#months down the line once you’ve been dating for a while he drops the bomb that he’d been crushing on u for a while

[pluviophile-imagines]

Thought of the night is Shouto as that guy u never really thought abt before until suddenly it Clicks and you fall hard.

It’s not exactly that you think he’s not a catch—he’s handsome, you’d have to be blind not to see it, and rich and fairly nice. Compliments you a lot but is mostly quiet. He’s a friend of a friend so you can’t say you know him very well but you’re not entirely unfriendly. But one night you go out with your friend group and it somehow happens that the two of you are the odd men out, and you spend all that time with him.

The first thing you realize is that he’s actually really funny. The first little snide comment he makes is out of the corner of his mouth, for your ears alone, and it takes you by surprise so badly that you burst into laughter immediately. It only encourages him. Soon enough you come to expect it and recognize the signs—the slide of his eyes, the way he leans in so your attention is solely on him, the corner of his mouth the only hint that his words are less than polite.

The second thing you realize is that his gentlemanly behavior is very much not an act. Holding doors, lingering so you don’t get left behind, offering you his coat; it’s obvious, you think, when a man is only doing it out of obligation, or to impress. When you comment on this he only gives you a little smile and tells you that his mother raised him well.

And the third thing is less a realization and more that the other two make everything else all the more palpable. He is handsome—heart-meltingly so, when you think about it—and he is nice, to you anyway. Less boring now that he’s suddenly decided to let loose with you; still quiet but very decidedly not silent. He dresses well and he wears a nice cologne that isn’t overwhelming at all and he really is quite tall and well-built—it’s a shame he spends so much time with Deku and Dynamight and all those insanely bulky pros because it really does slim him down in comparison—now that you’re seeing him closely. Have you known all of this the whole time? Yes, but it’s all so much more palpable all of a sudden. You’re not so naïve that you don’t understand why.

And, perhaps more importantly, he’s been staring at your lips a lot, especially as the night is beginning to wind down. So maybe you’re not the only one who’s had an epiphany.

[chifuyuzu]

leap of faith — sano manjiro x reader.

word count — 1.3k.

genre — fluff fluff fluff, i love sweet mikey.

contains — cursing, timeskip SPOILERS present, reader is gender neutral.

description — sano manjiro is in love with you, and he realizes how much he loves you at the ass crack of fuckin' dawn.

author's note — hey besties, this is my first published fic here, kinda short but mikey brain rot is heavy. i hope you enjoy this cute fic before i rip your hearts out with some angst in a few days :^) reblogs and likes are always appreciated! and please give me feedback in my inbox! hehe, enjoy.

“it’s late.”

you know. but you still wanted to hear the sound of his voice before bed.

“mm… i missed ya’, is that a crime?” your voice echos through the receiver, the sound of your duvet crinkling in the background as you shift in place. sano manjiro was a busy man. always has been, always will be. being the leader of a biker gang was never easy—let alone some “new age” criminal organization.

you didn’t understand why manjiro persisted to play this game of russian roulette with his life. but it was never your place to overstep, especially since this was his life. it was all he knew, all he understood. you’re not sure what he’s doing, or if he’s even allowed to talk on the phone at this hour, but you still wanted to hear him. just so you know he’s alive and well.

you hear him chuckle, the sound of his feet scurrying against whatever floor his sandals were clacking against. the background noise that accompanied him earlier has dissipated; you realized he probably went outside to hear you better.

“your crime is loving a fool like me way too much. don’t think you’re sane.” he’s right. you’re actually crazy for even pursuing him. there was a lot of push and shove in the beginning, both parties scared of being hurt and getting hurt. but you were always there, even when manjiro went through whatever darkness was eating at his soul.

“crazy for you.”

“corny.”

“you love me.”

a pause. eerie enough to send shivers down your spine. why wasn’t he responding? did something happen? did you smother him too much? is he regretting—

“marry me.”

… not what you were expecting. especially not over the phone.

“sano manjiro, did you just propose over the phone? what kind of shitty rom-com are we in?”

“is that a no?”

“... never said that.” you wanted to marry him. but you wanted him to put that lifestyle behind, for the sake of the family you might have in the future. kids, dogs, cats, etcetera. you wanted him to be in, one hundred percent. but you knew he was too deep into this world to run now—especially since he’s so well-known as the ‘invincible mikey.’ you still longed for a happy home with manjiro, and a normal life.

“maybe you’re right. it’s not my style to ask you this over the phone.”

“try again later. when you’re really ready.”

the gag is, he is ready.

manjiro hurries home, blond locks hidden underneath a thin, black hoodie. he’s shaking, like a pomeranian in the presence of fireworks. his hand meets the left side of his chest, back pressed up against the grey colored wall of your shared apartment as he slides down to sit on the floor. it was four in the morning, and manjiro was about to shit himself.

he gulps, eyes peering around for you, double checking that you were fast asleep before he makes a phone call. his fingers tapped the back of his iphone, impatiently waiting for the other caller to answer. though it was the crack of dawn, he still needed some moral support.

“mikey? fuck you callin’ for at this hour? haven’t heard from you in mo—”

“ken-chin. i’m proposing.”

a loud ‘flop’ rang through the receiver, accompanied by the bedsheets seemingly slipping underneath draken’s feet. it was a huge bomb to drop, especially when the duo has been separated for months on end. manjiro hears more shuffling, followed by a few curses. “you’re fucking lying. the one you’ve been one since—?”

“yeah. i’m crazy as hell. but i love them. head over heels. i’m a goddamn simp.”

“why the hell am i the first to know, man?”

“you’re m’best friend, even if i need to stay away from you. and, also… you’re not the first to know. i asked them already.”

“you WHAT? don’t fuckin’ tell me you did it some dumb way like over the pho— you did. you’re impulsive enough to do it like that, too.” regardless of how long it’s been, draken still knows and understands manjiro like nothing ever happened.

“yeah… not romantic. but i can’t see myself with anyone else. i trust no one else. but i… am…”

“scared? man, you’re the head of a criminal organization. ‘course you’re scared. you don’t want the love of your life… to get hurt…” his voice trails off and manjiro’s heart tenses even more. the memories of the past still felt fresh. all the people they lost in tokyo manji… could never be replaced. not in a million years.

but the living must live.

“i love y/n. never felt like this before. i’d quit everything. but i would have to make sure they’re safe and whatever future we have together is secure. i know i promised takemichi that i’d protect everyone and that future he worked so hard to save… but what about mine?”

manjiro really did sacrifice everything for his friends. being the type of person who carries everyone else’s burdens takes a toll on his mental. he felt selfish for wanting to leave it all behind. but maybe being selfish was beneficial once in a while.

“listen—”

“do you think i’m stupid?”

“mikey. you’re not stupid,” draken sighs, shuffling again in place. “you just want to love someone and be loved in return. nothin’ stupid about that. what is stupid though, is you proposing over the damn phone.”

he’s not wrong. it was a spur of the moment decision that could drastically change his life forever. but with you, he doesn’t care. as long as you’re his, forever.

“how do you think i should do it?”

“well. i guess, tell me some sappy shit. how do you feel about them, and whatnot.”

“i don’t think i could ever imagine me with anyone else. a lot of people have tried to grab my attention but i only have eyes for y/n. sometimes when shit gets real hard…” manjiro takes a deep sigh, fingers threading through his hair, tilting back the hood to let it fall onto his back. “i think of y/n and i remember that even in this shit world, someone is here for me. someone cares about me. they make me feel like i’m not alone anymore.

i have dreams ‘bout us, y’know? me and y/n… kids running around. a little mikey clone. pissin’ them off because we want little flags on our meals. going to the park and letting kids be kids. maybe i’ll teach ‘em at a dojo like gramps did for me and my siblings. maybe i’ll teach ‘em about bikes—with your help, of course.”

draken laughs, letting his friend continue his little speech as he gets comfortable in bed again. don’t think i’ve ever seen mikey like this, ever, draken muses.

“man, we can own a whole zoo if we wanted. chifuyu could hook us up, in secret, of course. still have to protect everyone,” manjiro is grinning from ear to ear, head resting against the wall. “i wanna grow old with them. honestly, i didn’t think i’d make it to my twenties. more so, i didn’t want to live past twenty-something. but now… things are different. wanna be old and gray. see grandkids terrorize our children. die together.”

the tension in manjiro’s chest has faded away, only left with warmth that only you could bring him. his free hand reaches into his pocket to fumble with a small box, snapping it open to reveal the engagement ring his grandfather handed down to him.

he wasn’t the marrying type. but for you, he was.

“that all? you sound good like that, man. make an exception and let us come to the wedding.”

manjiro wants that more than anything. his friends, you... all safe. all happy. but again, the fear creeps up. he doesn’t know what to do with himself if any of you get hurt.

“... how do i tell y/n that?”

“you already have.” your voice makes him jump, knocking the velvet box out of his fingers and onto the hardwood floor. his face pales, followed by a huge lump forming at his throat when he sees your figure emerge from your shared bedroom.

“i-uh… i thought you were a-asleep.” manjiro mumbles, earning a huge laugh from draken on the other side. he hears him say something along the lines of ‘my cue to leave. good luck. send me an invite.’

“i was waiting for you.” 

he’s sweating now, a small bead forming at the base of his neck. his phone is now at his side, the screen flashing from draken’s caller id to the lockscreen photo of you on your first date together, a few years back. your eyes zone into the box, though.

“i was going to do this… better. god, i fucked up, huh?”

you’re laughing now, rubbing your tired eyes before you join him near the wall, picking up the box. “what makes you think that, dummy?”

now he’s confused. you wanted him to ask when he was serious, but in his head, serious meant rose petals, candles, someone singing celine dion in the distance.

without a word, you slip the ring onto its appropriate finger, holding up to the small rays of sunlight that peaked through the window from the approaching sunrise. manjiro’s hands fly up to your face, holding his whole world in his hands. his eyes are shiny, on the brink of tears. you nudge your noses together, foreheads connecting tenderly. your hands hooked onto the hem of his hoodie, bringing his frame closer as you whisper a soft ‘yes.’

“yes?”

“yes, i’ll marry you.”

manjiro’s lips curl up into the silliest grin you’ve ever seen him sport, before he presses a soft kiss to your lips. now he’s kissing you quite desperately. as if he’s trying to make sure you’re real, that this isn’t a dream. you feel his words vibrate against your lips, “gonna make you so happy, i promise. i love you. i love you so, so much.”

“forevermore.”

“forever yours.”

[zeldas-cigarrette]

⊱┊𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬. ↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃

— pairing; ⚢donna sheridan x fem!reader

— word count; 3.3k

— summary; Sophie organised an afternoon of speed dating for her mother. You happened to be a customer at the certain restaurant it took place, and it seemed as if Donna was more interested in you than in all the guys that came for her. (lots of fluff because I can’t bring myself to write smut atm. ) xx

— fluff 🍰₊˚.༄ ೃ -

—❥ author’s note; My obsession with Meryl Streep keeps me sane during all those exams I have atm… Again, I’m so sorry for not posting my requests but I tried finishing them all but when I read them again they were so insanely bad, I can’t upload them… I will rewrite them probably next weekend (if I have enough time). But thanks for sticking around although I’m not as active (which will change in a few weeks, when I’ve finished my finals).

..⃗.🕊•̩̩͙⁺⤾·˚ ༘ ◡̈ ꒰ 🥥 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ ✧˖*°࿐

🏷 tag list; @paulawand , @pearplate

The sun was already burning down when Donna found out about her daughter's plans for the afternoon. Apparently, Sophie decided to host a speed dating for her mother in some restaurant on the island. She wasn’t interested in the first place but for the sake of her daughter, Donna decided to give it a try - maybe she’ll find the love of her life? It wasn’t until both mother and daughter arrived at the chosen restaurant when the older woman started worrying about what’s to come behind those doors. The few birds that gathered on the windowsill started chirping as if they were trying to warn her, „don’t go in!” but it seemed too late for that. „I don’t know if this is the right thing Soph,” Donna lurked through the window, seeing a couple of older guys waiting eagerly for someone to entertain them. „It’s gonna be fun Mum, just let it happen,” and with the huge smile spread over the young girl's face, she pushed the door open. Quickly the smell of food surrounded both women.

Only a couple of women were interested in dating as well, everyone was already sat on separate tables only waiting for the main host to start the thing. On the first look, none of these men caught her eye, none of them looked attractive. However, who was she to judge? Said and done, Donna took a seat opposite of a man with full fair hair and glasses. The two minutes started in which they were supposed to get to know each other.

You were sat in the corner of the restaurant, observing the show you were offered from afar. The people, including the owner, were making a fuss about the speed dating someone had arranged. You had moved to the island just a couple of months ago and though such things as speed dating were a pretty common thing in England, it seemed to be hardly a thing around here. Chewing on a shrimp, you wanted to hold back the laughter when you saw the angelic-looking woman’s face when one of the guys seemingly told her an interesting fact about him. She didn’t look very happy with the selection of men. Luckily you had an amazing view of the ocean and you could watch the sun gleaming on the water.

For every passing minute, Donna regretted the decision she made. The first guy was as dull as his name, Tom had 15 cats. He told her a story of when a few of his cats got sick and vomited in his flat. It was a full-on ramble for two minutes not letting his opponent get to word for once. Donna wasn’t sure if she had control of her face, but if she wasn’t at least the guy knew how horrible he was. The next one - didn’t even introduce himself - was shy. So shy that he only stared down on his fingers. Therefore when Donna made the first move and told him a little about her life, he could only nod and blankly stare a hole into the hotel owner.

Sunken in a daydream, you scribbled something in your notebook hoping the words would turn into poems. When you first came to the island you had hoped to overcome the ongoing writer's block, but until now not even the alluring landscape could change that. It ever so often occurred that your eyes landed on the woman with the golden locks not sure if it’s because of how dissatisfied she looked or if it’s her that captured you. Often you came to this restaurant to get the words flowing or to talk to the owners. They have been welcoming from the first moment, so you decided to go there again and again until it became the only restaurant you’d go to.

Meanwhile, Donna was meeting the fourth guy that wanted to meet her. It seemed to be a better start than the rest of the guys, he wasn’t perfect but neither was he as self-centered as the ones before. Their conversation was good until he dropped the 'women belong in the kitchen’ bomb. It ruined everything for her. „Alright people, we’re gonna take a short break so everyone can let the impressions sink in,” Sophie quickly interrupted when she saw how uncomfortable her mother felt. Each of the participants got up and walked out on the terrace or ordered drinks from the bar. Donna scoffed and buried her head in her hands. „This is awful,” it was only a whisper but audible to her daughter. „I’m sorry, I really thought that you’re gonna have fun,” the girl replied. Without another word the woman got up and wanted to walk a few steps to stretch the tense muscles in her leg when she spotted you sitting in the corner of the room.

She took small steps to reach your table, she was curious about what you were doing there all alone scribbling in your notebook. At first, you didn’t notice her coming towards you, but when you did she seemed as if a halo would enlighten her. The notebook was closed in an instant when you realized that you were the aim she was about to reach. „Hi” you greeted her with a wide smile. „Hello, I noticed you sitting all alone,” it was obvious that Donna searched for an opportunity to escape the dating hell her daughter had organised. You saw in how deep of misery the woman was. „Would you like to sit with me for a while?” you requested and pointed at the chair opposite of you. The noise in the overfilled restaurant was deafening so the blonde woman didn’t bother using words and just pulled out a chair. „You don’t know in how many ways you just saved me,” she smirked and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. You blushed but tried to hide it while leaning your face in both of your hands.

„I saw you’ve been busy over there, isn’t speed dating fun?” you teased not knowing if it was alright to overstep this line. „They’re all abhorrently boring and irritating,” the woman huffed and throws a disapproving look at the crowd of men. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, you’ve never had the problem with weird men. „I’m Y/n by the way,” you reached out your hand which she gladly shook. „Nice to meet you, my name’s Donna.” Even her name sounded angelic. The woman’s company brought you joy and even ideas for new poems came to your mind. „You could stay here until it’s over, I don’t mind,” you suggested avoiding eye contact, fearing rejection. „I’d love to,” it sounded like heaven to you. Therefore she stayed and every time you looked at her, you hated to avert your gaze the next second. Although Donna seemed to enjoy herself, the men on the other side of the room looked as if they were disappointed that she left. „One of their cats vomited in their flat,” she told you rolling her eyes. „Aww, I love cats but without the vomiting,” you giggled and tried to find out who it was by just scanning them. „It’s the blond one,” she pointed at a tall, skinny guy. „Oh yes, he absolutely looks like a cat guy,” you remarked dryly not averting your gaze from the giraffe-like man.

Sophie saw her mother sitting with you, smiling and giggling sometimes. She didn’t dare to make her comeback and go through another round.

„Would you like something to eat while you’re waiting for this to be over?” you asked shyly. „Actually, yes! I’ve been starving since we’ve come here and the conversations I’ve had didn’t make it go away,” Donna explained and bit down her lip. You waved for Elias, a waiter, for her to order. You’ve been exploring the island with him a couple of times and learned that he would rather like to work on the mainland as a teacher than work at his parent's restaurant. The food was served in less than ten minutes and she hummed while eating. „This has to be the best one I’ve eaten yet,” Donna declared while putting the cutlery on her plate.

Donna admired you for your kindness of letting her stay with you, she was lost in the eyes of yours and how your y/h/c hair was blown from the wind from time to time. The opened window offered her a marvellous view on the deep blue ocean. She felt safe in your company and the stories you’d told her about your future plans captured her. „Then why have you decided to come to Kalokairi when you plan on becoming a writer?” the older woman curiously asked. „Well, I had a very severe writers block and wanted to be surrounded by nature and I’ve a lot about this place in tourist guides so I decided to come here to get my writing flowing,” you explained. „Oh I’m sorry, I hope you’ve overcome it by now.” „I think I just did,” you cheekily replied. Unknowingly that your time was up by now, Sophie strutted over to the both of you.

„Mum, I’m sorry to interrupt but we’re done,” the young girl smiled while looking at you. „I’d really like to do this again,” Donna circled with her finger on the table, „I’ll just give you my address and you can come over some time.” Donna scribbled something on a napkin and handed it to you. You tried to hide the huge smile that was about to form on your lips. „Thanks, I’d also love to repeat this,” your whisper was barely audible. Donna just winked before leaving with her daughter, she was gone and left you with butterflies in your stomach. That day you’re writers block seemed to be gone and you were finally able to bring some words on paper.

»As I sat and looked at her and the rolling hills she sat upon I thought, what amazing luck I have that the world had created such beautiful things and given me the eyes to see them.« *

At first, you’ve been too afraid to drop that little poem off at her house, but when you gathered enough courage you just went for it. It was only when you arrived that you realised she was managing a hotel. You quickly dropped it off with your phone number written on it, not brave enough to give it to her in person. The following hours consisted of you having almost a nervous breakdown not wanting to receive rejection again. You had enough of that for a lifetime. Was she even interested in that way or was she just being nice? It took her until the next morning to get back to you, but when she did, it brought your heart to quiver.

She invited you over for a walk along the coastline by sunset. Whenever Donna laughed, it felt as if the world was changing for the better, and she smiled like a goddess. When the sun was almost gone and barely visible, it made the whole island shimmer in a shade of magenta. The older woman seemed as if she took a liking to you, that’s when you realised the arm sneaked around you. It was that day when you never wanted to leave Kalokairi or the high you’ve been on since you first saw her.

—♡︎

Over the weeks you two had somehow developed an unspoken romantic relationship, none of you were brave enough to talk about the strong feelings in between. When Donna wasn’t busy working in the Hotel, you did almost everything together, sat by the beach while you used her as your muse for writing or you two cuddled on the couch.

You had sent your work to a publisher in New York when you had gathered a few more poems and one night you received an email. They actually wanted you in New York, the head of the company wanted to meet you first and if everything goes well he wanted to offer you a contract and an apartment in which you could get your words flowing. Although that sounded like a dream to you, so surreal and perfect to be true, your true new home was the island and the mere thought about leaving was too much. That’s why you didn’t tell Donna. You weren’t sure if this was the right time or if she’d even care.

„Why did they have to leave her out, just because she couldn’t pay for the country club?” the thing you loved about her, was that she always commented on the movies you watched. „It seems unfair to me,” you added and snuggled closer. You were partly on your laptop to check your mails for a confirmation on an order you placed. She was holding you close while her head was resting on yours. It was the smell of the ocean that comforted you and made your eyelids heavy. You had never stayed overnight at her house because you didn’t know if that was alright for her, so you fought against tiredness. Few strands of her hair slightly covered your eyes which only caused you to give in to your exhaustion more.

The steady sound of the movie and her beating heart made you even more tired until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. A comforting wave of sleep hit you and soon you were comforted in a dream. It wasn’t until the woman you’d fallen asleep on moved abruptly, that you woke up. „Ouch,” you murmured and your head jolted in an upward direction. „I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” Donna sounded weird but you brushed it off due to the late hour. „Don’t worry, is everything alright?” you then asked while straightening your back. Only a light hum was a response to your question, she then focused on the movie again. Minutes passed and your eyelids started to feel like cement. „Okay, you know what? It’s not okay. I know going through your things wasn’t right, but your laptop was open and I’ve seen the email from the publisher and internally I’m going mad and-“

„Stop,” it was a short but loud enough interruption of her rambling. Donna's eyes grew wide. „I don’t mind if you’re going through my things, but before you assume something you could’ve asked me, because I wasn’t planning on going,” you didn’t want to snap in that way. Only a regretful „Oh..” broke the uncomfortable silence. You felt bad for speaking to her in that tone. „I’m sorry but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, I just found you.” A small but proud smile formed on your lips, maybe the feelings were mutual. „I’m not going anywhere,” you quietly replied. Both of you started staring at the screen of the tv again, wordlessly. „Y/n?”

You hummed in response. „I think I love you.” „You think?” you laughed, „because I might love you too.” Her hands quickly found your face and pulled you in her direction, „Is that alright?” A slight nod confirmed and Donna’s lips found yours. They moved against yours in sync and that’s when you first noticed how soft they were, she tasted like peach and lavender. „Your hair’s so soft,” she mumbled when she stopped for air, after that Donna quickly found your lips again. „And your cute when you’re all worried,” you added when you gasped for air.

That night you stayed with Donna and fell asleep cuddling her. She wore a blue pyjama with puppies all over it, you were gushing over how adorable she looked.

—♡︎

„Come on we’re going to be late for the ferry if you don’t hurry up,” Donna rushed past you to turn off the kitchen lights. „Yeah yeah don’t rush me or I’m never gonna finish,” you replied and closed your suitcase. You were going home for your father's birthday and they wanted to meet the woman that you couldn’t stop talking about. „Ready?” „Yes.” Donna stretched out her hand for you and pulled you after her. „I hope they’ll like me,” she pondered while loading the suitcases in the trunk. „They will absolutely love you, trust me,” you said and helped her closing up.

The ferry was crowded as usual and you two barely had enough space so Donna demanded you to sit on her lap. „I hope we’re gonna catch our flight,” the woman mumbled and nervously checked her wristwatch. „Don’t sweat it, we’re gonna make it on time it’s still early,” you cackled, knowing that she was nervous. The ferry sailed over the water just as gracefully as a bull in a china shop. When the ferry reached the mainland, Donna and you quickly rushed to a cab and drove to the nearest airport. The sky was flawlessly blue, not a cloud could be seen.

Not a lot of people decided to fly to England on that day, you could count 17 people at the checkpoint. In the meantime Donna was a nervous wreck, the woman constantly fidgeted with the keychains. „Ew your hands are sweaty,” you joked when you took hers in yours, „don’t be afraid, I’m with you the whole time.” Donna forced a smile on her face then followed you on the airplane. It wasn’t a long flight, maybe four or five hours. The start was a rough patch, Donna’s anxiety of flying was at its highest and she was seemingly about to throw up. Luckily you could talk her down and she soon fell asleep.

Arriving in London Southend, which was close to your parent's house, your girlfriend's nerves seemed to be calmed and you almost thought she’d taken something. „Let’s get out of here, my brother’s gonna pick us up,” you declared as both of you got your luggage. „He’s very much into cars and all that stuff, so if he’s annoying you just tell him to shut up, I do this every time.” „Oh I hope it’s not getting too complicated so that I can keep up,” she stifled a laugh and cheerily followed you along to the exit. As usual, your brother couldn’t shut up about the new cars he is about to tune, but luckily the ride was only about 40 minutes.

Your father was fascinated by Donna, the two of them got along quite well and even your mother seemed to approve of your choice this time. There have been a few women she wasn’t fond of, almost hated them and in retrospect, she was right about them. As it got darker outside, your father's guests said their goodbyes and left one by one until only the five of you were left at the table. „We’re gonna go to bed, it’s getting late and I’ve got work tomorrow,” your father declared and clapped his hands on both of his legs before getting up. „Yeah me too,” your brother said.

„Wanna sit in front of the fireplace for a while?” you asked as all of them were gone. „Absolutely.” „Thanks for coming, I was afraid you wouldn’t like my family because of how crazy they are sometimes,” you whispered when you draped a blanket over the both of you. „They’re all lovely people, I’m happy they don’t seem to hate me,” Donna joked. „They don’t, they love you but maybe not as much as I do,” you sweet-talked. Her finger booped your nose before she planted a quick kiss on your forehead. „Can I hold your hand?” she quietly asked. You nodded, feeling her soft palms against yours was enough to make you feel safe. While you sat there watching the fire die out, the grip around Donna got tighter, fearing she’d be gone as soon as the sun rises. But she wasn’t, she was still there in the morning and the morning after and so on. You were happy with her, happier than you would’ve imagined.

* used a poem from atticus

[butgilinsky]

someone will ache for your soul // np

warning; a lot of language i’m sry, argument btw best friends, talks abt a shitty ex bf but there’s nothing explicit

summary; in a world where you acquire tattoos across various parts of your body once you fall in love with someone, you have to hide yours from your best friend. 

word count; 6.7k+

a/n: kind of a soulmate au but not really i guess? i saw this prompt somewhere online and idk where it’s from so the general idea of gaining tattoos from those you fall in love with is not mine but the rest of the fic is. okay thx bye(:

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When you were younger, you loved it. You loved looking down at your ankle and seeing the small butterfly just beside your ankle. You’d had it your whole life, though you still weren’t entirely sure how a tattoo grew up with you, but you accepted it. After all, it’s all that you knew. 

Everybody’s born with a tattoo on their ankle, a small tattoo that has theirselves embedded into it. However, the older you get the more you realize that it’s not the tattoo you’re born with that makes the biggest impact on you, it’s others’. Every time you fall in love with somebody, your skin makes room for their tattoo on it. Your mom’s tattoo, a small star on her left ankle, shined bright from its place on your father’s wrist, somehow separate from the couple tattoos he collected over the years. 

You remember the day you found out about the tattoos, perched in your mom’s lap and listening to her talk to your aunt about it. You remember tracing their tattoos with your small fingers while they told you various stories about their loves and how they grew up collecting tattoos on their skin. You were scared, asked your mom what happened if you never got any more than your single tattoo on your ankle. She told you that you would, that anybody would be lucky to collect your small butterfly somewhere on their body. 

You remember the day you got your second tattoo, the paper plane that sat on the back of your left shoulder that now held the role as a painful reminder of your first love. You loved Cory, but the time for the two of you had come and gone. The paper airplane, though never in your line of sight, was still a painful reminder of the times you shared with the boy and how he broke your heart at the end of it all just before moving to college. 

You had to go through senior year alone, newly broken up with and with your best friend hours away from home. You couldn’t blame Nolan, not when he was out doing the thing he loved so much. Being in Brandon was good for him, it was all that he wanted, and it wasn’t all that far away from Winnipeg anyways. You still drove out to see Nolan’s games, even if it ran up the miles on your car and had you spending late nights driving back home by yourself. You would’ve done anything for Nolan, and it truly showed during your senior year. 

Nolan’s draft day was a rude awakening for you. You jumped up when his name was called, hugging him as tight as you possibly could before hiding your giddy expression behind your hands. You were excited for him, even if he was going all the way out to Philadelphia. You wanted him to be happy, and you could tell within seconds of his name being called that he was going to do just fine in Philly. 

You didn’t notice until you got home and your heart sank into your stomach. Your adrenaline high had worn off, and the reality of everything around you began to sink in. You knew what it was the second you laid your eyes on it, black lines etched into the skin of your sternum. You thought it was an odd placement, though it was hard to miss it when you stepped out of the shower and it stood tall and proud and ready to be found. 

You knew what it was, you’d seen the shape etched into Nolan’s ankle far more times than you could count. It mocked you, the snake coiled up the same way your memory sketched it out in your brain, and now it was imprinted perfectly into your skin. You touched it, rubbed it, tried to wash it off. You had just taken a shower, just washed the day off of you and down the drain and now you were standing in the middle of a hotel bathroom, rubbing at the spot between your breasts mercilessly. This couldn’t be happening, not to you, not when Nolan was about to move thousands of miles away from you. 

But it was happening, because the black line that followed no real pattern never faded, despite the skin around it turning raw from your insistent attempts at washing it off. It was here to stay, no matter what happened in your life down the road. It didn’t matter that you had no heads up, no warning that you were falling head over heels in love with your best friend. 

You knew it wouldn’t wash off, but that didn’t stop you from trying. These tattoos were forever, you knew that. You learned from a ripe, young age about obtaining your love’s tattoo. You learned about it growing up, you talked about it with friends and family, hell this wasn’t even your first tattoo that wasn’t your own. You knew the drill, you knew the routine, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. 

You were 18, watching him sign contracts and make agreements of his big move in a few short weeks. You couldn’t believe it, that you were losing him in a time like this. It made dropping him off at the airport all that much harder, cheeks wet and eyes bloodshot as you clung to him for dear life. You knew his parents wanted to say bye, that his sisters were waiting patiently while you cried into his shoulder, but you couldn’t let go.

He didn’t know about the snake on your sternum, nor did you plan on telling him. You couldn’t drop a bomb like that on him just before he moved to a different country, finally living out the dream he’d had ever since you could remember. Nolan wasn’t Nolan without hockey, and you were aware of that. You were painfully aware of that. 

So you didn’t tell him. 

You spent too many nights curled up in your bed, clinging to your pillow to muffle the whimpers and whines that pushed through your lips and out into the air. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest at any given moment, and you did everything in your power to keep everything under wraps. You couldn’t tell anyone, no matter how bad it hurt to be in love with your best friend that now lived so far away from you. 

It was hard, hiding it. You had to hide it from your family and friends, and sometimes that was easy. During the cold months you were seemingly off the hook, but when summer rolled around and your friends dragged you out to the lake every chance they got, you were in a bit of trouble. You had to carefully choose what bathing suits you wore and had to make sure nothing slipped or faltered throughout the day. 

You’d made it three years without a slip up. Even on nights when Nolan came home and you were mere inches away from him, you couldn’t find it in you to tell him. Even when he was curled up into your side and holding you against his chest in the most comfortable way, you couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t make a move on him. 

And now you were in Philly, standing in an arena that had you shivering but smiling brightly from the opposite side of the glass. You smiled every time Nolan skated by, even more when he assisted Travis in the first goal of the game and scored one of his own late in the second period. You were buzzing, adrenaline pumping and excitement shining deep in your chest. Watching Nolan do what he loved would never get old, not when the smile he wore was enough to wash away any fear or worry you’ve ever had. 

You remember nights when you couldn’t sleep and Nolan would hold you. You remembered nights when you were crying over the phone to him and he snuck out of his room and into your own. You remembered fights you had and the way he made you walk home one night after one of your bigger ones. 

You were walking out of TIm Horton’s, mere feet away from Nolan’s car before you tumbled into an argument you’d been trying to avoid for a few days now. You were dating Cory at the time, and Nolan couldn’t believe you were telling him that you couldn’t go to his game on Friday night, regardless of the fact that you’d promised him for weeks now that you’d be there. It was hard for you to catch games during the week, but this one was on a Friday night with plenty of time for you to finish the school day and drive over to Brandon. 

But now you were telling him that you couldn’t go, and no matter how sorry you were, Nolan couldn’t forgive you. He said you’d blown him off for Cory more times than he could accept anymore. You had to call your sister, figuring she was the only one that would pick you up and give you a ride home without threatening to leave you in the parking lot in favor of beating Nolan to a pulp. 

