#my attempt at an older design for him; I debated giving him different hair and I kinda still wanna experiment with that but whatever

[un0vian]

I miss this guy…

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 8

Request: Yes or No

Sam and y/n had more development than y/n and Wanda lmao

~

You crossed your arms as you entered the room, glancing at the older man. You shared a look with Sam and Wanda, taking a seat in between Sam and Vision. You licked your lips, leaning towards Sam.

"What's this about?" You asked quietly, gaze flickering to Tony who sat in a corner.

"If I had to guess.. Probably about what happened in Lagos." Sam replied, glancing at Steve and Natasha. You frowned, looking at the Secretary of State.

"The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt." He began, gaze sweeping over everyone in the room.

"You have.. Fought for us, protected us, risked your lives but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the term 'vigilantes.'"

"And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" Natasha asked, studying the older man. You looked back at Tony Stark, making brief eye contact with him. It felt like an intervention. Or a teacher scolding their class after they made the sub cry.

"How about dangerous?" You frowned, looking forward when you heard his words.

"What would you call a group of US based enhanced individuals who routinely ignore borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, quite frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?" Mr. Secretary asked, looking over the small group in disappointed. You'd hate to admit it, but he had a point. The citizens of Sokovia were left to find new homes and the people of Lagos had to fix what had been destroyed. Mr. Secretary stepped to the side, looking at the screen. Videos began playing of all the times the Avengers caused destruction and most likely death. Wanda looked away, growing uncomfortable as the aftermath of the Lagos incident played. She already felt guilty enough about it. She had told you many times how she wished it would've gone differently. Steve noticed, frown deepening.

"That's enough." He called, watching the screen turn off.

"For the last few years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's a decision the governments of the world can no longer tolerate." Mr. Secretary told them, hands clasped behind his back. You frowned, brows furrowing slightly.

"But we have a solution." Mr. Secretary took a book from his bodyguard, stepping forward and handing it to Wanda. Wanda picked it up, looking it over.

"The Sokovia Accords.. Approved by a hundred and seventeen countries." Wanda slid the book over to Rhodes so he could take a proper look at it. You looked at Mr. Secretary as he walked around the table.

"It states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of The United Nations Panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary."

"That's such bullshit." You whispered. Mr. Secretary turned towards you, cocking a brow. Natasha let an amused smile slip while Sam covered up his snicker with a cough.

"The Avengers were created to make the world a safer place." Steve spoke up before he could address you.

"This is the middle ground." Mr. Secretary said, walking to the front again and facing everyone.

"The Accords will be ratified in a couple days." Steve turned towards Tony, earning a silent response.

"I'll leave you to discuss."

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Leave it to Natasha to say what was on everyones' minds. Mr. Secretary paused as he approached the door.

"Then you retire." He answered plainly. You watched him leave, picking up the cup of water infront of You You went to take a sip but it turned to ice before you could drink from it. With a small huff, you placed it down.

"That's new." Natasha called with a small smile, hoping to ease the tension in the room. You stood up, leaving the meeting room and heading to the lounge. The others followed, taking more comfortable seats on the couch. A debate quickly started between Rhodes and Sam while Steve looked through the Accords.

"Have you two thought about starting a debate club?" You asked, tapping the frozen water a few times before it finally turned back to normal water. Natasha let out a small snort, chuckling as she shook her head.

"I have an equation." Vision announced, stopping Rhodes and Sam. They turned towards him.

"In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of enhanced people has grown and during the same period, the number of world ending events has risen."

"So, it's Starks' fault?" You asked, leaning back in your seat with a tilted head. Tony scoffed from his spot on the couch, rolling his eyes.

"I'm saying, there might be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge, challenge insights conflict, and conflict... Breeds catastrophe. Oversight is not an idea that should be dismissed."

"I wish I understood half of what you said." You muttered softly, running your finger the leaf of a plant beside the seat. Natasha turned towards Tony, watching him.

"You're being uncharacteristic non-hyper verbal." Natasha pointed out softly as he looked at her with a deep sigh. Steve looked up from the Accords.

"It's cause he already made up his mind." Steve said, earning a small eye roll. Tony slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

"Actually, I'm nursing a headache." He muttered as he stood up, walking towards the coffee machine. He poured himself some coffee and grabbed a bottle of pills before sighing and placing down a device. He showed an image of a young man.

"Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. A great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor level gig for the fall. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the people in Sokovia." Tony said, obviously agitated as he looked over everyone. You wondered why he now cared for the people who were injured during attacks.

"He wanted to make a difference although we'll never know cause we dropped a building on him while kicking ass." Everyone stayed silent as he spoke. You watched him take a pill, drinking it with the coffee.

"There's no decision making here. We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, we're no better than the bad guys."

"Tony, when someone dies on your watch, you don't give up." Steve closed the Accords, looking at Tony with a frown.

"Who says we're giving up?"

"We are by not taking responsibilities for our actions. This document shifts the blame." Steve voiced his opinion, shrugging lightly.

"Steve, that is dangerously arrogant." Rhodes spoke up, shaking his head. Steve turned towards him.

"This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the world security counsel, it's not S.H.I.E.L.D, it's not HYDRA-"

"But it's run by people with agendas and agendas change." Steve pointed out as you rubbed your forehead, sighing softly. Both sides had good points but you sided with Steve. The team was obviously divided.

"What do you think, (Y/N)?" Vision asked, looking at you curiously. You licked your lips, gaze focusing on Tony.

"I'm curious as to why you care so much about this Charles guy. You've had, what was it? Eight years as Iron Man to care about the people who get hurt? Why now? Cause you realized one of those people could become the new you? Would you care this much about Charles if he had been a typical guy? No degree, no plans for the future, just a normal guy working a normal 9 to 5 job and just trying to make it through the week. I agree with Steve. What if something happens and they don't send us to help because it doesn't go with their agenda? People get hurt cause you've never set up a system to help after these things happen. You're a fucking billionaire, Tony. Make a company that's designed to help people get back on their feet after the Avengers bulldoze through cities." You said, legs crossing as you looked over everyone else. Steve gave a small nod, glad you were seeing his side. He checked his phone, abruptly standing and announcing he had to leave. You and the others watched him go in confusion.

"To answer your questions, I do care about normal people." Tony said, arms crossing. You let out a soft groan, leaning back in the couch.

"I'm sorry, what are you? Twelve? Didn't you turn twenty this year?" Tony cocked a brow, watching as you rolled your eyes and stood.

"Yeah, I did turn twenty. Surprised you knew considering you've never particularly liked me."

"Well, first impressions are everything and you did try impaling me with a branch."

"Maybe I should've."

"Alright, boys, let's calm down." Natasha called, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned and walked towards the steps, heading down to your room at the facility. You entered and plopped down on the bed, running a hand through your hair. You tapped your foot on the ground, fingers going to the root bracelets in an attempt to relax. Wanda opened the door, closing it behind her and sitting beside you.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly, staring at you in concern. You weren't one to snap at others so quickly.

"There's so much going on. The Accords, my fucking powers, the sudden change in Nat and Tony, you possibly getting into trouble cause of the Lagos incident.. That could've been me." You breathed out. Wanda frowned, brows furrowing.

"No, it wouldn't have."

"I shot fire out of my hands and turned water to ice without meaning to. They're getting unpredictable." You looked at her, grip on the roots tightening. Wanda's gaze flickered to the window, making you turn. Part of the window was covered in a thin layer of ice.

"And that just proved my point."

"You're an incredible person, (N/N). Have faith in yourself. You'll gain control of them sooner or later. You have beautiful powers that could change and heal the world." Wanda pointed out gently, having you rest your head on her shoulder. She softly began to hum a lullaby. You didn't understand the words but her soft voice proved to be soothing.

"Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Why'd you call me again?" You asked, toying with the strings of your hoodie as you looked around the cafe. You had planned on taking a nap and watching a new show on Netflix but it seemed like Steve had other plans for you.

"Because I trust you and need your help." Steve replied, fixing his baseball cap as he tried avoiding eye contact with civilians.

"Really?" You asked softly. Steve nodded, offering a smile. He licked his lips, nodding to the tv. You turned, looking at the news. You really didn't have to considering what they were showing was right down the street.

