It goes further down too, but Dean doesn’t dare to look. Doesn’t want her waking up and think that he’s being nosy. Which he really isn’t but he’s just… so fucking mad that someone did this to her.  

Goddammit.

Shaking his head, he makes his way out of the room. With a last look back, he closes the door. 

Chapter 6

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[eruanna1875]

“Hope the stories are cool.”

At the half-murmured words, Ben turned to their source in the passenger seat beside him, brow furrowed. “What was that?”

Riley, staring out the window of Patrick’s weird-smelling car at the night around them, seemed surprised at the question. “Hm?” When he looked at Ben, however, it was clear he hadn't realized he'd said anything aloud until that moment. “Oh! Uh—" He shrugged it off with a nonchalant grin, turning away again. “Uh, nothing. Sorry.”

Oh, you’re not getting off that easy, Ben thought. “What’d you say? What stories?”

Riley rolled his eyes. “Ben—”

“No, no,” he interrupted, before a snide remark could be made, “I heard ‘stories’ and ‘cool’. Now, what cool stories were you talking about?”

Riley gave him perhaps half of a death glare, and for a moment, Ben thought he was going to ignore the question. But then he sulked back against his seat, and seemed to give in. “Well—” He scoffed, eyes on the ceiling. “Ours, I guess. I mean, we just stole the Declaration of Independence, Ben! The Declara—do you have any idea what this means?”

Ben frowned: maybe he was avoiding the question after all. “Yes, I think you've given me several ideas of the things this could possibly mean.” Besides, I thought you’d be worried out at this time of night, he added mentally.

“Yeah, but I'm not talking about going to prison, and Ian shooting us, and Abigail doing a lot more than slapping and shouting if we screw it up. She’ll probably… I dunno, impale us with those pointy heels or something.” He picked up an old neck pillow (he’d knocked it off the seat when he first climbed up front), and put it in his lap. “You know, maybe that’s why the spy chicks in the movies wear them all the time—if you can get used to running around and doing all those acrobatics in them, they can double as a lethal weapon.”

“Well, what are you talking about, then?” Ben pressed before the conversation could get too far off base: Riley could easily and resourcefully use the smallest sidetrack to avoid a topic he didn’t want to talk about. Kid was practically an escape artist.

“I’m talking about America. They're not gonna let us off with a simple little life sentence. They're gonna have us pegged even after we're dead.”

Ben bit back a comment about him watching too many ghost hunter shows, opting for the simpler, “How do you mean?”

Riley turned to fix blue eyes firmly on Ben; eyes that, to his surprise, he now saw were grounded in a gravity greater than worry. “Ben… whether we win or not, we’re gonna be locked up for basically the rest of time. Why?”

He leaned in closer, and spoke with such certainty, Ben had to suppress a shiver.

“Because we’re going to be in all the American history books for basically the rest of time. Do you understand that, Mr. History Buff? Kids are gonna be learning our names in the future. Your name, my name, maybe even her name—and unless something crazy happens, like really crazy, then…” He sighed, and plopped back against the seat. “Then even if we keep the Declaration away from Ian, we're gonna be the ones they remember stealing it.” He looked back up. “You know that, Ben?”

It took a moment for Ben to find the voice to reply. When he did, he let it out with a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, blinking a few times. “Huh, yeah.” He sat back, stunned, as the full weight of it befell him. “Yeah...” he whispered again.

The fact was, he had thought of it. From the moment he determined to undertake the task, he’d been aware of it. But throughout their escapades and machinations, he had kept it as just that—a fact—an awareness at the back of his mind. He hadn’t thought about it. Not until that moment, in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night. Not until Riley decided to be seriously, deeply right.

And… he wanted to tell him that. He wanted to tell Riley just how dead-center his aim had been. He wanted to confess to him the sudden fear it had struck in his heart. But somehow, he couldn’t. What somehow it was, he didn’t know. But it kept his voice from him.

He started to tell himself he just didn’t want to worry him further, especially with the way things were now, but he knew that wasn’t it. Riley was the one who started this particular concern anyway. It wasn’t a matter of trust, either. This was his best friend—Riley knew things about him even his father didn’t know, and Ben would have willingly put his life in his hands. There were times when he’d had to. And there were times that Riley’s life had been in his hands, his alone, and they both knew it. And for all he knew, that could’ve been what stopped him from saying those words.

You’re dead right. We’ll never be forgotten. And it terrifies me.

Ben’s highest hope, even beyond the actual finding of the treasure, had always been to become a part of history. Just like his ancestors. Just like the Founders. Just like the men who had been his heroes since he was a boy. And throughout his adventure, there had been many times when he had thought to himself, you’re continuing that story. This is the same old tale Grandpa told you, but it’s not over. It’s going on, in this exact minute, and you’re the one carrying it now.

The thought had given him purpose, over all those years. But now, he could not help but wonder what his part in that history would be. Would he be a hero, like those men of history, the knights (official or not) that he had always looked up to? Or would he be the one to bring it all down when he failed?

But, whatever the reason, he couldn’t say all that to Riley. He couldn’t say anything at the moment. So the moment was filled with silence instead, a weighty, waiting silence, on the precipice of what tomorrow might bring. The burden of history, both written and as yet unwritten, was for him in that moment almost physical.

“That wasn’t the story I was talking about when you heard me, though.”

The breaking of the silence almost startled him. Ben glanced up at Riley, confused and close to bewildered. For a moment, all he could manage was, “Then… what—what were you…?”

Riley also looked up, and seemed to notice something strange in his hushed tone. “Oh. Sorry.” What was there to apologize for? “It’s just, I accidentally had, like, a lot of thoughts, while you and Abigail were talking. That stuff was part of it, but it wasn’t the main thing.”

He fell silent a moment, but Ben gestured him on, almost insistently. If there was more, even if it was worse, he felt he had to hear it. What could Riley have possibly meant?

Riley hesitated, then looked down and began fidgeting with a loose string on the neck pillow in his lap. “You were telling her the story. About the treasure, and how you got all that history from your grandpa.”

Ben’s ears perked up: anybody talking about his grandfather got his full attention.