None of that mattered though. None of it mattered when you were faced with the boy you’d fallen in love with doing the thing he cherished most. When he left the locker room with a smile brighter than any of his teammates had seen in a long time that was directed straight at you, you knew none of it mattered. 

Your feet left the ground, hanging in the air while your best friend clung to your frame tightly. He thanked you for coming, told you that he scored the goal just for you, that he scored every goal for you. You figured it was the adrenaline talking, that he was just basking in the big win against their biggest rivals. That plus the fact that Nolan could barely come to terms with the fact that you were here all for him. 

You’d been in Philly before, had visited Nolan a few times over his years with the Flyers. You’d met practically everyone there was to meet and had gotten fairly close with his closest friends by default, seeing as they were always around when you were. Everything was going well this time around, everyone was having fun and getting along and it almost seemed like nothing could fall out of place. 

You were standing in the kitchen with Nolan and Travis when Nolan’s name was called, beckoning him out into the rest of the house while you and Travis rallied drinks for the group. He tried to ignore them, tried to help you pile up on wine and beers for the rest of the group but Travis practically kicked him out of the kitchen. Travis said he could help you, that the two of you didn’t need Nolan’s help and that someone else clearly did. 

It took all of five minutes for Travis to spill red wine all over your shirt. Thankfully for him, the few glasses you’d thrown back throughout the night washed over any sense of anger or annoyance you’d usually pick up and you simply laughed it off. He felt so bad, begged you to forgive him and let you buy him a new shirt, but all you did was insist that he find you a new one for now and that you could figure out the rest of it when the two of you weren’t tipsy and surrounded by your friends. 

Travis ducked out of the kitchen for a second before turning back up and leading you into a hallway on the other end of the house. He told you that Claude never really let them wander his house without a little supervision, claiming that they break everything that they touch, but this was a special case. Claude loved you, and he wasn’t going to let you walk around with a wine stained shirt for the rest of the night, especially when it’s Travis’s fault in the first place. 

You laid back on the bed in the room you were unfamiliar with, smiling up at the ceiling and humming to yourself while Travis dug through Claude’s closet. 

“I know Ryanne has a stack of those shirts somewhere.” he spoke gently to himself, refraining from throwing clothes all over the room and instead digging for one through multiple piles. You laughed to yourself, not even sure if he knew that you could hear him. 

“Just pick one, Teeks!” he huffed and chucked one at you, laughing loudly when it landed directly on your face. 

You whined and sat up, reaching for the hem of your shirt without much thought surrounding the subject before peeling it off. All you could think about was how sticky your stomach had gotten from the red spot. 

It was the small gasp that got you, the one that brought you back down to Earth and tore you out of your wine-induced haze. It was Travis’s eyes locked in on the spot in the middle of your chest that triggered every panic siren in between your ears. 

“Is that-”

“TK you can’t tell him.” you rushed out, pushing yourself to stand up as you pressed a bright orange Flyers shirt against your chest. Your hands were shaking, and Travis’s eyes were glued to the spot of the tattoo even without being able to see it anymore. He knew what that snake was, he knew it all too well. He’d known Nolan for a long time now, and he’d seen the snake enough times to commit it to memory. 

He was sure you had Nolan’s snake in the middle of your chest, and now Travis knew you were in love with Nolan. 

“Trav, I’m serious.” he shook his head, trying to clear himself of the intrusive thoughts and nodded gently. He couldn’t tell Nolan. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to keep that from him, especially when he had been looking for your tattoo on Nolan’s skin for years now. 

Travis wasn’t dense. He saw the way that Nolan looked at you, heard the tone he used when he talked about you. He saw how excited Nolan got when he knew you were about to fly into Philly, and he saw how upset Nolan got when you left. He might not have been the brightest bulb in the box, but he knew that there was something lying under the surface of you and Nolan’s friendship. 

He tried to have this conversation before, had tried more times than he could count at this point. The only difference now was that there was hard proof, there was evidence that he was right all along. But now he couldn’t use that evidence, not when you were looking at him with wide eyes and begging him to keep it between the two of you. 

“Fine, but we’re talking about this before you go back home.” you nodded, figuring that it was good enough for you if it meant he never told Nolan about it. 

Except, there was one small problem.

The door swung open, dark and narrowed eyes landing on you and Travis, less than a foot between the two of you with you topless, a single shirt held between your hands and in front of your chest. 

“My best friend?” the disappointment in his voice tugged at your heart and punched you in the gut simultaneously. The guilt hanging in your chest was barely justified, given this was one large misunderstanding, but the look on Nolan’s face was enough to have your shoulders falling. 

“Nolan, it’s not-”

“My best fucking friend? Of all people you had to choose him?” his eyes were wide and glued to yours, anger mixing with disgust in the back of his mind. He couldn’t believe you’d do this to him. 

“Pat, you don’t understand-” 

“Fuck you.” Nolan spoke slowly and clearly, shooting Travis the sharpest glare he could produce. His voice sent a chill down your spine, unsure if you had ever heard him speak with such malice. “Both of you.” 

Nolan spun on the balls of his feet and left the room, but you didn’t let him get far before you were following him. You tugged the shirt over your head, not even bothering to turn back to Travis to apologize before you were running after Nolan, calling his name down the hallway. 

“Nolan, please-”

“I don’t want to hear it, honestly.” he threw over his shoulder, but you weren’t accepting that. You weren’t going to let him walk away right now, not when you didn’t do anything wrong. 

“Just listen to me!” you stopped walking, stopped running. You stood in the middle of a hallway that had pictures lining the walls around you. Smiling faces and cheery laughs suffocated you in a time where you stood toe to toe with your best friend, the same one who was looking down at you like he’d never known you. “You don’t get to assume things and just walk away!”

“Yeah, well you don’t get to come out here after not seeing me for six months and sleep with my best friend! You don’t get to do that to me! You don’t get to use me to sleep with professional athletes.” any words you had swimming through your mind halted at his accusation. They fizzled out, unable to produce a coherent thought after you heard your best friend accuse you of using him. 

“After all this time, you think i’m using you? You think that I came here to sleep with Travis?” 

“You want to know what I think? I think you’ve always used me. You used me to escape your awful boyfriend in high school and you used me to leave home when things got bad. You used me to get over your shitty boyfriend when he left you in the fucking dust and here you are now, using me to sleep with my best fucking friend.” you were in shock, lips parted and throat constricting as you tried to let his words sit. 

“If you wanted to whore yourself out to NHL players, you should’ve just said so, puck bunny.” The nickname weighed heavily in your chest, bringing you back to a time where Nolan went on and on about how much puck bunnies got under his skin. It brought you back to a time when Nolan would never call you that, would never even put you and the name in the same conversation.

“Patty!” Nolan’s eyes left yours, casting over your shoulder and locking with another pair that he might have been more furious at. Sure, he was angry at you. He couldn’t believe you’d do something like this, not after growing up with him just a few houses down. He couldn’t believe you’d stoop this low, but Travis? Travis knew how Nolan felt about you. Even if he didn’t admit it, even if he’d never say that was all true, Travis knew. He knew better than anyone how Nolan felt, and that made it all the more worse. 

“Don’t talk to her like that.” you bit down on your bottom lip, hard enough to sting slightly but you couldn’t look away from where your eye level left you. You couldn’t look up at Nolan, not when he was this angry at you, and you surely couldn’t look at Travis. You knew that’d only make things worse. 

“Now you get to tell me how to talk to her? Does that mean the two of you are a thing now? That’s funny, seeing as you have a girlfriend, Teeks. Didn’t know you were into home wrecking, y/n.”

“Fuck you.” you spoke softly, not even sure if he had heard you before he looked down at you with a puzzled look stretched across his face. 

“So I can pick up TK’s sloppy seconds? No thanks, angel.” you shoved him then, shoved him hard. He didn’t move much due to the way his feet dug into the ground and he had muscle on you, but you got your point across by the force delivered to his chest. 

“You’re a dick, you know that? You walk into a room and think you know everything that’s going on, but you don’t, okay? You don’t know what happens when you’re gone. You don’t know what happened in there or what happens at home when you’re here. You don’t know anything, okay?” 

“That’s bold, given that I just walked in on you topless, seconds away from kissing my best friend, y/n-”

“Is there a reason you feel the need to keep reminding me that Travis is your best friend?”

“Because I need you to know that you’re not.” 

The world titled on its axis then, the rude awakening you’d walked into becoming all too much for you to handle. With the realization that Nolan wanted nothing to do with you, you nodded once and walked around him so you could leave. It was only then that you noticed the audience you’d gathered, the better half of the Flyers roster circled around the room with a few of their significant others. You flashed everyone a pained smile and thanked Claude and Ryanne for inviting you before leaving the house. 

You weren’t even down the driveway when your lungs gave way, gasping for air while tears streamed down your cheeks. Your heart hurt and your stomach turned, and you knew it was going to be a long night. 

“You really are a dick.” Travis was going to walk past him, was going to avoid the lot of people and follow you outside. He knew you didn’t know where you were, nor did you have a way to get to or from anywhere else. You could order an uber to Nolan’s, but then what? Kevin might let you into the apartment but where would you stay? On the couch in a living room you weren’t welcome in? Not likely. 

“I’m the dick? You know how I feel about her!”

“Nothing happened!”

“Bullshit, TK! I know that look on your face and I know that she sure as hell looked embarrassed-”

“I spilt wine on her shirt, you fucking idiot! I knocked into her when we were in the kitchen and I made her entire glass of wine spill down the front of her shirt, so I went to get her another one. I didn’t want her to sit in a soaking wet, stained shirt for the rest of the night so I went to get her another.” 

“And she changed in front of you because-?”

“Because she was drunk and knew I wouldn’t make a move on her. Because she knows that I respect you and care about you far more than I care about making a move on her. I don’t look at her that way, Pat. You know I would never do that to you.” Nolan sucked on his teeth then, casting his eyes away from Travis’s and looking down at his feet. 

“Do I?” Travis scoffed then, not bothering to give Nolan a response before walking past everybody else and out to his car. 

After a few minutes of driving around, he found you at the park just down the street, leaning against the chain that supported the swing you sat on. He couldn’t see your tears from his car, but he could see the way you flinched when he shut the car door behind him. 

“You okay?” you shook your head, eyes filled to the brim with tears that blurred your vision and broke Travis’s heart. 

“I’m in love with him, Teeks. I love him more than anything in this entire world and he thinks I’m using him. He t-thinks- he thinks I-” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Travis pulled you onto your feet and into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you in order to attempt to calm you down. 

“He thinks-” your sobs rang through the air, piercing through Travis’s heart and resulting in him squeezing you tighter, letting you get all of it out while no one else was around. 

“He doesn’t think that. He knows you’re not using him, he just can’t bear to think about you with anybody other than him.” you shook your head, not allowing yourself to believe Travis, even though he knew Nolan pretty well. If there was anything to know about Nolan, you or Travis would know about it. 

“He loves you, okay? He loves you more than he knows how to handle and he can’t handle losing you before he’s even had you.” you flinched when a car backfired, jumping inches off of the ground and making Travis laugh gently from beside you when you let out a shaky breath of relief. 

Your eyes found the familiar car drive by, slowing down the slightest bit by the park only to take off towards the entrance of the neighborhood quite quickly. You knew it was Nolan, you knew that car by heart. 

You ended up on Travis’s couch the night, wrapped in a warm pair of sweatpants that Travis threw in the dryer for you before giving them to you. You tied the drawstring in a tight knot so they’d stay up and pulled on a hoodie that he offered to you shortly after. He listened to you reminisce on all of the memories you had with Nolan. He learned more about his best friend and who he was growing up, but also learned a fair amount about you as well. 

He felt for you. He couldn’t believe Nolan said all of those things to you, but he also knew that Nolan must not be doing well right now. He texted Kevin when he got back to his apartment, saying that you were safe with him, and that he’d text Nolan but didn’t for obvious reasons. Kevin assured Travis he’d let Nolan know you were safe, despite Nolan not asking about your well being. Not that he hadn’t thought about it, but he figured if he asked he’d be left with a less than likable answer. 

Nolan didn’t sleep well that night, replaying how bad he fucked up over and over again in his mind. He didn’t believe you at first, didn’t even believe Travis when he told him what truly happened. He did, however, believe his captain when he said that Travis asked him for a shirt for you just a few minutes before it all happened. Ryanne brought out your wine soaked shirt after the two of you had left, and despite Nolan coming to terms with the fact that he was wrong, he couldn’t forgive himself for the things he said to you. 

He couldn’t believe he accused you of it all before going on to accuse you of using him for your benefit. He knew it was stupid, since you’d been around far before the NHL. you were there when he got drafted, you were there when he was named captain of the Wheat Kings, and you were there when he almost quit hockey when he was younger. He remembered having you by his side through everything growing up and even now, even while living so far away from each other. If he called, you answered. If he needed help, you helped him. Hockey had nothing to do with that. 

He looked down at the butterfly on his thigh, the one that took residence right beside another one of his tattoos, one that he had to keep hidden from you for well over two years now. He traced his finger over the small image, let his mind wander over all the possibilities of where yours could be if you had a snake somewhere inked into your skin. It’s a thought he often had, wondering where you’d want it, if you’d want it. 

By the time Nolan came to his senses, it was too late. He’d already gotten through an entire practice and by the time he got back, by the time he got home, he realized you were gone. Your things that were piled into a corner of his room were gone. The jersey he’d given you for the game against the pens was folded up nicely on the pillow of his bed and a sticky note with your unmistakeable handwriting on it left a hole in his chest. 

I’m sorry I ever made you doubt me. 

He couldn’t reach for his phone fast enough, couldn’t call you enough times to break your voicemail box. He called Travis, pained to hear that you were already on a flight back to Winnipeg. He wanted to leave, wanted to drive to the airport right this second and catch a flight back home to tell you he’s incredibly sorry, but he couldn’t. He had a roadie in a few days and a game tomorrow night and he couldn’t just leave. 

He did his best to contact you, tried to call every person in your family and was disappointed every time. Even when both of his sisters sat down and called him to collectively tell him that he was the biggest idiot either of them had ever met. Nobody could believe Nolan blew you off like that, not even Nolan himself. 

He knew he fucked up, but he hadn’t realized how bad he fucked things up until one of your friends from back home posted a picture of you on social media a few months later. It had been at least four months since he’d spoken to you, since he saw you. It had been too long of him having nothing but the sliver of content he got from social media. He hated that his friends had chosen your side in the thick of it all, though he guessed it was easier to do that with him in Philadelphia and the rest of you in the same place. 

But it wasn’t until a picture of you with a wide smile and a new bathing suit popped up on his phone that he knew the true weight of the situation in front of him. There you were, in a baby blue bathing suit that showed the same shape between your breasts that he’d grown up with beside his ankle. His tattoo was committed to memory, ingrained into his brain with no room to forget about it, especially when he saw it on you, etched into your skin the same way it had been etched into his. 

He thought back to the paper airplane on your shoulder, the mark that had haunted him for years. He hated your boyfriend, hated the sight of his tattoo on your skin. He hated everything that had to do with the sheer thought of you with somebody else, even if he didn’t know how to deal with that. And now, with his thumb sitting on the butterfly on his thigh and his eyes on the snake on your sternum, he knew he had to fix this. He knew he had to fix things because these tattoos, though permanent themselves, didn’t guarantee him a life as your boyfriend, nor your husband. 

Nolan remembered a time when he thought these tattoos were stupid. He remembered when he thought it was a thing for soulmates and you told him that thought was wrong, that it just reminded you of a love you felt, even if it was eventually lost. He remembers you telling him that you were scared you’d never be loved forever, that you were scared to only be loved momentarily. 

But that wasn’t the case. Nolan would never stop loving you. He couldn’t forget about the way your laugh brightened his day without question, or the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. He couldn’t forget about the way you bugged him for ice cream on a bad day, or how good you looked with his name and number stretched across your back. 

He couldn’t remember a day he wasn’t in love with you. 

So Nolan flew to Winnipeg the second the Flyers’ season was over. He didn’t bask in getting knocked out of the playoffs like some of the other guys, didn’t dwell on the loss in the sixth game of the series because he couldn’t. He couldn’t dwell on a loss when he was so focused on trying to prevent a second one. 

He had called everybody he could think of once he got off the plane. Some didn’t answer, some didn’t know the answer to his question, and some just flat out refused to humor him. You weren’t home, he knew that much by the absence of your car in the driveway and your sister telling him that you weren’t there, and that she wouldn’t let him inside even if you were. It wasn’t until he rounded a familiar corner after a phone call he’d been thankful for. 

Jordan told him where you were, unable to lie to his childhood friend when you were hanging out with everyone. You were wearing a bathing suit again, though it didn’t matter for a while. The sun was high in the air and you weren’t the only that had shed yourself of your coverup earlier in the afternoon. You were playing basketball with Jordan, oblivious to the fact that he’d given you up just ten minutes prior to the gate door swinging open and Nolan letting himself into the backyard. 

Your eyes found him easily, as if he was a magnet you could never repel. Your shoulders fell for a moment, your instinct of wanting to comfort him seeping in before you could tell it not to. Of course you kept up with his team, watching every game you possibly could until the very last one. You knew he’d been knocked out of the playoff less than 48 hours ago, and you had no idea he was coming home. 

You hadn’t realized the weight of the situation until you noticed his eyes locked in on your chest. You folded your arms over your chest in an attempt to cover the snake, but it didn’t make Nolan look anywhere else. 

“Who told you I was here?” your voice was soft. You knew he didn’t drive around the entire town looking for your car, though you weren’t sure it was something too far out of his reach. Nolan would do just about anything to get something if he wanted it bad enough.

“Bo did.” you glared at the boy not far from you, the one that you shouldn’t have trusted with something like this in the first place. You should’ve known Jordan would do something like this. 

“Patty, what the fuck?”

“Just shut up, Bo.” Jordan rolled his eyes and tossed the basketball to Nolan who smacked it away and into the grass. 

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” you tried to stand your ground, even with Jordan giggling to himself before walking over to your friends not too far from where you currently stood. 

“Just give me five minutes.”

Nolan’s eyes bore into yours, the same pair of bright blue eyes that you had been avoiding for months. You wanted to answer every call and every text, but how could you? How could you pick up the phone and listen to his voice through the speaker after all he’d said to you in front of his entire team. And then on top of it all, he left you stranded in Philly, in the middle of a city, country even, where you had nobody to turn to and nowhere to go. 

“I know you don’t want to talk to me-”

“Then leave, Nols.” he shook his head, taking a step towards you. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I know I hurt you-”

“You’re right! You hurt me! You hurt me so bad Nolan and I can’t go through that again so if you’re here to let history repeat itself, then can you just go?” he shook his head, firmly planting his feet into the ground and refusing to move. 

“I know you don’t want to see me or listen to me or give me the benefit of the doubt but I need you to hear me out.” you sighed, letting your arms fall to your side. You weren’t sure how he seemingly broke down all of your walls without even lifting a finger. You watched his eyes flick down to the image on your chest, you even let him raise a finger once he stood in front of you and trace the shape of the snake. “It suits you, y’know?”

“Did you really come all this way to tell me that this suits me?” there was a hint of amusement in your voice, enough of it to bring a smile to Nolan’s lips. 

“I know I fucked up-”

“Big time.” you cut him off, shooting him a gentle smile and nod that told you you’d stop interrupting him. “Sorry, continue.”

“I know I fucked up and I said a lot of shit I didn’t mean and that’s not an excuse but- look, I know i shouldn’t have said all of that shit. I should’ve believed the two of you. I should’ve believed you when you told me nothing happened and I shouldn’t have said you were using me. I know you’re not using me. There was no way you could’ve known that I was going to be in the NHL, and you wouldn’t have stuck around all this time just to be a puck bunny.” 

It wasn’t like you to forgive all that easily. You drew lines in the sand and refused to let someone fuck you over twice. You weren’t big on second chances, especially when you thought people didn’t deserve them. You were a straight shooter, no bullshit. But those walls cracked for Nolan, they fell for Nolan. None of your boundaries were drawn in place with Nolan in mind. He had broken down every wall, overstepped every boundary since the day he met you. You couldn’t block him out, couldn’t lead him out of your life. 

As much as you hated to admit it, you needed Nolan Patrick. You were in love with Nolan Patrick. 

And the little butterfly on his thigh told you that he loved you all the same. 

Your lips turned up at the sight, your eyes locked in on the place where his shorts had ridden up and the small image danced happily on his skin. 

“How long have you had that?” you pointed down at it, barely noticing the way his eyes stayed trained on you through the entirety of the situation. You were looking at his tattoo, but he was looking at you. He was always looking at you, which only made it that much more surprising that he hadn’t picked up on the snake on your chest. 

“Since before I got drafted.” he spoke softly, hitting you with a force you didn’t know existed. You were floored by the realization, somewhat thinking that he’d only had it for a small bit of time. You’d seen his thighs, seen his tattoos and you’d never seen the small butterfly etched into his skin. 

“How long have you had that?” his finger traced over the snake one more time, sending a chill down your spine that you had felt more times than you could count when you were around Nolan. It was a feeling that was never expected but always welcome. 

“Draft day.” you breathed out, feeling the weight of the world lift off of your shoulders. You were finally admitting it, finally letting the love of your life know just how long you’ve been a mess for him. Little did you know how much of a mess he was for you. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n.” 

“It’s okay.” you spoke softly, a smile gracing your lips at the realization that things were falling back into place, even after all this time of not talking to him. 

“It’s okay?” you nodded, taking another step toward him so you were chest to chest. 

“As long as you don’t fuck it up again.” he let out a small laugh, his hands finding the sides of your face just before pressing his lips to yours. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

-

italics mean it wouldn’t let me tag you!!

nolpat tag list; @extratragic​ @babytkachuks​ @teenagekook​ @stfukie​ @kiedhara​ @sadcupofcoffee​ @sidscrosbyy​ @rebel-without-care @baby-cat-nol-pat​ @creator-appreciator​ 

tagging the himbos as well; @bricksatlandyswindow​ @damndunner​ @anxietyandtacos​ @sortagaysortahigh​ @dmonchld​

[fakesurprise]

A First Adorcism

The worst part about no one having seen the ghost was that I had no idea what I was getting into. Marcel had vouched for me to the family as his student - which technically I was, seeing as I’d aided him in helping four ghosts in the past two years. I had no ranking on Hauntr, but Hauntr was mostly Yelp for exorcists and adorcists were the opposite of exorcists. Marcel was on it, but often had to deal with being review-bombed, hateful comments and threats on his life. It would likely be even worse for me, which I wasn’t looking forward to.

Being an exorcist wasn’t the most high-paying job, and some of them could make poltergeists look kind. I touch the phone in my pocket, knowing Marcel is only ten minutes away and let go as I walk toward the house. It’s raining, which feels oddly natural but does mean the fall chill in the air can hide a ghost better than normal. Not that I’m worried, but I’m almost not-not worried.

The ghost had died in his sleep from a heart attack, which didn’t normally make ghosts except that Edith Danby had begun packing up things to move less than a week after the vacation. Her son had offered to let her stay with him for a month or two and she was putting things away beforehand as a way of trying to put the past in order. Which was all fine and good until every moving box and suitcase was destroyed, the destruction harming nothing within the containers.

She’d run into the garage, called her son. He called the local priest who realized a ghost who could do that was more than a simple exorcism could fix and he called someone who called someone and reached Marcel. The Quercus Foundation doesn’t advertise at all save by word of mouth, but most of the time it’s enough for us.

I’d thought ‘for us’ without hesitating. I decide to take that as a good omen as I turn off my Toyota and walk up the driveway. The house is a small two-storey affair. Peeling paint, slightly unkempt lawn: a home that had aged along with the owners, just far enough out of town for no one to comment, not so far that people would worry and check in. No lights are on, the doors closed up tight as I walk up to the front door.

The key that Comor Danby gave me works, the door opening without issue.

As first steps go, this is good. I pocket the key and walk inside, looking about slowly.

The house smells slightly cold and musty but looks fine. Dated furniture and wallpaper, an older-style kitchen kept clean and tidy. No shattered windows, no plates hurling through the air. Nothing dangerous, but there was still the feeling that I wasn’t alone.

“Charles Danby?” I say, keeping my hands visible and loose at my sides.

The ghost walks down the stairs, each foot touching a stair. He is translucent, but not overly so. Slight stubble on his cheeks, wearing the pajamas he had been wearing when he died. He is frowning, and there is a cold glint of anger in his eyes that his family never mentioned.

The dead are never the person they were in life, and the biggest danger for the living is to forget that.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my home?”

The temperature drops about me. Nothing is flung through the air, no force shoves me into me, but his anger twists into the world. Lost. Afraid. Alone.

“My name is Miella Sinclair,” I say quietly, so he has to make the effort to listen in. “I’m here to help you.”

“Help? I’m fine. If this is some attempt by Edith to get me to join that jazzercise class again, I’ll have you know that it’s just people trying to con exercise out of those who don’t need it.”

“No, it’s not. Jazzercise is for the living. You’ve been dead for over two weeks, Mr. Danby.”

He stops. The air doesn’t get colder, which I take as a good sign. “I beg your pardon?” “You died in your sleep. Most people who do that don’t become ghosts, but there are exceptions. It’s common for you to not realize you are a ghost, but I am six feet tall and you are eye level with me.”

He starts, lowering down to the ground. Stares down at his feet, then up at me. “Where is Edith?” “She is going to spend a few days with Comor. She needed space away from memories, but then you destroyed all the moving boxes and that changed things.”

“I didn’t - I thought we’d had a fight. That she found out….” he trails off.

I wait.

“The second of June, 1972. I was at a convention for work. I almost cheated on her. I never told her, I always meant to. It came closer than I would have liked, being talked into a co-workers room and she was my boss so I thought it was work until it wasn’t. I didn’t lose my job, but it was close. Comor was two years old, and I almost threw my life away after three glasses of beer. Edith always said she loved me, but she never knew.”

“You want to tell her?” His eyes flash. A flicker of blue-white energy and the air takes on a discordant hum.

“Mr. Danby. Charles. I said I was here to help you. An exorcist wouldn’t say that.”

The hum dissipates into a buzzing. “Then what are you?” “Exorcists banish. Adorcists like myself help you let go and pass on. No one knows what happens to ghosts. No one knows what happens after we die. But some of us have learned another way to help the living and the dead.” The ghost doesn’t move, the hum of menace fading into a soft whisper. “I can tell your wife and son what you told me. But you have to understand that Edith isn’t going to come back while you are here. She might not see you, but she’ll sense you and feel like a stranger in her own home.”

“I’d never want that. She meant the world to me.” “She did, yes. And your family loved you enough to contact someone like me to help you.”

“How?” the ghost asks.

“You spoke in the past tense. That is part of it. You won’t stop caring for her. But you are an echo of Charles Danby, a reflection of who you were. You can do things you never could in life, and you could hurt those you care for when trying to help them.”

“I’d never hurt Edith like that!”

“You ruined over two suitcases. What if she packed more? What if you’d thought she was leaving you?”

He stops moving. The air ceases to be quiet so cool about me.

“I don’t want to hurt my family.”

“They know that. I know that.” I held out my right hand. “You just need to relax and take my hand. Meditate. Jazzercise, in its own way?”

That wins a startled laugh from the ghost. “No dancing. I was never a good dancer.” “No dancing, unless you want to.”

The ghost floats over, more translucent than before.

I reach out, trying to visualize the part where the ghost has touched a psychic scar in the world, as if my words can gently relax the wound.

“Relax and let go. Relax with the knowledge that you are loved. You slept then, so you can sleep now. Breathe in the world, breathe out with it. The moment is everything. The moment is nothing. Relax and be at peace.”

The ghost fades from my sight, and I feel the moment Charles Danby departs entirely, the sensation of a soap bubble popping against my skin.

I wait a minute. I text Marcel that I’m at 85% surety. Put my phone away.

“I’m not going to tell Edith Danby. She doesn’t deserve that pain.”

I wait another minute. Nothing happens, and nothing continues to happen.

“Okay. Good. Be at peace, Charles Danby.”

I relax my senses and walk through the house from top to bottom, but no trace of the ghost remains. I let out a breath, and another one, and head back to the front door. The door opens. I close it behind me. Wait ten minute. Enter and leave again.

Then call Marcel as I walk back to my car, dropping the house keys near the front door . “I think it’s good. I’d like you to check it out to be certain?” He chuckles softly. “I’ll be there in five.”

Marcel drives a range rover, which he parks further down the road. He walks past me without a glance, snags the keys and goes inside. I wait a minute. Two. Five. He comes out at just after the eight minute mark, locking the door and walks over to my car.

I accept the keys.

“Drink?” he offers.

“At least two. You know a place?”

He nods and I follow his vehicle to a slightly upscale bar. It still has pool tables but at least no televisions. We order high balls and sit in a booth with a good view of the front door out of habit.

Marcel is easily old enough to be my father, his face lined with age though his white beard hides most of it. He has a sip of his drink. "How was it?” “Good. He got angry once thinking I was an exorcist, but I talked him down, learned his secret.”

“Took longer than I’d thought you would.”

“After he was gone, I waited and then said I wasn’t going to tell his secret. He didn’t manifest.”

Marcel frowns slightly. “That was very risky, Miella.”

“I know. But I wanted to be sure I’d helped him be at peace.”

He lets out a sigh. “This will go on the official report, but in all honesty I did the same. Don’t know of an adorcist who doesn’t do that their first time out. That will be on the report too. Do you plan to tell the family the secret?” I nod. We don’t have to, but it’s generally considered good form to do so. “I’ll return the keys and meet you back at the office?”

He nods, and we clink glasses before finishing the drinks and ordering a light supper and water.

I had expected to feel tense or relieved, but all I feel is eager. “What next?”

` “You’ll go over what you did and could have done better a few times, and we’ll do another assignment together. Two more on your own with my near, another on your own with me a city away. And if all goes well, you’ll be able to do some assignments on your own just fine after that.”

We clink glasses and the world seems almost normal.

[tempestaurora]

FANDOMS: Marvel, Voltron: Legendary Defender, The 100, Harry Potter, The Raven Cycle, Community, Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Umbrella Academy

NOTES:

i tagged every tumblr i could reasonably find. if you have more than one fic on this list, i have tagged you more than once. some people may be tagged like five times. i’m not sorry.

where relevant, fandoms have been split into general (platonic) centric fics, and romantic/slash fics. this is just because it’s easier than splitting it up into specific relationships.

at the end of every fic title/author line is a list of core relationships; fics are split between gen and romance depending on what relationship is considered centric. otherwise, fics are in no particular order. All fics are completed unless otherwise specified.

i added a read more because there’s over 100 fics listed here.

anyway, enjoy, thanks for the 3k followers

M A R V E L

gen centric fics

SHORT (0 - 5K)

K.I.D. by blondsak @blondsak | Tony&Peter

summary: “Hi K.I.D. Glad you’re awake. Do you know your primary objective?”

“To always look for ways to remind Mister Stark - that’s you! - that Kindness Isn’t Dead.”

“That’s right, K.I.D. Good job.” 

forty miles by peter_stank @peter-stank

summary:  the one where Morgan is sick and Tony is in way over his head, so he calls his spiderson for a little bit of help. Tony&Peter

from now on by peterparkr @peterparkrr |  Tony&Peter

summary: Peter’s sure that Tony and Pepper’s wedding will change everything. 

Machine Wash Hot; Tumble Dry Low by alice_in_ink | Tony&Peter

summary: Do you ever fall into sewers and then need your billionaire mentor to wash your super-suit? Peter Parker does too. 

Captain That by maddo | Tony&Peter

summary: Just a bunch of little anecdotes regarding our favourite spider and his Instagram account, feat. a meme-tastic Tony Stark.

Here's to all the new beginnings by Gruoch @groo-ock | Tony&Peter

summary: Peter gets a job. Tony is less than pleased. 

to know, to protecc, and to fuck with by peterstank and floweryfran @peter-stank @floweryfran | Tony&Peter, Natasha&Peter, Sam/May

summary: peter parker convinces the responsible adults in his life to join him on the world’s stupidest stake-out. 