"Your friend?" You looked back at Steve with a tilted head.

"We gotta find him before anyone else does." Steve said. You nodded, watching him. Steve had been desperately trying to find his friend, Bucky, since the attempt on Furys' life.

"I'll go in alone. We don't want to seem threatening or set him off by going in as a trio."

"(Y/N)? Being threatening? He can't even scare a baby!" Sam said in amusement, shooting you a playful grin.

"Right back at you, bird boy."

"I'm sorry, who here is named after the top bird of prey?" Sam asked, leaning forward slightly as Steve let out an amused sigh.

"Oh, I didn't know you were named after eagles." You responded, smiling in triumph when Sam huffed lightly.

"Come on, you two." Steve chuckled, leaving the cafe and heading down the sidewalk.

"I don't trust Stark." You told them, arms crossing. Sam glanced at you as Steve turned into an alleyway.

"Not surprised considering the little fight you two had."

"I think he had Vis keep an eye on me and Wanda. I snuck out while he was with Wanda in the kitchen." You told him, frowning.

"Firstly, I'm an adult-"

"That's questionable."

"-And secondly, he's not my dad." You took off the hoodie as Steve unlocked a car parked in the alleyway, giving Sam the duffle bag with his outfit. You looked at your phone when it buzzed, seeing texts from Clint.

Clint

Heard you had a fight with Stark

Clint

You're officially an Avenger now

You smiled softly, chuckling softly at the texts. You waited for the guys to finish changing before taking the earpiece from Steve. The apartment building had been nearby so you and Sam headed onto the roof while Steve entered.

"How well do you think this will go?" You asked Sam, looking for any sign of law enforcement.

"Wanna bet?"

"How much?" You looked at him, giving a small grin. Sam looked up at the sky for a moment, thinking it over.

"30 bucks. I bet this will go to shit and this dude will escape."

"I bet we'll get into serious shit but this dude will either come with us or get caught." You replied. Sam stuck out his hand, nodding. You shook it, chuckling softly. You turned your head, noticing movement.

"We've got company, Cap."

"They're approaching from the south." Sam added, attention focused on them. You heard Steve begin to talk to someone, watching the cars pull in and get ready. You turned your head, hearing the door to the roof open.

"Shit." You whispered, letting Sam pick you up and lift you into the air. You could hear the fight going on inside through the earpiece.

"Should we help?" You asked, glancing up at Sam.

"No clue." Sam replied, watching Bucky jump from the apartment onto the roof of another building. You noticed someone running at a high speed, jumping up onto the roof and knocking Bucky down.

"They have cat ears." You mumbled, pushing Sam's arms away.

"Deal with them." You motioned to the German police force on the roof, hoping down onto the roof. You raised your hand, a root shooting out and grabbing the strangers arm, refraining them from clawing at Bucky. Bucky turned his head, making eye contact with you. Your eyes widened when the man grabbed the root, using what felt like super strength to toss you off the roof. You quickly used a root to grab onto the side, breathing out a sigh of relief. Sam took care of a helicopter before flying by to grab you.

"Thanks." You breathed out, holding onto him as he followed the chase. Steve, Bucky, and the cat guy went into one of the tunnels. Sam flew in once there was an opening, trying to help Steve with the cat guy. You huffed when the cat guy grabbed Sam's ankle, pointing your hand at him and shooting a strong gust of air. The cat guy lost his grip monetarily but quickly grabbed on again. Bucky threw up an explosive so Sam quickly stopped, flinging the guy off him. Sam landed, walking past the rubble. You sighed, raising your hands as you and Sam were quickly surrounded by cops.

"Mom's gonna kill me." You whispered.

"That's what you're concerned about?" Sam asked, glancing at you in disbelief.

"We're getting arrested, (Y/N)!"

[peaches-writes]

penalty kick

description: maybe you got off on the wrong foot...actually, jisung did actually pushed you off the wrong foot.  member: jisung / han  genre: fluff, slice of life, coming of age, childhood frenemies / rivals to lovers au, idiots to lovers au, neighbor au, high school au, college au, lil dashes of soccer baseball musician & campus dj au bc jisung ace, female reader, off-season universe (mc from naturally is jeoyeon, mc from tumbles & turns is bora, and mc from off-season is kira hek)  word count: 12k warnings: explicit language, alcohol (a tiny mention of underage drinking pls drink responsibly!), mentions of injuries, jisung issa lil dumb & a lil shit but issokay hes an adorable lil shit note: @crscendoforsung so i scraped the witch jisung au (but i’ll come back to it in the future maybe it’s still in my drafts lol) so here is dumbass jisung for now + im away on christmas day so here’s my gift a day in advanced lmao

Age four. Your neighbor and favorite playmate, Han Jisung, pushed you so hard on the swings at your neighbourhood playground that you literally flew out of your plastic curved seat and bruised your knees, elbows, and chin. 

Maybe you did had it coming from continuously complaining that he ‘pushed like a sissy’ and even standing up on the swing set just to brag that you can balance all of your body weight on such flimsy material. Maybe your neighbor has always had a secret grudge on you finally enacted through this incident. Either way, the next thing you knew, a wide-eyed Jisung was on your side alternating between calling for adult help, crying over your bruises, and muttering curses he probably heard from his older brother under his breath. 

“Shit, shit shit...” He squeaked out frantically in his tiny voice, gently moving you to a sitting position on the stone pavement and dusting the dirt off of your bleeding injuries despite your loud complaints that your entire body was hurting. Looking around your surroundings, his breath then got caught up in his throat at seeing your mother fast-approaching with a mix of furious and worried in her expression. “Auntie! Help!” 

Your mother was hovering over you in an instant, examining your bruises with furrowed brows and clenched teeth. “Ah, dear God, what happened here?!” She exclaimed in a scolding tone, piercing gaze darting between your tearful eyes and Jisung’s panicked ones. “Jisung, did you do this?” 

“It was an accident auntie!” The boy in question answered immediately as he shook his head nervously and scooted away with his hands up in defense. “It was an accident, I promise!” 

However, with your back turned to him then, you naturally had a different impression of the incident as you quickly retorted, “He pushed me, mommy! He pushed me off of the swing!” 

Your mother never made any clear indication that she believed you as she simply shook your head and lifted you by your shoulders and knees, carrying you to a nearby bench to treat your wounds. 

Angered by your outburst, Jisung reluctantly followed you and your mother to the bench then glared at you until your injuries were cleaned and bandaged. With his arms crossed and a permanent frown bordering a pout on his lips, he stood next to you in his attempt at looking visibly angry for a puny five-year-old while you hissed and whined in pain the entire time. 

What’s worse is that his own mother made him apologize by sending him off to the nearest convenience store to buy you apple juice and steamed buns. Because of this, you’ve been mortal enemies, rivals, each other’s designated future potential killer, whatever you want to call it ever since.

Age seven. Han Jisung helped perpetuate a wild rumour that you and the rest of the class’ female population had ‘cooties.’ 

It’s only natural for boys at this age to gravitate to similar actions, of course. After all, you’ve heard worse from boys in the other classes (read: Hwang Hyunjin crying and demanding to get sent home because a girl kissed him on the cheek on the first day of classes). It’s the fact that Jisung actually seemed to have to believed it for a brief period of time in your first grade, however, that completely threw you off. 

He pulled on your braids during the time he sat behind you and kicked your shins while in line for P.E. class to ‘test your anger patience’ that was apparently fueled by cooties and occasionally stole your snacks for actual ‘DNA evidence’ of said cooties among other petty little things. It was nothing short of annoying and the very bane of your existence then. 

“Han Jisung cut it out!” You yelled at him one day, hitting him on the shoulder with the curved end of your wooden broom during after-class cleaning time. In this particular incident, the boy managed to swiftly take one of your pigtails out while wiping the windows in an attempt to ‘examine’ the DNA in your hair. 

“What?!” He snickered, taking a big step away from you and lifting up the blue scrunchie to examine it for miniscule strands of loose hair. “It’s for research!” 

You groaned in annoyance, reaching forward to retrieve the scrunchie with one hand while the other instinctively ran through the messed up half of your hair. “Jisung, give it back, you weirdo!” You scolded through gritted teeth, rolling your eyes when he shakes his head stubbornly and takes another step back from your reach. 