“And I got thinking about it, and I just…” He shrugged. “I wondered about, y’know, what if that’s us someday? What if… what if we’re the ones some cool old guy tells his grandkids about? I mean, I know he still might think it’s bad, but at least grandpas and textbooks don’t really tell stories the same way. I assume,” he added, with a glance at Ben for confirmation.

To his own surprise, Ben felt a smile tugging at his lips. Something in that homier view of history—despite the continued possibility of failure—put him more at ease, as if he were still listening to old yarns at his grandfather’s house, slowly losing the fear of the storms outside. The cloud of heaviness that had been on him began to dissipate. Even the night around them seemed less dark.

Ben breathed a chuckle. “No, you’re right. They really don’t.”

“Yeah, so he’d be telling like a grandpa, not like some bored guy in Milwaukee having to crank out school material! Right? And then, like, he says,” and at this, Riley briefly put on the persona of an old man, complete with motions and raspy grandpa voice, “‘Come here, m’boy, let me tell you the story of the Templar Treasure,’ and the kids go huddle up in front of him with those ginormous eyes little kids always have, because apparently the smaller you are the bigger your eyes look, and he tells ‘em the whole thing, right up to where your grandpa told it, and then—and then he tells about us.”

There was a noticeable pause, as if it even took a little of Riley’s breath away. He smiled softly, almost in awe himself. “He tells about us.”

A few seconds passed before he noticed the gap of words, which he immediately jumped over to continue his own tale. “And—and maybe there’ll be this one kid who actually thinks about it and is like, ‘man, this Ben guy was nuts! He just goes, oh let’s steal the Declaration of Independence, and expects everybody to be totally fine with it? How could anybody deal with such a crazy guy?’ And the grandpa would be like, ‘Well, shucks, I always knew you were a smart kid.’”

At this, Ben laughed. Really laughed, clear and from the heart. How in the world could Riley complain and fret about their plans so heavily, and yet paint the future with such lightness that you could laugh at it? All the time he’d known this kid, and he still couldn’t quite understand him. But he didn’t mind. And, for the moment, there seemed nothing to fear. The weight was gone.

But Riley wasn’t finished. “Oh, but you know he'd still get pulled into it, the same way your grandpa pulled you in—the same way you pulled me in—and end up thinking it's the coolest thing ever, of course. I mean, who wouldn't, if they tell it like a Gates tells it? You guys don't skimp on the history stuff, especially family history. That’s what bought my ticket for this whole… train of thought... thing... in the first place, you and Abigail and all your history nerd talk the whole way here.”

Ben reeled back, taking false offense. “Oh, nerd talk, is it?”

“One hundred percent, man, and don’t you forget it. And it’ll still be nerd stuff when you’re the subject boring another average guy like me to sleep in the back of the car.” Riley threw his hands in the air with an air of finality. “And, who knows? Maybe one of those cute little grandkids gets all inspired the same way you did, and wants to go find a treasure and fight bad guys and figure all kind of crazy puzzles, and, heck, probably decides to go be a knight and stuff, just like u—”

He bit his lip, checking himself. But Ben took note of his near-words. Riley quickly continued on a corrected course.

“You. Just like you,” and he shoved his arm with a smirk, “Mister Sir Benjamin Franklin knighted-at-age-eleven Gates. You and all your Templars and Crusaders. ‘Cause I mean, what kid wouldn't think a guy smart enough to steal the Declaration of Independence, and crazy enough or brave enough to try to save it from the bad guys, was totally awesome?”

Ben was unvoiced. All his mouth could manage was a speechless smile, as he looked at his young friend. He felt like he’d just heard a little brother tell him he was his hero. And… maybe, in a way, he had.

But it didn’t take long for Riley to notice the smile. The moment he did, he covered his tracks with a roll of the eyes, hoping to pretend he hadn’t said as much as he had. “Except for the kids who actually have the misfortune to know you, I mean.” And on “know”, he chucked the neck pillow at Ben’s face, nailing him squarely.

“Wha—they have the misfortune?”

“Yeah, you know, studies show, the coolness-craziness ratio really gets skewed over time, especially where little kids are involved.”

Snatching the pillow from where it had fallen, Ben grinned and replied, laughter in his voice. “Well, maybe they should ask you to tell the story, then. You seem to have it pretty well mapped out.”

Riley gave him a look. “If I live to have grandkids, I might. And if that pun was actually intended.”

Noticing suddenly how the thought had come out, Ben considered it. “It is now.”

“Thought so.”

As he studied the young snark, another thought lit up Ben’s mind. One that simply could not be left under a bushel. But he did hide a growing grin behind his hand, as he prepared to speak again.

“But you know,” he mused, acting thoughtful, “I’m a little surprised at you, Riley. I mean, you left out one of the key historical figures involved in the story of the Templar Treasure. And he’s not one I thought you’d forget, either, let me tell you.”

“Oh great, here comes the history lecture.” Riley turned to him, eyes firmly planted on the ceiling just above Ben’s head, looking like a teen braced for a parental scolding. “Fine. Who'd I miss?”

“The other knight.”

At his confused look, Ben leaned back, gesturing with a bit of storytelling flair himself. “Riley Poole: computer genius and sole source of common sense, fellow treasure protector against the forces of evil and Ian Howe.” Then, as Riley gaped, Ben launched into a series of smaller voices (although he barely tried to sound like a child, let alone the three to four he seemed to be acting out). “‘Tell me more about him, Grandpa! Oh, he's such a funny guy, I like his jokes! How ever did he put up with that crazy Ben? That guy couldn’t have got anywhere without Riley!’”

Riley stared at him for a few seconds. But then, to Ben’s surprise, his mouth snapped shut, and the jaw behind it seemed, for a second at least, to clench. “Come on, Ben, not cool,” Riley muttered, jerking his face the other way. “I was serious.”

Ben felt a twinge of guilt at the almost angry reaction: Riley thought he was being mocked. But before he could feel so (mistakenly) betrayed he cut himself off from anything Ben had to say—a situation Ben really, really hated—he settled a hand on Riley’s shoulder. This earned him a rather cross glance. But, seeing past the glare, he looked his young friend dead in the eyes, with a small, sincere smile.

“So was I.”

The glance lengthened into a full-on stare. “Wait, you—”

Ben could see the exact moment that the words fully sank in. The irritation became stunned surprise, and that turned to a swelling, glowing pride. It wasn’t a joke. Ben meant every word. A smile twitched at his lips. Then the swell burst, short and sudden, in a laugh like a firework. “Wow.”