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

i used to have nothing and then by dirgewithoutmusic @ink-splotch | Clint&Natasha

summary: “Clint,” Natasha said. “You’ve got to let me go.”

“Clint,” she said, and he let her go. 

the hearth by sagemb |  Tony&Peter

summary: What to Do When Your Wife Is Out of the Country: A Guide by Tony Stark

1) Gain partial custody of a child 2) Sleep on the couch 3) Have the child gain partial custody of you.

Love in Ones and Zeroes by forensicleaf @forensicleaf | Tony&Peter

summary: a boy, a bot, and a bond through the years. Tony&DUM-E

call you home SERIES by Madelinedear | May&Tony, Tony&Peter

summary: sometimes family is who you're born with. and sometimes family is a spider boy, a rich not-dad, and a kickass aunt. (or; tony, may, and peter find a place in each other's lives) 

Not-Uncle Tony by Jen27ny @jen27ny | Tony&Peter, Happy&Peter

summary: Happy is Peter's biological father, and Tony is there for the entire ride. 

Between how it is and how it should be by frostysunflowers @frostysunflowers | Peter&Bucky, Tony&Peter, Steve&Bucky

summary: ''Doesn’t Captain Rogers ever…wonder,'' Peter winced as he fumbled for the right word, ''where you are?''

Bucky smirked. ''Steve’s a regular mother hen. Used to be me that worried about him.'' He gave Peter a pointed look. ''Better question is, isn’t Stark wondering where you are?''

The Unfortune Teller by peterparkr @peterparkrr | Tony&Peter

summary: A woman in a carnival booth predicts Peter's death. 

all the things yet to come (are the things that have passed) by peterparkr @peterparkrr | Peter&Morgan, Tony&Peter

summary: The first time Peter sees Morgan is at the funeral. 

tony and peggy’s big day out! by floweryfran @floweryfran | Tony&Peggy

summary: “What’s happened this time?”

“Just a bombing,” says Peggy.

“At three in the afternoon?” says Jarvis. “Frankly, how rude.”

Blips on the Record by ambivalentangst @ambivalentmarvel | Flash&Peter, Tony&Peter

summary: Flash Thompson’s story is not simple, Peter Parker can always use someone else in his corner, and secrets are had and protected by all. 

aiding and abetting: a peter parker saga by floweryfran and peterstank @floweryfran @peter-stank | Peter&Avengers

summary: 5 times peter parker runs into the rogues separately + the 1 time they work together as a team. 

Tennessee Outreach for Spider-Man (and friends) by ciaconnaa @ciaconnaa | Harley&Peter, Harley&Tony

summary: in an attempt to help Harley beef up his college apps, Tony offers Harley a remote Stark Industries internship to help Spider-Man. It easily becomes his worst nightmare. 

Allston Christmas by Gruoch @groo-ock | Tony&Peter, Tony&Peter&Rhodey

summary: “You guys didn’t have to do this,” Peter says from where he sits squeezed into the middle seat of the U-Haul, sweat running down his back. The air-conditioning in the truck they’ve rented is broken, and even with the windows rolled down it’s hellishly hot inside.

“We wanted to,” Tony replies as he blasts the horn at a minivan with a “Harvard Mom” bumper sticker that is attempting to cut into his lane.

so happy together by floweryfran @floweryfran | Tony&Ben

summary: ben parker calling tony stark a twink for 13k words

LONG (20K+)

An Unofficial Introduction to the Avengers SERIES by Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so @isnt-it-pretty-to-think-so-tr | Tony&Peter

summary: The Avengers meet Spiderman via the online world, and then meet Peter Parker in Stark's living room. It takes them longer than it should to put two-and-two together. 

what is and will be (is you and me) by momentofmemory @momentofmemory | May&Peter

summary: 5 times May was there for Peter, +1 time he was there for her. 

dear mr. fantasy by iron_spider @iron--spider | Tony&Peter

summary: He grits his teeth and turns around, and before he can even begin to trudge over towards Peter’s room, he’s stopped in his tracks. By a door. In the middle. Of the living room.

“Well that’s new,” he says, still rooted to the spot.

timshel SERIES by justanotherblond @blondieewritess | Bucky&Peter, Steve/Bucky

summary: The soldier doesn’t remember his son’s birth or how he came to be. He doesn’t remember bedding a woman and watching her belly swell, but they said the boy was his. He does know that he will protect and teach the boy within the confines of their cell walls. Even when the handlers berate him. Even when the good guys take him away. 

odd couple buddies SERIES by bysine | Peter&Bucky, Sam&Thor, Tony&Peter

summary: "You know you're not supposed to call him the Winter Soldier any more, right?" Peter says, while they handcuff him to a pipe. A pipe. "Also this whole thing is kind of messing up my schedule. My two overdue papers won't exactly write themselves."

i understand (i’m a liability) by floweryfran @floweryfran | Harley&Tony, Harley&Peter

summary: “I… am not being challenged in the right ways here,” Harley says slowly, carefully.

“Then move here,” Tony says, and Harley’s heart drops straight into his feet. 

Roundabout by Gruoch @groo-ock | Tony&Peter

summary: In which Peter attempts to survive long enough to graduate, Tony moonlights as a semi-professional party planner, and absolutely nothing goes according to plan. 

Uncle Steve's Fix-it Freelance Gig (and friends) SERIES by whowhotellsyourstory | Steve&Morgan, Tony&Steve, Bucky&Peter

summary: "You ever need help, and I'm not there-""Why wouldn't you be there?""You call Uncle Steve."

notes: probably my favourite post endgame fix it fic/series in existence

Dumpster Fires Verse SERIES by deniigiq @deniigi | Peter&Wade&Matt

summary: A collection of Team Red stories because they are all hot messes. Except Peter. Two-Thirds of them are hot messes.

Impression, Sunrise by ciaconnaa @ciaconnaa | Peter&Morgan

summary: In Peter Parker's eyes, Morgan Stark is a lot of things: a terrible pancake chef, a top notch negotiator, the world's cutest six-year old. But above all, she is his family. He hopes he's enough. 

The Room Where It Happens by notapartytrick @notaparty-trick | Tony&Peter

summary: At 7:36 pm on the 12th of May 2016, Tony Stark is put in the Room.

A twelve-by-twelve-foot shed, soundproofed, double locked. It becomes his home. It has to be, because there’s nowhere else.

At 4:22 pm on the 15th of June 2017, Peter Parker is put in the Room.

They make a living under duress, fearing at every moment the entry of their captor. Confinement halts their lives in their tracks, changes them both for good: breaks them and brings them together simultaneously.

“If someone has everything they need, but nobody, do they have everything? Or nothing?”

romance centric fics

SHORT (0 - 5K)

written in the star(war)s by ciaconnaa @ciaconnaa | Peter/Michelle

summary: Michelle looks at the nurse one more time, and despite the evidence, asks, “Are you sure it’s twins?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” the nurse points them out again. “One boy, and one girl. Due...May 4th.”

It only takes Michelle 2.3 seconds to realize the horror of that sentence. 

Steve Rogers is (Not) A Good Influence by stevergrsno @stevergrsno |  Steve/Bucky, Steve&Peter

summary: Steve Rogers' American Tour Of Waiting For His Brainwashed Boyfriend To Come Back And Blowing Up Hydra is interrupted when Tony Stark dumps Peter Parker into his lap.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America by mybrotherharry @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah | Steve/Tony, Steve/Tony/Bucky

summary: It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again. 

Soft Spot for the Hell Raisin' Boy by ifeelbetter @ifeelbetterer | Steve/Bucky

summary: The Winter Soldier takes an interest in Sam Wilson. Bucky Barnes wants to tell him how to be Steve Rogers's best friend.

Cat’s Cradle by Traincat @traincat | Peter/Felicia

summary: The test was positive.

Felicia tilted it idly this way and that, sitting on the bathroom floor with her back against the cupboard. The floors and the counter tops were marble, and the shower door was glass. Every one of Felicia’s moves seemed to echo in the large room, even though she knew that she was making no sound.

The test was positive. She didn’t bother to check the box to make sure she’d gotten the little symbols right. She’d known before she took it.

“Well,” she breathed out, tilting her head back to inspect the ceiling. “Damn, Spider.”

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

cross this river to the other side by defcontwo | Steve/Bucky

summary: In 1943, the Howling Commandos wrote goodbye letters to be given to their loved ones in the event of their deaths.In 2014, Sharon Carter finds those letters in a tin can in an abandoned HYDRA base. 

Tony Stark Googled The Thing by mybrotherharry @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah | Tony/Pepper, Tony&Peter

summary: When Morgan is six months old, Pepper goes back to work and Tony takes over as stay-at-home dad. Discovering the mommyblogosphere is the inevitable next step.

Winter Soldier Program by NocturneByChopin | Steve/Bucky

summary: Here’s the thing: he’s got a bit of a secret. It involves a boy that went and became famous when Steve wasn’t looking. 

i was found and now i don't roam these streets by hipsterchrist | Steve/Bucky

summary: Bucky relearns himself and how to be on a team, the rest of the Avengers try to get answers, and everyone watches too much Criminal Minds. 

Between a Rock and a Hard Place by ciaconnaa @ciaconnaa | Michelle/Peter, Michelle&Happy, Tony&Peter

summary: Ever since her mother died a few years back, Michelle's relationship with her father became strained in their grief. One night, after she's forced to show up at Peter's covered in bruises and in need of stitches, she remembers that even the most unsuspecting dormant volcanoes can erupt.

Brooklyn by togina @toli-a | Steve/Bucky

summary: "Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?"

Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

Steve Rogers at 100: Celebrating Captain America on Film by eleveninches, febricant, hellotailor, M_Leigh, neenya, tigrrmilk | Steve/Bucky

summary: Steve and Bucky find out Hollywood has been busy since they went away. A historical survey, including but not limited to: one set of exploded genitals, a brief interlude in France, Mel Gibson and other masterworks of casting, eight Academy awards, several dinosaurs, and something Tony Stark has ominously dubbed “the masterpiece.” Art included.

Project: Get Bucky Barnes a Dog by ruxian | Steve/Bucky

summary: Bucky Barnes does not have a dog. Bucky Barnes does not want a dog. Sam thinks that should change. Bucky does not agree. 

On My Radar by sprinkle_of_cinnamon | Steve/Bucky

summary: The Winter Soldier first noticed it when he was on the helicarrier.

The blonde’s shoulders were broad, incredibly broad.

They stretched the blue uniform in a wide span, drawing down to a narrow waist. It was a distinctly triangular silhouette. It was entirely improbable. And somehow it was strangely familiar.

The Winter Soldier raised his gun and fired. He didn’t have time for distractions, or Steve Rogers’ shoulders. 

LONG (20k+)

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) by praximeter @praximeter | Steve/Bucky

summary: “Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.” 

notes: may i say a massive fucking HOLY SHIT??????????? incredible. iconic. life-changing.

United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015) by fallingvoices and radialarch | Steve/Bucky

summary: The Associated Press @AP Winter Soldier set to stand trial for Washington D.C. massacre and treason apne.ws/1og6SWE 

Bucky Barnes: Former Disney Channel Star SERIES by mambo @whtaft | Steve/Bucky

summary: "The question the entertainment world is asking themselves today is... Who is Steve? Hollywood superstar Bucky Barnes was spotted at a wrap-party last night, serenading someone named Steve onstage.” 

Not Easy Conquered SERIES by dropdeaddream and WhatAre Fears | Steve/Bucky

summary: In 1945, Steve Rogers jumps from a nosediving plane and swims through miles of Arctic Ocean to a frozen shore.

In 1947, Steve Rogers marries Peggy Carter.

In 1966, the New York Times finds the lost letters of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

notes: if you’ve read stucky, you’ve read this series. i know this. just like i know that its the most GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL series ever written. no topping it. it’s number 1.

Strays by snarklyboojum @snarklyboojum | Steve/Bucky

summary: After finding himself alone for the first time in decades, the Winter Soldier learns how to be a person again. Mostly through caring for an orphaned kitten, countless rounds of YouTube roulette, and stalking Captain America. 

hold me until we crumble by queenklu @queenklu | Steve/Bucky

summary: “Sam told me you were watching Antiques Roadshow,” Natasha says, shaking out her hair. “I assumed it was a national emergency.”

notes: one of my favourite standalone fics i’ve ever read

half awake in a fake empire SERIES by idrilka | Steve/Bucky

summary: In the aftermath of Steve's return to the world of the living and the battle of New York, the academia and the Internet react.

by the river potomac i sat down and wept by peterstank @peter-stank | Steve/Bucky

summary: bucky barnes atones.

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell SERIES by AnnaFugazzi | Steve/Bucky

summary: Captain America and Bucky Barnes were like brothers. Everyone knew that. 

Out of the Dead Land by orphaned account | Steve/Bucky

summary: Someone is building machines that look and act like people.

Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier tries to be Bucky Barnes.

V O L T R O N:  L E G E N D A R Y  D E F E N D E R

romance centric fics

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

called out your name (but it was too late) by arahir @arahir | James/Keith, Shiro/Keith

summary:  An old classmate watches Keith fall in love with someone else. 

so much for the after party by arahir @arahir | Shiro/Keith

summary: Shiro gets his groove back.

i breathe disaster by arahir @arahir | Shiro/Keith

summary: After the wedding, Keith leaves Earth in search of something he can keep. 

notes: what doES THIS M E AN?!!!??!!?!?! i cried over this ending. i cr i e d. actual real tears. it was so upsetting somehow. and i am so confused. and i went and found the author’s imagined ending in the comments to help understand the open one and it just made me SADDER. i think this is one of those fics that tries to teach me to read the tags and back away at the word “angst”. anyway, excellent, everything i’ve read from this author was incredible

LONG (20K+)

Alien Sex Fiend by Glossolalia | Shiro/Keith | WIP

summary: It started at a drive-in in the 1980s. Unfortunately, this is a love story; a love story about the frontman of Quantum Queef, a punk band, and a boy who rides a red motorcycle. Also, they fight aliens. 

notes: i’m OBSESSED with this fic. i have read it many times. shiro as a punk singer of a band called Quantum Queef????????? and the fact that it’s the only fic on this account???? absolute POWER MOVE.

T H E  1 0 0

romance centric fics

SHORT (0 - 5K)

golden gunned girls by littlearrows | Bellamy/Clarke

summary:  They’re not good girls. They have no reason to be. 

notes: i think about this fic approximately twice a week despite reading it five years ago. there’s a song called gold gun girls by metric that makes me absolutely feral and would be the dream theme song for the intro sequence of the girl gang tv show of my dreams

and then my soul saw you by synchronicities | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Lexa tells Clarke that love within the cluster is the worst kind of narcissism. Bellamy begs to differ. Sense8 AU.

givers prove unkind by emullz | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: a modern au in which bellamy is in a band, he writes an album about clarke, and she is his ophelia. also, marriage.

she sounds like sex on the radio by lecornergirl | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: “Wait, hold on,” Clarke says. “Are you suggesting I—in the booth?” But her tone is a lot sterner than she feels. Against her better judgement, she’s into it. 

notes: idk what to tell you. i have only bookmarked like three smut fics in my life. it deserves it ok.

the kids aren’t alright by opensummer | Multiple Relationships

summary: The Pacific Rim fusion seven ways. 

notes: probably???? my favourite? pacific rim au? i’ve ever read??? does so much with so little

Haven’t You Heard? The World is Coming To An End by Jenye @likcoln-blog | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: So where would you rather die? Here or in Jaeger? Pacific Rim AU. 

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

three points (where two lines meet) SERIES by PinkCanary | Bellamy/Clarke/Raven

summary: Clarke wears the two names on her skin like a badge of honour. 

Icarus Lives by karusarchive @cluelesskaru | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: No one could ever have predicted the kaiju were coming.  Clarke Griffin was in need of a new Co-Pilot. Bellamy Blake had just graduated. You can guess how that goes.

notes: if anyone knows me at all, they know i’m a MASSIVE pacific rim fan. like, own all the books and graphic novels and have multiple pacrim t-shirts kind of fan. THIS FIC was my first experience with that franchise. my first ever. i watched the movie BECAUSE of this fic.

Pony Regrets SERIES by Chash @ponyregrets | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Octavia drags Bellamy to a My Little Pony tournament. Bellamy is deeply upset about the whole thing, but then the girl running the tournament is really cute.

The Internet Is Forever SERIES by Chash @ponyregrets | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Apparently, the internet has been shipping Bellamy Blake (of Team Arkade) and Clarke Griffin (of Craven Cosplay). No one told Bellamy about it. 

Nothing Like Old Times by LayALioness @filmnoirsbian | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: “Clarke killed some guy and stuffed him in the trunk,” Jasper says delightedly. “Your cousin’s dark, dude.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy nods, trying to backtrack. Sometimes he wishes she was actually better at making things up. “She’s a…closeted Goth.” Terminator AU. 

the feel-good hit of the summer by disco_vendetta @errorofyourways | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake are sleeping together. (aka ROCK BAND AU) 

notes: i think about this fic an OBSCENE amount. it’s been five years since i first read it.

LONG (20K+)

Your Mess Is Mine by monroeslittle @argyledpenguin | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: modern AU, Clarke grows up with Octavia, and Octavia's brother. 

notes: the fic that got me into fan fic in the first place. top tier. 42k.

Love Will Come Through by monroeslittle @argyledpenguin | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: AU. Clarke winds up in an arranged marriage with Bellamy. 

Neeeeeeeeeerds by Chash @ponyregrets | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Clarke joins the Junior Classical League for two reasons: to appease her mother and to annoy Bellamy Blake.

Our Time Now SERIES by TazmainianDevil | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: The Ark may have been short on all resources vital to sustaining life but one thing they never ran out of was guns.On an Ark that has always been defined by violence, Jake Griffin manages to save his daughter's life and Clarke joins a gang to change the world.

Disney Channel You by Chash @ponyregrets | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Bellamy only goes to the open casting for Clarke Griffin's new Disney Channel show because Octavia begs him. He never thought he'd actually get the stupid part. 

And You Understand Now Why They Lost Their Minds and Fought the Wars by marauders_groupie @marauders-groupie | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Clarke doesn’t understand why they say that soulmates are one soul in two bodies. Her soul has five other bodies and she would give her life for any of them. Sense8 AU. 

notes: probably my favourite sense8 AU i’ve ever read?? and i have read Many

build this fire higher, higher toward the sky SERIES by adelicatepeach | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Clarke's jaeger goes down on a Thursday. Pacific Rim AU. 

H A R R Y  P O T T E R

gen centric fic

LONG (20K+)

yer a wizard, dudley by dirgewithoutmusic @ink-splotch | Dudley&A Lot of People

summary: Minerva fished in her pocket without looking, because the only things allowed in her pockets were only ever exactly what she needed. “I've come to deliver this,” she said, “because Hogwarts by-laws require a professor to hand-deliver acceptance letters to Muggleborn families for their explanation and comfort." 

notes: i have only ever cared about two harry potter fics in my life. this is one of them.

the family evans by dirgewithoutmusic @ink-splotch | Petunia&A Lot of People

summary: What if, when Petunia Dursley found a little boy on her front doorstep, she took him in? Not into the cupboard under the stairs, not into a twisted childhood of tarnished worth and neglect—what if she took him in? 

notes: this is the other one

T H E  R A V E N  C Y C L E

gen centric fic

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

Helter Skelter by Anonymous | Ronan&Blue

summary: In hindsight, a road trip with your step-brother and his best friends in Gansey's dying Pig is not an ideal way to start summer break. Sargent-Lynch siblings AU.

meet hennessy by izzylizardborn @gaybluesargent | Hennessy&Jordan

summary: Hennessy had seen movies. She knew how this went. When it came to clones, there was always a good one and an evil one. She didn’t need to wonder which was which.

life is not a movie, maybe by coyotesuspect | Ronan&Blue

summary: Ronan gets kicked out of Aglionby and enrolls at Mountain View High for his senior year. The only problem is, no one remembers to tell Blue. 

Honeymoon by vexmybones | Ronan&Blue

summary: Blue and Ronan living together, no buffers, no bullshit, this is how they cope. 

the bugs and alphabet by Pi @rhea314 | Ronan&Blue

summary: In which Blue babysits Chainsaw, Ronan & Blue make angry art projects, and some conversations are almost had. 

romance centric fic

SHORT (0 - 5K)

Pretty Good, Right? by suddensingularity | Ronan/Blue

summary: Blue wants to have sex before her true love dies. Ronan helps out. Ronan/Blue

notes: yeah ok this is one of the three smut fics i’ve bookmarked its fun ok

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

It Had To Be You by shinealightonme @toast-the-unknowing | Ronan/Adam

summary: Ronan hates basically everything about their business, or that's what he tells Blue, but the worst part is that he's constantly meeting cute guys and none of them are single. 

darling, don’t make such a drama by shinealightonme @toast-the-unknowing | Ronan/Adam, Ronan&Henry, Ronan&Declan

summary: "Straight answers are boring," Cheng says, "and yes I do mean that for all values of straight. I do not need Ronan to share his tragic backstory, I would much rather deduce it on my own."

"Who says I have a tragic backstory?"

"With your fearsome glower and troubled good looks? If you did not have a tragic backstory it would be a waste."

 C O M M U N I T Y

romance centric fic

LONG (20k+)

Playing House by itsactuallycorrine @itsactuallycorrine | Jeff&Annie

summary: Six years ago, Jeff let Annie go. She never returned to Greendale, and he moved on. Now, he's a single dad to a one-year-old and he needs her help.

A V A T A R:  T H E  L A S T  A I R B E N D E R

gen centric fic

SHORT (0 - 5K)

call it dreaming by ciaconnaa @ciaconnaa | Toph&Gaang

After the war, Toph has nightmares. The screeching of metal, Sokka and Suki's screams, the snap of Sokka's leg as it broke from their fall. It's usually his confession that they aren't going to make it that makes her wake up in a cold sweat. She's anxious all the time now, unable to find peaceful sleep.

The cure is apparently to try and hold all of her friends hands for all hours of the days and hope that they're cool with it. 

what’s in a name by ciaconnaa @ciaconnaa | Toph&Sokka

summary: At her request, Sokka teaches Toph to write her name.

He learns a thing or two about the weight his own name holds in the process.

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

the beginning of a new and brighter birth by aloneintherain @captainkirkk | Zuko&Gaang

summary: “I’m so proud of you, my nephew.” Uncle cups Zuko’s face in his lined hand. The gesture is so tender, his palm so warm, that Zuko has to take a fortifying breath against the sudden swell of emotion in his chest.

“I want to be a good leader, Uncle,” Zuko says. “I want to look after my people.”

“You will,” Uncle says. “You are, nephew.”

In a new era of peace, Zuko works to be a very different Fire Lord than his forefathers.

the scope of blindness series by littlelionlady @thelittlelionlady | Toph&Gaang

summary: There are just some things that Toph's feet can't see.

Her hands can though.

Or, Toph learns what her friends look like by tracing their faces. 

notes: geniunely how goddamn beautiful is this. like. i cried. this is so soft and so cute and it made me feel SO MANY things

All The Gentle Creatures by Haircrescendo @sword-and-stars | Iroh&Zuko

It’s said that you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat animals. Zuko may be loud and stubborn and sharp but all the woodland creatures love him. 

LONG (20K+)

The Family You Choose by TunaFishChris | Zuko&Gaang

summary: Some people are born with soulmarks. Zuko has them, but his grandfather burned them off because they "make you weak."

Team Avatar has a few things to say about that. 

such selfish prayers by andromeda3116 @andromeda3116 | Katara&The Fire Nation, Katara/Zuko

Katara's ambition, so long set aside for the good of others, breaks free and sets fire to her soul. Or, Katara has a vision of her canon future, casts it aside, and becomes a world-changing politician instead. 

and love will be your teacher SERIES by Ford_Ye_Fiji @ford-ye-fiji | Iroh&Zuko

summary: "And you will know the pain of losing a firstborn son." Ozai loses Zuko. Iroh gains a son. And the future changes.

notes: excellent excellent excellent excellent makes me very happy indeed

romance centric fic

SHORT (0 - 5K)

on commitment by jdphoenix | Zuko/Katara

summary: “Just explain it to me again.”

“There is no way you can pass as my brother and we are way too conspicuous as two unrelated people, from different nations, traveling together. So we’re pretending to be married.”

we hold our hearts in silence by psychedelic_aya | Zuko/Katara

summary: Seventy years later, Korra tries to figure out Zuko and Katara. 

oracle bones by orphaned account | Zuko/Katara

summary: The foreign, pictorial characters that bracelet Zuko's left wrist have never been covered in any of his lessons. He cannot read them. And then he turns thirteen, and his father burns his wrist along with his face.

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

late nights/early mornings SERIES by shmulia @shmuliawrites | Zuko/Katara

summary: Whoever set off the fire alarm at 2 in the morning is on Katara’s shit list. Even if he is hot and shirtless. 

the thing about dancing by anodymalion | Sokka/Zuko

summary: The first time a attendant spills Zuko’s tea and doesn’t immediately fall to her knees, begging the Fire Lord’s forgiveness, it is not anger but a resounding warmth that fills his chest.

LONG (20K+)

Fate Deferred by catie_writes_things @catie-does-things | Zuko/Katara | WIP

summary: Aang remains in the iceberg ten years longer. He awakens to a very different world. 

The Sparrowkeet SERIES by audreyii_fic | Zuko/Katara

summary: Ba Sing Se has fallen and Katara has been captured by the Fire Nation; a more adult take on the potential progression of S3. AU series of interconnected one-shots. 

notes: i would die for this series, particularly the last instalment. i enjoyed every single fic and it was just such a GOOD STORY.

T H E  U M B R E L L A  A C A D E M Y 

gen centric fic

SHORT (0 - 5K)

you from yesterday by questors (sieges) @softpunks | Five&Siblings

summary:  The difference between who his siblings once were versus who they are now. 

Ghost Math by pinstripedJackalope | Five&Klaus

summary: Number Five needs a new hobby now that the apocalypse is off. He decides to help Klaus--and in turn maybe he'll help himself. 

Then There Was Two by AnneKatherine | Five&Vanya

summary: Reginald Hargeeves finally decides to allow Grace to name the Academy. Unfortunately, he's only willing to let her name the Academy, which Seven is unfortunately not a part of.

[or how Five gave away his name]

(he definitely didn't want one anyway) 

i tiresias (have foresuffered all) by ThatWeirdGuyInTheBushes | Five&Siblings, Five/Delores

summary: Five misses sharing his birthday, but Five has missed a lot of things.alternatively; number five, coffee, and the art of taking back. 

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

The Five Vetting Process by jaz_hop | Five&Siblings

summary: In which Five is incredibly invested in the love lives of his siblings, because they're obviously too stupid to choose anyone worthy enough to be their partner. Otherwise known as Five being stupidly over-protective, and incredibly invasive in the hopes of keeping his siblings safe and happy... even if he is being a stalker and a dick about it. 

LONG (20K+)

You and I Together Forever SERIES by Ace_of_Spades_400 @ace-of-spades-400 | Vanya&Siblings

summary: What if it hadn't only been Five, what if it hadn't been Five at all?

A series of stories about what would have happened if Vanya had chosen a different sibling.

Sometimes the choice isn't hers.

Timeliness 1-2.1 SERIES by dgalerab | Hargreeves Siblings

summary: As the world ends, Five takes his siblings back into their child bodies on the day he originally left. With the knowledge of how the world ends fresh in their minds, the Hargreeves siblings do what they can to leave clues for their past selves on how to grow up a little less fucked up before returning to the present.

A present where they all have different lives they can't remember, there's a fun new apocalypse on the way, and Reginald Hargreeves remembers the day where all his children suddenly and inexplicably lost their minds and all respect for him at once a little too well.

Rare Birds SERIES by Cryptix23 | Hargreeves Siblings

summary: An alternate 2019 brings with it new problems and new dangers.

The two sets of Hargreeves children mix like water on a greasefire. It's hard to tell which group is unhappier about the situation -- the Sparrows, trying to navigate the minefield of their new siblings' many traumas, or the Umbrellas, trying to carve their place back into a world that forgot them.

Plus the whole saving-the-world thing hanging over them all.

Whether they like it or not, they're going to have to learn to work together. 

Partners, Parents, or None of the Above by DarkFairytale | Diego&Klaus

summary:  Kenny's mom assuming that Diego and Klaus were A) a couple and B) Number Five’s parents was both bemusing and amusing at the time. But that was because it was the only time it had ever happened. Now though? Now they just can't understand why these misunderstandings keep happening. 

[spookysmujer]

This I Promise You, O.Diaz

Prompt: The hardships of dating the leader of The Santos start to disappate. Oscar and Y/N reach the endgame.

warnings: tough love, fluff, happiness achieved 🥺

word count: 1.9k

A/N: I can’t say thank you enough for all the love shown to my few pieces of work I have posted. It’s truly so heartwarming to know you all are enjoying it. Here is my rendition of Spooky getting his happy ending! I guess you can sat this is boujee version of Nirvana! I love to read the post-Santos!Oscar so much ❤️ Stay tuned for PART 2 of His Girl, a Sad Eyes fic!

“Cesar, I’m going with you.”

His back to you and silence. And it’s eating away at you. Everything that has happened since Oscar’s alleged meeting with 19th street and Cuchillos has you walking on eggshells.

You weren’t suppose to know it about it though. Oscar had been very strict on keeping you at bay with anything gang related. There were some instances when you either figured it out or threatened it out of it Cesar and his friends. Just as you did this time. Cesar dropped the bomb on why you hadn’t seen Oscar in the last 3 days.

“You know I can’t let you. I-“ He says as he turns to look at you but the look on your face has so much emotion he can’t tell what he’s reading. Fear, pain, rage? Cesar looks away for a moment before stepping closer to you. “You need to stay here. I will handle it and find him. We can’t risk your life. On the chance I find my brother alive, I need you to be as well. Please.”

You finally let your guard drop. You strip any tough girl persona and let your shoulders slump and allow the flood of complete fear take over you. Oscar taught you to never let that happen, in front of friend or foe. Once someone can figure out how to get you there, they have control over you. Which is why you and Oscar rarely were sappy in love kind of people, you showed your emotions with each other subtlety. If you’re being honest that was the hardest part in the beginning of your relationship. You were a hopeless romantic who loved affection, the cliche dates and even PDA. But you learned that not everyone liked the same thing and found middle ground with the tough to love cholo.

After he and his friends figured out their next more, you sit in the motel room and daydream of a life outside of the Santos and away from Freeridge. What would would it be like? Where would you two go? What would a normal life of a person with two strikes be like? Could you two make it? But you stop thinking of all of possibilities when you remind yourself that Oscar might not even be alive. The door to the motel room opens and you stand quickly, your hand on the glock that rests the back of your waistband.

Sad Eyes steps in and closes the door behind him, a brown bag in hand, “Thought you should eat.”

You smile and push the glock back in, thanking him. He sits near you and hands you a burger. It’s silent for a moment before he speaks up.

“He’ll be alright. He always is.”

You can only nod in hope that he is right. There have been many runs that Oscar made that were dangerous but he never dealt with a high power like this before. Cuchillos has the power to snap her fingers and have heads rolling. She has an army and Oscar had planned to approach her own his own term. And here you are. Stuck and it sucks.

Sad eyes watches you as your emotions run wildly, he rubs your back in comfort and tells you to remain hopeful.

The day had gone by painstakingly slow as you wait to hear back from Cesar. You should have pushed harder to go with him, to ensure that HE would be okay as well. Who knows what he and his friends had stepped into. You quickly shake the thought from your head as you close in for the night. A chime from your phone gets your attention and you rush over to get it, it’s a text from Ruby’s abuelita. Strange. When you open it, your heart drops into your stomach.

He’s here, Mija. Banged up, but just fine.

All the built up worry physically leaves your body. And the tears begin to spill over. You didn’t suck it up because for the first time you feel like hope again. Oscar did it. He handled the business, he actually did it.

You head out to Ruby’s place, the house is dark but you figure it’s a ruse to avoid any prying eyes. Who knows what happens now with Cuchillos out. No democratic hold within the streets once the word gets out.

The night is eerily quiet as you trek to the back of the house. You enter slowly, Abuelita and Oscar look up to you. She pats his shoulder gently and leaves the room. You mouth a thank you to her approaching the mangled man.