“Tell me the secret first!” 

“Secret of what?!” 

“Do you girls actually have cooties?” He quirked a genuinely suspicious eyebrow at you, raising the scrunchie above your heads after when you proceed lunge forward at him. “Does it actually make you guys this irritable all the time?” 

Somehow, the questions struck some kind of nerve in you. You were tired from classes, cleaning, and having to put up with Jisung’s childish antics. Maybe 1st grade girls did have cooties but for tapping into unbridled anger. “I’m going to kill you!” With the broom in your hands and the dust pan you snatched from his in retaliation, you then proceeded on repeatedly hitting Jisung in the forearms and shoulders until he surrendered with his arms protectively over his head and your scrunchie finally within reach. 

He also offered to fix your pigtail back for you but given the amount of distrust you already had for him, you simply smacked him one last time and went to the other end of the room to fix your hair. 

Age nine. Maturing a little bit through summer camps and classes, you and Jisung redirected all of your energy from physical violence to outsmarting each other in class. 

It started in English class when Mrs. Lee introduced the idea of recitations garnering students points and a fancy award at the end of the school year. Coming from the same piano class in the summer prior wherein you and Jisung also competed for your instructor’s attention, the two of you were quick to consider this as another one of your competitions. 

You devoted most of your time to studying the lesson from the what’s, who’s, when’s, and where’s while Jisung thought that focusing more on the deeper why’s and how’s would somehow garner him better points no matter how many times Mrs. Lee reiterated that all recitation points are given in 1 point’s. 

As the school year progressed, especially after the first semester report cards came out and the two of you were tied to first place in English to the very third decimal, the academic rivalry immediately extended to competing for the most amount of extra-curricular activities. You were more favored with the way you handled baby animals at the local shelter and competed in debates and quiz bees while Jisung was mainly noticed by the soccer and baseball coaches and the school choir’s moderator for his skills in sports and music. 

Jisung’s mom, who always picked the two of you up from school in her minivan, obliviously thought it was cute. 

“You know, instead of competing over everything all the time, you guys can take some notes from each other.” She pointed out one time after hearing your comment on Jisung ‘smelling like a polluted Pacific Ocean’ as he climbed in the backseat of the car. The sentiment almost went in one ear and came out of the other with the two of you, however, as Jisung proceeded on complaining that you smelled like ‘Cruella de Vil’s fake fur coat’ then hitting you on the head with his soccer ball. “Especially you, Sungie. You can learn a thing or two of keeping a goldfish alive for more than a week from Y/N.” 

You laughed at Jisung’s immediate shocked reaction of wide eyes and gaping mouth at this, slapping his arm in amusement and toppling over the backseat in laughter. “Yeah, Sungie, you really need help from that department.” You stuck your tongue out at him teasingly, laughing even more when he groans and hits you back with a light punch to your own arm. 

“Stop it.” He hissed at you before turning to his mother again, meeting her gaze through the rear view mirror. “Mom! You’re supposed to be on my side!” 

Mrs. Han was also stifling her own laughs then, forcing herself to focus on the road ahead instead of checking for her son’s pouting expression and crossed arms through the mirror. “Okay, okay.” She chuckled playfully with a dismissive hand, catching your eye after with a giggle. “Y/N, you should learn how to commit to exercise more with Jisung, then. There? Happy?” 

Satisfied, Jisung stuck his tongue out childishly at you as if completely forgetting the fact that he was attacked by his own mother first. “Bleh!” 

You rolled your eyes at him with a light-hearted scoff of your own, laughing away the way he proceeded to exaggeratedly tease you. “You’re so childish, Sung.” 

When your moms did seriously consider this idea later on, you were then forced to dedicated one weekend to taking each other to your respective extra-curricular activities. It was right before your final examinations and Jisung ended up getting scared over a golden retriever giving birth while you received severe cramps from the elementary soccer team’s rigorous conditioning training. 

It was a recipe of disaster, basically, and it ultimately led you and Jisung to cram knowledge for your exams on Sunday night in his bedroom. When you stubbornly didn’t learn anything from going to each other’s favorite extra-curriculars, you unconsciously ended up learning from each other in the six hours you both stayed up trying to review your notes. Miraculously (as in the miracle of hot brewed Milo-induced sugar rushes), it went well and the two of you tied or were close in grades at the second release of report cards.  

The only downside of it all was just the fact that the fancy recitation award in your English class that started it all somehow went to Hyunjin. 

“Ah, this is so frustrating!” You exclaimed on the ride home from school. You had your report card in your hands like Jisung, looking back on it all the while stressing out about Hyunjin winning the award the two of you spent a whole school year competing for. 

On the other side of his mom’s backseats, Jisung then turned to you and suggested, “Want to prank him? We’re playing soccer next week, you can swap his Cola for soy sauce.” 

You glanced over at Jisung, your pout slowly turning into a mischievous grin at his raised brows. “You’re onto something...” 

Age ten. You went on your first class field trip with a stuffed purple lunch bag of snacks.

Your mother specifically suggested that you share it with Jisung, thinking that the two of you would sit next to each other on the bus since he’s your only classmate she’s actually familiar with. But of course, when Jisung didn’t bring up any hints that he knew of this while waiting for the school bus to arrive, you immediately thought against it and planned out how you were going to hide your seemingly endless supply of snacks from him on the back-and-forth rides to Namsan Tower.

It was a well thought-out plan involving sitting near to the front and as far away from him as possible with your own group of friends then hiding the lunch bag under your seat until you caught Hyunjin not-so-discreetly trying to steal from you while he re-checked attendance after a stop-over.

“Jisung put you up to this, didn’t he?” You frowned, candy successfully retrieved from Hyunjin’s prying hands and popped into your mouth as the lanky boy scratched the back of his head in shame. “It’s okay, Hyunjin, I won’t kill you. It’s Jisung’s corpse I’m planning to roll down Namsan if he’s actually behind this.”

After a few more coaxing, Hyunjin eventually nodded sheepishly and admitted to Jisung convincing him to take a candy bar from you.

“Ya! Hyunjin!” Jisung whined from across the bus, peeking his head up from the identical red seats with balled up fists. “I told you not to rat me out!”

“Y/N was being scary!” Hyunjin argues back, sprinting back to his seat as soon as the the bus stopped at a streetlight. Hiding under the sea of seats, he then exclaimed, “You two take me out of your fights! Geez!”

Jisung pouted at you as soon as you lifted your own head up from your seat and turned around to face him, holding his hands out in front of him and then asking, “Can’t I really have candy?”

You shook your head stubbornly. “If I give you one, everyone’s going to ask me for it too.”

“But everyone’s basically asleep!”

“They could be fake-sleeping for all I know!” You hissed, popping another ball of candy in your mouth. “I don’t trust anyone in this class with food but myself.” 

“Y/N!” He whined, only to get pulled down by force when the bus abruptly begins moving again. Scrambling up right after, he then continued pleading, “Please?”

“No.” You firmly concluded, sitting back down on your seat. 

Jisung even tried staying behind to try and steal candy off of you while the entire class was piling outside to enter Namsan Tower, only to trip in surprise when you jumped on him from crouching under the seats. Poor boy almost hit his head on the seats in shock.

“I knew you’d pull this kind of shit.” You tsked in disapproval with a slight stutter towards cursing at such an age, smacking him over the head anyway before throwing the smallest piece of chocolate candy you had from your bag. Moving past him to the bus exit, you then added, “You don’t even do nice things for me.”

You only meant it half-heartedly, though. Whether Jisung actually wanted more candy or he did sincerely felt bad over what you said, either way, he paid for the expensive pink lock you and your friend wanted to hang at the very top of the tower later on but only if you promised to share your snacks.

Jisung received three packets of gummy bears and a bottle of banana milk from you in the end on the ride home.

Age twelve. The Hans temporarily moved to Malaysia in the summer before the seventh grade because of an assignment for Jisung’s father at work.

On the day before their flight, Mr. and Mrs. Han organized a farewell party in their house at the other end of the block and invited your entire class. Jisung tricked you into getting him a farewell present by telling you that everyone was planning to do the same thing as a surprise but he secretly found out thing.