And it pleased Ben mightily to see it. The sight of those blue eyes lighting up with real joy, with no hint of sarcasm, was rare. And he was doubly happy, because he was also telling the truth. Truth in every single word. Including one word in particular. One that required a little testing. Ben paused, taking the moment in a bit longer, then lifted his eyebrows, almost humourously. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to drop the knight part…”

“No!”

Ben nearly laughed again at the eager speed of the answer. But Riley, upon realizing the same, nearly stumbled over himself to cover up with, “Um, no, no, that’s fine. The knight part… the knight part works. D-don’t worry about it.”

“Who’s worrying?” Ben grinned, hopes fulfilled. Ever since he’d told Riley about his boyhood knighthood (and truth be told, he’d never really dropped the title, at least in his own mind), he’d found it easier and easier to think of the two of them as fellow knights. But he never said that. He didn’t want to push a title on someone else if they might think it a little childish. That was why he’d needed a test, which Riley had passed with eagerness.

And yet, pleased as he was by that eagerness, it suddenly hit him how easily it could be snuffed out. The nearer they got to the treasure, the greater the danger would grow. He was sure of that. They’d already been through some real perils, and they’d escaped without injury, but how long would it be before they wound up in front of Ian’s gun again, with ever-dwindling negotiables? The old weight began to creep back over him.

“You are.”

Ben looked back up, confused. “I’m what?”

“Worrying.”

Is it that noticeable? “Oh. Am I?”

At that, something inside Riley seemed to crumble, something he tried very much to hide. “Oh.”

Ben furrowed his brow, definitely worried now. What happened? Did I say something wrong?

He started to open his mouth to ask, but Riley seemed to steel himself, taking a breath and lifting his head. “Yeah, and you know, I totally get it,” he said, quickly and in something of an apologetic tone, “it’s a personal thing from your childhood, it feels weird letting somebody else take over it. I get it. The knight part is your thing. So if you don’t want me tacking it on,” he raised his hands in surrender, “it’s fine, I won’t say anything else about it.”

“What?” This was it? After all the—he still felt out of place in Ben’s life? He still felt like he was being just a burden, a tagalong?

“What?”

Ben sighed and shook his head. “You’re not taking anything over. Knighthood is meant to be passed from one to another. And it’s too important a promise to tack on to just anybody.”

“Tell that to Jagger.”

“Too important for me to just tack on, then.”

Riley seemed reluctant to accept acceptance, no matter how many times he’d received it. “Really?”

“Trust me. You’re good. That wasn’t even close to what I was worrying about.”

He let out a quiet breath of relief. “Okay.” The pause wasn’t long, however, before he glanced back up. “But you were worrying, though. That was definitely the Ben Gates worry face.”

“I have a worry face?”

“Ehh, it’s rare, but I know it when I see it. I mean, it’s you. Worrying.” Ben conceded the point with a shrug. “So why?”

“Why?” Ben hesitated, taking a breath, but his mind made itself up quickly. No more. Riley had opened up to him; it was high time, however his friend reacted, he did the same. He slowly let out his breath. “Because I think we’re gonna need the knight part pretty soon. We’re probably coming up on some… well, some pretty difficult chapters of that story, if you know what I mean. And, if I’m gonna be honest,” and at this, his voice dropped, “I’m a little afraid to know the ending.”

Riley stared at him for a silent moment. Ben wasn’t quite sure what he was hoping for next. Hope I didn’t say too much. But then Riley nodded, slowly at first. “Wow. Yeah, I mean, me too, man.” His nodding sped up. “You know, maybe I will keep the knight part after all.”

Ben smiled, relieved, though he wasn’t sure why. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“Yeah.” Riley was quiet only a moment more before he scoffed. “You know, it’s all fine when you’re just hearing about the dangerous stuff the heroes go through. You don’t really think about how threats to your life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness actually feel.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“But hey,” he shrugged, “at least those future-kids are gonna have a heck of a story. I mean, for them, we’re probably coming up on the best parts!” He laughed at his own words, but still grimaced slightly.

Ben smiled. Again, the complainer held the candle in the dark. And in that moment, Ben knew he was glad to have him on this… adventure, or whatever it could be called, no matter what happened. Riley really had been the common sense, the genius, the light (shaded in sarcasm though it was), throughout the whole thing. And Ben was sure he truly couldn’t have gotten this far without him. But he knew they were about to head off into more trouble when they got to Philadelphia tomorrow, very possibly of the life-threatening type. He had to make sure Riley was okay with facing it down.

“Sure you still wanna be a part of it?” he asked, nodding toward him. “It’s a big responsibility.”

Riley tapped the red, metal, tube-like container hanging on Ben’s seat. “I know.”

Ben nodded. “You’re right. There is a very big responsibility to keep the Declaration safe. We have enough danger just from that. But the duty of the Templars, the Freemasons, and the family Gates, now, that's all on me. Not you or Abigail or anybody else. I know I pretty much dragged you into this from the beginning, and if you’d rather stay out of the line of fire, I… wouldn’t mind letting you—”

“Oh no you don’t, Mr. Gates,” Riley interrupted, grinning widely and pointing threateningly, “you made me a treasure protector, same as all your Templars, Freemasons, and family Gates! And I promise you, I’m not about to let you write me out now!”

That’s a good enough promise for me. Then, attitude restored, Ben responded in a tone of dry humour. “Well, then, in that case, I dub thee Sir Riley.” And he smacked him on the shoulder with the neck pillow.

Sir Riley seemed to take offense to the smacking as a personal challenge, and snatched the pillow away. Ben could see a glint of war fire in his eye. However, before battle could be engaged, his eye caught a sight that was becoming pleasantly familiar, to him at least. He laughingly held up a hand.

“Okay, hold up, hold up, Abigail’s coming back.”

“Oh joy,” Riley deadpanned, a little disappointed in the forced ceasefire. Then, with a thought, he smirked at Ben. “You think even she’d be okay in a story? Like as a character?”