You grab the nearby trash bin and start to clean the bloody gauzes that shroud the table. He sits in silence taking sips of the tequila bottle. It’s quiet for a while as you move around him to rid the house of the evidence he was here.

“Y/N,” Oscar says but you hold a finger up to him to silence him. Now that the worry has subsided, the anger has built up again. The rage of being uninformed, the fury of thinking he was dead with no real goodbye. “You know I couldn’t tell you.”

“No, you could have. You chose not to. You chose to leave me wondering if the next time I were to see you is drinking coffee at your place or in a grave. This time should have been a goddamn acceptance to your rule of keeping me out of it.”

His lips pressed in a thin line, his signature look with furrowed eyebrows, “And what? Have you involved and in the way?”

You step back and look at him, withholding yourself from yelling given the location. He takes another drink and holds back the discomfort in his face. “Cuchillos would have had you killed if you were in anyway involved with my shit. You know that.”

“You want to know what I know? This gang shit has been and will always be your undoing. Whether it’s bringing down enemies or making a drop for 10k. You think you can escape it with that mindset? You can’t protect everyone! And like your compas who have you back, like your brother and his friends who get involved? They risk their lives for you, just as I would. I would do it, no question. This time was different, this time you were stepping into a cage with a lioness and unarmed with no actual plan to take it down.”

“But I did.”

“And at what cost? The streets will be unhinged, the word gets out that the head of the Santos is out and you were the one that did it? It’s you with the step up or you get taken out for the spot.” You stand in front of him, for the first time he is looking up at you.

“I’m gonna make sure the streets are handled but I won’t be the one handling them. Once everything is settled, I’m out. I’m done. That was the point of this, of everything. No more control and order over me or anyone I care about.” He stands, wincing to himself to pull on his mangled tank.

You clench your fist for a moment before releasing it. He believes that things will work out and like most times you follow him, you allow the thought to ponder in your mind.

“I’ve lost people. Just like you. My dad, my brothers. Drive by, robbery,” You close your eyes for a brief moment,” and losing them to this lifestyle wrecked me for many years. It still does but the thought of it taking you? For some reason it hurts more. I was scared, Oscar. Me! Scared even after you taught me not to be. Because regardless of how fed up I get with your shit, I couldn’t stand the thought not waking up everyday to hear the compas run things by you or.. I’m locked in. You’ve got a damn hold on me and I don’t want out. Ever.”

Oscar lets his shoulders fall as he step to you and lets you wrap his arms around him. You carefully embrace and feel all the grooves of his body click with yours. His hand pulls your hair to fall down your back, he kisses the top of your head.

“We’ll get out. And I won’t need to hide anything from you anymore. We won’t have to look over our shoulders or even have raincheck on those stupid movie and dinner shit that you like. Okay? You and me. We’re getting out.” You look up to him and he kisses you passionately.

———two years later ———

“I asked you to not leave your pants laying on the floor! The hamper is right there.” You call out, using your foot to hike it up in the air catching it with your free hand. Laundry day, you would lie if you say that you totally hate it. But Oscar doesn’t help by leaving his clothes around.

You rest a basket of clothes on your hip and head out of the bathroom, “Did you hear me, mi amor?”

“3 works, thanks.” Oscar turns with a big smile on his face and mouths an apologize to you as he holds the house phone between his ear and shoulder.

“I’m sorry, the carne asada had me going. Let me,” He pulls the basket from you and leans forward for a kiss. You smile and press a lovingly kiss to his lips.

His curly, grown out hair looks wildly good on him. Even the grown out facial hair. He no longer sports the Spooky look, he is Oscar Diaz now. A proud homeowner in the outskirts of LA.

And you his fiancé, soon to be wife who could go to bed and expect him to be next you when you woke almost every morning. He tells you where is going all the time now and has relinquished his machismo. The actual Oscar has stepped in.

“Make sure it’s on extra rinse!” You call out as you huff and take a seat at the kitchen table. You can smell the meatloaf in the oven and boy does it smell heavenly. Well mostly anything he cooked had your knees weak.

It could also be the added fact that you are 7 months pregnant and have the urge to eat everything. Even things you didn’t like before getting knocked up. You rest your hand ontop of your bump and rub it contently.

Tears start to well up and you let them fall when Oscar rejoins you, he stops and looks to you. “¿Que? What’s the matter?”

You shake your head, “Nothing, nothings wrong. I’m happy. I’m just so happy.”

“I love you.I can’t wait to meet mi princesa. She’ll be beautiful like her mama. Smart like her papa. And won’t ever have to know life like we use to, this I promise you.” He rests his forehead to yours as he kneels in between your legs and hold you.

“And I love you.”

Every little missed opportunity in life has presented itself again. Neither of you let any of it slip away, not anymore. You express your love for one another every single day and soon that love will be here in the form a precious blessing.

[ofstarsandfireflies]

Moved this movie up the list because I was excited to write this one.

Please enjoy!

Mr. And Mrs. Smith

Two spies who are married don’t know the other is a spy also.

With the world as dangerous as it was, Tony is an Black Widow; a leader of a secret group willing to kill anyone who stood in shield’s way.

With the world as dangerous as it was, Stephen is a Sorcerer; a leader of a secret group willing to lay down their lives to protect the world.

But they can’t tell their husband that. What would he think?

Each day they pretend to go to their day jobs when in actual fact they are fighting one another on the streets, Tony in his armour his husband knows nothing about and Stephen using a hooded cloak to cover his face his husband knows nothing about.

And then they come back home, talking about their day as if nothing had happened, just like any other couple.

But their lives at home have become boring and dull, both too exhausted to do anything in bed but sleep and their relationship is suffering because of it.

It was never like this though.

Not when they started dating five years ago, six according to Stephen.

Tony was never good with dates.

No, back then, Tony and Stephen couldn’t get enough of one another.

Back then, there was little time between missions to become bored with the other.

Neither knew what the other was, just that they were what they had always wanted.

And not even three months into their relationship, Tony proposed.

The honeymoon phase came and went, and slowly walls were built between the other not only to cover themselves, but to keep the other safe and at a distance.

And now they were getting counseling.

Now the walls were built too high.

Now their jobs were getting more dangerous.

They should get a divorce.

At least if something happens, the other would be safe.

It was a hard reality they had to face.

Getting nowhere on either side, both are given the order to kill the leader of the opposite group.

They try, they really do, but don’t succeed.

Tony’s suit can withstand any magical attack and Stephen’s magic can withstand any rocket or projectile Tony hurls his way.

The fight lasts well into the night until they each realise they’re both late for dinner.

Their husband is probably waiting at home with a pissed look on his face and the last thing they want is an argument when their relationship is barley hanging on by a thread.

They run.

Stephen gets home first, quickly changing his robes to his regular clothes and walking into the dark house.

Maybe Tony went to bed early?

Calling out to him and walking up the stairs to their room, Stephen freezes when he hears the Iron Man suit land on their roof.

How had it found him?

How had it found Tony?

He quickly changes back into his robes, uncaring that his hood isn’t covering his face anymore.

If the Iron Man has already found out where he lives, there’s no use trying to hide his identity.

Ready to blast this intruder in half, he’s thrown back from the explosion of those bloody rockets, propelling him through the wall into the guest bedroom.

He makes a run for it, jumping through one portal to land above the Iron Man and wrestling him to the ground, trying to find a weak point in the armour to put it down for good.

He’s just managed to break the helmet off from the neck when the suit blasts up through the ceiling, Stephen letting go before he hears the repulsors heating up.

He manages to whip out a long rope of orange magic and snag it around the Iron Man’s leg, the blast from his gauntlet just missing Stephen’s head as he brings the suit down and they crash through the roof and first storey flooring to land in the entryway.

Both are up in the matter of seconds, the glow of Stephen’s magic from the suit of armour creating enough light between them that they can finally see the other’s face.

Neither of them move.

Neither of them speak.

Confusion.

Realisation.

More confusion.

And then hurt.

Stephen is yelling.

Tony is making snide comments. It’s only when Stephen begins accusing Tony of using him as a cover that Tony lets it known he’d thought the exact same thing of Stephen.

That’s why their relationship failed.

It’s the other’s fault.

Tony grabs Stephen and they almost come to blows again, each knowing that they have to unleash their attacks, yet each waiting to see what the other will do.

Moving at the same time to shed each other’s clothes definetly wasn’t what either thought they would do, robes and armour pieces fall to the floor in a jumbled heap together as their rekindled love for each other barley gets them half way to the bedroom before they just give up and decide the floor is as good a place as any.

But they were careless.

Stephen’s magical signature can be traced, as can Tony’s suit, and within the hour both have lead a new division to their location.

One sent to kill them both; Hydra.

They barley have enough time to get changed before bullets are flying through the windows of the house and destroying most of what Stephen and Tony hadn’t managed to.

Hydra agents are descending through the skylights Stephen had put in himself and bleeding all over the floors Tony recently had waxed.

And they just keep coming, both deciding now is the best time to be asking questions about what was actually real in their marriage while bodies keep dropping around them.

It’s cathartic and enlightening to be sure, perhaps a little too much seeming how Stephen learns Tony brought a paid actor to be his dad to their wedding and Tony turns one of his attacks onto Stephen when he tells him he’d actually been married once before, causing them to lose focus and almost be blown to pieces by some idiot with a rocket launcher.

Knowing they can’t fight like this forever, Tony offers Stephen an alternative.

They blow up the house with the agents inside and get away before they can get caught in the blast.

Stephen agrees it’s a solution, but not a long term one as his portal will leave behind a signature of where they went.

Tony knows this, but also knows they’ll have a little time before they’re found.

They can get help, information, and then take the fight to Hydra once they know where they’re stationed.

That’s all well and good but how was Tony planning on blowing up the house? His rockets aren’t gonna do much but put it out of its misery.

Much to Stephen’s horror, Tony tells him how there’s a bomb under the house, should something like this ever were to happen.

And no. He wasn’t planning on telling Stephen about it because it was on a need to know basis and now Stephen needs to know.

Tony activates the House Warming Protocol with a single voice command, and as it is acknowledged, Stephen drags him to the portal, barley making it a foot inside their new destination before what little remained of the house they had built together was blown sky high.

Wong isn’t too pleased about the visitors this late at night.

Especially when those visitors are bringing hell down upon his doorstep just from being here.

But he’s not one to turn down a friend.

Especially since Hydra hope to lure both sides into helping with the hunt after the bounty they just placed on their heads.

But why were they being hunted in the first place?

Because they were unsuccessful in their mission?

Wong can’t believe how stupid they are.

Well, yes, he can, and in that aspect they really were made for one another, but this has nothing to do with their failed mission in killing each other and everything to do with them being married to each other.

Hydra had control of the Sorcerers and the Black Widows, and when they found out about Tony and Stephen’s marriage, they thought to see who was the strongest out of the two.

Tony couldn’t believe this.

He’d thought his whole time that he had been working with Shield, the good guys against Hydra, but instead he’d been working for Hydra itself.

They needed to find out where that Hydra base was, and the only person Tony knew who had ever been there, was Natasha.

One of the few people Tony trusted.

Nat was more than happy to help him and so was Wong, both agreeing to keep anyone who was following them on their toes.

As they made their way through the silent corridors, taking out any guard they came across silently so as not to sound any alarms, they thought they were doing pretty well.

Well, that is until they ran into Task Master.

One single agent with the training of a thousand.

No matter what they threw at him, no matter how they moved or what they thought was something new, Task Master seemed to predict what they were going to do.

They stand back to back. Stephen can feel the armour pressing against him as Tony fires at their lone enemy, all the while the magic Stephen had once used against his husband fights along side him.

But Task Master is evading everything they throw at him.

He’s dodging attacks Stephen has only used once or twice before, and Tony is faring no better as his missiles zoom around the room and hit everything but their intended target.

They can’t beat this guy.

Not this way.

Stephen looks to Tony and sees him already waiting to catch his eye, grinning as he’s had the exact same idea.

And when he feels Tony take his hand, he knows what he wants to do.

Lining up the shot, Stephen’s magic causes an almighty fireball to explode out of Tony’s hand, finally hitting their mark.

And then, once he hits the ground, everything goes quiet.

They look around, surveying the carnage around them.

They’re the only ones left alive.

They did it.

They don’t need to keep secrets from one another anymore.

They don’t need to fight each other anymore.

They can just enjoy retirement together.

Until they’re found again of course.

Gotta spice things up every once in a while, right?

Quotes

“Stop. Stop. You’ve only known the girl for six weeks.”

“I’m in love! She’s smart, sexy, she’s uninhibited, spontaneous, complicated. She’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“You know I never do anything without thinking it through.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s in construction. Big-time contractor.”

“A server goes down on Wall Street. She’s there, anytime, day or night. She’s like Batman for computers.”

These two talking to their friends about each other.

“Why is it you think we failed? Cos we were leading seperate lives? Or was it all the lying that did us in?”

“I have a theory. Newly formed.”

“I’m breathless to hear it.”

“You killed us.

“Provocative.”

“You approached our marriage like a job, to be reconned, planned and executed.”

“And you avoided it.”

“What do you care if I was just a cover?”

“Well, who said you were just a cover?”

“Wasn’t I?”

“Wasn’t I?”

Tony and Stephen trying to figure out if what they had all this time was real.

“You know, sweetheart, you’re being a bit hypocritical. It’s not like you’re some beacon of truth.”

“John, my parents...they died when I was five. I’m an orphan.”

“Who was that kindly fellow who gave you away at our wedding?”

“Paid actor.”

“I said, I said I saw your dad on Fantasy Island.”

“I know.”

I love this line

Normal Lies

By day, they’re the enemy.

By night, they’re husbands.

And when dawn finally breaks, they have a choice to make.

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

Day 11 Day 12 Day 13 Day 14 Day 15

Day 16 Day 17

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Beauty In the Blood - Part Two

Summary: One day your friend convinces you to join a dating website that matches people based on their search histories, and when you match with Loki Odinson, a handsome, intelligent coroner who’s a fan of your murder mysteries, you’re absolutely thrilled. But there’s something off about Loki, and as your relationship progresses, you discover that his dark side is even darker than you could ever have imagined…

Pairing: Serial Killer!Loki x Writer!Reader

Read part one here!

Read part three here! 

A/N: This story is based off of this post! I hope you guys enjoy; this is my first time writing Loki, and this will probably be the darkest thing I’ve ever written. Please let me know what you think as the story progresses!

Warning: This story contains graphic descriptions of death! This chapter also has mentions of smut in it, so read at your own risk! And, above all else, enjoy!

Your bottom lip was bright red from how ferociously you’d been chewing on it. The menu in your hands was crumpled from where you’d been gripping it, and your thigh was starting to feel sore from how fast your knee was bouncing under the table.

Another glance at your phone revealed the time to be 12:14, and your heart fluttered with a fresh wave of anxiety; you and Loki had agreed to meet at noon, and he didn’t seem like the type to be late. What if your first date with him hadn’t gone as well as you’d hoped? What if you were going to be sitting here, alone, for the next hour or so, waiting for a date who had no intention of showing up? What if-

Your musings were drowned out by a flood of relief when you saw the man in question walk through the bistro’s doors, and immediately you chided yourself on being so paranoid. His crystalline eyes scanned the small restaurant until they finally fell on you, and his face lit up when your gazes met.

Your heart squeezed as he started walking towards you, and you slowly scanned him up and down as he made his way to your table. Today, he was dressed in charcoal grey trousers with a light green shirt tucked into them, and though you knew it was silly, you couldn’t help but grin when you saw the briefcase he was holding. How professional.

“I am,” he huffed, sitting down across from you, “so sorry for being late. The police strolled in today ten minutes before my break with a body they’d dredged up from the Hudson this morning.”

“Just another day at the office, then?” you joked, and he chuckled under his breath.

“When you’re in my line of work, yes.”

“Well, it’s ok. You could’ve called to cancel if your work needed your attention-“

“No,” he shook his head resolutely. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since the café. Nothing was going to make me miss this.”

Your cheeks felt even hotter, and you tried to hide your enormous smile behind your menu. A cold hand wrapped around one of your wrists, and you glanced up as Loki pulled your hand to rest in his on the tabletop. You shared a small, almost shy, smile with him before your waiter approached.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted the two of you. “My name is John; I’ll be taking care of you guys today. May I start out with your drink orders?”

After you’d placed your order of iced tea and Loki had requested a water with lemon, you sat your menu down and turned to him.

“So… How have the past three days been for you?” you asked, and Loki’s eyes flicked up from the menu as he answered.

“Busy. But not unmanageable; the police have been particularly obnoxious this week, but then again, New York’s finest have always been a pain in the arse.”

You chuckled and took a sip of your tea.

“Well… I’m sorry they’ve been giving you a hard time.”

“It’s fine; after all, that’s what they do best.” Having apparently decided on what he’d have for lunch, your date set his menu on top of yours and squeezed your hand. “How about you, though? Any new projects you’ve been working on?”

“Maybe,” you hummed. “I actually just sent the second draft of my latest novel to my publisher, so hopefully it’ll be on shelves in a few months’ time.”

Loki’s eyes lit up, and he leaned forward on his elbow.

“Oh? What is it about?”

You laughed at the eager look on his face and quirked an eyebrow.

“You don’t really want me to spoil it for you, do you?”

“Spoil it? No, but just a brief summary of the plot would be enough to satisfy your most dedicated reader. For now, at least.”

You pretended to think for it a moment, biting your lip and tilting your head to the side.

“Hm… I don’t know…”

Turning back toward Loki, you watched as he lifted the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles as he winked at you.

“Please?” he asked, his voice just a note huskier than it had been a moment ago. “I can think of a few ways I could repay you…”

You swallowed, the cadence and timber of his voice going straight to your core, and you clenched your thighs at the implication of his words.

“Wh-what do you have in mind?” you stammered, and Loki gave you a knowing smirk.

“The only way to find out is if you tell me what I want to know,” he murmured.

Before you could say anything else, though, your waiter arrived with your drinks, and Loki’s eyes didn’t stray from you for even a moment, not even while he placed his order. You hoped the waiter hadn’t overheard your conversation as he walked up, and you stuttered your way through asking for the lunch special.

Once he was walking away, Loki’s smile stretched into a full-on, mischievous grin.

“I believe you had something you wanted to tell me, love?”

You blinked a few times and cleared your throat.

“Ah, yes. So,” you started, “the title I finally settled on is Cracked Glass, and it’s about two detectives who are partners – their names are Smithback and Charles. And the premise of the story is that one of them is a serial killer who keeps dropping bodies all over Chicago, but you don’t know which one is the killer until the very end. I’m actually pretty excited about it! My editor said that it’s her favorite of my works to date.”

Loki grinned, setting his chin in his palm while tracing your knuckles with the thumb of his other hand.

“That sounds incredibly intriguing, my dear,” he praised. “I’m guessing that there’s a plot twist of epic proportions at the end?”

“Well, I don’t like to brag, but…” You trailed off with a laugh, shrugging. “I just hope people like it. Especially my ‘most dedicated reader’.”

“I know that I’ll adore it, just as I have all your other works,” he assured you.

After that, the two of you made small talk until your food came. You found out that Loki’s favorite color was green, that he had a black cat named Lovecraft, and that his brother was planning a trip to New York to come visit him.

“We decided on May,” Loki informed you, “which gives me two months to prepare myself mentally for the onslaught that is Thor Odinson.”

“I’m sure he’s not that bad,” you chuckled, and Loki gave you a skeptical look.

“My brother once ate two entire rotisserie chickens in one setting while singing ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ drunkenly with his group of Neanderthalic friends,” he deadpanned. “We were twenty-eight at the time, and he’d consumed… I want to get the number right; I think it was twelve Jaeger Bombs.”

You almost choked on your tea from laughing so hard, and the smile he gave you was so genuine, so full of affection, that it made your heart swell almost painfully in your chest.

After finishing your meal, Loki insisted on paying the bill, and the two of you walked out of the bistro arm in arm. It was a beautiful, albeit cold, day in Manhattan. The sun was shining; the birds were singing; a saxophone player could be heard performing on a nearby street corner.

“It’s days like this that make me fall in love with New York,” you sighed, tilting your head back as the wind whipped through your hair.

Loki’s eyes followed the curve of your neck as you tilted your head towards the sky, and he licked his lips as he imagined wrapping his hand around it. He wouldn’t do any permanent damage, of course; he would sooner destroy a stained glass window than take the life of the woman he was already madly in love with. But his cock twitched at the thought of you walking around with bruises he’d painted across your body, starting with that elegant neck…

“Loki?”

He cleared his throat, snapping out of his reverie as you raised your eyebrow expectantly at him.

“I’m sorry, darling, did you say something?” he asked distractedly, and you chuckled before repeating yourself.

“I asked when you have to be back to work,” you said, and Loki glanced down at his watch.

“In about twenty minutes,” he sighed. “But the hospital is only a fifteen minute walk away.”

You hesitated, debating whether or not to ask the question that had popped into your head. You didn’t want to seem desperate, but at the same time, you didn’t want your date with Loki to end just yet.

“Would it be ok if I, um…walked with you to the hospital? If it’s ok,” you quickly added. “If you would rather have the time to yourself, then I can head home. It’s just-“

You were cut off by Loki’s lips as they pressed against yours, and you smiled as you sunk into the kiss, resting your hands on his chest as he nipped lightly at your bottom lip.

“Of course you can,” he whispered, running one of his hands through your hair. “I would leave work early, if I could, to spend the rest of the day with you.”

You grinned and stood up on your tiptoes to peck his lips again, warmth blooming within you.

“Okay…”

Reaching down, you laced your fingers through his as he started off in the direction of the hospital, and the walk was mostly silent as you took in the sights and sounds of the city around you. People were milling about busily, oblivious to you as you watched them. Loki, for his part, was too focused on how warm your hand felt in his and how good your hair smelled when the breeze carried its scent in his direction. This was only his second date with you, but you were already driving him mad; he’d never desired another person this way before. All of his previous attractions had been fleeting and superficial, but your mind drew him in like a moth to flame.

Before either of you knew it, the Bellevue Hospital Center was rising before you, a monolith of brick and glass, and you couldn’t help but feel intimidated by it. After all, it was one of the oldest hospitals in the city; Loki must have been fantastic at his job to be able to work in such a prestigious establishment.

“This is the office,” he joked, leading you in past the front doors.

You weren’t able to form a response as you stepped into the modern entry hall of the hospital. Curved walkways lay overhead, and the walls and ceiling were mostly made of glass. People were milling about everywhere, not sparing the two of you a single glance as they went about their business.

“Wow…”

Loki chuckled at your wonder, stopping next to a set of elevators as he rummaged through his pocket. You glanced down to see him pull out an ID card with his name, picture, and the words ‘Medical Examiner’ in bold font on it.

“I’ve never been to such a fancy looking hospital,” you admitted.

“After a while, it gets old,” he admitted, glancing around with an unimpressed look on his face. “It’s big and expensive, yes, but it nearly takes me twenty minutes just to walk from my office to the cafeteria.”

The two of you shared a laugh, oblivious to the detectives who had paused too look at you. Natasha turned to Steve, both of them shocked at seeing Loki actually laughing with someone. Not just someone – a pretty young woman who was currently holding his hand.

“I…don’t think I’ve ever seen him genuinely smile,” Rogers mused, and Natasha quirked an eyebrow, and unreadable expression on her face.

“Neither have I…”

They watched as you leaned up to press a kiss to Loki’s cheek, and something in Natasha stirred at the sight, something that hinted at feelings she’d never even considered having towards Dr. Odinson.

“I’ll text you tonight,” Loki said, oblivious to the officers staring at him from across the room. “Maybe we can do something this weekend? After all, I still need to repay you for letting me in on what your new masterpiece is about.”

Your cheeks heated up, and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“I definitely wouldn’t call it a masterpiece,” you insisted humbly.

“Mm, we’ll agree to disagree on that, love.”

You made to pull away, but Loki’s grip on you tightened, making you turn back to him curiously.

“Before you leave,” he murmured, “can I ask you another morbid question?”

“Of course,” you laughed. “I’m always up for one of those.”

Loki’s thumb traced your knuckles as he spoke to you in a hushed tone.

“Last time, you told me how you’d kill someone out of necessity,” he said, a twinkle of mischief alight in his eyes. “Tell me how you would kill someone who deserves to die. Maybe someone who’d done bad things to innocent people.”

You chuckled at the sincerity of the question; if it was anybody else, you’d be worried. But this was Loki; he had a morbid career just like you, and you knew better than to put any thought into his question.

“Is this going to become a game between us?” you giggled. “Exchanging ideas for murder?”

Loki snickered at the question.

“It can be, if you’d permit it.”

“Oh, I’m always down for some homicide.” You thought about it for a moment, biting your bottom lip in contemplation. “I guess… I would probably drown them. I’m not the strongest person in the world, but if you put someone in a bathtub and hold their legs up, it’s nearly impossible for them to right themselves. And, plus, it’s definitely not a painless way to die, so whatever horrible things they did will be paid for, I suppose.”

Loki nodded, filing away the information for later use.

“Elegant,” he praised, and you playfully bowed your head.

“I aim to please.”

After you said your goodbyes, the two of you parted ways, oblivious to the detectives still watching you. They were too far away to overhear your conversation, but both of them were intrigued to see Loki seemingly happy with someone.

As you walked out of the hospital, your eyes caught a flash of red hair, and you turned to see a drop-dead gorgeous redhead standing next to an equally attractive blonde man. Typically, you wouldn’t of given them a second glance, but… They were both watching you. Intently.

For a moment, you faltered in your step, the distinct feeling of being watched prickling at your scalp. But then the blonde man smiled at you and politely inclined his head, the way two strangers might do if they were both in line at a coffee shop.

You hesitantly returned his smile before walking out the doors, still feeling unsettled by the exchange. Because despite the friendly gesture of the man, the woman with him hadn’t even faltered in her stare. She’d just continued to watch you impassively, her arms crossed against her chest and her lips pressed firmly together.

The couple left your mind soon enough, though, and after sitting in a cab for twenty minutes, you were once again in your comfy townhome. You spent the rest of the afternoon in front of your computer, an empty word document open before you. It was true that you’d just finished up your latest work, but you knew you couldn’t get to comfortable. Bills would continue to come in whether or not you felt inspired, and though you had a comfortable cushion of money in the bank, you still didn’t want to get too comfortable.

And so, you’d decided to move on to the next project. But what would you write about?

Your mind, indubitably, strayed to Loki once more, turning over the last few minutes of conversation you’d had that day. He was so…elegant, with just a hint of a sinister edge that you were sure had come from his work. You were intrigued by his career, truth be told. How couldn’t you be? You’d written about death for years, now. But he’d lived it; he’d touched it.

And it was that thought that sent your fingers typing away at your keyboard.

It wasn’t that she’d chosen to live on the line between life and death; she liked to think that death had chosen her to be among its closest of companions, shaping her since her youth to be the walking Death Knoll that she’d become…

___________

Loki didn’t consider himself to be a full-on sociopath, but it was typically hard for him to empathize with others. Or, rather, it wasn’t that it was difficult for him; it was that most of the time he simply didn’t care to try to feel sympathy for other people.

But even he had some broken semblance of a moral compass, and no matter how dark his inner feelings grew, he knew that he would never be able to harm a child. Unfortunately, not everyone agreed with that particular sentiment, but at least he could do something about it.

He stayed late at the hospital two days after your lunch date, that familiar hunger within him having only grown since seeing you again. Usually, he could keep the beast under control, but something about you fanned the flames within him until he felt as if he’d burn alive if he didn’t do something, anything, to satiate them.

And so he found himself sneaking into the pediatric ward at 7 pm, just as the day-shift nurses were finishing up and the night-shift nurses were starting to take their place. A pair of deep purple gloves clung to his hands, and he was careful not to make too much noise as he snuck into one of the doctor’s offices. He went down the hallway, trying three before he found one left unlocked. HIPAA would have a field day if they only knew…

From there, he searched the room for a password to the computer, not surprised to see it written on a sticky note hidden beneath the keyboard. Whoever this doctor was, Loki made a mental note not to trust him with any of his medical records.

Taking a seat at the desk, he located the file of patients seen that day, scrolling through them for what he was looking for. A case of the flu, a sick stomach, an allergic reaction – no, no, no. He let out a huff of frustration as he pulled up patients seen the day before, then the day after that, looking for something he could use.

And that was when he saw poor little Annie Rineback.

He pulled up a picture of the five year old, frowning when he saw the deep purple bruise around her left eye. Loki skimmed through her vitals, scrolling down the page until he pulled up the doctor’s and nurse’s notes.

Patient refused to say anything in regard to how she’d received her injury. Pt’s mother insisted that Annie fell down while playing in their yard, but could not answer specific questions as to what specifically had caused pt’s injuries, the nurse had written.

Suspected case of abuse, the doctor had followed up in his own records. When asked, pt’s mother said that her husband had been at work during the time of the incident, though I have my own personal suspicions. Will call pt’s mother in a week to follow-up.

Loki made quick work of retrieving the little Annie’s address before closing out of the browser and locking the computer once more. After doing a quick scan of the room to make sure he’d left no trace, he made his way out, a sinister smirk on his face.

Time to get to work.

_________

It was Friday night when Loki got your call. His heart leapt with joy upon seeing your name flash across his screen, and he didn’t even hesitate as he answered.

“Hello, beautiful.”

Your own heart contorted upon hearing his voice; it had been Tuesday when you’d gone on your little lunch date, and the two of you had been texting each other at every opportunity ever since. But his voice just did things to you; you would always prefer it to texting.

“Hey, Loki. How’s it going?”

“Oh, same old, same old,” he replied, glancing around his basement. He’d recently dusted the space and sprayed it down with linen-scented air freshener, and he was quite happy with the result. The knives and saws gleamed against their white pegboard, and if he walked over to the examination table resting in its middle, he’d be able to see his reflection in its surface.

The only thing out of place was the large tub of water he’d dragged into the room. Well, that and the woman he had tied up in the corner. She was still passed out from the blow he’d landed to the back of her head, and he’d preemptively gagged her for whenever she woke up; his ears were still ringing from the way she’d screamed when he grabbed her in the alleyway near her apartment.

“How about you, darling?” he asked, leaning back against the metal sink behind him. “How’s the new book coming along?”

“It’s actually going really well; you’ve been quite the source of inspiration.”

Loki grinned widely, knowing that he must have looked like an infatuated schoolboy as his heart fluttered. But he didn’t care; the only person who could have seen the effect you had on him was currently passed out, and even if she hadn’t been, she would be soon.

“Really? I’m inspiring you? How so?”

“Well… The latest character in my book might be a suave, attractive medical examiner.”

His heart swelled at the idea of her basing one of her characters off of him, especially since he truly did love her work so much. He swallowed thickly before replying, internally berating himself for being such a sap.

“Oh? And do I have anything else in common with this fellow?”

“Not really. She also happens to be a woman. And she kills people, so… Yeah. I sure hope she doesn’t!”

Loki laughed along with you even as he cut his eyes towards his soon-to-be victim.

“Ehehe, yes. Well, I can’t wait to read all about her.”

His eyes widened when he saw Annie’s mom start to stir against her bonds, and he immediately straightened up.

“Hey, love?” he suddenly said. “Could I call you back in half an hour or so? I just got a text from Thor to call him, and I’d better make sure he isn’t setting something on fire.”

“Oh, sure thing,” you assured him, hoping that you hadn’t bothered him. “I’m sorry for calling at a bad time…”

“No, love, don’t apologize! I want nothing more than to hear your lovely voice,” Loki promised. “I’m just paranoid when it comes to Thor.”

You softened at that, letting the doubt you’d started to feel seep out of you.

“You’re a good brother, Loki,” you smiled. “I understand. Just give me a call back whenever you can.”

“I will,” he stated. “It shouldn’t take longer than thirty minutes.” He watched as the woman he had tied up started to blink her eyes open, and he knew that he needed to go before she started with her incessant screaming again.

“I’ll call you right back,” he said once more.

“Okey, doke. Bye, Loki!”

“Goodbye, love.”

Not a moment after he’d hung up, the woman made a small noise of panic, which amplified into a full-on wail once she saw the wall of torture devices Loki had constructed. With a roll of his eyes, and shoved his phone back into his pocket and marched over to her, kneeling down to her level to grip her throat.