He didn’t actually expect you to get him something, not with the way the two of you have always been at each other’s necks since you were kids, but you ended up surprising him in the middle of the lunch party by giving him a small notebook of useful Malaysian phrases you wrote down yourself. You don’t always agree with Jisung but you think of yourself as thoughtful and civil enough to buy something practical. Also, your parents insisted. 

“O-Oh, you actually got me something?” He fumbled through an intense blush that matched the redness of his Supreme cap, almost tripping over nothing as you both stood on the steps leading down to the back of his house. It didn’t help that a few classmate passersby were glancing your way as well, either cooing or snickering at the awkward sight in the corner of all the socialization. “L-Like—like, this is actually for me?”

You raised a brow in confusion and reluctantly shrugged, releasing the red phrasebook from your grip as he held onto it by the other end. “Yeah, you said you’re getting presents so I...got you one.”

“I actually lied—“

“What?!” You exclaimed a little too loudly for your taste, earning you a sharp glare from your mother all the way across the backyard. Mouthing a quick apology to your her, you then quickly averted your glare back to Jisung who instinctively resorted to looking at anywhere but you. “But you said—“

“I thought for sure that no one would give me any farewell presents since it’s not a birthday or anything but I know you would if you’re like forced to or something so I thought...hehe...” He mustered up a sheepish grin, pressing his index fingers together in a comical shy gesture. When your glare intensifies, he then immediately held his hands up in defense and visibly winced, “Ya, don’t hit me!”

Every fiber in your being really wanted to hit him with the notebook then, maybe even push him down the stairs while no one was looking, but after a moment of thinking your way out of such violent thoughts, you resorted to exhaling a sigh and saying, “Whatever, just keep the notebook or something. I don’t care. It’s not expensive, anyway.”

You chanted to yourself that you’re mature, especially as Jisung’s eyes lit up and he immediately thanked you for both the gift and sparing his life that day.

Though he didn’t hear the end of the other teasing from Hyunjin after that, Jisung kept the notebook around anyway throughout his entire two-year stay in Malaysia. It was helpful but he’ll never admit that to your face.

“You kept it.” You pointed out one day, more as a statement than a question as you realized that the notebook he was using for exam reviewer notes was in the same color as the phrasebook you gave him. When Jisung came back in the summer before the ninth grade, the two of you met again in the same cram school wherein mostly everyone but you and the transfer student, Kim Seungmin, refused to help him keep up with the heavier than usual workload. “The phrasebook...”

“Yeah—well, I didn’t want to waste any of the pages you didn’t write on.” He pouted stubbornly as he flipped through the older pages to compare the amount of pages you used to the empty sheets. His tone actually sounded like he was convincing himself much more than he was trying with you but you missed it complete in the moment. “Be more eco-friendly, Y/N.”

You simply rolled your eyes at him. “Glad to know I kept you alive in another country somehow, then.”

Age fourteen. You went to a soccer game to see Jisung but only because one of your friends, Eunha, developed a crush on the striker and eventually hatched a plan to confess on the game before Valentine’s Day. Fortunately, Jisung barely noticed and didn’t tease you for it since it’s already an established fact that you’re always at his games with either Yang Jeongin or Seungmin to cheer on Hyunjin instead.

You really didn’t get it. Of course, fifteen was the time when some, if not all, parts of your day were starting to become dedicated to vanity and all the artificial things in life to attract kind of puppy love in school but at this point Jisung always wore the same green hoodie, red Supreme cap, and white ‘Eyez on You’ shirt to every school function that didn’t require wearing a uniform.

You understood how your classmates suddenly began fawning over Hyunjin right after the summer when he got his braces removed and then Seungmin for bringing a suit and tie one time for an inter-school debate but the hype over Jisung suddenly bringing in his guitar to class breaks everyday and re-emerging as a star soccer and baseball player throughout the school year is an absolute mystery to you. That or, maybe compared to your junior high peers, you’re just as used to him at this point than they all are. In your perspective, the only legitimate thing he has going on is how he always seems to beat you in most Arts subjects and how annoying it is that he always makes sure to rub that in your face. 

“I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t shower properly right after training.” You shook your head disapprovingly at Eunha during the game. Soccer is an interesting sport for surprisingly bringing you up to stand and cheer at some moments, you’ll give it that, but watching Jisung get cocky and interact to the crowd whenever his team scored a point was somehow cringe-worthy to watch. “And I’m so sure he still doesn’t clean that soccer ball of his right after practice. You deserve better, sis.”

But no matter how much you talked shit about him throughout the entire game, Eunha still held onto the box of handmade candies she coerced you into picking up from Jisung’s favorite candy shop on the weekend prior and cheering him on with the slogan she made herself. It would’ve looked cute and sweet to you if it was some other guy but it’s Jisung—the guy who pushed you off a swing, pulled your hair, stole candy from you, and made all of your elementary after-school rides home an actual rollercoaster—and you would never wish his treatment of you to any other person ever.

“You said that was in elementary, Y/N.” Eunha chuckled softly, nudging your elbow before a sour expression could completely overtake your face. “Surely he’s outgrown that girls have cooties phase every boy had then.”

“No, it’s Jisung and I refuse to believe it.”

You really didn’t want to believe it with your natural instinct to see Jisung as the bane of your existence. What’s worse is that Eunha was right and Jisung shyly accepted the Saturday movie date at the mall that she came up with on the spot when he surprisingly received the candies well, a complete stretch from the Jisung who would’ve lied about being busy or tricked your friend into doing something else altogether. Suddenly, it was selfishly annoying that you’re the only one he actually tortures the life out of.

“Told you.” Eunha giggled throughout the drive back to your house. Your mother picked you up from school right after the soccer game for a sleepover you insisted was a must whether or not your friend scored her Valentine’s Day date. “Ah, I’m glad he accepted. I was a nervous wreck there! You don’t happen to know what kind of movie he likes, do you?”

You never heard the end of it from her for the remainder of the semester. The two were never official—middle school just didn’t have that solid idea of significant others, then—but they did went on numerous ‘dates’ almost every weekend that followed Valentine’s Day. Naturally, Eunha would tell you all about it. 

“He’s so sweet and caring and thoughtful!” The girl endlessly gushed out to you so genuinely you would’ve been happy had you not been sincerely expecting a major fuck-up from Jisung. Nothing romantic really did come out of these dates, even Jisung surprisingly swears by it, but they did become really close friends after and as Jisung’s only other female friend at the time, you can clearly see a point of comparison between his different treatment of you. “Though, I’m gonna give it to you that he is annoying sometimes but he does know a lot of good places to hang out around town for someone who’s been away for two years!” 

“He does the bare minimum for everything, Eunha. I could barely call it sweet.” You scoffed unamused. 

Age sixteen. In the summer after the tenth grade, an upperclassman from school by the name of Lee Minho started volunteering at the same local shelter you’ve been under since elementary after surrendering a lost cat to you while he and Jisung were playing baseball at the nearby park. 

He adopted Dori in the end but prior to finalizing the adoption papers, he actually made the effort to come in at your MWF schedule to help around and see the dark grey kitten. To you, it was endearing and thoughtful since you didn’t have much active co-workers at the shelter your age but to Jisung, it was slightly inconveniencing how Minho would cut off their play-time to see the cat. He even thought Minho had a crush on you and vice versa but you knew that Minho liked one of his own closer friends. 

“Jeoyeon?” Minho scoffed, crouching down next to you one time as you watched over the new litterbox of kittens eating with Dori on your feet. Crossing his arms over his knees, he shook his head and chuckled, “They’re cool and we’ve been friends for a long time but I’m sure they have a big fat crush on Bang Chan. Something happened after their McDonald’s date after our prom, I’m telling you!” 

“No, not Jeoyeon! I meant Bora!” You argued back with a laugh, picking up a white kitten that wanders off to your feet and lifts its body up cutely for a lift. Gingerly pressing the kitten to your shoulder, you then turned to Minho and continued, “The one who came by the other day to see Dori with you. Aren’t you guys rooming together in college?” 