“Abigail?” Ben considered her qualifications for such a role. And he found he couldn’t help but smile; smile at her deep passion for history (close akin to his own), her unflagging determination, and of course, her absolute refusal to ever shut up. “Could be.” He chuckled softly. “Could be…”

He looked up to find Riley giving him a very pointed look, so Ben ignored him and glanced out at her instead. As Abigail crossed the parking lot, he pondered her a little longer. “Wonder if she thinks we're the heroes or the villains.”

By the time he noticed Riley’s movement, the window was already halfway rolled down. “Good question.” Riley stuck his head out the window and yelled across the parking lot, “Hey, Abi, do you think we're the heroes or the villains?”

Still halfway across, she stopped to give him a look and shook her head. “It’s Abigail to you, and for the record, I still think you’re lunatics.”

“Well, I knew that!”

“I mean for yelling across the parking lot.”

“Well, if we're stating things for the record, you're yelling too.”

Abigail simply rolled her eyes and resumed her walk. Riley laughed again. “Guess we’re gonna have to call off the Second Revolutionary War, huh, Ben?”

“Oh, you’ll probably break the truce at some point.”

“Keep on your toes, old man.”

Riley smiled, but fell silent as he did so, staring at the dashboard. In the moment before Abigail came up to the car, his voice returned. “So… just to be clear…” He took a breath before he spoke again, and looked up at Ben hopefully when he did. “Knights?”

Ben practically beamed as he nodded: he could finally say it was true. “Knights.”

Riley held up his fist, and they sealed their eternal covenant of knighthood and brotherhood with a knuckle-bump.

A moment later, the passenger door opened. “Also, you took my seat, Bill.”

“Sir Riley, actually. Nice to meet you, milady.”

---

Well, happy Independence Day, folks! Thanks for reading, and doubly so if you've stuck with me all the way through to the end here!

This is my first National Treasure fic, but my second Lord of the Rings fic (the first is ancient and in hiding somewhere). Since NT is so patriotic and honoring of America's history and forefathers, I figured I'd post this today.

The inspiration came from two things: firstly, that fanfiction I posted about a few weeks ago, and secondly, from the story scene in The Two Towers. The kids had the movie on, and I jumped in right around there. And maybe I just had NT on the brain, but that scene just suddenly struck me as very fitting for Ben and Riley. Who are awesome, by the way.

So I wrote up a (much shorter) first draft that day, and edited it over the next several weeks. And now it's done! And I'm rather pleased with it, for my part.

It's also on fanfiction.net and, for the first time for any of my fics, AO3, if you want to check that out too.

Again, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, and happy Independence Day!

[tuffduff]

We Still Have Time (Axl Rose x Reader)

Pairing: modern!Axl x younger!Reader

Words: 2,068

Request: @whisperess33​ “I love your oneshots sooo much! 😩❤💞 Do you take requests? If so: can I request a modern!Axl oneshot, where he's been in a relationship with a younger girl for at least a year, and they end up having the 'kid talk' after seeing a toddler/kid backstage, where Axl wonders if his chance to be a dad really has passed him by and the girl reassures him and says she'd really like at least one baby but didn't dare to ask because she thought he didn't want and says he'd make a great dad? Thanks 🥰🥰🥰”

A/N: Can I just say...I think about Axl with children all the time...every time I see Axl in a picture with a small child, my heart HURTS. I can just imagine he would be a wonderful, supportive father. Lowkey, maybe I’ll do a GNR preference one day about having your first child together. I hope y’all enjoy! (PIC NOT MINE)

“From what I could see, there were already a lot of people out there.” Axl was telling you from where you were having a little moment backstage in the hallway. Guns N’ Roses were headlining a rather large outdoor music festival that evening. You found yourself smiling at the light surprise that colored his tone. “It’s hot out there.”

“And? Do you not realize how many people would brave the heat or hail or snow or rain or whatever just to see Guns N’ Roses?” You scolded him affectionately, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder with your hand. He raised his hand to rest over yours briefly.

“Well, maybe. But the weather was saying it could reach temps of...” you watched Axl’s gaze shift away from yours and zero in on something behind your ankles. “...hey little guy. Are you lost?” Axl’s voice had softened considerably, into a tone of voice you had never heard him use before.

You turned around, expecting to see a stray cat, or maybe even a lost dog. You were almost taken aback at the sight of a small boy, no older than four. He was sniffling, his hand pressed against his nose, his eyes flickering about. Axl moved around you and knelt down, still a good distance from the boy. “Hey, buddy, where did you come from?”

The boy now focused his dizzied gaze on Axl’s, his eyes widening almost in uneasiness. “Hey, it’s okay. I won’t hurt ya.” Axl crept forward a little, but the little boy shrank back a half-step. You wanted to help, but something made you hold back and watch Axl, who you had never seen interact with children except for when he would say hello to his band mate’s. Never a child this small. You watched as doubt clouded Axl’s eyes suddenly at the sight of the child shrinking back. It was as if Axl could understand something in the boy’s body language. Axl put his outstretched hand down and the boy seemed to relax a little.

“It’s okay, little guy. I can help you. Where are you parents, huh?”

“...I-I don’t know.” The little boy finally stuttered out. He looked at Axl hesitantly again before he walked closer on his own accord to where Axl was still kneeling. He placed both of his tiny hands on Axl’s knee as though he needed to steady himself and looked around, his expression breaking. “I can’t find her.”

“Okay. I can help you find your mommy. What does she look like?” Axl asked gently, simply watching the little boy who rested against his knee. Before he could give an answer, he began to cry. Your heart ached and you looked around desperately for anyone close by. “Hey, shh, it’s okay. You’re gonna be alright,” Axl shushed.

The boy threw himself at Axl, wrapping his small arms around his neck and curling his body closer to Axl. Axl was stiff for a moment before he cradled the boy gently in his arms and stood with him, now letting him cry onto his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay,” Axl kept cooing, his hand smoothing rhythmic circles on the boy’s back. “Hey, you wanna see something cool?” The boy sniffled, his cries momentarily stopping as he pulled back to look at Axl with half-heartedly curiosity. Axl was pulling off a ring from his pinkie. “See that? Here, you hold it. What color is that?”

“B-Black.”

“That’s right. It’s called an onyx.” The boy didn’t reply as he stroked the gemstone with his tiny finger. His tears were momentarily halted, too enraptured with his new objection of fascination.