“If you don’t shut up,” he growled, “I will cut off your fingers and toes one by one until you have nothing but bloody stumps left. Do you want that?”

The woman’s mascara was tracking down her cheeks, staining the rope that was currently gagging her, and after a few sniveling gasps she nodded her head.

“Good. Now,” Loki continued, “let me explain your current situation. You are in my basement right now under layers of concrete and insulation. This room is locked and sound-proof, and I live alone. No one will come to help you, and no one knows where you are.

“Now, I have a few questions to ask you, so I’m going to take your gag off. But,” he added when he saw the woman perk up, “if you start with that screaming again, I will slit your throat and call it a day. And neither of us want that, now do we?”

Once again, the woman shook her head, and Loki gave her a tight smile.

“Very good.”

He reached out and gripped the rope, tugging it out from between her teeth until it rested loosely around her neck. To her credit, she didn’t scream as he’d expected her to, nor did she persist in struggling against her bonds as she had been a moment before.

“Hm. Very good,” Loki praised as he stood up.

“Are you going to kill me?” the woman asked, looking up at him with pleading, tearful eyes. “Please,” she continued after a moment of silence, “please, I have a family.”

At that, Loki threw his head back and laughed.

“Oh, Mrs. Rineback, I’m aware,” he chuckled. “In fact, that’s exactly what I had questions about.

“See, I don’t have children,” he mused, starting to pace in front of her. “Nor do I think I ever will. But I do understand the general concept. You’re supposed to love your children unconditionally and care for them, nurture them, blah blah blah… But you, Mrs. Rineback, you do none of those things, now do you?”

The woman’s face grew guarded upon hearing that, and she stiffened.

“I… I don’t know what you-“

“Oh, don’t insult me,” Loki scoffed. “I already know all of your dirty little secrets. Poor little Annie… Originally, I’d started researching her, believing that maybe her father really hadn’t been at work the day she was brought into the hospital with a black eye and bruised rib. That was what the doctor assumed to be the case, at least.

“But all too often, the mother is overlooked as the possible abuser, is she not?”

Loki stood still in front of her, watching as horror started to fill her gaze. He took a moment to enjoy this intoxicating moment of complete power; he could get off on this alone.

“Yes, Mrs. Rineback,” he cooed. “I know. I know everything. I know of what you’ve put Annie through, and I know what you put little Micah through before his…untimely end.”

A whimper escaped her upon hearing her son’s name, and she looked away, no doubt feeling hot shame wash over her.

“Micha…fell down a flight of stairs,” she whispered. “It was an accident!”

“Oh, I have no doubt that he fell down some stairs. But I very much doubt that it was an accident.”

Silence hung heavily between them, until the click of his shoes accompanied his steps as he approached her.

“Tell me – how do you sleep at night with the murder of your seven year old son looming over your head? Evidently, not too restlessly, if you still continue to abuse your remaining child-“

“Stop!” she suddenly shouted, bowing her head. “Stop, please; I’m a good mother. I… I love my child. I loved… I loved Micah.”

“But that doesn’t stop you from drinking, now does it?” he snarled. “I only watched you for a day before knowing I wouldn’t be able to stomach another. Do you always start drinking with your breakfast?”

She didn’t look up at him, and he watched with a sneer as her shoulders shook with her sobs. He knelt down beside her, gripping her throat once more and forcing her to meet his eyes.

“You,” he whispered, “repulse me.”

With that, he hauled her to her feet, ignoring the way she writhed and twisted in his grip. Her attempts at fleeing were borderline laughable as he neared the tub, and with a kick to the back of her knee she was kneeling before it.

“The world will not miss you,” he assured her, twisting a hand in her hair and yanking until she was halfway in the water. “Nor will your family.”

And with that, he shoved her in, dropping to his knees and flipping her onto her back. Her restrained arms twisted, and most of her weight was placed upon her tied hands where they rested against her lower back as Loki grabbed her ankles.

From there, it was only a matter of time. He stood up, keeping her legs in the air, as she floundered under the water. It was delightful to watch her at this angle, and Loki once again said a silent thank you for the idea. He could clearly see her face as she fought towards the surface, resembling a fish flopping around on a pier as she struggled.

It didn’t take long before her harried motions started to slow down, though, and Loki almost was disappointed as the fight left her. He watched her chest expand as she took in a large lungful of water, and the sputters she made were music to his ears. And disappointment he had faded when she went completely motionless, and in her last moments, she opened her eyes and looked up at him through the haze. Even through the ripples in the water, he could distinguish the moment that she knew she was about to die, and the fear within her gaze was euphoric to him. He wondered, for a moment, if she was afraid of waking up in hell, even though he’d long since dismissed the idea of such fanciful, religious notions.

When he was finally sure that she was dead, he let go of his grip on her legs and took a step back, glancing down in disgust at the water that had gotten on his clothes. But, then again, he typically left his basement covered in blood, so this was amongst the cleanest ways he’d killed one of his victims.

Ten minutes later, he was in his bed, stroke Lovecraft as she laid against his side. He’d cleaned up and put on some sweatpants before settling in to call you, and butterflies flapped around his chest just at the sight of your name in his phone.

“This is ridiculous,” he huffed, sending a bemused glance towards his cat. “I’m a thirty-six year old man – I’m a fucking serial killer – and this woman already has me wrapped around her finger.”

His cat only blinked slowly up at him, not caring in the slightest about his internal distress, and with a small smile, he pressed the call button.

Meanwhile, you were in bed yourself, reading a book you’d picked up from the store a few days ago, when you heard your ringtone. With a squeal, you all but threw your book down and accepted the call, a huge smile on your face as you answered.

“Hello, again.”

“Hello, darling. Sorry again about earlier.”

“No, it’s fine! I totally get it. How is everything with Thor?”

“Thor is fine,” he smiled. “He needed my help installing photoshop on his computer. Why he needs photoshop, I’ll never know, but I walked him through it and now I only have a mild headache from the endeavor.”

“I really need to meet your brother in person. Just wait until I tell him all the things you’ve been saying.”

“I assure you, it’s nothing I haven’t told him directly in person. But he’s gotten me back a few times, despite his incompetence. One time, he tried to sell me on Craigslist.”

“Oh, no! That’s…that’s actually hilarious.”

“Mm, well. The concerning thing was that I had a few interested parties.”

You both laughed at that, and after a while you were both left in an almost awkward silence.

“So…” you finally began nervously. “I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow.”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Loki said. “Did you have anything in mind for us?”

“Well… I was wondering if you would like to come over and be seduced by my cooking skills.”

“I think it’s fair to say that you’ve already seduced me,” he chuckled. “But I would love to. Can I bring anything?”

“Just yourself! …And actually, a bottle of wine would be awesome.”

“Then I’ll pick one up on the way.”

You grinned, sitting up in bed.

“Well, then. I’ll plan on seeing you tomorrow, Dr. Odinson.”

There was something about the way you said his title that made Loki’s cock twitch in his pants, and he absentmindedly reached down to give it a squeeze.

“I’ll look forward to it,” he breathed.

As soon as the two of you said your goodbyes, Loki practically leapt out of bed and hopped into the shower, both to wash the scent of Mrs. Rineback’s cheap perfume off of him and to quell his sudden lust for you. He couldn’t help but wonder what exactly you had in mind for tomorrow; he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to wait until he all but threw you onto the nearest horizontal surface and fucked your brains out. The way you made him feel was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and he could only hope that you felt the same way.

Meanwhile, miles away, you were looking at the new set of lingerie you’d bought that evening as it lay atop your dresser. You closed your eyes and let yourself fall back against your pillows, fantasizing about the look on Loki’s face when he saw you in the dark green bra and panties you’d picked out just for him. A hand slipped into your pajama shorts at the thought, and unbeknownst to either of you, you both came at almost the same time that evening, your minds focused on the exact same thing.

Tomorrow night.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Déjà Vu (Or are we losing our minds?) VIII -Modern!Shirbert

A/N: I need a group of friends that live near my house so we can all have crisis together -Danny

Words: 2,790

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Eight: 2nd. Déjà Vu.

'We are torn between a nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known’

                           —Carson McCullers

"Anne, I’m sorry!” Cole called from the other side of the door, “If I had known that finding out about that asshole’s engagement was going to upset you like this, I would’ve kept my mouth shut…”

“You couldn’t take a guess?” Josie scoffed, leaning against the wall beside him. She continued in a whisper, "She's on her period, and you thought it'd be okay to just drop the bomb?"

Anne opened the door abruptly, almost causing her friend to fall forward into the bathroom. Her face was still red from anger, but there was no sign of tears treatening to come out.

“He’s a monster!” She yelled, making a bee line back to her bedroom. “First tries to make me believe I’m the love of his life and that he’s the man of my dreams, and then cheats– now he’s telling the same tale to one of my classmates he met thanks to me! What the actual fuck?!”

“Anne,” Ruby said tentatively. “I think that you need us to leave you alone...”

“What?” Her eyes widening. “No, no, no, no, please don’t leave, please don’t go, I need you here! I thought I was going to be better in the morning but I had this dream… and the nightmare from real life just continued, Roy and Lauren were inviting me to their wedding and I was so upset! I was plotting to ruin their party, I was… oh, it was so out of control– don't you dare say this is because I'm on my period, Josie!” She glared at the blonde in front of her, who just raised her hands in surrender.

“Then let’s do something,” Cole put one hand on her shoulder, “let’s go downtown, let’s visit Muriel! I bet she’s eager to see us, c’mon Anne, you love visiting her...”

“Maybe we could ask her about her husband?” Anne asked, suddenly hopeful. “Her love story could give me hope.”

“For what?”

“For believing love not is not yet another scam of society,” She sentenced.

“Oh my god,” Josie let out a tired sigh. “Fine, we’ll visit her, but please take a shower first, you stink of anger and drool.”

___________________

There she was again, the same girl. Was it the same girl? Gilbert couldn’t remember her face at all, but both definitely had the same red hair, the same soft-looking skin…

“Gilbert, you’re spilling coffe on the table!” Mary’s yell brought him back instantly.

With a start he lifted the kettle and stopped pouring the liquid onto his cup, it was filled to the brim. He let out a tired sigh and reached out for a napkin.

“Sorry,” He mumbled. “I was thinking…”

“A bit too much,” The woman raised a brow. “What is it this time, a scholarship you’re trying to get? An essay that might’ve been one page too long?”

“A dream,” He said quietly.

“A dream,” Mary shook her head skeptically. “You can't even rest while sleeping, then? I’m glad Winnie’s taking you out for the day, Lord knows you need a distraction...”

Winnie arrived at two o’clock, punctual as usual. She was holding a bouquet of flowers that were meant to be for Dellie, but the little girl was having a nap, so she left them on the kitchen counter.

“Sunflowers,” Gilbert raised his eyebrows. “You’re trying to call us haughty?”

“What?” Winnie tilted her head. “No, I just thought they were pretty– Hold on, that's their meaning? How the hell do you know that?”

“I…” Gilbert smiled faded. “I think I dreamt about it.”

Winnie laughed at this.

“You dreamt about it, so it must be real, right?” She shook her head. “Come on, Gilbert, it’s time to get you out of the house.”

___________________

“Anne, why are you stopping?”

The redhead was standing outside a flower shop, she was glancing at it inquisitively, as if pondering whether to take a quick look or keep walking.

“Anne?” Cole called her softly. “Are you okay?”

“What if I do exactly like in my dream?” She asked absentmindedly. “Is it too petty to buy a bouquet just to say 'fuck you'?”

“Very,” Cole raised a brow. “It’s classy though, I like your style.”

“We can talk about whether you should buy your ex venomous flowers once we’re at Muriel’s,” Josie pulled both of them forward. “Let’s go, she’s waiting for us!”

The woman was delighted to receive her former students, they sat in the small dining room and talked for hours until lunchtime. Anne was in a much lighter mood, and offered to prepare a meal, to which they responded with skeptical looks.

“Don’t worry,” Anne rolled her eyes. “I’ll stay far from the oven. Honestly, you burn something once and everyone acts like you’ve been ten years in jail for arson…”

Ruby, Cole and Josie remained at the table while Muriel and Anne entered the kitchen.

“How’s my best student coping with college?”

“You ask that every time I come to visit,” Anne grinned. “And it’s always the same answer. I’m fine, it has been kind to me, it's nothing I can’t handle.”

“Cole told me something happened,” Muriel leaned against the counter. “He said you wanted to ask me about my husband?”

“Oh,” Anne looked up from the bowl she was rinsing, a blush covering her cheeks. “Yeah, I did say that but you know me, I was… upset. You know I tend to be dramatic–”

“If it makes it easier for you, I’d love to tell you about my Jonah, not many people ask me about him, they think I’ll get upset,” Muriel smiled. “It’s been quite some time now and to be honest, talking about him feels different now, the further the memories are, the sweeter they taste.”

Anne wasn’t sure she understood what Muriel was saying, but it encouraged her enough to ask.

“Was it love at first sight? Did you know it’ll be him?”

“Oh no,” She chuckled. “We got along right away, yes, but we didn’t date until our last year in Uni, when all was a bit quieter. Just then we realized that it was always meant to be that way, us together.”

“Did you had partners before him?” Anne went redder. “I’m sorry, is not my business–”

Muriel laughed.

“Anne calm down, I said that you could ask, didn’t I? We’re friends, it’s fine,” She stayed quiet for a moment. “Hmm… well, I only had one official boyfriend before him when I was in highschool, I dated a few kids and never settled– Now, don’t look at me like that!” She laughed, “I was not a heartbreaker, every single sweetheart left with a smile, I think they knew it wasn’t meant to last. I have the feeling that all humans have the ability to know when a person is meant to be with them.”

“I never felt it,” Anne lowered her gaze, “I mean, Roy was the first man I ever dated, he talked about big plans and a future together… but it didn’t matter how much I liked him, how beautiful he was, I never felt the thrill.”

“Sometimes is not thrill what takes over you,” Muriel replied, “sometimes, it’s a subtle tickling on the tip of your fingers, the anticipation that comes a second before you walk into the rain, when you can feel the breeze on your face and… am I making any sense?”

“Yes,” Anne said breathlessly. “Like knowing what’s coming because it’s right in front of you, yet there's something stopping you from having it and remains there, unreachable until you are ready to walk up to it…”

“Exactly,” The woman smiled. “Love is different for everyone, Anne, and most times is not a fairytale, but we make it work when we are with the right person.”

“I suppose you’re right,” She walked up to the fridge. “I’m an adult, I shouldn’t be daydreaming with princes coming to my rescue- especially since I do not need to be saved from anything, my life is great. It’s silly, I'm a grown up now but still have such a childish spirit.”

“It’s okay to dream,” Muriel said reassuringly. “Real life can be magical if you look at the right things, if you pay enough attention.”

“The little things in life?” She looked over her shoulder as she kept handing ingredients to her former teacher.

“Yes, but also no,” The woman frowned, a little smile playing on her lips. “It’s funny, I hadn’t thought about it in a long time...”

“What thing?”

“A month before Jonah and I got together I was having the weirdest déjà vu’s… whenever I was with him it was like watching a scene I had already lived out in a dream, so strange…”

“I read once that when you dream about someone, in a romantic way, that means that person is also thinking about you!” Anne said with excitement. “Maybe he was dreaming about you too!”

“I never asked him,” Muriel shook her head, “what a shame, if he was indeed dreaming of me, that would’ve been such a romantical tale to tell you, I’m sorry I can’t confirm your lovely story.”

“You can’t deny it either,” Anne winked. “That’s enough for me.”

“All this time I thought I’d dreamt about him simply because I was thinking him too much during the day,” Muriel laughed. “It’s so much better to see it through your eyes! I might need to change my version of the story.”

“I had a dream this morning,” Anne giggled. “I was buying Roy a bunch of flowers to tell him to fuck off,” She laughed louder at Muriel’s expression. “Am I allowed to swear in front of you? It feels so weird… anyway, I was buying flowers and the poor man helping me…” She felt a giddy as soon as she remembered him, “he had to deal with my anger while still being completely helpful, if only real people were as patient as he was when I rambled on about my ex and how much of an asshole he was!”

“I hope you gave him a lot of imaginary money for helping you,” Muriel joked.

“Oh, he wouldn’t take it,” Anne rolled her eyes, a silly smile on her face. “That's my childish self, imagining a flourist man- a very handsome flourist man- just giving away his work to me for free, like some sort of selfless hero,” She chuckled. “Well, not so selfless. I remember him asking me to go back and have lunch with him. I mean, I offered the lunch part, but he was the one who asked me to go back…”

“Looks like the mistery man managed to charmed you. I thought the dream was about your ex but it sounds like you were having a jolly time with the flourist!”

“I was,” Anne shook her head. “I have no self-control, even in my dreams I'm incapable of keeping it in my pants.”

“Anne!” Muriel exclaimed over Anne’s cackles. “You’re right, it does feel strange listening to my former student talk like a sailor.”

“A sailor?” Anne asked, still laughing. “More like a pirate! Ahoy, you dirty animals! Hold the anchors! Let’s go south and kill those ravenous monsters while we steal their gold! Captain Shirley doesn’t have time for this buffoonery!”

“Oh Captain, my Captain!” Muriel replied, following the joke. “If you consider it addecuate, we shall start cooking!”

“Oh,” Anne looked down at the untouched ingredients. “Yeah, we should do that.”

___________________

“...And then I told her we could still be friends, but I wasn’t looking for anything serious,” Winnie shrugged, finishing her drink.

“Did she cry?”

“She understood, I told her since the start. I wasn’t leading her on or anything, but I guess she’d grown fond of me, she did cry a little, yeah.”

“Winifred Rose, you must be a nightmare back in Paris,” Gilbert snorted.

“Well I’m not lying, am I? I tell them exactly what I want since the start and they agree!”

“Probably just because they’re too distracted by your looks to actually listen to what you’re saying,” He teased.

“Well that’s on them,” Winnie raised her brow. “Now really, I know you said you’ve had zero fun, but c’mon, there’s gotta be someone…”

“You mean like a prospect?” Gilbert took a quick sip of his coke while Winnie nodded. “I told you before, I don’t have any.”

“Why?” She tilted her head. “I didn’t raise you to be like this, Blythe.” The man laughed.

Winnie was a year older than him, when he was a freshman in Highschool she had taken him under her wing, she was popular (and wealthy) so Moody and him had a decent time during their adolescent years. That if you didn’t take into account the time his father got sick and died, which had been the majority of three years.

“You want me to be honest?” He let out a sigh. “I guess that if I tried, I could make time to go out and meet new people, if I were that eager to go out and… Have something.”

“But?”

“You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“Of course I will, but that doesn’t mean I’ll think less of you!” Winnie saw his distress and her smile faded a little. “I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re not the type to sleep around with strangers. I thought that you would at least try to meet someone and see how it goes, though. Formal relationships are not that hard to find, you know?”

“I know,” Gilbert shook his head. “Every time I consider it, just when I’m this close to ask you or Moody to set me up with someone you think would be a good fit for me, something just stops me. It’s like I’m stuck in one place, waiting around for a girl to pull me out of where I’m drowning.”

“I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to answer honestly,” When Gilbert gave his agreement, she continued. “What's stopping you? Is it that you’re secretely gay, or is it that you actually met someone, and you don’t want to tell us who she is?”

“I’m not gay, Winnie,” Gilbert rubbed his forehead. “I’m being honest, I feel like I’m on pause. I don’t know, maybe I met my soulmate and I fucked up so now the universe is forcing me to turn around and find my way back, or I could be losing my mind,” He joked. “It certainly feels like I am, lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, it’s stupid,” He shrugged, signaling to the waiter so he could bring them the check. “I had this dream two times in a row, or more like I dreamt about this girl two times already…”

“So there is a girl!”

“No! Not really— She’s not… I think I’ve seen her before,” Gilbert frowned, struggling to remember something besides her striking red hair. “Maybe on tv? She might be a minor celebrity… I’m so sure I’ve seen her somewhere in real life, there’s no way I’m dreaming about her with such clarity…”

“Gilbert you’re not making any sense," Winnie raised a brow. “If I’m honest, it does sound like you’re losing your mind.”

Gilbert gave up on trying to explain, he didn’t know what he was trying to say anyway, so what was the point? He hung his head low and kept on rubbing the weariness out of his temples. He felt like crying but didn’t know why; the more he thought about this girl, the more the void got bigger and bigger, like having some kind of treasure handed to him only to watch it disappear just as quickly.

“How about,” Winnie started, “I’ll stop nagging about finding you a date until New Year’s Eve. It’s the Orchard’s anniversary, right?”

“Yeah, the fiftieth,” He said. “Why is it important?”

“I’d like you to have someone on your side by then, the anniversary's on January, I know, but your father would’ve wanted you to build a life outside school and work, if you let me find you a nice girl…”

Gilbert frowned, it wasn’t that easy, and it was low to bring up his father so casually when he was well aware that he hadn’t done the one thing his father had asked him before dying, which was to live a life full of love and adventures. He knew this, but he couldn’t stop now… could he?

Or was he stopping himself because he was, as Bash had kindly put it, crushing on a fantasy? Some sort of dream-mermaid lurking in the back of his mind, ready to eat him up and finish him when least expect it…

“I’ll think about it,” He mumbled awkwardly.

Taglist.

@ninizkd @http-itsrebecca @fuckthisshitimoutyall @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​​ @little-boats-on-a-lake @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

[joonsdiary]

the proposal

↳ part one of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing. ceo!seokjin x hotelier!reader (female) genre. arranged marriage au // humour with a dash of fluff and sprinkle of angst (mayhaps future smut?) word count. 4,8k summary. after losing ownership of your hotel to the satan-spawned ceo-to-be, kim seokjin, you are forced by the powers that be (your parents) into marrying him. you agree under the assurance that you won’t be out of job, but with the title of manager instead of owner. as it turns out, he has other plans and approaches you with a proposal that’s hard to refuse.

note. a cliché, overused trope? check. a series with (maybe) no plot and is just about jin as a billionaire ceo? check. this was initially supposed to be a sequel, but i couldn’t follow it up with the same ambience and mood, so i decided to leave the drabble [as a standalone] and write a spin-off instead. this has been in my drafts for the longest time, so i’m excited to share to you a series that literally nobody asked for.

warning-but-not-really. not all corporate ceos are as chilled out as jin will be portrayed here. may give you high expectations of literally some of the worst people on this planet lmao also purely self-indulgent! read at your own risk tbh

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

The premise was simple.

Get married so you can keep running your hotel business or refuse and lose everything to the man your parents have personally hand-picked to become the owner.

Scratch that.

The man your parents sold your hotel to, thus making him the newly appointed owner.

Choosing the latter and having your freedom would mean giving up your hard-earned company to the lousy billionaire’s first-born son, who happened to own half the hotels in metropolitan Seoul.

The Kims.

Notorious for their enormous amount of wealth, their class, and having three strapping young men for sons who knew nothing else, but privilege handed to them in a silver platter.

Despite growing up in a well-off family, you’ve always taught yourself that independence and hard work was the key to success. You distanced yourself as much as you could from your parents’ money, stuck it out for four years in college, and graduated with a degree. Running the hotel full time while attempting to finish your master’s in business administration part-time had been the theme for the past year. Until your parents dropped the bomb on you.

Words like, do you really think you had full ownership of that run-down hotel of yours and we had to sell, or we’ll go under had been thrown around. As if keeping the secret of having a huge amount of debt would make you feel better about seeing your hotel assimilated into Kim Hotels. Not only would you lose ownership, but you knew that you were bound to get fired, if not demoted. It usually came with the change of proprietor.

Conveniently enough, the Kims had other plans. Their current CEO, Seokjin’s father, agreed to let you keep working as the hotel manager instead of the owner, which is honestly miles better to you than being jobless. But it came with a hefty price: you were to marry their oldest son, Kim Seokjin. They drove a hard bargain, and you found yourself agreeing. You loved the hotel more than anything you’ve ever owned; having to pour your heart and soul into making it worth being proud of. And you were. That’s why hearing your parents say that it was in debt felt gut wrenching.

Initially, you tried to get a hold of him, hoping you could convince him to re-think the situation. You thought perhaps the media had been wrong about him, and all the talks of him being a calculating corporate shark was a lie. Maybe he would let you work as the manager without having to marry him. But the COO of Kim Hotels refused to meet with you, despite hearing from your parents that he’d been “more than willing” to be married to you.

You scoffed at their baseless statement. Seokjin had a reputation for taking women to bed one night before leaving them to dust by the next morning. As if selling his soul to the devil in order to be worth billions of dollars wasn’t enough; of course, he was sleeping around as well. You weren’t one to judge anybody’s lifestyle choices, but you were sure that someone in that calibre wouldn’t agree to be wed to a person they hardly knew just because. There was something in your gut that told you there was more to the agreement than a simple arranged marriage.

Or maybe the feeling in your gut was due to the bad pasta you had.

“Good evening, Ms. Hwang.”

You’re greeted by Mr. Park, the doorman as soon as you enter the lobby, cradling a piping hot tea you hoped would alleviate the stomach cramps you were having. His smile gave away his old age, wrinkles dotting the corner of his eyes and the lines in his cheeks. You returned the gesture.

“How was your dinner?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you laughed softly, shrugging away your coat without spilling your drink. “I’m never eating out ever again. Please tell me Yoongi is in.”

He nodded, gesturing to the entrance not too far from the lobby. You bid him good night and head to the restaurant in the hotel, which was sparse with customers. Friday nights were usually teeming with life and excitement, but unfortunately business had been relatively slow all week. The worry pooled deep in your stomach – as if you needed any more ratification that your hotel needed to be bought, or you’ll close down.

“Yoongi! I need your cure-all soup,” you called out as soon as you sat on the barstool, propping your tote on the table. Jungkook waved at you from the far end of the bar, concocting a drink for the eager gentleman waiting in front of him. Yoongi popped his head out from the kitchen’s double doors to scowl at you but was met with your beaming smile.

He returned several minutes later with your request and you quietly thank him.

“Bad date?” he asked, wiping his palms over his well-worn apron. Jungkook had inched closer by this time, mindlessly wiping the area beside you.

You nodded. “And terrible food. I should’ve just asked him to take me here to Grigio instead.”

Yoongi raised his brows, but a grin was threatening to burst from his lips. “Why didn’t you?”

“He insisted on going to that posh new restaurant that just opened last week. Said it took months to book and he couldn’t just cancel on a whim,” you rolled your eyes, carefully blowing cold air into your steaming soup.

“This is why I told you to stop looking around,” Yoongi leaned into the counter, studying your expression.

“It’s cuffing season,” you joked. “Blame social norms for my behaviour.”

He gave you an impassive stare, before sighing. “You’re literally cuffed already.” He said, followed by a quiet, “I still can’t believe you’re getting married soon.”

You waved your right hand nonchalantly before lifting the spoon to your lips. You moaned as soon as the flavour filled your senses.

“Did you know you’re the best chef ever?”

“It’s just chicken noodle soup,” he said drily.

“Exactly! The simplest meal yet you manage to bring out so many spices at once.” He rolled his eyes at your attempt to boost his ego. Either way it was true; for you, nothing beat Yoongi’s cooking, no matter how simple he thought the meal was.

You forgo the tea and asked Jungkook for a bottle of white wine. “Nothing fancy — Les Capriades is fine. I heard they came in last month, and I have yet to try them.”

He nodded at your instructions before disappearing off to the back to find your drink.

“Stop avoiding the topic, Y/N,” Yoongi rested his chin in the palm of his hand.

“I’m not avoiding anything,” you stated confidently, yet you couldn’t meet his gaze. “The devil incarnate himself refuses to see me. I guess I’ll have to meet him at the altar.”

“Three weeks from now,” Yoongi said, almost exasperated.

“Until then, I’ll enjoy my freedom.”

“What freedom?” Yoongi scoffed, rounding the table to slide into the seat next to you. Jungkook returned with your promised bottle and your eyes beamed with excitement before quietly thanking him. “You didn’t even date around before any of this marriage circus happened.”

You agreed with the “circus” part and ignored the indirect jab. Besides not having a say in any of the planning for your wedding, your supposed fiancé refused to introduce himself when you tried to reach out multiple times.

Okay, perhaps it wasn’t multiple times. You called his office when your parents broke the news to you a week ago, but his assistant said he was busy with a meeting and that you should call back. You didn’t, and that was the end of it. You’ve been putting off trying again, but it’s been a week and he hasn’t contacted you back either.

Maybe it was mutual disdain; if one of you was testing the other to break, you didn’t want the first to be you. It already felt undignified to be marrying someone for the sake of keeping a semblance of ownership to your hotel, so you weren’t about to grovel and demand to be spoken to when it seemed like he wasn’t willing to spare you a second of his time.

Yoongi chatted for a bit before he had to go back to work, so you were left to pull out your laptop from your tote. For the next few hours you immersed yourself into finances, staring at the excel spreadsheet displayed on the screen far longer than was medically allowed. Surely, you’ll go blind before you see your hotel overcome the negative deficit you were in.

“See you tomorrow, Ms. Hwang,” Jungkook thrummed his fingers on the table as he passed by. You looked up in time to see him mime something unintelligible. Your brows raised in confusion.

“Your glasses,” he laughed quietly, fingers hovering close to your cheek. You mumbled a quiet oh, before pushing the rim higher until it settled snugly against your nose bridge.

“Thanks.” You sighed, tipping your head to one side. After feeling the satisfying pop! you turned back to Jungkook with a grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You slumped back to your work as soon as Jungkook was out of sight. Glancing at the clock on the corner of your laptop, it blinked 00:37, which automatically caused you to yawn. Yoongi should be out soon, so you willed yourself to stand up and prop the close sign by the entrance.

From where you stood, you could see the lobby clearly, as well as the spinning doors of the hotel entrance. A few patrons trickled in, no doubt coming in from their busy day, and filed sluggishly to the elevators where it would take them up their floors.

That was the most fulfilling part of being a hotelier to you. The satisfaction of giving people a comfortable stay, whether they were mere tourists or locals wanting a getaway from their normal life. It certainly isn’t as posh and sleek as the Kim Hotel with their towering glass buildings and boring black, white, and grey colour palettes. But what you had was something you were proud to consider your home, with the vibrant earth tones of the walls and furniture, as well as the rich velvet tapestry draped along the ornate windows. High ceiling chandeliers peppered the lobby, casting an ambience of warmth and security without lacking luxury.

“‘Night, Y/N.” Yoongi clasped your shoulder, startling you out of your mini daydream. “Stop using my restaurant as your office, will you?”

You mustered a small grin. “Bye, Yoongles. Drive safe.”

Yoongi turned to you as his face contorted violently. “I hate that nickname.”

“Love you too!” You called out as he exited through the revolving door before placing your hand down with a sigh. Back to work. You were about to turn and go back to your forgotten laptop when the door welcomed in another guest.

With bated breath you watched the man stalk towards you, eyeing you dangerously as if you were his prey. His midnight black suit made him look slim but highlighted his broad shoulders all the same. You were arrested at the spot, unable to look away and felt as if you’ve been robbed of oxygen. The more he stepped closer, the more unclear your thoughts became.

It’s not as if you hadn’t seen the man. He often appeared on several business magazines — gossip tabloids more so. Yet there was something different about seeing him in person, in front of you, in your hotel.

No. His hotel.

“Ms. Hwang. I was hoping to find you here.”

You blinked up at him, not trusting your voice to form words under such immense pressure. His usually slicked back ebony hair is more mussed; a day’s worth of stress was evident in his restless feature.

When you didn’t reply, he took it upon himself to study you from head to toe, and your body went rigid. Your long, honey-coloured hair had been tied up in a lazy bun and glasses framed your face. You didn’t bother changing out of your mini black dress from your date earlier, whose thin straps clung onto your shoulders for dear life.

You squirmed uncomfortably, finding a small ounce of strength to wrap your hands protectively around yourself. “What are you doing here, Mr. Kim?”

“Please,” he rolled his eyes, supple lips bending upwards for a grin. “Call me Seokjin. Mr. Kim is my father.”

And with that, he welcomed himself in the threshold of your restaurant.

Technically, it’s his restaurant now, too.