Minho clutched his chest dramatically at this, shaking his head with a comical conviction. “What?! How could you accuse me of that, Y/N? Bora’s from a different cheerdance team! That would be like sleeping with the enemy!” 

You rolled your eyes, knocking him off of his balance by elbowing his sides. “Ya, I didn’t say that, you did!” You scoffed at him, sighing when he laughs off landing on his butt before sitting up in a crisscross position. “Anyway, don’t you like her?” 

“If I don’t like her, we wouldn’t be making all these plans to move in together for college, stupid.” Minho snickered, earning him another elbow jab from you. “Well, what do you want me to say? You asked me if I like her, you didn’t ask me how exactly I like her.” 

"Okay then, you wise wise person: how do you like Bora?” You sighed dryly, plopping down on the ground at feeling your ankles starting to ache from crouching. The kitten on your arm then jumped down to your lap, circling your legs a few times before finding a comfortable position to sleep in. “You know, the more you visit here with this kind of sarcasm, the more I’m starting to understand where Seungmin and Jisung are suddenly getting all of their newfound sassiness from.” 

Minho chuckled next to you, picking up Dori for himself once he saw him finish eating before hugging the kitten gently to his cheek. “Bora’s...someone I’d probably punch a guy in the team for if they ever disrespect her. I mean, I’d punch a guy for Dahyun, Jeoyeon, and Jihyo, too, of course, but Bora’s in the same sport where she’s always getting lifted in the air and touched by who knows who and now that we won’t be in the same team, I feel even more responsible for keeping an eye out for her.” He shrugged casually, ignoring the way your jaw just dropped at how naturally he explained himself. “Plus, it took a lot of convincing to get her to be my roommate so I can’t really have her dying under my care in the next four years.” 

“I—” You furrowed your brows in thought, pursing your lips in a pout. “Wow, I’m jealous.” 

“Then get on my good side, Y/N.” Minho winked with a laugh, holding Dori in front of you. “Let me take this baby home at the end of the summer.” 

You rolled your eyes again at this, shaking your head. “No, I mean...I hang out with Jeongin, Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jisung and they aren’t really the most well-versed boys on treating girls properly.” 

“That’s why you hang out with me. We all know that Hyunjin just can’t say no to anyone who offers him a slightly more expensive bouquet of flowers, Seungmin’s in a relationship with baseball and academics, and Jisung...Jisung’s just dumb in general.” Minho then pointed out with a somehow knowing tone, smirking when a familiar figure passes by the hallways right behind you. “Speaking of...” 

Jisung joined you and Minho after, making sure to sit in between the two of you and drowning himself in as many kittens who wanted to sit on his lap as much as he can. “Dude, you shouldn’t have left early!” He scolded Minho with a pout and a slightly breathless tone from running all the way from the park. “Seungmin joined us today and he completely wiped out Sunwoo’s team!” 

“Then even more reasons to come here early so you guys could play with Seungmin on your team.” Minho laughed, gently handing Dori over to you from across Jisung before standing up and dusting the lint off of his jeans. “Y/N needed help with feeding the cats and puppies today, anyway.” 

Jisung frowned, turning to you after and asking, “Don’t you have any other co-workers around here?”

“Jeno has allergies so I don’t let him in here on most days.” You shrugged, handing Minho the empty pet bowls nearest to you as he proceeded to clean and collect them. “I can do it myself, you know. It’s just that Minho comes over and insists.” 

“Then you should’ve just told him that so we can play longer.” 

“Why is it a big deal? Do you like Minho?” 

“Do you?” Jisung’s eyes widened, almost getting scratched by a random cat in the process. “Because...because that’d be gross, to be honest...”

At this moment, your eyes accidentally met Minho’s right behind Jisung and the older boy had the audacity to wink at you before sprinting out of the room with a thumbs up above his head. 

In the end, you shrugged and answered, “I like him.” 

“What?!” Jisung sat up so quickly he almost scared a bunch of kittens walking all over his chest into jumping away.

“I’d be a psychopath if I don’t like him but let him volunteer around here, dumbass.” You deadpanned, moving the kittens around him to a safer space on the floor. “Besides, you asked me if I like him, not how I like him.” 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” 

Minho had a whole laugh out of eavesdropping from this conversation that he felt bad and actually adjusted his schedule for volunteering and playing soccer better so ‘Jisung would have one less thing to whine about all the time.’ 

Age seventeen. You and Jisung tried convincing your respective parents that going to prom as a group is the more practical and actually trendy thing to do but your mothers wouldn’t have it. Ultimately, the two of you ended up lying that you’re going as each other’s dates. 

You initially planned on begging to Seungmin until he pulled up balloons, roses, and a song number to his lab partner right on the lunch break that you planned on doing it and, of course, you had enough dignity to not fall in line with the countless of students that basically worshipped Hyunjin’s locker as if it were a shrine. 

Jisung, with Eunha already set on going with someone else she started dating at the beginning of the 11th grade school year, was the convenient choice. Your parents knew each other, he knows someone (his older brother) who can drive, and he’s recently gotten over his Emo-Hypebeast wardrobe phase after joining the school’s radio club with Chan and Changbin. With some convincing (read: an elaborate PowerPoint Presentation he made you do on the spot during one of your lunch breaks), the two of you decided that you would take all the photos your respective mothers wanted, carpool to the hotel, then go on your separate ways until his brother picks the two of you up at the end of the night. 

It was a simple and fool-proof plan, one that you almost forgot when you rented an emerald green and gold prom attire then Jisung’s mother told you right after about hearing her son trying to order a purple callalily boutonniere that clearly did not match your taste nor your colors (you sorted this out by cancelling the order and taking matters into your own hands). Then, the most awkward photo op at your house happened. 

“Sungie, put your arm around Y/N!” 

“Y/N, stop slouching, you’re going to wrinkle your outfit!” 

You were never serious-looking in any photos that had Jisung in it as well, preferring to pose like the two of you planned on murdering each other right after the photos instead, but your respective moms were holding your Instax camera and the family film cameras across the living room in this particular situation and so you reluctantly kept it inside. Straightening up your shoulders and elbowing Jisung to at least wrap an arm over your shoulder, you held up smiles right next to your red rose corsage and boutonniere set until the two women were eventually satisfied with their photos. 

“Aah, you two really make a cute couple!”

“Mom, we’re not a couple!” Jisung whined, glaring at you after which you immediately returned with the same expression.

“God, I’d sell all my limbs first before we actually become a couple.” You deadpanned back at him.

Fortunately, Jisung’s older brother allowed the two of you to basically try and throw each other out of the car windows on the thirty-minute ride to the hotel venue in compensation. You almost had him by the neck and he almost ruined your hair that you spent hours curling until Hyunjin pulled you back with a smack to your head and dragged the two of you away to help in the Prom Committee’s final preparations since Jisung was going to perform with Changbin and you were a part of the Prom’s Logistics team. 

You mostly stayed out of each other’s hairs for most of the first part of the program as you were busy pulling everything together while Jisung was having the time of his life with the soccer and basebal teams. The next time you bumped into each other, you scolded him for running late to his and Changbin’s set after dinner. 

“Where were you?!” You mostly hit him in the back with your clipboard, frantically passing him his already set up electric guitar and a microphone. First, one of your peers got drunk too early in the dinner to help out in the program, then one of the event’s award sashes briefly went missing and, not to mention, a lot of the people from the other committees somehow forgot about their event tasks when you asked in the main groupchat. You really weren’t having anyone’s antics at this point. “Geez, we already practiced this!” 

“Ow, ow, ow! Stop hitting me! Why are you so on edge?” Appropriately, he whined in complaint and took a step back after receiving his equipment, holding his hands up in defense as he always does. “Cut me some slack, Y/N! It’s prom!” 

“You’re so late when your table is literally right next to the side of the stage!” 

“I was dancing with everyone else! You wouldn’t know since you wouldn’t even take a break!” 

“Because I’m busy!” 

“No, you’re just being more irritable than usual!” 

“Fuck you, Han Jisung.” You rolled your eyes with an exasperated sigh, coldly directing him to the stage. “You’re on, get on the stage.” 