“Oh, thank God!” At that moment, a woman came barreling around the corner, voice frantic and eyes wild. She was dressed in a crew member shirt, but you had never seen her before. “There you are, Ben!”

“Mommy!” The boy cried now, outstretching his arms. Axl placed him on the ground where he ran a few paces before he was quickly scooped up by his mother. She locked him in a vice grip and suddenly seemed to notice the company she was in; her face practically paled as she looked at Axl.

“I’m so sorry, I turned my back for two seconds; normally his dad watches him but my husband got a new job and we’re still trying to figure out scheduling and there was a conflict—I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I’m so—.”

“What’s your name?”

“…Erica.” Axl stuck his hand out, to which Erica had to shift Ben in her arms to accept.

“Erica, if you need any help at all, at the next few shows or in the coming weeks, please let me know. Any kind of accommodations that would help you out with things.” Axl calmly interrupted her apology. She seemed too stunned to even reply.

“...That’s...thank you. Thank you, so much. I’ll keep that in mind.” You were swelling with pride.

“He’s a very beautiful boy.” You finally commented, reaching out to brush Ben’s sandy colored hair from his eyes. He laughed a little now, his still-wet eyes now shining.

“He takes after his father.” Erica replied, finally looking relaxed. Her words created a picture in your head, an image of a strawberry blonde boy with gentle eyes that you cradled in your arms. When you glanced over at Axl, he was already watching you, reflecting the same smile you saw in your head. “Oh, hey—that’s not yours. Why don’t go give it back, baby?” Erica said as she noticed Axl’s ring still in Ben’s hand.

“No, no. He can keep it. Maybe he can grow into it.” Axl replied coolly. “I think he likes it.”

“Oh, no I couldn’t.” Erica said, looking from the ring and Axl in disbelief. You could tell what she was thinking; that ring cost a pretty penny.

“Please.” Axl insisted.

After that incident, Axl was pretty quiet, and you knew him well enough not to poke or prod. He would always come to you when he was ready with his fleshed-out thoughts, when he was ready to have a conversation. It wasn’t until after the show when you were riding back to the hotel in a limo, just the two of you, that Axl finally broke his silence.

“I can’t believe I got that kid to stop crying.” You glanced over at him, listening to the quiet marvel in his voice.

“Children are really hard to figure out,” you agreed. “Especially when they’re younger. They have all these feelings and thoughts, but such short life experience. I’m sure it’s overwhelming in their little heads. And people don’t take the time to try and understand that.” Axl was nodding his head to your words.

You made a mental note that this was not territory you had ever explored together. This was not conversation you had ever navigated. It wasn’t even a conversation you ever thought you would have.

“They’re really something. They’re just this little world, all inside them, and you have to be so careful, because you’re helping them mold themselves.” He paused, a small smile growing on his lips. “They’re pretty adorable too. Sometimes it blows my mind to look out into the crowds and see little kids on their parent’s shoulders, you know. But sometimes too, it’s almost like this...reminder.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, listening to the way his voice dropped off.

“I’ve been doing this for so long, Y/N.” He admitted quietly after a moment. “The people who were our age that got into us in the beginning, they’ve gone and started their own families now. It’s more than one generation listening to us. And then Duff and Slash have kids too.” He seemed to be connecting all of it together, his eyes staring down at the rings on his finger and the one finger where one was missing. “Sometimes it just makes me wonder if…maybe I’m too late. I missed the train.”

“Too late? Axl, of course not.” You told him, scooting closer to him in the limo, waiting for him to look at you. It was as if he couldn’t.

“Duff and Slash’s kids are already older now.”

“And Mick Jagger is still having babies.” Axl snorted a little. “Axl...I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, darling?” He asked, now turning his head to look at you with haste.

“Because I never even thought to ask if this was something you wanted. Because it was never a deal-breaker to me. I just, wrongly assumed it was something you didn’t want. And I didn’t want to make you feel like that was a bad thing.” He looked between your eyes for a long moment.

“I used to think about it more, when I was younger. Figured it would happen. When it didn’t...I let it go for a while. And then with you, sometimes the thought would come back. But I figured…” he trailed off with an almost bitter chuckle, his eyes flickering away from yours down to your hands resting in your lap. He grabbed your left hand and began idly rotating your wedding ring around your finger.

“You figured…?” You prompted gently.

“I just figured you thought I was too old to start a family. And sometimes, the thought would eat me up. Before we got married, it was like I was waiting for the day where you would come and tell me we needed to have that talk. That you wanted someone that could give you the one thing I can’t.”

“Ax, I want you, first and foremost. Always. And I was content with the fact that maybe you just didn’t want to start a family, which is exactly why I never even bothered to ask.”

“But do you?” Axl asked you, his hand now slipping in yours. His voice was grave, his eyes were boring into your soul, as if he were searching for the answer himself. He demanded your truth, expecting no less from you, always.

“I do.” You admitted in a whisper, the image of little strawberry blonde duplicate of Axl entering your head again. You had never wanted anything more. “I don’t think it’s too late, Ax. And for the record, I think you would make an amazing father.”

Axl’s eyes rounded, as though he hadn’t expected your compliment. Then, a ridiculously bright beam appeared on his face, like a rainbow peeking out of rain clouds. It illuminated the whole limo and you could feel yourself smiling back, smiling so big it hurt.

Axl wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him so that he could press a kiss to your temple. “What do you want, then? A boy, or a girl?”

“I don’t care. I just hope they look just like you.” You admitted. Axl chuckled a little.

“Do you have names that you like?” Before you could even answer, Axl continued. “I don’t want them to have some cookie-cutter name. They’re gonna be special. I want them to always know they have their own thoughts and beliefs and impact on this world. We can easily turn one of the spare bedrooms into a nursery, the one closest to ours. It gets a lot of sunlight too. We would have to put up safeguards around the house. I’ll get a college fund set up—”

“Ax, slow down.” You giggled, leaning into his shoulder. It was as if a floodgate had been opened and you were absolutely giddy. “First, we have to have the baby before we can send them to college.” He laughed a little too.

“You’re right. Well…I guess we better get started.” You laughed with him, nearly consumed by the emotions swirling in your heart; love, lust, joy, bliss. They were all fighting to reign supreme, but you let them coexist, as they always did with Axl.