You let your anger simmer for a bit before turning to follow him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you declared. It was hard to keep your annoyance down when he had showed up unannounced after ignoring your existence for a whole week.

He slid next to the seat you had claimed yours, and you almost tripped in your heels as you followed, immediately snapping your laptop shut. There was no new information he could have garnered from looking at the finances of the hotel, as he’s probably aware of them. But the thought of him snooping around made you feel queasy.

“I wanted to see what had my father so enamoured that he’d actually buy this…” he trailed off, waving his hand dismissively, “…hotel?”

You hated the underlying judgement in his tone of voice. You had also heard rumours that he’s unabashedly forward and hard to deal with, on top of all the other rumours that plagued him. So far, all the boxes in the checklist were proving to be true.

“It’s quaint. Not at all what I expected.” His gaze studied you momentarily, and you can tell he wanted to say more but he smartly held himself back. Good. You don’t know what you would do if he strung one criticism after another.

“Well, you’ve seen it. You can kindly screw off now.”

Seokjin seemed taken aback for a second, but his surprise didn’t linger. He leaned back on the stool and swiveled forward before pointing at the shelves lined with alcohol.

“I’ll have a whiskey, neat.”

In an attempt to ignore his ridiculous demand, you powered up your laptop once more. No way in hell would you let him step all over you, not even when he owned the hotel where you now stood. “You have very capable legs and arms. I’m sure you can whip one up yourself.”

Was this man joking? Granted, you know your way behind the bar since you had the privilege to work as a bartender for a few years during your college tenure. But that doesn’t mean he’s welcomed here to treat you as if you were a subservient of his. Which, semantics aside, you were, though that’s beside the point. But if he made an effort to come down here and order you around like a scullery maid in an attempt to intimidate you or put you in your place, then he was barking up the wrong tree.

“I was told you have terrific hospitality. I guess they were mistaken.”

Not for the likes of you, I don’t. You rolled your eyes, not bothering with an actual reply.

Seokjin maneuvered off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his cufflinks before he rolled his sleeves up meticulously. He then rounded the bar and began grabbing materials with familiarity, not stopping to ask where anything was located. You watched in awe from the corner of your eyes, attempting to be discreet.

“Want one?” he gave you a slanted gaze.

You wrinkled your nose in disagreement and raised your wine glass.

“A refill, then?”

Pressing your lips firmly together, you gave him a defiant headshake.

The mild shock of seeing him traipsing behind the bar had rendered you absolutely mute. The fact that he knew where everything was piqued your interest. Was it an outcome of years of experience as a habitual drinker? Or did he often just randomly raid bars, hence his extensive knowledge of their layout? You didn’t want to know, but at the same time you did.

It took him a while to find a coaster before settling back to the spot beside you. Typing away at your laptop, you refused to give him even an ounce of attention despite his attention solely being yours. The silence that ensued was more uncomfortable than anything you’ve experienced.

Suddenly, you were all too aware of your crooked posture and your body snapped, straightening your shoulders rigidly. It felt stupid, but necessary for the sake of your sanity to keep your façade. Although it crumbled ever so slightly when Seokjin laughed beside you.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel tense,” his voice was languid and inviting.

You steeled yourself, refusing to be lulled into a trance by his intoxicating presence. “What did you really come here for, Kim Seokjin?”

“She speaks!” he exclaimed, clearly amused. You turned to give him an impassive stare. “Do I need a reason to visit my fiancée?”

His statement caught you by surprise, your poor heart bearing the brunt of suddenly having to pump more oxygen than usual. It brought warmth to your cheeks and you allowed yourself to fall into the fantasy of marrying the most eligible bachelor in all of Seoul. The fantasy, however, was short-lived as his wink broke the spell you were under.

“Don’t worry, this will be strictly business,” his back straightened up on cue. You tried and subsequently failed not to watch the way his deft fingers moved to loosen up his necktie. He then slightly deflated with a sigh, before grabbing his drink and taking a sip.

For courage, perhaps? It brought a small amount of accomplishment to know that you might have The Kim Seokjin nervous before you.

“It’s about the wedding, which you know is coming up soon.”

This was it. The topic you’ve been narrowly avoiding for the past week suddenly poured on you all at once like a bucket of ice-cold water. It wasn’t the most refreshing way of waking you up to reality, but it got the job done.

“I hope you aren’t getting cold feet now, Kim,” he grins at your attempt at humour.

“I apologize for not getting back to you sooner, by the way. My secretary said you tried to get a hold of me.” You remembered the woman’s monotone voice on the other end of the phone call. Part of the reason why you were reluctant to call back was due to nervousness from hearing her apathetic voice.

You shrugged in response, finding him less of an asshole than you had previously. Was your expectation of decency so low that you found anything remotely human he did to be an act of chivalry on his part?

Yes. Yes, it was.

“I tried calling because I wanted to know if I would be able to talk you out of this deal.”

Seokjin was visibly surprised by your candor.

“Oh yeah, and how would that have played out?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Surely, it was too late to take anything back, so you tossed all caution out of the window. He might as well hear your piece.

“The ceremony preferably cancelled. The Hwang Hotel back to its rightful owner, as if the whole thing hadn’t occurred in the first place.”

Seokjin regarded you with amusement in his eyes. The warm lights of the Grigio soften his rugged features, making it seem like he was glowing. You came to understand how he had the whole country enamoured by him. He was distressingly handsome.

You gagged at where your thoughts ended up and leaned back a little, terrified of feeling too intimate with the man who had claimed your hard-earned success for himself. The hotel means more to you in ways you know Seokjin will never be able to relate. A man who, with a little twirl of his fingers, would be making more money than you could ever hope to imagine. They say no hard work goes unpaid, but for him it was probably akin to: No hard work, but I get paid either way. How comfortable must it be to sit atop that domineering tower of his, overlooking the city he practically owns?

“And what do I get out of that possible scenario?” he began after a brief pause.

You refused to wilt under his imposing gaze. With a confident voice, you said, “The satisfaction of doing a noble deed.”

He barked out a laugh, tilting his head back in obvious enjoyment. You didn’t share the sentiment as you sighed before removing your prescription glasses. Perhaps hoping for the impossible was futile, after all.

“Look, I don’t care about this little passion project of yours,” Seokjin waved his hands around condescendingly, and you felt a familiar pang of anger surging from your chest. “And you’re lucky my father swooped in to purchase this hotel before you went bankrupt.”

“Thank you for the constant reminder,” you deadpanned, but he ignored you and continued. The gall of the man to show up and ridicule you made you irate. I take that back, he’s still an asshole in every aspect imaginable.

“To be frank, I think we’re both in a pinch here. You want your hotel back, and I’m willing to grant you that tiny little wish.”

You perked up; interest piqued. But you felt an ultimatum coming, so you squashed all hope arising from his statement. There was always a catch.

“My parents have been grooming me to become CEO ever since I learned how to walk. For me, acquiring the position is a no-brainer.”

“But?” you offered, and his grin widened.

“But lately my father refuses to hand me the reins. He’s been wanting to retire, but every year he keeps sticking it out. Then I unceremoniously learned my engagement with you. All of a sudden, his mood shifted, and his plans for retirement began piling up.”

Your brows creased in confusion, unable to see how you fit into all of this.

“My reputation precedes me, so I’m sure you’re aware of what I’m insinuating here.”

Something clicks in your mind, and you willed yourself to hold back a scoff.

“Enlighten me, Kim,” you propped your chin against your palm. If you were going to agree to this, you might as well have a little fun for yourself.

“My parents aren’t amused by my…” Seokjin trailed off.

“Decision to debauch half the women’s population of Seoul?” you offered, unable to hold yourself back. You grinned triumphantly; he had set himself up for that moral beating.

“I was going to say my inability to settle down, but sure, we’ll go with that,” Seokjin was unfazed, much to your disappointment. “He hadn’t explicitly said it but seeing the way everything is being handled so quickly, I can tell it’s what he wants. For me to get married; then maybe he’ll consider giving me the position.”

“And you didn’t oppose?” you asked incredulously. It seemed at the moment you were the one who is prepped to lose the most. What if it wasn’t you who the Kims chose for their son? Were you supposed to just accept defeat and give up your hotel?

“Oh, trust me, I vehemently opposed,” you nodded at his statement. At least you agreed on something. That was a start. “But that’s partly the reason why I’m here.”

“What more can we possibly do? We’re basically left with no option,” you grumbled, turning back to your laptop. For you, there was no way around this. Both your families have decided for you, so you have to either fall in line or risk losing your business.

“What if I tell you we can go back to our normal lives a few months from now? We won’t be married to each other. You’ll have your hotel back, and I’ll still be the CEO.”

You inadvertently leaned towards him, eager to know where the conversation was going.

“We just have to convince my parents and yours, as well as the board of directors of Kim Hotels and the public alike how we’re hopelessly in love with each other.”

Your mouth formed into a visible scowl, forehead creasing in confusion. You searched for hints of frivolity, waiting for him to say just kidding! at any moment. But his stoic face told you that he was being serious.

“And we’re doing this because…?” your patience had worn thin, expression marred by weariness and fatigue. You had a lot to get back to; you didn’t have time for silly games.

“It will make the divorce more believable.”

You paused, the gears in your brain turning. The agreement your parents told you about hadn’t involved a divorce; so, you were curious as to where Seokjin was going with his idea.

He was offering you an out; a way to get out of his family’s mess unscathed. You’ll have your only prized possession, and he can go back to sleeping with as many people as he wanted while retaining his coveted position. The proposition was too good to be true.

“What’s the catch?” your lips pursed, and you found yourself considering his ludicrous proposal.

“No catch,” he holds his two hands up in surrender, the corner of his mouth forming a smirk. You eyed him with suspicion.

“Just that you give effort into this whole thing. Make my father and the board believe enough to think I’ve ‘cleaned up my act’,” he paused to roll his eyes, “so that they’ll hand me the position without question. I promise you full ownership of the Hwang Hotel, without debt, as soon as we separate.”

While your parents’ original plan had been to marry you off entirely (which you did not want at all) Seokjin was sensible enough to figure out that you had no desires of tying the knot to someone you barely knew. He probably shared the sentiment, hence his proposal.

“This doesn’t make sense though,” you said pointedly. “Wouldn’t they find out about your motives when we divorce? And our parents technically arranged this, so they’ll be mad — I’m sure yours will be more than mine.”

You’re all in for finding a loophole in this whole arrangement, but you’re not sure you’ll agree if it will give you more problems in the long run.

He shrugged, unconcerned. “They can question it all they want. But like I said, if we make it believable enough, we can always reason that we ‘fell out of love’.”

In an attempt to alleviate a developing headache, your hands slowly massaged your temples. The information was a lot to hand, but no matter how many scenarios you played in your head, they all seemed to have the finale you wanted. Regardless of what happened within the upcoming months, you were going to get your hotel back.

“If you’re really that worried, let’s just say I cheated,” Seokjin’s words snapped you out of your muddled thoughts.

Your eyebrows creased in confusion. “Wouldn’t that be worse for you?”

“The public already thinks I’m a man-whore,” he said wryly. “The board is not going to kick me out of office for something tedious like a divorce once I’m CEO. And I’m sure I can reason it out with my parents when the time comes.”

You laced your fingers together, hoping to wring the concerns away. There was no use in overthinking the situation; it certainly beats staying miserably married to someone you barely know.

You let out a shaky breath, before mustering the confidence to say, “Fine.”

“Great, I knew you’d be reasonable.” He flicked his wrist to look at his watch, gaze composed despite the tiredness in his eyes. “I’ll have my secretary e-mail you a written agreement.”

“Great,” you mimicked his deadpan tone. Gone was the casual Seokjin who paced around behind the bar with much familiarity. This was the COO of Kim Hotels Seokjin; precise and straight to the point.

Better get used to that.

“Thanks for the drink, future wife,” he slid off the barstool with poise, the distance between you and him closing ever so slightly. He smelled like pine and cedar, with a hint of citrus; it was enough for you to suddenly sober up, unaware you were inebriated, to begin with.

“No need. You forced your way in, anyway.” You said dismissively, pretending to switch tabs on your screen. Where was that random website you were looking at earlier?

With a quiet laugh, he turned to leave. You listened to his rhythmic steps and perked up when he paused.

“See you tomorrow, fiancée,” he said without turning.

“Tomorrow?” you tried not to give away the surprise in your voice.

“We have to start going on dates to convince them that we’re serious about this, right? Pick you up at eight, sharp.”

With a wave of his right hand, he stalked off towards the exit, leaving you alone in the restaurant.

Suddenly, the premise didn’t appear so simple. You reached for your glass of wine and finished the rest of your courage drink in one gulp.

NEXT ; 

thanks for reading! feedback is always appreciated ;u;

[nol-overwatch]

really rough draft of something but it’s related to 76

Been writing a lot this past couple of weeks, and I wanted to show  a sample of what I’ve been doing.

Paris.

You’ve been here twice in the past, not for pleasure obviously but for work. The first time was when you were still in Overwatch; the official Overwatch, mind you, before that crap with Blackwatch and the bombing of the headquarters happened. Just a simple mission of just you, your squad, and tons of targets to shoot down.

The second time was quite recently, a year ago when you first answered the call. Null Sector was terrorizing the city, and while you were worried if you would be the only one there trying to defuse the situation, seeing your old comrades fight alongside you eased those worries away.

Reinhardt was still fighting, despite his old age. You have to thank Brigitte for looking after him all these years. Genji’s actually wearing clothes, to your surprise. You still tease him about it every now and then. Angela’s still as beautiful as ever, and Tracer never failed to bring a smile to your face.

A lot of things have changed, but for some reason you still think things are still the same.

Nowadays, your ragtag group of allies acted as some sort of unofficial version of Overwatch. You still had to hide from the UN, who immediately denounced your ineligibility the moment your faces appeared on live television all across the world. Talon obviously tried to annihilate your group, and some organizations have teamed up with them as well. Some of the general populace even wondered why on earth you even banded together again.

Oh, well. No matter what happens, the world needs heroes. They don’t specifically need you, but who’s to step up in your absence when you’re already there?

In any case, you didn’t think you’d get to see Paris again, after what happened last year. Despite the people echoing praises about you all over the internet, governments are still reluctant to accept this new Overwatch. Unlike last time where you leisurely flew into Paris with Economy class seats, now you have to sneak in with the Orca and drop off at least a couple of miles away from your destination. You thought it wouldn’t be that bad, if not for your partner for today’s mission.

“You always daydream before an operation?” A stern, grumpy voice sounded beside you as you grimaced and resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “You've always been such a pain in the neck?” You muttered under your breath before checking your assault rifle for any last minute adjustments. You must’ve checked it too many times to count at this point, just as much as this old Soldier’s nitpicking on your imperfections.

You’ve got to admit, you got along well with everyone in the Recalled Overwatch, well, everyone except for the masked vigilante sitting next to you. As far as you’re concerned, you don’t really care who it is behind the mask, although you find yourself getting annoyed every time you two interacted. There was never a time where you have good interactions with this man.

That’s why it surprised you when he volunteered to go on a scouting mission with you. Usually, you don’t mind a partner or two in your ops, but the Soldier himself? You thought he’d be battling out in the front lines, not in the shadows of some building, watching enemy movement.

You thought for sure he hated you, with the way he’d berate your posture, the way you carry your weapon, and how you seem to be the only loud person in the group when you’re having a fun time fooling around with the younger agents. Really, it’s almost as if he’s got a bone to pick with you. In a way, it all seemed familiar to you; all these scoldings and backhanded attempts to straighten you up, reminds you a little of the commander you once served. You extinguished that familiarity as soon as it came up; there’s just no way for you to hope on something impossible.

Even if Captain Amari, this guy’s partner and someone you also thought dead, came to the Recall with him just a few months ago.

“Tracer,” Your current partner grumbled to your pilot up ahead. “How long are you going to keep flying in circles?” He pointed it out as the brunette girl sighed loudly.

“I’m waiting for the sensors on the airfield to turn off but Winston’s taking too long. I’ll have to drop you all off some miles away from the target if we’re proceeding as usual.”

Right, they upped the security on the airfields because of last year. They should’ve done that years ago, honestly, when Overwatch first disbanded.

You took a peek on the overhead window and through the thinning clouds you can see the beautiful city lights and in the distance, the shadow of the Eiffel tower looming enchantingly over the Seine river. Man, if only you weren’t on duty, you could’ve gone to travel around these places. Maybe even take a leisurely walk with a date.

But no. You ended up having the spirit of a hero, and now you have to sneak around like rats until the world is properly ready for your appearance. “There’s always that building next to the Seine. See that, Tracer?” You motioned to a beautiful, but abandoned building off the side as you and the old soldier crowded over the holographic map hud.

“Maison Marat.” Tracer mused, now steering the Orca relatively nearer towards that area. “From what I know, it’s an old building where they used to hold public celebrations. They recently moved their festivities to the hotel area overlooking the Tower.”

“You sure about that intel?” You couldn’t exactly see, but you can tell from the creases forming on his forehead that he seems to be frowning towards the young woman.

“You could always just drop us off in the river. You're fine with swimming in the cold, right Soldier?” You smirked sideways to the old man, who only grumbled a bit, but didn’t bark back.

What a weird old man. “...We don’t have any choice. Even if the building shouldn’t be inhabited right now, let’s still be careful.”

“Roger that! Preparing for drop off.”

---

Thanks for reading. So far, I got stuck at this part and barely remembered what to do with it. But man, I do love some angst from beard 76.

[dashielldeveron]

Viper IX: Compos Mentis

Summary: You have one brain cell left, and by God, she’s going to have a good time tonight.

Warnings: swears, the law. Injury. Claustrophobia?

“Are you actually wearing that out?”

Clenching your jaw, you glanced at him in the mirror. Tom leaned against the doorframe while he pulled the knot in his tie, smoothing it down. “I am not speaking to you,” you said, fiddling to clasp your necklace.

With a flash of his eyebrows, Tom darted his eyes to the side. “You can’t wear red out in public. Especially if it’s a formal event. Just saying.”

“I don’t give a shit about your personal tastes.”

He bit back a comment, trudging closer to you. “When you’re with the mob, wearing red means you’re a ho. It’s mostly why everyone hates the girlfriend at the beginning of The Godfather. Do you want everyone to think you’re not a woman of honour? Put on something green, or something.”

You got the little lever underneath your fingernail, but it slipped out before you could connect it. “Should I slip on a maid outfit for you, master?”

Tom gripped the back of your chair, ducking his head in a grimace. “You can’t act like this when we get to the gala.”

“I don’t plan to,” you said, pulling the chain as far out in front of you as possible to get a look at what you’re dealing with, “but I won’t play the part perfectly. I’m not scared of you anymore.”

“You should be,” he said under his breath, and his hand came around your shoulders to slap away your own hands away from the necklace. “You’ve been a smart-mouthed snake to me. You’re on thin fucking ice.” He fastened it for you before sliding the clasp to the back of your neck.

***

After Harrison handed over your invitations to the suspiciously over-enthusiastic front-of-house staff, the three of you were ushered to what was functioning as a coat room before being loosed in the Natural History Museum.

You’d spent days upon days in the place for work, so you fidgeted while Tom and Haz greeted the positively sexy dinosaur skeletons in the foyer. Yes, yes, good, good. One of the best fossil collections in the world. But let’s go to the weird stuff, okay?

Not okay.

Though you took Tom’s arm as fucking instructed, he still had the gall to spit “Shut up, or I’ll kick your ass” at you when the first group of suits approached.

They didn’t like your snarky joke about carbon dating.

“I thought I told you to shut up,” Tom hissed in your ear, and you, simpering, playfully swatted him away, your eyes completely dead.

They worked their way through a couple of groups of people and exhibits—a good portion of these wealthy attendees had recently been freed from small gang rule; the Fratelli family had absorbed them about a month ago, and if Tom could persuade those near boundary lines, they might come over to your side.

You didn’t mind too much, because you knew more about everyone, generally, particularly if they were female-led (that kind of pissed you off, though, because hasn’t he unlearned his biases yet?). You had to remind him who some people were as they drew near, but you did it on impulse to obey (that kind of pissed you off, too).

What made you fume, though, was that Tom straight up didn’t introduce you to anyone. Harrison and himself, yes, along with establishing connections with other people already spoken to, but you? Not even the cover story that you were his lawyer for Osseous. Just…living up to their expectations, you supposed, that women were accessories.

When Tom had withdrawn his arm so that he could write something down for some lousy, old dudes who wouldn’t fucking leave, you took the opportunity to dig out your phone (your dress had pockets! The women you’d met had shared in your joy, showing off their own pockets if they had any).

You shot off a text to Adrien, letting him know you were there (he wanted you to see the lights at the front of the gem hall before they opened it up; he’d redone them while you were under house arrest)—and, you supposed, you could reply to the twenty-one texts Glory Pham had sent you, badgering you for your presence.

“Who are you texting?” Tom looked over your shoulder. “I thought I just saw a heart emoji.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, lowering your phone, “It’s noth—what is the fuck?”

Glory Pham primly snatched your phone out of your hands, pinching it between her thumb and index finger. “I’m confiscating this.”

“Oh,” you said, your shoulders heaving, “You startled me, Ms. Pham.”

Glory slipped your phone into a hidden, deep pocket in her Ao Dai. “Constant vigilance. You, too, Mr. Holland. And associate,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Harrison.

“Ms. Pham,” you said as they fumbled for their phones in their suit jackets, “I am a grown-ass woman. I can function at this fundraiser with my phone on my person.”

“As an ass-woman, you can’t if you want to catch every. Minute. Detail.” Glory glared up at you. “I want your undivided attention. If something goes wrong, I want you to notice. Pack away your little outside life and live in this moment. If you do well enough to ensure tonight goes smoothly, I may even associate with you in the future.”

You sighed as she ferreted away the other phones. It’d be nice if you could command Tom and Haz like that, but what do you, the consigliere, have that compares with a museum curator? “How will I find you if there’s something I can’t fix?”

“You’ll be able to. We open the gem hall in an hour. I want you there in fifty minutes.”

Your eyes glazed over as she strode away, and you swayed slightly. Oh, don’t have an episode now. That wouldn’t be ideal.

“Good evening, Mr. Holland,” came a voice from behind you, and Tom turned, guiding you with his hand on the small of your back. You let your vision blur for a moment before focusing on some guy you didn’t recognise. “I represent the D’Aleos. I have someone in the Hall of Amphibians and Reptiles wanting to discuss something with you.”

Tom quirked an eyebrow, a shine to his eyes that hadn’t been there for anyone he’d spoken to so far. “What about?”

“He wants to hire someone as a neutral mediator for a boundary squabble. One of your men—well, actually, the Viper.”

“Oh?” Tom’s hand slid from the small of your back to press into your waist. “I’m sure she’ll be interested to hear that. I’ll have to call her after the negotiation, if we can all be cordial. Lead the way.”

What in the do-huh? Bitch?

He led the three of you through the Egyptology section while you held Tom at the back to hiss at him.

“The fuck are you on? I’ll have to call her afterwards?” You clutched at his arm, curling your fingers in to make it hurt. “Who am I, then? Are you gonna introduce me as your whore?”

Tom bent his head towards you with an easy smile that wasn’t directed at you. “If you keep being so cheeky, they’ll think that, anyway.” He gave a little wave to a passer-by and lowered his voice. “You’re the one who wanted to wear red.”

This is dumb. I just want to hear John Mulaney.

The D’Aleo guy led you into the Hall of Amphibians and Reptiles and gestured towards a tank with a heavily labelled, taxidermy komodo dragon, and when you rounded it, Tom broke into a genuine grin.

“Jacob,” he said, shaking his hand, followed by Harrison. “Where have you been? How’d you get hooked with the D’Aleos?”

“Good to see you, too. They hired me to plan an operation, and I wasn’t doing anything besides coding for my regular client—normal work stuff. So, I agreed. What have you been up to?”

“Eh, this and that. Mostly the bomb threat,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. “Sneaky little buggers, those. What’s this with the Viper?”

“Oh,” said Jacob, his eyes bulging momentarily, “So, I’ve planned their fucking thing, but there’s this old money family right on the boundary of where we’re crossing, and they’ve pulled some shit lately that won’t stand.” He ran his fingers through his heavily slicked back hair. “Me, I’m just the guy in the chair. I don’t deal with people. Your Viper, though—I know she can wrap them around her finger.” He jerked his head to the side. “The don wanted her, too. Once the idea got planted in his head, it wouldn’t leave. He doesn’t want to upset the old money. They have a bit of a legacy in the police force, and, well, you know what’s going on with them.”

“Coward,” said Harrison, lifting and doling out flutes of champagne from a passing server (you almost dropped yours due to the condensation, and Harrison had to grip your hands and the flute to keep it from falling—the conversation lulled while this happened, Tom quietly watching). “The don must really need the operation to go well.”

“Oh, man, he really fucking does,” said Jacob before tossing back some champagne. “He’s been through a lot of personal shit lately, with his wife and son, and shit, and he’s been—you know, work stuff.” He gave a dismissive wave. “And now he’s in super hot water because he got exposed this morning for rigging the last mayoral election. He’s a mess.”

Harrison frowned. “What, he got exposed?”

“He was practically etherised upon a table for something he didn’t deserve. Well,” said Jacob, “That’s his opinion.”

“What happened?”

Jacob shot a look at Tom and over to Haz (who were you?). “You mean you—you’re involved in it, too. I was relieved you even showed up tonight. I thought you’d be MIA.”

Tom clenched his hands into fists. “What happened?”

“I should’ve brought a copy, but who thinks to brings a newspaper to a fundraiser? It’s this morning’s Times. The Epiales article lays out all of us for our shit in local politics.”

Tom’s face went blank.

“Compares us to Italian mob control in the sixties and seventies and then to the Irish mob. Explains that there’s still mafia involvement in America in spite of the RICO Act. Then he goes back and puts us against mob rule in history. Focuses on the Roman Empire and the French Revolution.”

Harrison swallowed champagne thickly, sticking his tongue in his cheek. “Which French Revolution?”

“The one in 1789, dumbass,” said Jacob, and he winced. “Though he goes on to delineate the Hundred Days, the July Revolution, and the June Rebellion.”

“The fuck are those? Are they even real?”

“I looked them up after. They’re real.”

Tom finally spoke (his fingertips were just barely trembling around his champagne flute). “What exactly does it say about us?”

“It’s rough, Tom. The D’Aleos definitely have it worse, but.”

“Spit it.”

Jacob scrunched up his face. “He doesn’t mention the Hollands by name. You’re good there. But he does mention by name people you’re not even one degree of separation from, like Judge Le and that Bauman guy in Brooklyn, along with a bunch of guys you have on payroll with the police. They’re out, Tom, and if they talk, you are, too.”

Tom closed his eyes and slowly raised his finger to his mouth to bite his knuckle. “Anything else?”

“Your gentrification process for the heights for the last two years was laid out. Roman Empire shit, apparently.”

It took a bit for Tom to open his eyes. When he did, he drained his champagne flute and reached for yours, taking a large gulp from your still-full flute. He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna find Epiales and choke him with my own two hands.”

You took a moment to consider if you were into that.

“Someone’s—oh, my God,” said Tom, leaning on the komodo dragon tank (he really shouldn’t be doing that!), “I have to kill a traitor on the inside. Last time we had to do that, my dad was in charge.”

Harrison shook his head. “Do we let anyone else in rank know?”

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. “Um, no. No. That’ll give them time to panic and maybe escape. Oh, my God.”

Did you know that the Komodo dragon (Varanus komodoensis) are the heaviest lizards on Earth, reaching over 300 pounds and up to ten feet in length? They live only on Indonesia’s Lesser Sunda Islands, preferring the tropical forests and the valleys in which they were hatched. They are capable of walking up to seven miles per day and running at speeds up to twelve miles per hour.

Haz pinched his lip. “C’mon, we’ve got newspaper people on the payroll. Someone’s bound to know at least where Epiales’s IP address is, right?”

“Not at the Times. God, I don’t even know who to go to,” said Tom, and he turned to you, his forehead glistening under the yellow lights. “Isn’t this where you chime in with something helpful?”

The Komodo dragon has venom glands laced with toxins that induce shock, lower blood pressure, prevent clotting, and cause bleeding. When the Komodo dragon sinks its serrated teeth and yanks with its strong neck muscles, it leaves massive, gaping wounds in its prey, and it’s close to what you’re about to do to Tom.

“How can I help,” you asked flatly, “I’m just a smart-mouthed snake. Why don’t you set that Viper lady on them? I bet she’d know what to do.”

“Yes, I bet she would,” said Tom through clenched teeth.

“I just don’t understand all this man stuff,” you said, smiling vaguely as Jacob noticed you for the first time, “I think I should let you big boys discuss it alone. My head is starting to hurt with all these words I don’t know. Find me before the night’s over, though, because we have to fit in that blow job you paid me for.” You gave his bicep a squeeze and left their group to stand like the Blair Witch facing the front wall of the exhibit hall.

You counted to ten before turning around and patting your thigh. “Hot boy! Useless, hot boy! Come here and make yourself useful! Hot boy! You simply have to learn this fun fact about the American alligator!”

Through the tanks of taxidermy, you made out a scowling Tom shaking his head and handing the champagne glasses to Harrison. “Oh? Did you think I was talking to you? I meant Harrison!”

So, Tom held three, empty champagne flutes next to Jacob while Haz jogged to the front of the hall towards you, where you grinned as you leant against the alligator exhibit. “Seen any good movies lately?”

“Yeah, I saw one earlier today called What the Fuck Are You Doing? I would ask you if you were drunk,” Harrison said, jovially crossing his arms and joining you in propping his weight against the tank, “but I know better.”

“I read all of the information on the Komodo dragon and wanted to learn about other reptiles.”

“Are you gonna let him stew?”

“Yeah.” You shifted to cross one ankle over the other. “You’ve seen the way he’s been talking about me tonight, right?”

“I don’t know what else you’ve argued about recently,” said Harrison, nudging you with his shoulder, “and don’t think I can’t tell, but yeah, even just tonight would piss me off, if it were me. Not sure it excuses your behaviour.”

“So, what,” you said, clicking your tongue, “I couldn’t say, Say hello to your raging erection for me, since he didn’t have one, so I whipped out an equivalent. Jacob knows him, anyhow, so there’s no real harm done. Be grateful I’m not acting out in a way that matters.”

“Viper,” said Haz, facing you full on and away from Tom and Jacob, “What’s going on between you and him? He doesn’t even mention you when he comes in to work nowadays. Someone does, and he goes stony. Goes on to ignore you. What’s happening?”

You sighed, biting your lip and fiddling with your necklace. “Harrison, tell me I’m pretty.”

“Were I not mourning my girlfriend,” he said, crossing his heart with his index finger, “I would be trying to fuck you in the closest bathroom.”

“Thank you,” you said, “Even though that’s not what I was going for.”

“I think you’re absolutely gorgeous,” came a voice from the entrance—oh, Adrien? He took a hesitant step towards Harrison and you. “Thought it was as good a time as any to budge in. Am I interrupting?”

“Nor really. Harrison, I don’t think you met Adrien. He’s been working with Ms. Pham and me on the gem exhibit,” you said, smiling while they shook hands, “He’s the master electrician; he does the lights. Makes sure every facet of the diamond is flaunted. Adrien, this is my co, Harrison.”

“Thought I wouldn’t find you, since Glory’s taken my phone,” said Adrien.

Harrison cocked his head. “Yours, too? What’s with that woman?”

“Something about technology removing you from the moment.” Adrien shrugged, twisting the bottom of his champagne flute and popping it off. “To be fair, it works.”

“Is Glory looking for me?” you asked, wincing.

“No,” said Adrien, but he cringed after your sigh of relief as he went on. “But I’ve just been told she wants us to help catering strike when this is all over.”

“Fuck,” you said, “That is nowhere in my job description.”

Harrison placed a hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just pissed,” you said, frowning. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Tom waving off Jacob and striding your way. “Hey, why don’t we skive off together? It’s the end of the job. It’s not like she can get rid of us, and we can act like we don’t know—”

Tom swiped Harrison’s hand off your shoulder to stand between you. The conversation stopped completely while you glared at the spot he touched, but you didn’t acknowledge Tom himself.