You knew he didn’t mean it cruelly, especially when his pupils started to shake and his shoulders instinctively slumped as he glanced back at you right before reluctantly stepping up the star-filled stage, but you were too tired of having to run around and making the event perfect for most of the night to process anything, much less his usual jabs at you. Being in such a tired headspace, you couldn’t enjoy his songs no matter how undeniably great they were, much less meet his eyes when you knew how he kept glancing at you throughout the entire set. 

He even covered your favorite song on the spot (which surprised Changbin and had Hyunjin running around backstage to inform everyone of the sudden extension) but you already sat down on your shared table with Hyunjin, Seungmin, Eunha, and their dates before he could even begin singing the chorus.  

“Hey, you good?” Minjung, Eunha’s date, asked you with an offering of an extra shawl to cover your exposed shoulders from the nearby air-conditioning unit. Eunha had previously left to go to the bathroom after stopping by your shared table. “Y/N, I told you if you needed extra help with the program, you could’ve just told us. We just planned on dancing tonight, anyway.” 

“I’m good.” You grumbled in a half-lie, resting your chin on your propped up hand tiredly, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ for the shawl as you fought away your tiredness. “I think I’ll just sit the rest of Prom out. Hyunjin can run the program on his own.” 

Minjung frowned, sitting down next to you and fixing the loose strands on the haphazard ponytail you managed to pull up in the middle of the program. “Are you sure? Eunha and I can stay with you until you’re feeling better. Besides, the program’s still long, you deserve to enjoy your hard work later at least.” 

Stubbornly, you simply scrunched up your nose and shook your head. “I think I’ve had enough of prom for one night. You should go and dance more, though. I’m okay as long as you guys are having fun.” 

But equally as headstrong as you are, Minjung got Eunha in on convincing you to agreeing to one dance with them as soon as she came back from the bathroom, reasoning out that, “We can stay in the back and just dance silly! It’s prom!” 

The pair proved themselves to be unstoppable in their joint persuasiveness when they got you to stand up and actually join them at the next set, right as Jisung was about to approach you to apologize. The poor boy ended up waiting the entire night until the two of you were alone instead, shivering right next to each other at the lobby while waiting for his brother to pick you two up. 

“Why did you even pick out something off-shoulder? I get that it’s trendy these days but you picked the venue knowing it’s cold and didn’t even connect a few dots there.” He hissed lowly, contemplating on teasing you further or keeping it quiet until he can muster up a ‘sorry’ to you. Shrugging off his jacket, he then gently draped it over your shoulder and added, “Don’t catch a cold or something...your mom’s going to kill me.” 

“Shut up.” You hissed back, crossing your arms further in over your chest as you spotted his brother’s car approaching the lobby’s driveway. You didn’t remove his coat from your back, though, clutching it tightly instead while convincing yourself that he willingly gave it to you so there’s no reason for you to throw it back at him when you really needed it. “ You don’t even do nice things for me.”

The familiar words visibly caught him off-guard, almost foiling his plan of opening the door for you as he freezes in his steps but he regains composure in time and almost trips ahead to swat your hand away from the car’s door handle. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled in the awkward silence, gulping down his fears of your death glare as he briefly averted his gaze away from you. With this, he missed the way your gaze softened. “There’s candies in the pockets.”

And there was, coincidentally enough the same brand he tried stealing from you on your school field trip.

“These aren’t expired, right?” You chuckled, popping a chocolate in your mouth anyway. 

That was enough for Jisung to relax his shoulders and laugh along. “No, promise.” He held a hand up as if he was swearing by his words, easing you into another fit of laughs. “I ran all the way to the convenience store down the block to get you those tonight! I felt really bad...I didn’t mean it.”

He could be sweet if he wanted, you’d give him that. 

“I’m sorry too.” You whispered to him at the end of the night, right after scoffing at him for insisting to walk you all the way to your doorstep of course. “I was so stressed with managing everything that I took it out on you.” 

Standing awkwardly with you right in front of your house’s front door, the sheepish boy rubbed the nape of his neck and shrugged. “Nah, I think I deserve it. I do annoy you a lot, don’t I?” He chuckled, eyes trained to the ground. “I didn’t even ask you to one dance.” 

“Not like you actually had to, we’re no—” 

“But you were still technically my date and I don’t want to be a bad prom date, even to you!” He insisted anyway, only then looking up at you. “I’ll make it up to you in the distant future, okay? Reserve me your next dance in the distant future, no matter where it is!”  

Before you could even retort, he was already running back to his brother’s car. 

Age eighteen and a half. Jisung began dating a girl named Haneul whom he met in one of his general classes and didn’t have one single clue about baseball or soccer. Naturally, his entire friend group was concerned. 

Though you’re much civil friends now, you still didn’t really care. Or maybe you didn’t want to out of spite (or a really really weird and displaced feeling of jealousy?), you weren’t sure. You just thought that Jisung can do whatever he wants even when it’s something that’s generally not advisable when you’re a freshman in college, but it seemed as if it was all Jeongin talked to you about whenever the two of you met up to study for one of your shared classes so naturally you forced yourself to take in all of the gossip. What’s worse is that Hyunjin would come over often to loiter around the library and gawk at the cute student librarian, ultimately encouraging the younger boy to talk about it more. 

“You’re being unfair to her.” You always reminded the two, sometimes Seungmin when he would sit quietly in the middle of the topic and say nothing to defend Haneul. In this particular time, Jeongin took you to watch the baseball team’s Wednesday scrimmage after hours of studying your nursing notes together at the nearby library. “Like, look, I don’t even do any sports myself but you guys hang out with me.” 

“But you’re different, you’re not dating any one of us.” Hyunjin snickered, hugging his helmet to his chest as he sat a step below you on the bleaches. When a thought then crossed his mind, he dramatically gasped over his gloves and added, “Wait, does that mean you have a crush on someone? Is it me?” 

You smacked him in the head with your hand, rolling your eyes after. “You know what I mean.” 

Next to you, Jeongin mustered up a shrug as he tried getting an injured Kira to sit back down on her seat. Your stubborn best friend, after playing at an underground derby game on the weekend prior, kept on moving around because sitting down with her injuries made her uncomfortable. “But at least you make an effort for us even if it’s just small.” He reasoned out, huffing tiredly when Kira finally sits down and promises not to move for the next five minutes. You would’ve helped him but personally you thought he deserved to suffer alone after letting her go out despite her injuries today. “Haneul got dragged by Jisung to watch last week’s scrimmage and didn’t even last a set. She just left in the middle of the game—literally!”

“He made Jisung skip on my derby game to too!” Kira pouted, waving her bandaged hands frantically in the air. “I’m personally offended, Y/N!”

“And she doesn’t seem to like talking to us in general.” Hyunjin shrugged in conclusion. “Like, sports aside, she’s a bit rude and nonchalant when she talks to us in general especially when Sung isn’t around. It’s a bit sus to me.” 

“To be fair, Kira, I wouldn’t be going too if you and Yeji aren’t so insistent on it. It’s so worrying seeing the two of you get hurt.” You pointed out before averting your attention to Jeongin once more. “And Jeongin, you know the only reason I can’t leave baseball and soccer games these days is because you and Seungmin are usually my ride home.” You scoffed. “If I could, I’d be hanging out with Felix more and only going to Kira’s games. Ya, why is he even allowed to skip games and I’m not, anyway?”

“Because he’s taking classes and training with the cheerdance squad until 8 PM and as far as I’m concerned, you’re free after 12 noon like me!” Jeongin simply grinned at you, earning himself a glare. “Also, I need you here with me as the medic team. You know I’ll panic alone!” 

Fortunately, no one ever actually gets injured at any of the games regardless if they were formal or not. By the time the game has finished, you were reminding Kira to rest more at her dorms and sprinting out of the baseball field to the samgyeopsal place the team promised to treating dinner at. You completely missed the boys’ conversation on Haneul in the process but you did get free food.

You really didn’t get it. The one time you met Haneul by chance, when you and Felix bumped into the two at the mall near the supermarket, she seemed a bit distant but she could be polite when she wanted to. Of course, it rubbed you the wrong way but you and Felix thought that it was none of your business anyway, given that neither of you are dating her. 