“You’re gonna be the best father.” You repeated the loudest thought ringing in your head. Axl then rested his spare hand on your stomach lightly, as though he were already getting ahead of himself again.

“You’re already the greatest woman in my life. Our baby is gonna have one great woman to look up to.” This was a new side of Axl that you never could have imagined. Your entire future now looked different. And somehow, you were still finding avenues to fall even deeper in love with him. Together, you were going to discover parenthood together.

[hale-13]

Slipping Through the Cracks

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 5 - Broken

Just when his life was finally leveling out Parker luck struck again. Peter has had four opportunities with parents and has lost all of them. The way he sees it, this is the least of what he deserves.

Post-Homecoming - Tony didn’t meet with Peter immediately to offer him a place on the Avengers.

Words: 3856, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen-Teen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, Ned Leeds

TW: Depression, Dissociation, a single line of Suicidal Ideation, Referenced Child Abuse

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Peter was silent as he exited Midtown with Ned keeping a quiet pace with him. Seven months ago they would be just as excited as their classmates for the weekend, for the plans that they surely would have made to build Legos or marathon movies or even to just study together. Ned would have been ecstatic to set up in Peter’s bedroom as his ‘guy in the chair’ while Peter did a quick patrol or two. If they were at Peter’s instead of Ned’s, May would attempt some new dish that would, inevitably, be awful and they would order pizza from their favorite place for dinner.

Now Peter never saw any of his limited friend group outside of school. He didn’t build Legos or watch movies or eat take-out pizza and he certainly wasn’t Spider-Man anymore – he had given that up after the Homecoming disaster when he had destroyed Mr. Stark’s plane.

It had been just over six months since he had found May dead in their kitchen and Peter didn’t really do anything at all anymore.

The ER doctors told Peter that she had an undiagnosed aneurysm that had finally burst – there was no way for anyone to know. She went quickly. She felt no pain. There was nothing that Peter could have done even if he was there when it happened.

The reassurances meant nothing really – Peter was numb. May was his last living family member, he had no one else and nowhere to turn. He can vaguely remember telling the social worker that was with him when they told him the news about May that he was alone now. He can remember being taken forcibly from the hospital before he was ready to go, wanting to kick and scream and drag his heels but too shocked to do so. And then everything was a blur.

Somewhere in his mind he knew that he had been allowed to pack up everything important from their apartment to go into storage until he was eighteen besides the bag of essentials he had for himself. He knew that everything else was donated or sold to pay off their remaining debt and the medical bills he had incurred by calling for help when he found May on the kitchen floor. He knew that the social worker told him that, even after selling everything, they couldn’t afford a funeral. He has a business card in his wallet with the number of the crematorium that was holding May’s ashes until he was old enough to retrieve them and, hopefully, give her a proper burial in their family plot next to Ben.

He spent the two weeks after in a group home, mute and dissociating with seven other boys in similar situations. He didn’t go to school, but he remembers the constant stream of unanswered texts and calls from Ned and MJ before his phone plan was discontinued then his phone became a dead relic in his bag. There were a lot of discussions about school that Peter didn’t take part in but, thanks to his full scholarship, he was able to continue at Midtown at least until the end of the year.

And then he was placed with his foster parents.

The Fishers seemed to be pleasant people when Peter first met them; they didn’t force him to speak, they had extensive fostering experience with teenagers and were willing to pay for his subway pass so he could get to and from his school even though there was a decent public school in walking distance. It didn’t take long, however, for their true colors to show.

Now, though, Peter knew the rules. He was always home by his curfew of four on school days and he never went out on the weekends. His grades were perfect. He kept his undecorated room spotless. He cooked supper every evening and breakfast and dinner on the weekends. He kept the house presentable. He stayed out of the Fishers way. Mostly he drifted. His days slid together to the point he had difficultly remembering entire weeks passing him by but it was fine.

He was fine.

“I’ll see you Monday,” Ned muttered as he split off to get in his mom’s car, not acknowledging the pathetic little wave Peter offered in return. A coiling feeling settled in his gut and Perter felt guilt rise up to swirl in his throat. Ned was his best friend and he was treating him like shit. With Peter basically unresponsive, bullies had taken to picking on Ned instead… well except for Flash. Flash had been the only one to back off and stand up for both of them – it helped but didn’t fix everything.

“Better if he leaves you now,” a little voice in his head whispered. “It’s better to be alone.” And maybe at one point he would have fought against that mindset but now he couldn’t help but agree. Peter destroyed everything he touched and everyone around him was doomed for misery. Better for Ned to get out while he could.

Lethargically, Peter began across the empty football field toward the subway entrance – his trip home was always a little tight and he couldn’t afford to miss this train.

“Peter!” A harried voice shouted as his shoulder was grabbed and he was roughly turned around to face a red-faced and irritated Happy Hogan. Peter’s mind blanked for a moment in total shock at seeing the man again after so long. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you?”

“Sorry Mr. Hogan,” Peter mumbled, not making eye contact. He felt the phantom sting from the slap he had gotten for that when he first moved into foster care burning his bare cheek.

“The Boss has been calling you, he wants to chat. You screening our calls now?” Happy asked, accusatory as his eyes raked down Peter’s form. Peter felt a shiver crawl up his spine and kept his sight locked on Happy’s chin, trying to remain as relaxed as possible. It was important to not draw any unwanted attention to himself.

“No sir,” he answered, voice a little rough and quiet with disuse. “I don’t have a phone anymore.” Happy huffed and narrowed his eyes at Peter before steering him to the expensive Audi parked in front of the school.

“No matter, he wants to talk to you in person anyway. Hop in and I’ll take you to the Tower.” Peter gulped and fought the urge to dig his heels in – it wouldn’t be polite.

“I have a curfew of four,” he protested weakly as Happy pulled open the door for him and motioned for him to climb in. Peter hesitated but relented when Happy gave him a little shrug.

“I’m sure May will understand and Tony can always give her a call to clear anything up.” And with that Peter was gone. No one had said her name since she died and the thought… the very implication that he could still be living with his aunt, happy and carefree, was insane. His mind floated away and he felt like he was watching himself as a specter. He saw his body relax but his eyes were distant, cloudy. Happy, for the first time that Peter could remember, didn’t raise the partition between the front and rear seats and, instead, watched Peter in the rear view mirror.