“Anyway,” you said, edging closer to Haz and Adrien, trying to close the circle, “We could skip strike together, go get cheesecake somewhere while we’re in formalwear, and chill. You in?”

Adrien’s toothy smile lit up his whole face, but Harrison was fighting with difficulty to conceal his own. “Absolutely,” said Adrien, brushing his blond hair out of his eyes, “The closest place is Bones, but we could probably get to Milly’s without much trouble.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said, “And if we can’t get out of it, we should blare our music throughout the museum; the acoustics are so good here.”

Tom clamped his free hand on your shoulder, and you looked down at it. “Hey, you can’t just ignore me.”

“Don’t touch me,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

He squeezed your shoulder. “Then behave, goddammit,” said Tom, “You’re being outrageous. Can’t you pay attention to me?”

You knocked the champagne flutes out of his hand, and they clattered to the floor. You opened your mouth in Haz’s and Adrien’s direction as if nothing happened, but Tom grumbled from the floor before you could speak.

“Stop being so childish. You’re like a goddamn cat,” he said, standing.

“Oh, so I’m a cat, now? Is it because cats are held in binary comparison to dogs which are seen as inherently masculine whereas cats are seen as inherently feminine and therefore bad, crazy, and more easily sexualized? Or is it because snakes do not have fat stores and thus can’t have tiddies?”

Harrison had to bite down on his fist.

“V, when we get out of here,” Tom began.

You raised an eyebrow. “What you gonna do, fire me?”

“I have half a mind to.”

“I wonder where the other half wandered? Adrien,” you said, rubbing his arm, “Do you think catering has apple juice anywhere?”

“Maybe in the downstairs kitchen, near where they do the kids’ demonstrations.” Adrien shifted his weight to his other foot, his eyes flicking between the three of you.

“Good, I’m going. It was nice to catch you before Glory wears us out. You,” you said, jabbing Tom in the chest with an entirely different demeanor, “Don’t follow me. I don’t care what you have to say to me. Leave me alone for three whole minutes.”

Adrien laughed nervously while you strode off towards the staircases, and your heart throbbed at leaving him in such a tense situation.

But holy shit. What are you doing, Tom Holland?

Apple juice. Right. The closest staircases led to mammals, but the ones nearest the Kids’ Korner would have you doubling back through Egyptology. Since reading about Nefertiti or some other woman pharaoh would give you a real lift, you retraced your steps to that section.

You came to a halt at the entrance to Egyptology and bit the inside of your cheek. The main lights had been turned off, leaving only the exhibit spotlights. Sure, the big-ass pyramid recreation was lit but not the sarcophagi, tools, statues, or any of that stuff. Huh. You had to go in a booth sectioned off from the public to mess with the lights, so it couldn’t have been some clueless shit. Adrien would have mentioned if he’d altered anything, not that Glory would have let him.

Yeah, okay.

You scanned the hall as you wove your way through it, not noticing anything out of place, really, though the mould of this particular pharaoh’s open sarcophagus appeared oddly angular compared to what you traditionally pictured as a death mask—

“Viper,” a garbled, altered voice spat in your ear; a glove slapped over your eyes—as a short blade sank into your lower back. “You seem eager to be eaten alive.” Shoving in the knife to the hilt, he twisted it. “I can provide you with some opportunities.”

You—hunched, jaw dropped—

“Now,” he said, breath hot on your skin, “take a walk off my knife.”

“Viper! Hey, the fuck are you doing?” Tom’s voice echoed in the hall as he footsteps rushed nearer; your assailant’s shoulder pressed between yours as his head whipped around, his control on the knife slipping while it ripped up through your dress, leaving a thin cut up your back—which you didn’t even register before he’d bolted.

Tom was speaking, lifting you up from the floor (when had you fallen?). “And this is why you can’t go wandering off like that.” When you staggered, he gripped your hands. “Wait, are you hurt?”

“Wow,” you said, exhaling slowly while you pulled the neckline of your dress up, “Am I hurt—” You were interrupted this time not by your dumbass boss but by your assailant fucking ramming Tom in the back, shoving both of you into the angular sarcophagus that leant against the wall, and he slammed the lid closed.

You tilted your head, listening. “Okay, four clicks in succession, that means this is probably one of the refitted-re-hinged sarcophagi archaeologists did in the 50s,” you said, while Tom scrambled to pry it open. “It’s not gonna work. These were designed to stay shut travelling on ships.” Sighing, you closed your eyes, bending your head enough to graze Tom’s nose in the dark, but then your eyes flew open. “Holy shit, I’m bleeding on a mummy; oh, my God, fuck.”

Through the light of the slim crack, you could make out that Tom had furrowed his brow. “You’re bleeding?”

“I’m on a mummy,” you said, your chest heaving, grabbing the front of Tom’s suit to try to lift yourself from the body, but it still grazed you. “I’m getting my own DNA on a millennia-old body, holy fuck, holy fuck. I need to get out right now.” You wrapped your arms under his, sliding up his back to grip his shoulders—that worked a little better, but that thing’s crossed hands still touched you. “Oh, my fuck.”

“Hold on. Where are you bleeding?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—I got stabbed. I got fucking stabbed,” you said, slipping one of your legs between his while he braced himself against the sarcophagus sides. “I am ruining a goddamn mummy. I’m going to archaeology jail. Possibly real jail. Bonk.”

“Slow down. Where were you stabbed?”

“Slow down? I am lying on a mummy, Tom. Holy shit,” you said, “Get me the fuck off.”

Tom took a moment, his eyelashes illuminated by the scant light as he blinked twice, and he mumbled, “Right, then. C’mon, let’s swop places.”

“Huh? Is there room?”

“We’re going to try,” he said, and after a stretch of struggling, he shifted you as delicately as he could. In the end, you lay on top of him, lying atop the mummy.

You bent to bury your face in his chest so that you wouldn’t be snorting straight mummy dust, but he cupped your cheek to partially raise it.

“Now, V,” he said evenly, “Can you tell me where you were stabbed?”

“Lower back. Practically my ass.”

After some contorting in the cramped space, Tom snaked his arm around you, feeling around for the spot and pressing down hard once he found it. “Gotta keep pressure on it. The fabric around it feels pretty soaked. Do you feel lightheaded?”

“No. Adrenaline is probably shielding me from immediate pain,” you said, putting your face on his neck, since he insisted on hearing you (Wait, holy shit! Your face is in his neck! How romantic?). “I feel like I’m on the edge of a panic attack. But the dress is fucked; he sliced through it. Bunch it up to stifle the bleeding, if you have to. Fuuuuuck.” You licked your lips, the tip grazing his skin—a happy accident. “I’ve been reliably told that being stabbed is more painful than being shot. Fuck, how far up my back does it go?”

You squirmed to try to reach it, but Tom gripped your hand. “Don’t touch it, V. Just focus on me. You’re gonna be fine. Did you see who did it?”

“I’m not happy about you having to constantly touch me…bitch,” you said, reveling in how his hand basically pressed into the swell of your ass. “No, I didn’t, but the vocoder sounded the same as—God! I’m such an idiot. I should have said something, something about Epiales or some shit, but I clamped up! Goddammit.”

“That’s logical. You were stabbed. It’s fine,” said Tom. He strained to see your face, but you shuffled to hide yourself. He settled for pressing his lips near your hairline (!!!!). “I,” he said, pausing to breathe in slowly, “I can feel your pulse in your wound. Are you okay?”

“Am I okay—”

“Relatively, I mean.”

You shuddered into his neck, gripping both his hand and the lapel of his blazer. “Shut up.”

Tom sighed and kissed your hair, letting his lips linger. “If it makes you feel any better about any of this, you look beautiful tonight. Just—just focus on breathing steadily and staying awake, and let me hold you, all right?”

“Yeah, whatever,” you said, and you tried to change your position slightly, but the lid of the sarcophagus kept you still. “Don’t tell anyone I died because I got stabbed in the ass.”

“You’re not gonna die.”

“Well, last time I checked, I don’t eat fucking ambrosia and nectar, so I’m not fucking immortal, but go off, I guess.”

“An amendment: you’re not gonna die because of this,” he said, “We’ll call Haz—”

“If we had our phones.”

“God—” Tom scrunched up his face. “Damn it.”

The two of you simmered in silence for a while, with Tom eventually resting his other hand high on your back after pushing at the lid some more, and from the way he initially rubbed his fingers together, you were bleeding up there, too. Your heart rate had slowed with the adrenaline wearing off, and a stiff pang spread throughout your back. Honestly, if you tried to take your mind away to distract yourself from the pain, you could fall asleep, what with Tom’s body heat and the no-longer-being-directly-on-a-mummy, and all. You let your eyes close.

Tom cleared his throat. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your eyes shot open.

“I think you need to be honest about how you feel about me.”

You jerked away from his chest with such force that you railed it into the lid, but you couldn’t focus on that pain. “Do we have to do this now?”

He pressed down on your wound. “Would you like to consider damages we’ll have to pay to the museum instead?”

“Yes!”

With the new space between you, Tom reached out to graze your cheek with the back of his fingers. “C’mon, love. What am I to you?” He slid them to your chin to grip it. “Are you simply using me to get ahead?”

You scoffed. “Where would I go?”

He lowered his hand down your neck, traced your collarbone, and moved it to the nape of your neck to pull you towards him again (you got a face full of whatever Old Spice he’s wearing). “What do you want?”

You, bitch.

But you’re not going to say that.

And also the liberty to be my own person apart from you (maybe one day eventually)? Please?

That, either.

Tom clearly meant to stroke your back, but he couldn’t move his hand much and resigned himself to rubbing the bare skin at the back of your neck. “Come on. Tell the truth for once in your damn life.”

“I wanna see John Mulaney tonight.”

Tom groaned and bent to place his forehead against yours, and he swore under his breath. “Please,” he said, “Please. I’ll do anything for you. Anything. And you know it.” Tom kissed the tip of your nose before moving onto your cheek, keeping it dry and kissing down your face to your jawline; he slid his knee between your thighs, and with his hand stifling your blood, he guided you to grind gently against him.

I want all this to be over.

Frozen, you held your breath (both from Tom and from mummy), your fingers spread wide and you trembled. Lightning surged up your spine from your stab wound, concentrating in your neck. You gasped.

Tom was misinterpreting it; he was tipping your head to the side to make his way to just below your ear—he traced his tongue around the shell of your ear.

And if it’s going to end, Tom has to have all of the information.

He bit down when your legs clamped around his upper thigh, and he was warm—no. No, he was burning, and you remained frozen.

Which means letting him in.

“You dumb fuck,” you said, striking his chest once with your fist, “I’m Epiales. I’m the one writing all that shit.”

Tom’s lips halted at their spot on your jaw. “What.”

“It’s me. It’s my website. My work. I’m not on the twitter. I wasn’t lying when I said that was fake,” you said, “but the website and the Times column are mine.”

Tom pulled back from you, but you couldn’t read his expression in the dark. “What?”

Before you could elaborate, you were blinded by the influx of light and stumbled backwards out of the sarcophagus and onto the floor, sucking into through your teeth. Tom had caught himself and stood over you, and he opened his mouth to thank—

“You can’t just fucking shut yourselves in a fucking exhibit because you want to make out.” Glory Pham fumed. “You’re going to fucking ruin my—”

“Ms. Pham,” said Tom, “She’s been stabbed.”

“Get real, you little shit.” Glory gritted her teeth, and she kicked at you with her pointed shoes. “Where in the goddamn hell is it?”

“Holy fuck,” said Tom, swooping to block her foot, “It’s on her back. Can’t you see the bleed—”

“I don’t give a damn about your injury. The diamond, you fucker. Where’s the goddamn diamond?”

“Oh, my God,” you said from the ground, struggling to push yourself up on your elbows. “Oh, my God? Ms. Pham, what’s—”

“It’s missing, and I saw you sneak off by yourself. You’re the hired outsider; you’re the one always miffed with me; I know you have it on you, and I’ll scrape it out of your cunt if I have to—”

“Ms. Pham, holy shit. Why would I stick something sharp and a ten on the Mohs scale up myself when I have access to perfectly mediocre dick?” You pointed up at Tom, hard from—from what he—holy shit, you almost made out with him in a fucking sarcophagus. In a damn coffin.

Tom stepped to your side so that he wouldn’t be directly over you. “Ladies, why don’t you check the security cameras?”

Something pricked Glory at that, and she deflated. Her mouth twitched. “I may have been jumping to conclusions too soon.” She glowered down at you. “Why were you going off by yourself?”

Blood seeped down between your asscheeks. “Ms. Pham, I went to get apple juice from the kitchen near the Kids’ Korner.”

She sneered. “Why would you be going to get—”

“I can’t drink, Ms. Pham, and I got stabbed when I went to get some.”

“I came in as she was stabbed,” said Tom, holding out his hand towards Glory as if she were an untamed animal. Steady. “Her assailant escaped after locking us in the sarcophagus.”

Glory pinched the bridge of her nose and, you assumed, swore loudly in Vietnamese.

“Has it been an hour? Have we opened the hall yet?” You grunted as you stood, accepting Tom’s help (returning his hand to apply pressure to your wound and taking your hand, though his movements were stiff). “We can still salvage this somehow. We can say we had a—”

“Enough,” said Glory, and she waved you off. “No. In. Credible. I have to back out of a year’s worth of work.”

You ran your tongue over your lower lip, staggering a bit. “We don’t have to. I can say something to—”

She shook her head. “No. Get out.”

“Pardon?” you asked in a small voice.

“Leave me alone. I don’t want to hear from you,” said Glory, turning her back on you to walk away. She stopped herself. “If I want to contact you, I will. Don’t expect anything.”

And she was gone.

You barely had time to slump before Tom yanked you along. “C’mon, you fucking snake,” said Tom, jerking your arm forward, “You got any last words?”

You dry-heaved and stumbled over your own feet past Egyptian relics. “Yeah,” you said, “Say hello to your raging erection for me.”

***

compos mentis: of sound mind

***

taglist: @hollandroos @madmadmilk @parkerroos @parsleysbaby @z-ukos @pparkerwrites @lunamyangel @stealth-spiderr @presidentbttrflyfreak @paradoxparker @bi-writes @astronomyparkers @infamous-webhead @laurfangirl424 @softspideys @gryffinpuffs @plethoraofpuppies @laucontrerasv @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @spiderboytotherescue @cassiopeiaskies

[ckret2]

Heal Our Wounds

Long after the titan fight in Boston, Serizawa wakes up in a hospital bed, recovering unusually fast from radiation burns he only vaguely remembers receiving. Monarch immediately drowns him in love and attention.

Mark and Madison drop by to share a gift—and some of their post-Boston worries.

Has it really been two and a half months since the last fic, wtf. Anyway this is part of an ongoing series of post-KOTM almost-everybody-lives AU oneshots. If you don’t wanna read the others, all you need to know is that Serizawa survived and nobody knows how/why (answer: because I wanted him to), and Ghidorah's been chilling with Rodan and possibly dating him. Links to the other fics are in the source at the bottom of this post.

###

The first thing Serizawa noticed as Mark and Madison came into the hospital room was that they both had dark rings under their eyes. Serizawa was getting used to seeing his friends and colleagues like that. But they both smiled and their tired eyes lit up when they saw him.

He returned the smiles. "So! You've finally made time to visit me, eh?" he said chidingly, as if they'd just dropped in on him and not as if Mark had scheduled this visit a week earlier.

Madison immediately ran up to him for a hug. Mark reached out for her, mouth opened to warn her back; but Serizawa held up a hand to prevent Mark's protests. "It's fine," he mouthed to Mark over Madison's shoulder as he hugged her back.

"Wow," Mark said. "You're looking better already. A lot better."

Serizawa nodded and shrugged at the same time. "The doctors say I've been very fortunate," he said. "I think Gojira had a hand in it."

He wasn't sure Mark bought that, but Mark had the grace to keep his mouth shut and just tilt his head indecisively.

"How are you feeling?" Madison asked as she stood up.

"A little sore," Serizawa said. "But mostly tired. I've been recovering well, though."

Madison circled to the other side of Serizawa's bed so she could sit in the guest chair next to him. Mark followed her, but leaned against the bedside table. Serizawa really did have to ask the nurses if they could bring some more chairs into the room. Since he'd been cleared to receive visitors, his room had become a nonstop parade during visiting hours: Monarch staff and their families, government officials and sometimes their translators looking for advice on how to deal with their respective nations' new gigantic residents, various journalists and reporters interviewing him on current events and his involvement in the mass awakening of the titans...

And everyone seemed to start out with the same question: "I know you've told everyone that you don't remember how you made it from the bottom of the ocean all the way to Boston," Mark said hesitantly, "but...?" He shrugged questioningly. "I mean—anything? Weird dreams? Things you heard while you were unconscious...?"

Serizawa shook his head. "Nothing. I don't even remember the bomb going off. The last thing I recall is getting out of the submarine and seeing Gojira. And then waking up in a hospital, burning."

"Huh." Mark let out a long sigh, mouth twisted in confusion. "Well—whatever happened down there—and whatever's making you recover from your burns so well—we're all glad for it.”

"Gojira," Serizawa said again firmly.

"He's probably right, Dad," Madison piped up. "I've been reading about the effects of titan radiation. It starts out like radiation burns, but something about it makes organic matter heal a lot faster instead of just... breaking it down."

"Really," Mark said skeptically.

"Really! It's the same thing that makes plants grow back so fast in the cities that titans have been through! The research has been out for like three years, Dad," Madison said, rolling her eyes.

"There's a great deal we don't understand yet, but—what Madison says is true," Serizawa said, trying not to smile too broadly. Madison had always been such a precocious child, always talking about whatever interested her. For the longest time it had been insects; recently it had been camping and survival techniques—something that only in retrospect Serizawa realized was so worrisome. He was glad to hear her talking about science again.

"But we're not here to talk about that," Madison said quickly, practically squirming in her chair with obvious eagerness to move on to the next topic. She gave her dad a pointed look.

"Right!" Mark took off a satchel he'd slung across his body and opened the flap. "We—'we' meaning Monarch, basically—wanted to give you a 'get well soon' gift. Rick mostly put it together, but we all contributed the pictures."

"Pictures?" Serizawa asked.

"Of your new friends," Mark said, suppressing a smile. He pulled out a tablet, scrolled through it a moment, and offered it to Serizawa. "From all over the world. I'll email it to you, but we wanted to show it to you in person."

Serizawa took the tablet. When he noticed Madison leaning over the bed to watch too, he held it out farther to allow her and Mark to watch. It was a slideshow, the first slide of which said in large letters, "GET WELL SOON!!" and in smaller text, "from Monarch and the titans."

He swiped to the next slide.

Godzilla stared back at him with eyes crossed and snout smooshed up to the window of Castle Bravo.

Serizawa laughed.

He swiped through the notes and images, pausing to read the well-wishing messages from Monarch agents and their allies—some close friends, some he'd only spoken to once or twice—and to examine the pictures and clips they'd put together for him.

A video of Rodan dramatically bobbing and headbanging in time to a Spanish song. An attached caption mentioned that after recording Rodan bobbing to over twenty different songs and sending them to a comparative psychologist in California, they could definitively say that Rodan was actually meeting the official definition for "dancing"—deliberately moving in sync with the beat of the music—and he was better at keeping the beat than parrots, one of the few other categories of non-human dancers.

Several pictures showed Kraken hanging out next to various Monarch ships, mimicking the ships' paint jobs. In some of the pictures, he even displayed unintelligible lines across his head that looked like attempts to copy the text and symbols printed on the ships' sides.

The Chen twins included a selfie of themselves and Mothra, as well as a message they said was translated directly from Mothra herself: a sincere wish for Serizawa to either get well soon or have a smooth reincarnation if he didn't, and a thank you from both her and Godzilla for saving Godzilla. Apparently Godzilla thought of Serizawa as "the flashy human." (Serizawa had to pause to wipe his eyes before continuing to the next slide.)

Pictures of Behemoth moving heavy objects around for humans with patient amusement. A photo of "Quetzalcoatl" half obscured by the sea with a brief message informing Serizawa that, in action, Quetzalcoatl appeared to more closely resembled myths about a creature called "Manda." Poems, with an apologetic note that they were better in Arabic, that one of the Monarch agents at Outpost 75-B had written about Mokele-Mbembe.

A short note from Admiral Stenz that wryly said, "Even the Navy is having to adjust to your new friends," followed by an image of Ghidorah reclined on an aircraft carrier like a vacationer on an inflatable pool lounge.

From the corner of his eye, Serizawa saw Madison flinch. He looked up at her; her face had gone blank, but there was a terrible fear in her eyes. Mark put a hand on her shoulder.

Serizawa turned off the tablet and set it down on the bed. "Perhaps I should look at these when I don't have visitors."

Madison's gaze dropped. "I'm gonna..." She slipped out of her father's hand and circled around Serizawa's bed. "Gonna get a soda. M'thirsty."

Mark reached out for her. "Maddie..." But she'd already disappeared down the hallway. He sighed, sank down into the seat she'd vacated, and ran his fingers through his hair.

Serizawa let the silence settle for a moment before he quietly said, "She's been through a great deal."

"Has anyone told you that she got up close and personal with the Three Stooges? They saw each other. They interacted."

Serizawa shook his head, sitting up a little straighter. He'd heard that she'd made herself quite the hero—sneaking away from Jonah's terrorist gang with the ORCA; single-handedly breaking whatever control Ghidorah had over the titans; luring Ghidorah, Godzilla, Mothra, and Rodan to Boston where they could settle their differences. It had been clear just how much danger she'd been in; but he'd never imagined that danger.

"She says she was as close to him as..." Mark looked out the window and pointed, "as that tree." The tree was near enough that Serizawa could see how the surfaces of individual leaves curved and rippled. "He looked directly at her—all three heads. He tried to kill her. Blasted..." Mark tried to pantomime with his hand in front of his mouth. "Blasted that lightning of his."

A chill ran down Serizawa's back. He'd known Madison since she was born. The thought of her ending like that, incinerated by an enraged titan...

"She's changed so much," Mark went on. "She's having trouble sleeping. She's sullen, she's so serious... Even the sound of the air conditioning coming on makes her jump. And I don't know how much of that is everything she went through, how much of it is whatever—whatever eco-fascist brainwashing Jonah put her and Emma through, how much of it's just her being a teenager..." Mark trailed off helplessly.

There was frustration in his voice and guilt in his eyes.

"I—maybe I'd know if I'd—been around. If I'd seen her often enough to know what she's like."

"You're around her now," Serizawa pointed out. "You cannot change your past actions, but you can support her now when she needs you."

Mark nodded reluctantly. "I just... wish I knew how."

That was where Serizawa's sage advice ran out. His child rearing experience capped out at entertaining agents' kids with titan stories and pocket watch jokes in fifteen-minute bursts of babysitting. "Have you... looked into therapy?"

"I'm her father. I should be able to help her through this myself," Mark insisted. He shifted his position uncomfortably. "And everyone's booked up."

Serizawa tisked.

"But Maddie's... she's strong." Mark sounded like he was repeating something someone else had told him, not something he quite believed himself. "She'll pull through this."

Serizawa could remember all the times over the past couple of years that Emma had boasted about what a strong young woman Maddie was developing into—a boast that, knowing what he knew now about what Emma had been training Madison for, was more chilling in hindsight. He wondered if Mark had been visiting Emma in jail to talk to her about Maddie.

Strong or not, though, facing down a titan attack and being responsible for saving the world was an astounding weight to put on anyone's shoulders, much less a twelve-year-old's. Pile enough weight on even the strongest structure, and eventually it buckles.

Mark muttered, "I can't believe he's still running around."

Serizawa didn't have to ask who. Mark's gaze was aimed at the tablet's black screen.

"If that thing was dead, maybe... I don't know, maybe Maddie wouldn't constantly feel like she has to watch her back. Like she's afraid he'll come back and finish the job."

Serizawa shifted to sit up higher. "I understand how your daughter's pain must pain you too," he said. "But that's no reason to condemn a living creature to death."

"It's not just that. He's dangerous, you know he is." Mark held up a hand before Serizawa could say anything else. "I know, I know—I should be making peace with the titans. I have with most of them. I don't think I'm at the point where I'd invite Godzilla to my birthday party, but he's on my Christmas card list."

From what Serizawa understood about American Christmas card customs, he was pretty sure that making someone's list was faint praise.

"But Ghidorah? He's not like the others. The others just... accidentally flatten human cities. To them it's like stepping on an anthill without looking. Ghidorah is that sick kid who holds a magnifying glass over an anthill. He's evil. Even you've felt it!"

Serizawa couldn't argue with that. He had seen Ghidorah up close in Antarctica—seen the way his eyes darted about, picking out humans across the ice so he could crush them. He'd seen the malice in Ghidorah's gaze. He'd seen the rage, too—a fury that had smoldered for eons, a fury that was older than the human race. He'd seen the light flashing off Ghidorah's eyes and teeth as he'd singled out Vivienne and devoured her.

But was what he saw in Ghidorah's eyes so different from the rage he'd seen in Mark's eyes when Mark had set foot in a Monarch facility for the first time in years, when Mark had snarled that all titans must be executed? Or the cold malice in Emma's eyes when she'd declared from the safety of a terrorist's bunker that human civilization had to be scoured from the Earth? If either of them had been Ghidorah's size, would Mark have been any kinder to Godzilla or would Emma have to Boston? Serizawa had his doubts.

There was no anger that wasn't somehow inspired by pain, by suffering, by fear. Even though Serizawa could still see Vivienne disappearing into Ghidorah's jaws over and over when he closed his eyes, there was some part of him that wondered what it was Ghidorah feared so deeply. And for that, Serizawa pitied him.

"You yourself called Ghidorah a false king," Mark went on. "You know he doesn't belong on this world."

"That is true," Serizawa said. "But he could belong. There is room enough on our world for him to find a place he fits."

"Wh—" Mark leaned away from Serizawa, blinking in disbelief. "How does a false king fit in on Earth?!"

"By learning to act like a citizen, instead of a conqueror."

"I—Wh—You don't think he's going to just do that, do you? Out of the goodness of his big, lightning-spewing heart? Before he floods the planet, or—or challenges Godzilla for leadership again?"

"What has he been doing since Boston?" Serizawa thought he already knew—although he wasn't currently working, he was receiving regular reports from several outposts, mainly from people who thought he'd enjoy hearing them—but he wanted to hear the answer in Mark's own words.

"Well, he—he's been skulking near Rodan's volcano, mostly. Throwing any trailers or tech we try to so much as get on the edge of the volcanic rock back into the village. He's been learning Rodan's language—did you know Rodan has a language—?"

Serizawa nodded. "I'm subscribed to Dr. Flores Rosales's YouTube channel."

That almost got a smile out of Mark. "Of course," he said. "Rodan's even been teaching him... more complicated calls. So the next time he tries to take over, he's going to be able to give the other titans direct orders. And he's been exploring the planet. Learning the landscape. Playing with our weather—he diverts entire hurricanes like they're nothing. He turns over tanks like they're toys. Experimenting with human technology—our technology. Studying how we work."

Serizawa nodded again, absorbing that analysis.

"Getting a better understanding of our planet," Mark concluded. "He's going to be better prepared the next time he attacks it. The longer we wait, the more prepared he gets."

Serizawa took a moment to process that, collect his words, and then reply carefully. "I can understand how his actions appear to you," he said. "And perhaps that is what Ghidorah is doing—studying us, toying with us. But when I look at those same things, here's what I see. Ghidorah has found a home—perhaps a temporary one, perhaps more permanent. He's established the borders of what he feels like is his territory, and when we respect his boundaries, he has respected ours. He's learning to communicate with his neighbors through words instead of through violence. He's shown us that his species sings—that he understands art. He's shown us he has a sense of humor. He's discovering that the earth is covered in unique, fascinating places, and that humans aren't playthings to torture and kill but inventors and engineers. He's made a friend—a friend whose lessons and advice he will sit and listen to, a friend whom he goes to great lengths to protect from discomfort, and a friend who he seems to care for."

Mark also took a long moment to think over Serizawa's words. He was growing a little bit, Serizawa thought. If they'd had this conversation before Boston, Mark would more than likely have steamrolled over Serizawa's interpretation and clung to his own—as he had with so many other opinions he'd had for so many years. Maybe discovering he was wrong about Godzilla had made him a more thoughtful person. Or maybe he was just working to be more respectful because Serizawa was in the hospital—time would tell.

Finally, Mark said, "A 'friend' who he fights with. All the time. Rodan clawed his wing up pretty good in Antarctica."

"And then kept him warm through the night, stayed near him for the next few days, and reactivated a volcano that's been dormant for four thousand years to give him a place to rest. I don't think it was a fight fueled by hatred," Serizawa said. "Have you been watching Rodan's language lessons as well?"

"A few. Not as many as I should," Mark admitted. "It's hard to look at—I mean—Ghidorah tried to kill me and my daughter."

Serizawa nodded understandingly. He had just about gotten used to the sight of Ghidorah curiously ask Rodan to clarify what the word "many" meant, and even at that Serizawa still sometimes instead flashed to a memory of Vivienne's last moments. "You should ask Xochitl if she has transcripts," Serizawa said. "Ghidorah and Rodan squabble over which fights 'count' and 'don't count' like two children trying to cheat at a board game. They see their battles as play."

"Huh," Mark said. "Like...?" He didn't finish the question.

Serizawa gestured encouragingly at Mark to continue. He had a feeling he knew where Mark had been heading.

"Well." Shrugging self-consciously, Mark said, "You know the joke theory that Outpost 56-B's been putting forward."

An amused smile broke out across Serizawa's face. "That Rodan and Ghidorah might be...?"

"Courting," Mark mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief. "That what we're seeing is courting behavior. Or—or dating, are they intelligent enough to date? I mean, Ghidorah's building radios..."

"I think there's some potential to the theory," Serizawa said, still grinning. "Outpost 56-B has collected some very compelling evidence. It's not conclusive, but it's certainly suggestive."

"Suggestive." Mark shook his head again and rubbed his eyes. "There's no way they're reproductively compatible."

"Not all couples are. Either in the animal kingdom, or in our own species."

"So, is that the bet you're wagering?" Mark asked. "You think we shouldn't try to kill Ghidorah while we still have a chance because if he decides to settle down and make a big fiery nest with Rodan, he won't destroy our planet?"

Serizawa sobered up. "No," he said. "I think we shouldn't try to kill Ghidorah because his behavior suggests he no longer wants to kill us. It suggests that he is trying to leave conquering behind and trying to behave like a fellow citizen of our planet—cooperative, respectful of the other species he shares the world with, communicative with his neighbors despite the massive language barriers. If that changes, through Mothra we can call Gojira for help. If it doesn't change... then if Ghidorah is seeking redemption, I think we should let him seek it. Whatever his motive may be."

Mark thought that over, lips pursed. Finally, he said, "I hope you're right. You've been right about a lot of other things, but..." He sighed.

It would take Mark some time to accept. That was understandable; Serizawa saw no need to rush him. Ghidorah had directly threatened Mark's family, after all. But Godzilla had ultimately helped cause far greater harm to the Russell family—harm that couldn't be healed with time—and Mark had made peace with him. If Ghidorah's recent behavior really was indicative of a change, Serizawa was sure Mark could eventually make peace with Ghidorah, too.

For now, though, Serizawa should probably lighten the mood. A bit of humor creeping back into his voice, Serizawa said, "But, if it does turn out that what we've been observing on Isla de Mara is courting..."

Mark gave Serizawa a wary look. "What?"

"Do you remember what you said when we were trying to figure out why Ghidorah was heading toward Isla de Mara?" Serizawa asked.

"Oh no." Mark buried his face in a hand, but not before Serizawa got a glimpse of him fighting back a smile. "Not you, too. Nobody's let me live it down."

"You said he wanted a food, a fight, or a..."

"I know! What about it?"

"Well, then." Serizawa sat back, shrugged permissively, and said, "Let them fuck."

Mark huffed.

The conversation drifted to how their respective extended families had weathered the attacks and the corresponding changes to their daily lives, to Mark's tentative plans to balance getting back into Monarch against keeping Madison away from any active outposts, and to Serizawa's goals for once he was back on duty. Serizawa planned to return to work as soon as he was allowed out of the hospital.