“When the guys walked me out of the baseball field last Wednesday, they did mention something about Jisung aiming for the soccer national team but who knows if they’re exaggerating again or something.” Kira confided in you later that week when the two of you met up over lunch. “Either way, I’d understand. If I were in Jisung’s shoes, I’d feel a little disheartened if someone I really like doesn’t appreciate the things I’m passionate about!”

Still, you simply let your friends sort it out for themselves. “Jisung’s a grown-up, he can figure things out on his own at the end of the day.” You reasoned out. 

Age eighteen and three-fourths. Jisung asked—practically begged—you to go to the movies with him because he and Haneul broke up the week before his birthday after opening up his worries to her. The other ticket was meant to be a surprise for his ex-girlfriend.

From what Jeongin and Felix have gossiped to you on two separate occasions, Haneul apparently didn’t like you and the rest of Jisung’s immediate friend group no matter how many times the boys tried warming up to her and getting to know her over the summer. She didn’t really support Jisung’s passion for sports, too, and mostly just stuck around for the ‘clout of it all’ or however Felix worded it to you. 

“I’d ask Hyunjin but he has a date with that librarian!” Jisung frowned over the phone on the night before the scheduled screening of Weathering with You. Reminiscent of a similar time long ago, he sounded more like he was convincing himself than you. “And Seungmin’s taking care of Kira, Minho and Felix are training, Changbin’s doing God knows what with his finals, Chan has swim training and—and yeah, you know where I’m going with this!” 

You sighed, rolling over on your back in your bed after submitting your online work. “You can ask the baseball team, the soccer team, your Introduction to Musical Theory class, the campus radio club, and—and yeah, you also know where I’m going with this.” 

“Yeah but—but it’d be weird if I just went with anyone or something!” He mumbled under his breath, pausing on the other line to scratch his head in thought. “Come on, it’s not your midterms week yet, right? Can’t you come over and go to the movies with me?”

“You’ll probably strangle me in the dark or something.” You argued next. 

“But it’s free tickets! At least you’re going to die with free tickets!” 

“So you are planning to kill me! I knew it!” You snorted dryly, rolling your eyes. “Seriously, don’t you have anyone else to go with? Why me?” 

Jisung took in a sharp breath in the longest pause you’ve ever heard from the usually rowdy boy. At that moment, only then did you notice the faint sounds of pre-recorded dialogues for soccer arcade games. He must’ve been at the one near his dorm then as he usually was when he was contemplating on something. “I just—honestly, I’m still processing all of this and I don’t want to open up to the guys...and Eunha’s abroad and I’m not that close to Kira or Bora so I thought of you.” 

Now, it was your turn to be speechless. 

“It’s silly, I know.” Jisung continued with an awkward laugh when he didn’t hear anything on your end. “But even when you’re annoying sometimes and you always get angry at me because you always misunderstand, you’ve known me the longest and I know you listen well and you’re always open-minded about things so I thought I’d vent to you, if it’s okay...” 

You finally released a defeated sigh, sitting up properly on your bed as if he was actually in the same room as you. “God, you’re too good at making me feel guilty.” You mused out loud. “Fine, just text me the place and time and no funny business!” 

You met up with Jisung at the nearest shopping center the following night, surprise paper bags of take-out and a mini cake for two to eat at the cinema. 

“I’m only going to be nice to you this time because you just got dumped and it’s your birthday later.” You explained as serious as you can to a giggling and blushing Jisung, handing him the take-out paper bags. Once the dinner meals are in his hands, you then take out the blueberry mini cheesecake from its separate paper bag and set up the candle you brought along with it. “Now, make a wish and get it over with.” 

Jisung’s eyes widened at the pink candle suddenly being pushed up to his face, distracting him from the passersby cooing and making comments at the two of you. “Really?” 

You nodded impatiently, thrusting the cake further up his face. “Yes! Now, blow on your candles or I’ll do it myself and eat the whole thing!” 

Jisung wasted no time blowing the single candle and taking the cake from you as well, jumping up and down in place as he closed the lid carefully and returned it to its paper bag. “Thank you!” He exclaimed gleefully, pulling you to a side hug. “Now, I feel a bit better.” 

“You better.” You frowned back at him, biting down a small smile when his hug lingered on a second longer. “Now, let’s go or we’ll be late to the screening.” 

Fortunately, Jisung didn’t actually tried strangling you in the dark while the movie played since he became busy with eating his dinner and cake as well as crying over the plot. 

Age nineteen. Jisung took you to the arcade inside the shopping center after to vent while scoring kicks at the mini soccer game. 

“Basically, she said—” Score. “—that she felt annoyed that Hyunjin, Minho, Jeongin, and Seungmin were mostly onto her for ‘seeming off’ whenever they met or interacted.” Another score. Standing outside the protective fence, your gaze darted quickly between Jisung and the small net across the long room. “So I said that’s just how those guys are: they’re very curious of new people and make a lot of effort over it so when they feel that the other person’s energy seems off or doesn’t match theirs in any way, they’d worry.”

You nodded along whenever he glanced over to you, agreeing halfheartedly. “Hm, those guys don’t take bullshit, of course...”

“Yeah, right...” Jisung kicked another ball, barely missing the goal as he thinks of what to say next. “Then she started accusing the guys that they don’t like her because she doesn’t do sports which doesn’t even make sense because I know it’s not superficial like that.” He sighed, scoring again. After this particular kick, he then stopped altogether and turned to you. “The guys just feel off that, as someone I’m dating, she doesn’t make enough effort to watch my games or be familiar with the sports I love. It’s not the same thing.”  

“But does she make an effort to listen to your music?” You blurted out of nowhere, surprising not only Jisung but also yourself. 

It just occurred you to on the spot. All this talk about Jisung’s passion for sports had you thinking if Haneul also disliked the one other thing that Jisung was absolutely passionate about: his music. 

And it seemed to have caught him off-guard as it took the boy longer to contemplate on the question. “I—n-no? No...” He furrowed his brows in thought, walking over to you on his side of the chain link fence. “Come to think of it, she never told me what she thought of the songs I used to send her for feedback...”

You nodded, mumbling under your breath, “So much for defending her from everyone last summer...” 

“Hm?” 

“Like, I’d get it if your friends don’t immediately warm up to her because that really does happen in some relationships and it can be remedied over time but not appreciating the things you, the person she’s dating, are passionate about is another thing. If she doesn’t like the things you’re passionate about, then maybe she really isn’t the one you should be with.” You shrugged nonchalantly. “She could be all things nice but if she doesn’t support your own ambitions, other things that make you really happy, then everything else doesn’t mean anything.”

When he doesn’t speak, you allow yourself to continue. “Kira told me that you’re aiming for the national team in either baseball or soccer which is a bit surprising since I know you’re already being sought after for your music even at university so clearly those things are very important to you. Having someone around that doesn’t see that importance enough to make efforts is a bit meaningless in the long run, if you think about it. You...you deserve better, it’s what I’m trying to get at.” 

Still, he wouldn’t speak after everything you said. Instead, the boy just gaped at you from the fence. It definitely unnerved you as time dragged on longer. 

“I let you vent and made my own input on it like you wanted me here to and you just gape?” You tsked through your nervousness, crossing your arms teasingly and leaning over the fence on your side. “Ji, say something.” 

“...thank you.” He finally breathed out before you could complain further, catching you off-guard this time. “I needed that.” 

“What?” 

“This whole thing just made me feel really conflicting feelings.” He confessed, voice lower than usual now as he mirrored your position. “Thank you for listening and telling me what you thought. They definitely made a lot of things clearer.” 

You smiled, shoving him slightly through the fence separating the two of you. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it birthday boy?” You teased, laughing even more when he pouted at your teasing tone. “So? Feel better, then?” 

“A bit, yeah.” He nodded, grinning widely now. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N.” 

“You won’t admit it to my face but I know you’d do the same for me if I annoyed you into it enough.” You shrugged, standing up properly now and walking over to the entrance. “Now, would you let me play? You’ve been at it for twenty minutes, it’s getting tiring watching you.” 

He laughed at this as you joined him in the arcade space, kicking a soccer ball towards you as soon as you came in through the chain entrance. “What? You think you can do better?” 

“I had to watch you all the time after school back then because you were my ride home and Mrs. Han always picked us up late. I’m sure that could amount to something.” 