The drive to the Tower took over thirty minutes with traffic and Peter would be panicking about how late he was going to be if he had any capacity to feel at all. Instead, he let his mind wander as the skyscrapers of Manhattan blurred into a grey mosaic outside the window, fat raindrops sporadically hitting the window as a drizzle started. “We’re here,” Happy told him as he parked the car in the underground garage that was reserved for Mr. Stark and other high level staff of the Tower. Peter popped his door open and followed the man to the private elevator that he assumed would take them to Mr. Stark’s office.

“Hello Happy. Hello Peter,” the disembodied voice of Mr. Stark’s AI, FRIDAY, said as the doors closed and the elevator began to move. “Boss is awaiting your arrival in his workshop.”

“Thanks FRIDAY,” Happy said, texting intently on his phone. Peter just remained silent as the elevator began to slow before stopping completely, the doors trundling open soundlessly. Happy nudged Peter out but remained inside the car as the doors closed, leaving Peter alone in the sleek room.

Tony was seated in front of a large hologram of his armor, code scrolling past on his monitor as he made adjustments. “Mr. Parker,” he said as Peter edged closer to him, not looking up from his work. “You’re a hard man to get in contact with.”

Though Tony sounded more forthright than angry, Peter still had to fight the cringe in his shoulders as he came to a stop about ten feet away from the work bench – out of reach and with enough time to prepare if the man were to make any sudden moves. “Sorry,” he murmured, keeping his eyes low and doing his best to keep his shoulders from curling in – the last thing he needed to do was show any weakness.

“No need for apologies,” Tony said, light, as he fiddled with a holo mechanism in the right repulser. “Just a statement of fact. According to the news Spider-Man has also been just as difficult to find.”

Peter just hummed in response, choosing not to comment on his previous alter-ego. He didn’t much feel like a hero these days.

“A man of few words,” Tony commented, shutting down the programs in front of him and turning to face Peter fully. “Are you the same kid who was talking my ear off in Germany a year ago?”

“Yes sir,” Peter said, keeping his eyes focused on Tony’s chin. He could feel his mind slipping as his heart rate sped up and he struggled to keep present – it was getting harder and harder to stay in the moment the more he allowed himself to get lost in his head. He occasionally dreamed that one day it might be permanent; one of the few good dreams he had.

“Sir?” Tony parroted, his eyebrows raising and a flash of guilt washing over his features quickly before disappearing. “Look kid, I think I owe you an apology. Actually, I know I owe you an apology. I didn’t communicate with you about the whole alien weapons take-down thing. I underestimated you and treated you like a side-kick and ignored you and then I left you alone and without any protection and you saved my bacon anyway.”

“I deserved it,” Peter said matter-of-factly. “I was in over my head and I disobeyed. The punishment fit the crime.”

“No it didn’t,” Tony told him bluntly but firmly, looking surprised but resolute. “Maybe we both share some fault in the situation but I’m the adult and the one with experience and I didn’t do anything to teach you or help you and for that I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Peter assured him, allowing himself to tap his index finger against his thigh once to let out his stress. Mr. Fisher didn’t like his constant fidgeting and Peter knew that it was pretty annoying so he had done his best to learn how to stand as still as possible to not incur any extra punishments – the index finger tap he was able to normally get away with.

Mr. Stark’s eyes were narrowed as he surveyed Peter. “I wanted to offer you a real spot as my intern. You could spend a few days a week in the shop working on tech and I made you a new and improved suit for the other part of your ‘internship’. I promise that you’ll always have the support you need to be New York’s Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. You’re the future of the Avengers, kid, its pretty clear to me now. Your spot on the team is there whenever you want to take it.”

For the briefest of moments, Peter was overwhelmed with excitement and incredulity. Ever since Tony had announced he was Iron Man to the world, Peter had wanted nothing more than to be a superhero as well, to be an Avenger. If Tony had offered him a spot on the team after Germany, Peter would have taken it in an instant. Now…

“Thank you Mr. Stark,” Peter said, voice still a little broken and hoarse from how little he spoke these days. “But I can’t.”

“Oh you don’t have to join now,” the man assured, misunderstanding. “You’ll need some training first but Rhodey and Vision are always down to join us at the compound for some group work. You have a lot of potential.”

“Thanks but that’s not what I meant,” Peter clarified. “I have to decline all of it but I appreciate the offer.”

“Oh,” Tony looked a little crestfallen, a dark expression of acceptance on his defined features. “I understand. Broken trust and all that. Sure.”

“It’s not that,” Peter reassured quickly. “I don’t hold anything against you – I was the one who messed up. It’s just I have a four o’clock curfew every day so I can’t do the internship.”

“That’s easily remedied!” Mr. Stark said, his eyes lifting with a smile and looking relieved. “I’ll just give Aunt Hottie a call and work things out and we’ll have you in the lab and out swinging through the streets in no time!”

Peter’s ears fuzzed out again, a sharp high-pitched note cutting off Tony’s excited words as a feeling of immense emotion flooded through Peter before he could tamp it down. His breathing felt a little ragged in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment to gather himself. “My aunt is dead,” Peter gritted out, interrupting Tony and rendering him speechless. “She died six months ago. My foster… the people fostering me are a little more strict.”

“Oh,” Tony said, face blank and an awkward silence filling the space. Peter gripped his worn down backpack straps and backed toward the elevator.

“Thanks for the offer,” Peter said earnestly. “It really is an honor I just…” he trailed off. “Thanks. For everything.”

And with that, he entered the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby, the doors shutting on Tony’s pitying expression before the man could say anything much to Peter’s relief. The metro card the Fishers had gotten him only had a set amount of money on it every month so Peter would be hoofing it back to their house from the Tower. His cracked watch face told him that it was already close to four-thirty and his stomach bubbled with anxiety. At this rate he wouldn’t be back in time to have dinner on the table at five-thirty.

Resigned to his punishments, Peter left the building through the shining lobby and pointed himself toward Queens, moving as fast as he could.

——————-

“You’re late,” Mr. Fishers’s tone was short and monotonous from where he was seated on the couch. The house was otherwise quiet which meant Mrs. Fisher was out that evening.