"And to visit all of them," he said firmly, "the moment the doctors allow me on an airplane. If I can't take a plane, I'll ride a boat."

 Mark chuckled. "All of them? Even the mean ones?"

"No such thing," Serizawa said confidently. "Maybe hurting, maybe distrustful of humans—or maybe so far removed from our cultures that they don't yet recognize humans as feeling people—but not mean."

"So you gonna go open up diplomacy with the titans on behalf of humanity?" Mark asked. "Go say 'hi' and have a little chat like you did with Godzilla?"

Serizawa smiled. "If they'll let me."

Madison finally came back in the room, smiling shakily but clearly calmer than when she'd left. She didn't have anything from the vending machine. Neither Serizawa nor Mark commented on it.

"Afraid this is leaving with me," Mark said, picking up his tablet from the bed. "But I'll email you the slideshow. They let you have your phone in here, right?"

"I have a new one." His old one had been with him during his meeting with Godzilla. It hadn't shared Serizawa's miraculous survival. Rick Stanton had helped him get all his old data out of "the cloud" onto his new phone, and once he had his photos back he liked his new phone better. It was bigger.

"We'll come back as soon as we can," Maddie said as she leaned in for a hug, then looked to her dad for confirmation.

"Of course," Mark said, nodding, "unless you manage to talk your way out of here before we find time to come by again."

Serizawa grinned. As much as he might want to, he probably needed to be able to walk out the door by himself before he could go. "If you don't come see me before I get out, I'll come see you." He had a whole list of people he needed to visit.

The last thing Mark said before he left was, "Get some rest. You've still got a lot of recovering to do."

On more than one level. "I will." Glancing between Mark and Maddie's tired faces, Serizawa said, "So do you."

###

(Do you guys know how long I've been waiting to write Serizawa saying "let them fuck"? Like half a year. Anyway so the “titan radiation heals injuries instead of making them worse” is, obviously, a lot of BS and Not How Radiation Works, but it’s consistent with KOTM’s “titan radiation heals nature and grows plants!!” and with Legendaryverse’s overall lack of people getting severe radiation burns from being so close to confirmed-radioactive kaiju all the time. If canon’s gonna act like kaiju have some made up form of Magical Healthy Radiation, okay, I’ll roll with that.)

(Replies/reblogs are welcome and greatly appreciated! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of KOTM and Rodorah fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

[moonlit-imagines]

Masterminds

Dick Grayson x fem!reader

warnings: smut/NSFW, alcohol mention

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Titans all working together to get reader and dick to admit their feelings for each other? Maybe some smut or at least heavy messy making out?”

“I’m so sick of watching Dick and y/n butting heads every goddamn second of the day.” Rose rolled her eyes while observing the argument you and Dick were having over one of your most recent missions.

“It’s so obvious they want to fuck.” Jason shook his head, and Rose was none too pleased. She swatted his arm. “What? It’s the truth.” He shrugged as he opened a snack-sized bag of chips.

“No, Dick, you were the one who put everyone in danger during the mission. You’re not fit to lead this team! Just face it!” You threw your hands in the air while Dick gave you a stone-cold look.

“You fucked it up when you dropped that smoke bomb.” He hissed through clenched teeth.

“The smoke bomb that prevented them from aiming their guns at us? Huh?” You shot back, keeping Dick silent. “Don’t have anything to say? I thought so.” You grabbed your gear and marched out of the room. “If I were you, I’d give stepping down a thought.”

“They’re in love.” Rose leaned her head onto Jason’s shoulder and chuckled. He pulled out his phone and texted the Borderline Child Abuse groupchat.

JJ: i propose a sceme

Gar: no. please.

Rosie: hear him out

Rach: what gar said

JJ: fuck off, we’re trying to get y/n and dick together

Gar: about time, they’ve been at each other’s throats for months

JJ: yeah, that’s why we’re fixing them because they can’t function on their own

Rach: plan?

Rosie: we were thinking about locking them in a room

Rosie: but let’s be honest, they’d find a way out in 5 minutes or less

Gar: fair point

Rach: what if we set up a mission? like, try and convince them that they have to go undercover on a date. maybe it’ll put them in the mood?

JJ: ...anyone against that one?

JJ: speak now or forever hold your peace

Rosie: best plan so far, lets do it

The kids conducted this plan carefully. They sent messages to Dick through Donna’s accounts, giving intel about a suspect that they needed to keep an eye out for. Then the kids made a dinner reservation for you guys and instructed him to take you undercover. He protested, but their reasoning was that all the other adult Titans were out of town.

Dick wasn’t happy with this plan, but neither were you, so that made him feel a little better.

Operation: Date Night was a-go. You and Dick had to dress up pretty proper for this place. It was a higher-class place. But Dick was paying, so it was fine by you. You stepped out of your room wearing the fanciest outfit you could find. An ankle-length, dark blue dress with matching earrings and a necklace, and black open-toed heels. The kids didn’t hesitate to hype you up while you walked through the Tower.

“Well, you don’t look like shit today.” Dick commented.

“Wish I could say the same for you.” You rolled your eyes and walked into the elevator. “Stay out of trouble, guys. We’ll be at a hotel tonight on patrol. Don’t stay up late and eat a decent dinner, you got me?” You warned them all.

“Yes, we got you.” The chorus of bored children sang. You nodded with a smirk as the elevator doors closed.

“You’re not their mom.” Dick told you.

“And? Someone needs to show them some love. And three of them don’t even have moms, so can it, Grayson.” You snapped back, keeping him quiet. The elevator took you to the garage, where you got to pick your car for the night. You picked the black BMW. It was practical.

“Get in.” Dick held the door for you and slammed it as soon as you got in. Nearly took off your foot.

“Watch it, Dick-head.” You snarled at him, but he just ignored you and started the car. You weren’t happy about this date. Real or not, you didn’t want to be seen in public with him. Once you’d arrived at the restaurant, you had to be on your best behavior. Stay in character.

It was awkward, there was a lot of small talk as you peered around the room, looking for a target. You just kept sipping your wine and wishing you could divert attention away from Dick. He was a bore. After a few minutes, you peered over to him and noticed he was staring. At your cleavage.

“Hey, asshole, my eyes are up here.” You snapped.

“My bad.” He leaned back in his chair and took another scan of the room. “Maybe our guy is already at the hotel?”

“I guess he could be. I think we should finish our dinner and head over.” You suggested. Dick nodded in agreement and started scarfing his food down. You kicked his shin and startled him. He gave you a hurt-puppy look.

“Ow.”

—————

You and Dick headed to the hotel and checked in under your fake names. It was a nice hotel, it really was. Pretty expensive, though. Your room was on the fifth floor, and you had a different view. Dick carried your bags like the good fake boyfriend he was. You opened the door for him and he threw your bags down.

“That was rude.” You checked the room out while he jumped onto the bed. The only bed. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.”

“Guess you’re sleeping on the floor.” He joked with you, but it was not amusing.

“Watch it.” You glared at him. “I need to clean up.” You rifled through your bag and found some clean clothes to wear. You hopped in the shower for a quick minute and washed your face, then put on some pajamas. It was really just shorts and a bra. When you left the bathroom, you found Dick standing in the middle of the room in his underwear.

“Well, at least I’m not the only one in the Tower sleeping half-naked.” He remarked. You walked past him and sat in the bed. You knew he was checking you out when you weren’t looking. “So, where do you think this guy is?” He asked.

“No,” You clicked the TV remote, “fucking,” and again, “clue.” Dick stared at your legs, wishing he was in between them now. He hated himself for thinking that.

“If you really want to lead the team, maybe you should care a little more about the mission.” He commented, knowing it’d piss you off. You stopped and turned the TV off, then got to your feet and stomped towards him.

“You’re one to fucking talk, aren’t you?” You huffed.

“Would you like me to stop?” Dick asked slyly. You licked your lips and clenched your teeth, trying to restrain yourself, but to no avail. You jumped into his arms and pressed your lips onto his. This is what he’s wanted all night. And for a while. You, too. You were both just too stupid to realize.

He threw you down onto the bed and crawled on top of you, aggressively making out with you. You could feel his bulge growing against you. Dick’s kisses started getting sloppier as he moved down to your neck, sucking uneven dark spots across it. Then he grabbed it and whispered to you.

“You’re gonna have the time of your life.” He gently took your earlobe in between his teeth, making you shiver. He rubbed you through your shorts, teasing you ever so slightly. He placed kisses above your waistline, you whined as you waited for him to get it on. But he wasn’t so easy. He moved upwards and removed your bra. Fast. Guess he was good for something. He grabbed your breasts and massaged your nipples.

“Oh, my God, Dick, what are you doing to me?” You whimpered. He moved his mouth to you and put his mouth on your nipple, slowly sucking while you rested your hand on his head, humming as his tongue flicked against your nipple. Soon enough, you’re tits were covered in hickeys, too. Dick moved back down to the waistline and quickly ripped your shorts off. Not quite the underwear. He kept rubbing, now kissing your thighs, and occasionally biting them.

“Oh, yeah, you’re soaked.” He grabbed your pussy and felt the damp underwear. With that, he ripped it off and slid his fingers inside you. The arch in your back let him know you were ready for this. He pumped his fingers in and out of you while you moaned loudly. Dick leaned forward and began kissing your clit, but not before vigorously sucking on it. You grabbed his hair and panted through moans.

“Oh, Dick, yes!” You called to him. He flicked his tongue against your clit and started curling his fingers. “God!” He used his other hand to push your stomach down a bit. It felt even more intense, then. He was good with his tongue. Dick squeezed your thigh and sucked and pumped nonstop. In no time, you were coming.

“You taste pretty good, how about that?” He told you as he started to go down on you again. You were shaking and it only turned him on more.

“Fuck me, Dick. Fuck me.” You pleaded. He chuckled at your begging.

“Should I?” He asked as he straddled you. You nodded. Dick leaned down and started to make out with you again, driving you crazy and he knew it. He stuck his tongue down your throat and held your tits in both of his hands.

“Please, Dick.” You frowned. He licked his lips and teeth and observed your bothered expression.

“Okay, fine. You asked for it.” He ripped his underwear off and you stared at his cock. It was bigger than you expected. He climbed over you and lined himself up, then stuck his dick inside you. You both let out a loud moan and he began to slide back and forth inside you. Without warning, he started thrusting into you, making you practically scream. He grabbed you by the throat and thrusted again and again. “Keep quiet, or else.”

He then grabbed your wrists and started kissing your neck again while you held your breath. His pace started slowing, but you expected it to change any second now. And ,of course, he pushed his cock in and out, in and out, while rubbing your clit. Your breathing was hard and unsteady, he enjoyed it. He moved closer to your ear.

“Get on your hands and knees.” He instructed. He pulled out of you and got you into position. Before going in, he grabbed both of your asscheeks and slapped one. He aligned himself again and slid in, immediately thrusting hard. One of his arms was extended to hold the headboard, which was banging against the wall. His other hand was wrapped around your hair, pulling your head back whenever he may please. You hummed each time he pushed inside you. “Am I hearing something?” He stopped and asked.

“N-no. I’m being quiet.” You told him.

“Good.” He slapped your ass and kept going. The headboard’s loud thuds drowned out most of the sounds you were making. “I’m going to come.” You heard him say. You backed your ass into him, helping him out some. “Oh, look what you’re doing to me.” He grabbed your hips and slammed them into his own. You could feel him inside you. He pulled out and flipped you over putting his cock in between your cleavage for a minute.

He slid back and forth, grunting as you pushed your tits together. Soon enough, he came. He aimed it all over your chest and moaned loud. You took your finger and swiped it across his mess, he watched in awe as you licked your fingers clean. Dick got up to grab you a towel and clean you up. You laid on the bed, panting and still shaking. He cleaned you off and threw the towel to the side.

“You didn’t think this was over, did you?” Dick started rubbing your clit again, making you resume moaning.

“You sure know how to please a girl.” You moved into his touch.

“Tonight, you’re mine.” He licked your pussy. “What I say, goes.” You bit your lip.

“Wish you asserted yourself as the team leader like that.” You tried to get under his skin.

“Oh, so it’s gonna be like that?” He asked you with an evil smirk. “You’re gonna regret it.” He took three fingers and stuck them inside you, viciously pumping as you screamed. “You like that?”

“Oh, yes, fuck! Fuck!” You were making a lot of noise now.

“What did I say about being quiet? Now I have to punish you.” He said roughly.

“What’s my punishment?” You asked innocently. He sat on the side of the bed.

“On your knees. Now.” Dick pointed down. You crawled off the bed and complied. You got on your knees in front of him and saw his throbbing penis. “We can’t wait all night, can we?” He brushed the side of your face softly, then grabbed you by the chin. “Make me proud.”

You grabbed his dick with one hand and wrapped your lips around it. It felt bigger in your mouth, too. Dick put one of his strong hands on your head and you began moving along it’s length back and forth. His hand guided you farther and farther up his cock and your eyes started to water. But his moans of satisfaction kept you going. You spun your tongue around his tip, which drove him crazy.

“What are you doing to me, oh, baby.” He brushed your hair with his fingers. You sucked harder and faster, which spiked his breathing, you could tell it was only a matter of time before he came again. “I saw how much you enjoyed my cum earlier,” he roughly balled his fists in your hair, “hope you’re just as excited.” You felt him release in your mouth as he moaned in delight. You were quick to swallow it all for him.

He watched contently as you licked his cock clean. He wiped the tears from your face and gave you a big kiss.

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

[ephemeralstark]

Let This Moment Be the First Chapter

by @ephemeralstark for @where-rmysocks for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: T

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker 

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan

Summary: Peter Parker: intern, Spider-Man, has never met Tony Stark in his life.

Tony Stark: has to do a speech at Midtown, knocks a bully down a peg or two, almost gets shot but is saved by...his intern?

Note: so I kinda combined two of the prompts and I hope you enjoy ahhh!! 

Click Read More! or read here on ao3 

“This is such a waste of time,” Tony grumbled as he shrugged on his suit jacket, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see if Pepper was paying any attention to his dramatics – she wasn’t. “This is a school, and it’s going to be full of greasy, sweaty children who care about nothing more than who’s dating who and where they stand in the popularity ranks.”

“You were a kid once,” Pepper said, “were you like that?”

“Yes!” Tony said sounding exasperated, “Pep, I was exactly like that, I mean I was a genius of course, but I was still a stinky, greasy teen.”

“You need more interns and college students are great, but your image would be much better if you were showing an interest in the youth of America.” Pepper said, still not glancing up from her phone as she arranged Tony’s security detail for the day. “An internship with you could help these kids nail a scholarship or give them an edge over their competitors, and we need their knowledge to get an edge on our competitors.”

“Yeah, obviously, but Midtown?” Tony asked.

Pepper sighed and finally graced him with a stare of utter disbelief, “Tony, you have an intern who goes to school there.”

“I do?”

“Yes. Peter Parker, he’s fifteen, straight A student, has an interest in his extra-curriculars and he’s on his decathlon team.” Pepper said.

“How do you know all of that?” Tony asked.

“Because we moved him to R&D.” Pepper said. “Because he’s one of the best interns you’ve ever had and because he’s the kid you should want to keep, you need a brain like his – treat him well and he’ll take this company far.”

“You’re already organising my next in line?” Tony asked, arching an eyebrow at her. “Shouldn’t that be our kid?”

“We don’t have a kid.”

“Not yet.”

“Peter Parker.” Pepper repeated, placing a folder in Tony’s hands and ignoring his muttered ‘I don’t like to be handed things’.

Tony continued to grumble as Happy appeared and said the car was ready. He continued to grumble as they drove to the stupid school, and he even grumbled as he was surrounded by a rather impressive security team.

In fact, he didn’t stop until he was standing in the principal’s office. He paced back and forth as he listened to Principal Morita talk about how proud they were to have him there speaking to their students. It was the usual bootlicking, annoying speech that everyone gave – hoping to stroke his ego and get their school put up on a higher pedestal than all of the others, so Tony zoned out, that was until-

“I don’t mean to alarm you, but there is a certain student here,” Principal Morita said carefully, as though he was unsure how to word things, “he’s been through a lot, he was orphaned, his uncle died a few months ago, so it’s normal that he would act out a little-”

“Is he a threat?” Happy interrupted, hand resting casually on top of his suit jacket, but Tony knew full well what sort of weaponry lay underneath. He wanted to snap at Happy not to pull a weapon out in a goddamn school but thankfully he was beaten to it.

“No.” Principal Morita said quickly, “no, no, no, no threats here. It’s just he’s been making up some lies, he was caught talking about an internship with his friends – an internship with you that is.”

“Oh,” Tony muttered, rolling his eyes, before remembering that Pepper had mentioned they had an intern who went to school here, he hoped that no one was giving his intern any stick, “what’s the kid’s name?”

“Sorry?” Principal Morita asked, Tony wondered whether it was just the other school kids who were giving that kid a hard time, he really hoped that the teachers weren’t joining in too – especially if the story about his uncle only having passed away a few months ago was true.

“The kid who claims to be my intern, what’s his name?”

“Peter.”

“Oh Parker.” Tony said. “Yeah, that kid works for my company, in fact I was considering turning his internship into a paid one – he’s a great kid.”

Principal Morita seemed to turn a strange grey colour.  

“You wouldn’t have given him any, I don’t know, detentions, would you?” Tony asked, eyes narrowing, “nothing that would go on his permanent record?”

“I’ll remove them instantly.” Principal Morita said, and Tony was satisfied to see a guilty look appear on the man’s face.

He wanted to plough on and make the man feel as shit as that kid had probably felt for being punished for a completely unfair reason, but a small throat clear from Happy convinced him to move on. He knew the security detail was anxious about the length of time he would be in the school and he wasn’t supposed to be dragging it out any further. He didn’t want to create more of a risk than there already was.

“Shall we then?” Tony asked.

Principal Morita seemed to remember the reason for Tony Stark being in his school, and he instantly jumped to his feet, bumping into his desk and knocking over his pen pot, “yes, yes, yes,” he said as he gathered them back up and made his way to the door, giving Happy a wide berth.

“The students will already be in the hall now, and I believe some of your bodyguards have taken the liberty to install temporary metal detectors and bag search everyone… thoroughly.” Principal Morita said.

“Standard practise.” Happy grunted.

“Yes, yes, of course, I quite understand.” The man said even though it was clear from the small frown on his face that he most definitely didn’t understand why they had done that.

How could he?

It wasn’t like there were people out for his blood. Well, maybe the odd parent or two, Tony paused thinking about the ruthless parents he’d come across in his time as they tried to convince him that their little cherub was the most important child in the world and should get a Stark Internship because of their family’s status.

Maybe Tony should lend the man his own security detail.

 They walked into the hall and Tony was met with silence, he wasn't sure that he'd ever seen a hall full of students be so quiet, it was rather unnerving - this was all Pepper's fault, she could have done the presentation and offered up the temptation of an internship to the students, she was so much better at public speaking than he was and that was purely because he knew he would drop an 'f' bomb somewhere. He was incapable of not. 

Thankfully the silence didn't last long, and Tony heard the whispers start to break out. 

Tony Stark!

Iron Man! 

Did you hear what The Bugle said about him last month...

My dad said that he once met Iron Man at…

I wish I was his kid, imagine what a life that would be…

Ha, Penis, I bet you're going to be so embarrassed when he exposes you for the fraud you are! Or rather, when he doesn't acknowledge you at all, because why would he? He has no idea who you are. 

Well, that kid sounded like a delight, maybe Tony would prove him wrong - he was obviously talking about the intern that he actually didn't know, but would happily pretend to if it would improve the kid's chances at a peaceful school life. Although, maybe his good intentions would go wrong as the other kids may pretend to be his friend to get closer to Stark Industries, Tony had dealt with that a few times in his life. 

"Alright, alright," Principal Morita said, standing slightly too close to the microphone, a squeal rang out through the hall and the students covered their ears with exclamations of annoyance, "settle down now, if you want to hear what Mr. Stark has to say then you all need to quieten down."

Tony watched as an excited hush fell upon the hall, some of the students looking as though they were minutes away from jumping out of their seats and launching themselves at him. For what reason though, he was unsure. 

"Now, I know this week has been long and difficult," Principal Morita said, "between the tests and presentations you've all been through, you've all done remarkably well, but now we will finish off our career week with a speech from Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries. Over to you, Mr. Stark."

Principal Morita stepped back, leaving Tony to wonder what the hell sort of tests a school could be giving to its students during a career week - back in his day they had been the perfect time for a skive, and yet all of the students he was looking at had bags under their eyes and tired shadows on their faces. School had definitely changed from his time. 

"Thank you Principal," Tony said politely, Pepper would be proud of him, "now, I know that you've probably had some great speeches this week, they have most likely inspired and motivated you all to look into the careers that are available to you and maybe some of you have already decided what path you would like to pursue - my speech will be nothing like those."

Tony paused while a few students laughed. 

"I'm not known for being a perfect person, I've messed up in the past, I've had my fair share of scandals, but what no paper can say about me is that I don't know how to run a business - because I do," Tony said confidently, "I haven't created a worldwide brand out of my name for no reason - Stark Industries has changed the way we look at energy, we've changed the face of clean energy and we've adjusted all of our practices in the workplace to leave as little a carbon footprint as possible.

"You may be thinking, 'why? What's the point in that?' well, I'll tell you what the point is - we are trying to improve the environment and improve the way we view the world."

He noticed a few confused glances - they were probably wondering why Tony Stark was lecturing them on clean energy, after all he hadn't managed to fully get rid of the image of being a weapons producer yet, he was still viewed as that person even though he'd made a pretty big deal about removing himself from the market. 

"I know, I know, what's the point of all of this?" Tony asked. "Why should you guys care what Stark Industries is doing to fix the world? Well, we've started employing interns to help us, we were employing college age students, but now we're reaching out to school kids. We want to pick your brains and figure out what you’re doing in your day to day life and figure out how we can use our technology to improve efficiency and reduce negative impacts on the environment." 

A hand popped up.

"Yes?" 

"So, you don't already have any school kids as interns?" A kid asked, and Tony recognised that voice as the one that had been calling the other kid 'Penis' earlier – likely the main bully of the kid that was his intern. 

"Well, we have one that goes to this school," Tony said casually, grinning internally when the kid who had asked the question paled, "he's the reason I'm doing this speech here, in fact, because he's doing such a great job at his internship that me and my fiancé - Pepper - figured that we may as well try and get some more interns with a similar mentality as what he has, and where better than the place where he was taught, where his friends are."

Tony watched as the kid gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish - before he drove the final blow home. 

"In fact, he doesn't know this yet, but he's going to have a final say on who we take on as new interns." Tony said. "We will do the shortlisting and then once we're down to five potential candidates we'll ask him who should get the job."

"B-but-" the kid stammered.

"Yes?" Tony asked. 

"What if he's biased and chooses a friend?" 

"Well if that friend has made it to the final five then they probably deserve the position." Tony said with a shrug. "So long as you're not bothering him, I don't think you should need to worry."

Tony realised that he had spent the whole time talking about the kid without even knowing which one he was, that and he'd made plans for the kid's future at the internship without actually making sure that he was alright with them. 

"Anyway, now that we've addressed all of that; Peter Parker - can you come forward please?" Tony asked. 

He scanned the students from behind his sunglasses, pleased that they would stop the rest of the hall from seeing that he had no idea who he was actually looking for. There was a small commotion somewhere behind the kid who had asked the question - the bratty bully - and a short kid with curly hair was pushed up to his feet by an unimpressed looking girl. 

The kid was wearing a dorky T-Shirt with a science pun on it, he looked as though he was about to faint or run away and Tony wasn't sure which option would be the least embarrassing for them both. 

"C'mon up here Pete." Tony said. 

Peter apprehensively made his way up to Tony and stood a few metres away, casting side glances at the older man every now and then before returning his gaze to the floor. 

"This is Peter," Tony said, "I'm sure you know him, probably better than I do, although I doubt you guys have had to deal with him stealing the last slice of pepperoni pizza and leaving you with the Hawaiian like a heathen." 

Peter frowned as though he was wondering himself if that was something that had actually happened, or maybe he was offended at the insinuation that he didn't like pineapple on pizza - Tony wasn't sure and he wasn't convinced that he would want to know the reasoning behind it. 

Pepper would have been better off doing this presentation - she wouldn't have hijacked it to prove a point to a stupid school bully. Why couldn't Tony just follow simple instructions? Give a speech, grab an iced coffee, go home. It would have been so much easier. 

It turned out that Tony's decision to prove a point to a bully would save his life as four things happened in rapid succession. 

Peter's head snapped up and he stared at Tony with a look of horror that sent fear spiralling through Tony's stomach. 

A window shattered above them. 

Tony was shoved to the ground by a force that he would have likened to that of being hit by a car. 

A bullet imbedded itself into the wall just behind where Tony's head had been. 

It was impossible. Peter had moved faster than the bullet, he had known where it had been intending to hit, but there had been no laser, no inclination that there was a gun on him, nothing - so how had Peter known? He couldn't have been behind the plot to kill him as he wouldn't have bothered to push him out of the way. Not only had he saved Tony, but he'd done it with such a strength that it made him suspicious. 

"Kid?" Tony asked, looking at the child who was staring wide eyed at the hole in the wall. "Are you alright?" 

"I- uh- yeah?" The kid muttered, making Tony keenly aware that he was not ok in the slightest. 

Tony tried to push himself up but he found that Peter's hand was stuck to his suck jacket...but... his hand wasn't closed around the fabric - it was open, his palm was sticking as though there was glue or something on it, but that was impossible. People couldn't just stick to things, not unless they were- oh. 

He was sticky. He had sensed the bullet coming. He moved faster than humanly possible. He was stronger than an average person. 

The kid was Spider-Man. 

"Come on kid, unstick yourself, people will notice." Tony murmured quietly, tugging on his suit jacket slightly to try and catch the kid’s attention again.

"I-" Peter's gaze shifted from the hole in the wall to his own hand and he stared at it as though it had betrayed him. He pulled it back to his own chest as though it had never been stuck in the first place. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok," Tony said, "I don't think anyone else noticed." 

"Noticed what?" The kid said, as though he had any chance of denying the obvious. 

"Tony!" Happy was there in an instant and they were surrounded by his security detail - it was like a wall between them and the outside world. "Are you alright? Did they get you anywhere?" 

"No, the kid was in the right place at the right time apparently." Tony said. 

"Should we be suspicious?" Happy asked, obviously wondering if it was more than a coincidence that Peter was there when he was needed.

"No." Tony said surely, feeling a headache forming behind his eyes from the stress of the near-death experience and the screaming of the students in the hall.

“This was meant to be cool.” Peter mumbled, a distinct whine in his voice, Tony was sure that he wasn’t meant to hear it.

“Happy, get us out of here.” Tony said. “The kid is coming back with us.”

And that was how Tony found himself standing in the middle of his workshop with a defensive kid sat on one of the workbenches both of them sipping sugary mugs of cocoa – to help with the shock of the day - as they watched a video of Spider-Man swinging in front of a bus and stopping it with his hands. 

"That's you." Tony stated. 

"No, it's not." Peter lied. 

"Yes. It is." 

"If you already know then why are you doing this?" Peter asked cocking his head in a mix of confusion and irritation. 

"You saved my life." Tony said. 

"So you're going to what? Expose my identity in thanks?" 

"Are you always so sarcastic?" Tony wondered. 

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, narrowing his eyes. 

"For the last four months I've been keeping tabs on the Spider-Man, trying to figure out his motives, see if he's a threat - the usual shebang, you know?" Tony asked, Peter didn't answer but that had been expected. "And then I learn that it’s you, you're the Spider-Kid, why do you do it?"

"Do I need to have a reason?" Peter asked. 

"Everyone has a reason for doing things, sometimes we don't know our reasons, but we always have them." Tony said. 

"So maybe I don't know why I do it." 

"That's a lie," Tony said instantly, "come on kid, cut the bullshit, why do you do it?"

"Why did you point me out in the assembly today even though you’ve never met me before and you had no idea who I was before today?"

"I heard that kid calling you... names earlier and your principal had warned me that there was a kid that was lying about working for me." Tony admitted. 

Peter snorted, "figures he wouldn't believe me either, but what you're saying is that you did it because you felt like sticking up for the little guy?"

"That's why your Spider-Kid isn't it?" Tony asked, knowing that he was right. "You know that most heroes are fighting the bigger threats to the world as we know it, and no one is stopping the petty crimes that are happening close to home."

"I wouldn't call assault a petty crime." Peter said. 

"Fair, that was poor word choice." Tony conceded. 

"But, yeah," Peter said with a sigh, "I'm looking out for the little guy."

"What motivates you to do that?" Tony asked.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked with a small frown.

"I mean what makes you put on that onesie and jump around Queens saving people and bicycles?" Tony asked, feeling bad for phrasing it like that when Peter flushed bright red and looked away. 

"It's not a onesie." He muttered. 

"It isn't?" 

"I did my best to modify some old pyjamas and a hoodie," Peter admitted, "I wasn't all that great at sewing so it was the best that I could do."

"I mean all things considered, it's not the worst." Tony said graciously. "But come on, what motivates you?"

"You're not going to let this go are you?" Peter asked. 

"Come on Kiddo, I'm Tony Stark, I don't let anything go." Tony said with an eye roll. 

"Fine," Peter said with a weary sigh that almost made Tony wish he could turn back time and forget to ask the question. Almost. He was also very curious, "I guess I figured that when you can do the things that I can, when you have the ability to save people, and you don't, aren't you partially responsible?" 

"You think you have a duty to protect the people in your neighbourhood?" 

"I know I do." Peter corrected him. 

"You aren't responsible for the wrongdoings of others." Tony said, hoping that the kid already knew that. 

"Aren't I?" Peter wondered. "If I see someone being mugged, and I don't stop to help them doesn't that make me guilty?"

"I can see what you're saying," Tony admitted, "but where does that responsibility end? How much pressure are you going to put on yourself before you crack?" 

"It's not that bad, I only patrol in Queens, and I do have a life outside of Spider-Man." Peter admitted. 

"Good, because you're young," Tony said, "you can't have the weight of the world on your shoulders." 

The kid glanced away, and Tony wondered if the kid already did. Hadn’t the principal said he’d recently lost his uncle? How and when exactly had that happened?

"Right," Tony continued after sensing that he wouldn't get much more out of Peter on that subject, "now, I don't think anyone noticed your sticky situation-"

"Don't call it that!" Peter insisted, flushing. 

"-but should anyone bring it up I've taken the liberty to put my number in your phone," Tony said, holding out the device.

"When did you even take this?" Peter wondered. 

"So if anyone mentions it, call me," Tony said, ignoring Peter's question, "I have a stack of NDAs already prepared and I can be there in ten minutes with the Iron Man suit."

"You'd do that for me?" Peter asked with wide eyes. 

"Kid, you saved my life," Tony said, "I'm upgrading you to my personal intern and your newest project is to help me design a new Spider-Man suit for you. If I have to fly across the city to protect my intern's identity, then I'll do it in a heartbeat." 

"You mean it?" Peter asked, Tony was almost afraid to say yes because he was worried the kid might burst into tears. 

"Of course I do." 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you." Peter rambled as he launched himself at Tony and hugged him tightly for a brief second before backing off with wide eyes as he remembered who it was he was talking to, "ah sorry, I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, I'm just so grateful." 

"Don't stress," Tony said, waving off the apologies, "besides, just wait until Pepper bursts in here."

"Pepper Potts?" Peter asked. 

"Yeah, she can’t wait to thank you for saving my life today." Tony said with a grin. "Don't worry, I didn't tell her your secret but don't expect her not to figure it out, she's a formidable woman with a brain to rival mine." 

"She sounds great." Peter said. 

"I'll remind you that you said that in a few months’ time when she's chasing you off the ceiling with a broom." 

"Mr. Stark, I would never crawl on the ceiling," Peter said with a look of shock, but Tony could have sworn that he heard a whispered, "at least not when you'd see me."

And so, the unknown intern turned into the kid who risked his identity to save Tony's life and in turn would eventually become his prodigy, not that he knew that fact yet - but as they settled down to start sketching out new blueprints for a Spider-Man suit, Tony had a feeling that he could get used to having someone to teach, someone who looked up to him, someone he felt protective over.