“I’m sorry sir,” Peter whispered looking at the floor and making no excuses. He had learned the hard way that trying to justify his poor behavior only made things worse for him in the long run.

“Go to your room,” Mr. Fisher told him making Peter cringe. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

Later, when Peter was lying on the bed with silent tears still leaking from his eyes and his back and ribs stinging in pain, he thought about Mr. Stark’s offer with selfish desire. In another universe, in another life, he would have been elated but now he only felt desolation - life always did like to dangle things in front of him he couldn’t have.

Setting his alarm for five-thirty so he wouldn’t oversleep, Peter let his consciousness slip away into the ether, mind going blissfully empty and blank.

——————-

Monday came both faster and slower than Peter wanted. His body still ached from his well-deserved punishment and he was exhausted from the extra chores and minimal food he had been offered as a result of his actions. School passed in a lonely blur for him as he drifted from class to class, hiding away in the deserted music room during lunch to avoid Ned and MJ. They didn’t ask as many questions anymore but Peter didn’t want to put himself in a situation where he would have to lie to his friends again.

When the final bell of the day rang, Peter chose to not stop by his locker where he may be ambushed and, instead, left the school, headed directly for the subway. He had nearly made it when a body physically blocked him from the stairs.

“Howdy Pete,” Mr. Stark said, peering over his glasses to look at Peter and Peter did his best to school his expression into indifference. He couldn’t be late again. He couldn’t take another punishment, he was just so tired all he wanted to do was sleep. Maybe forever. “Where are you headed?”

“Back to my fosters,” Peter told him, trying to skirt around. “I have a four o’clock curfew.”

“I remember you saying something about that,” Mr. Stark agreed with a nod. “Tell you what – let me give you a ride home. You’ll get home well before your curfew and I can talk to your foster parents about the internship. Who can say no to Tony Stark right?”

“NO!” Peter said loudly before smacking a palm over his mouth. He could feel the blood draining from his face as his body tensed, preparing for the correction he knew was coming. Mr. Stark’s brow was furrowed now and his eyes behind his blue glasses had a twinkle of understanding in them.

“Peter,” he began, reaching a hand out with the intention of lying his hand on Peter’s shoulder but he never got that far. Seeing the hand coming towards him and already being on high alert after his exclamation, Peter violently flinched away, only barely able to catch himself from falling over due to his enhanced reflexes, and squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Oh Peter,” Tony said, a desolate understanding in his voice.

Peter cracked his eyes open to see Mr. Stark with both hands raised in the universal ‘backing off’ signal, a soft look on his face. “Sorry sir,” Peter croaked out. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s fine.”

“Do you have something you need to tell me kiddo?” Tony’s voice was soft and gentle and Peter felt his eyes well up with tears he hastily blinked away as he shook his head quickly. “It’s okay buddy. You can tell me.”

“I’m fine. I’m okay. It’s fine.” Tony looked even more crestfallen at Peter’s answer and tapped the side of his glasses to activate FRIDAY.

“Can you I’ve me a scan FRI?” He asked and Peter flinched again knowing there was no way to hide the broken and healing bones and skin that he had been doing his best to conceal. Tony’s face was tight as he stared at Peter and Peter felt all of the blood left in his face drain away.

“I deserved it,” Peter told him desperately. “I disobeyed, it was my fault.” Mr. Stark just looked even more beaten at his words and Peter felt his breathing picking up.

“It’s not,” Tony said, voice still unbelievably soft but firm. “It’s not your fault and you didn’t deserve it. You’re a great kid Pete.” Peter shook his head no and couldn’t stop a couple tears from leaking out before furiously wiping them away. “I promise that it wasn’t your fault Underoos. Will you let me help you?”

“You can’t,” Peter said, feeling hollow. “Everyone… everyone close to me dies. I’m cursed and I can’t do that to you too Mr. Stark.”

“Can I hug you?” Tony asked suddenly, arms twitching with need. After a seconds hesitation, Peter nodded and was hastily folded into the man’s arms; one arm tight around his shoulders and the other snaking up into his hair to pull through the too long strands carefully. Peter felt more tears leak out and, suddenly, he couldn’t hold it in any longer, throwing his own arms around Tony to return the hug and letting out a gut-wrenching sob into the man’s shoulder. Tony just shushed him and let him take as much comfort as he could. “You’re not cursed and none of this is your fault. I get the feeling no one has told you that yet and you need to hear it.”

Peter sobbed loudly again, curling in tighter. He had always thrived on positive affirmation and had grown up in a family where hugs and shoulder pats and forehead kisses were the norm. To go so long without… he had forgotten how nice it was to just be held and cared for. “Thank you,” Peter said, his voice clogged with emotion. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Tony said firmly. “Anyone decent would do the same thing and it’s the least of what you deserve.”

Peter squeezed him one more time and took a deep breath before pulling away. “Thank you,” he reiterated, fighting to make eye contact so he could show just how sincere he was. “But I need to get back before four and I already missed my train. I can’t be late.” Tony, who still had one hand resting on Peter’s shoulder, gripped him tightly to prevent him from escaping up the stairs to the train.

“You aren’t going back,” he said firmly, ducking his head and forcing Peter to make eye contact. “You’re coming with me back to the Tower where I’m going to call CPS and my lawyers. You’re never going back there again.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Peter insisted. “It’s really not that bad if I’m home on time and do my chores and stay in my room. And its only two more years until I’m eighteen and then I can get a job and an apartment.”

“Pete,” Tony said, eyes shining as he wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders and started leading him away from the subway and toward the Audi that was parked in the pickup lane; Peter could see the outline of Happy’s silhouette in the driver’s seat. “You deserve better. You deserve somewhere safe and you deserve to have someone care about you. I know you don’t believe it now and that’s okay – I’m just going to keep telling you until you do.”

Peter sniffed back another onslaught of tears and allowed himself to be pulled away. “Thank you Mr. Stark,” he said, voice clogged with emotion.

“It’s Tony kiddo,” the man told him with another squeeze that warmed Peter to the core. “And you don’t need to thank me for this okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, fully aware and present and wanting to be for the first time in a long time. Things were never going to be the same, but maybe, just maybe, they would get better.