Age nineteen and a half. For a mandatory community service class, all of your friends signed up to volunteer at an orphanage. 

The majority vote was actually at the shelter you used to volunteer at but your old neighbourhood was too far from the university you were attending and so the most practical option, the orphanage just two blocks away, was the natural next best thing. And from this one semester’s worth of experience, you definitely learned a lot about your friends. 

For one, Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin were only popular with kids but only for their looks (additionally, his baking skills for Felix). Whenever you passed by them during volunteer hours, you would often find the three buried underneath a pile of toddlers hitting them with all kinds of toys. Feeling bad, you actually got the orphanage’s matron to assign them to the older kids after a while. 

Seungmin and Kira, on the other hand, were so awkward at first but naturally got into the groove of it. Maybe it’s because they only started dating then and everything was flustering but they surprised you the most with how much they got along with almost all of the kids regardless of age. 

Then, there was Jisung whom almost all of the younger kids practically fought over to play with at the playground. As if it was an inside joke of some sort, it made you laugh the most how the kids would often ask him to push them at the swings. 

“Careful now,” You reminded him once jokingly, elbowing his side as the two of you approached the swing set where the kids were already waiting to get pushed on their respective seats. “don’t want their knees to get scraped or something.”

He simply scoffed at you, shaking his head in disbelief. “I won’t let that happen, not at this age.” 

“So if I asked you to push me on the swings later, you won’t try and kill me this time?” You asked next, waving hello to the children before going around the swing set to gently push them to momentum. Jisung followed suit, making a beeline to his favorite, a toddler named Ara who always asked to be pushed higher on the swings. 

“That’s a trick question because we’re not actually allowed to play here.” He answered matter-of-factly, turning to Ara right after. “Isn’t that right, Ara? Y/N isn’t allowed to play here because she’s an adult, right?” 

The two of you would sit on the swing set and take turns pushing each other when the orphanage staff weren’t looking anyway, giggling amongst yourselves while watching the kids migrate to the jungle gym. 

“You were so annoying when we were kids!” You mostly complained, letting yourself laugh about it now as it was all in the distant past. “You had the ‘girls had cooties’ phase and everything.” 

“Because the boys all said it was true!” Jisung was quick to say in his defense, twisting the chains on his swing around to make himself spin. “And I was seven so of course I’d believe them that easily!” 

“What about when you pushed me from the swings?” 

“We both know that was an accident.” 

“You could’ve secretly held a grudge against me as early as that time! You were so mad when your mom made you buy me snacks!” 

“Because you told your mom that I did it on purpose! I thought you hated me even before that too.” 

“Well, I never hated you before that, just to set the record straight.” You shook your head immediately, turning your swings to the side to face him briefly. “You? Did you ever hate me?”

“Never.” He shook his head back at you in response, equally serious now. “You were annoying at times but that was because I was kinda annoying to you too.”

“What about now?” You asked next, voice unexpectedly wavering at asking such a question and even more when he chuckled at this. 

“You were with me on my what was almost my worst birthday ever just three months ago. What do you think?” He scoffed playfully, returning to his spinning to ease his flustered face. “Besides, we’re like better less-trying to kill each other all the time friends now! We’re even studying together again these days.” 

“We both know you’re only at the library since you’ve been trying to wingman Hyunjin with the librarian and dote on Jeongin like he’s your baby.” 

“What? No, I’m there for you too! Moral support!” 

Age nineteen and three-fourths. Jisung’s older brother invited you along with your parents to his wedding during the Spring break and Jisung immediately jumped on the chance to redeem himself as ‘the best dance partner you ever had.’ 

You didn’t even think he’d remember something he said himself back then. Personally, you thought it was just his guilt from pissing you off or sleepiness from dancing too much at prom that was talking then. But the moment the dance floor was opened at the rather extravagant cherry blossoms-themed wedding, the best man was by your side within seconds after sprinting from his table across the wedding hall. 

“Y/N!” He called to you as he ran to your table shared with all of your friends, your parents, and a few people from your childhood neighbourhood; his obnoxiously loud voice against the jazz music and his hand raised up above his head to wave at you catching a few guests’ attention. “Y/N!” 

Felix was about to ask you to dance after Seungmin and Kira as well as Hyunjin and Jeongin paired up, your hand already up in the air to accept his, but Jisung was quick to swat your hand away from the other boy as soon as he arrived. “Sorry, Lix, I’m afraid I’ll have to steal Y/N away!” He dramatically interrupted in between tired pants, flashing the confused Felix with a sheepish grin. “I owe Y/N a very important dance!” 

“What dance?” You raised a brow, bringing your hand away from his and back to your lap. 

“The one—t-the one I promised you that night a-at prom.” He sighed, finally catching his breath after. “I promised you then, remember?” 

From the corner of your eye, Felix’s eyes lightened up in excitement as he clasped his hands together and cooed. “Aww!” He giggled, making you and Jisung turn to him after. “If that’s the case, then why should I stop you two? I’ll just see if Chan or Changbin aren’t dancing yet!” 

“But Lix!” 

The other boy’s quick to wave his hands to you snappily, shaking his head. “No buts, Y/N! You two go and do that cute promised dance thing you have going on! I’ll be fine!” He assured, much to your protests. “I knew something was going on!” 

“Nothing’s going o—“

“Thanks, Lix! I owe you, dude.” Jisung pats Felix’s shoulder appreciatively, turning to you after and taking your hand once more to pull you up into a stand. “Now, come on! My brother said he has my songs on queue!” 

He whisked you away before you could protest further, taking you to the dance floor just as the music slows down to his own song. “Right on time!” He even exclaimed happily before placing his other hand on your waist. You’ve heard this one before as the one he would always sing at the Open Mic Nights at university. “Now, to make it up to you...” 

Jisung didn’t dance so bad. He was still playful, making it a game between the two of you on who can step on the other’s feet the most when the next songs became more upbeat, but he was serious when he wanted to, sheepishly apologizing that it took him long to make it up to you. 

“I didn’t even remember it until you brought it up tonight.” You assured with a laugh as the song slowed down once more. Without even realizing it, you’ve danced all of the songs in the two-hour setlist with him. “I didn’t think it was important.” 

“Well, it is to me.” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he can, visibly looking nervous towards the end. When you quietly asked him why, his only response was, “Because that night I really realized that even when I liked annoying you, I don’t like pissing you off so much to the point that you hate me.” 

And at that moment you realized that Jisung has some way of catching you off-guard so randomly. “W-What? I mean—” You wanted to joke something along the lines of ‘wow, took you long enough,’ but the words ultimately never came out as Jisung chuckled at your baffled expression. 

“I mean, trying to piss each other off, joking around, competing over studies—those are our things.” He confessed sincerely, unconsciously tightening his grip on your hand as the song progressed. “But I said something that night thinking of it as a joke and not really considering the thought that it would piss you off so much because you were so stressed already. I didn’t like pushing you on edge like that—” 

“You already apologized and everything, it’s all g—” 

“—But most importantly, I really wanted to dance with you then, regardless of the incident.” He breathed out before you could even finish your thought, rendering you speechless for the second time. “Maybe I’ve always liked you then, maybe even before that; either way, I really wanted to have one moment where we weren’t fighting or anything—and, surprisingly, even when we’ve started hanging out better, I still want one. I still like you.” 

You immediately stopped dancing, bumping shoulders with a stranger behind you which Jisung instinctively responded to by pulling your frozen form to the side of the dance floor. You pursed your lips once to speak, only managing to fumble out, “Y-You...you liked me?” 

“I said I like you. Present tense.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, hands dropping to his sides immediately at sensing how tense and awkward the atmosphere suddenly became. “And I like you the way Seungmin dotes on Kira and Minho’s always protective of Bora and Jeoyeon’s been helplessly pining over Chan, those kinds in case you’re going to pull that how exactly do I like you bullshit you learned from Minho before again.”  

“I—r-really?” Was your only response as you tried your best to process this revelation. “You like me? W-Why—why me?” 

He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Yes, Y/N, how many times do I have to repeat myself?” He teased as casually as he could muster with his growing nervousness. “And why you? I don’t know, either, but I think I can start remembering as far back as the time you teased me at the playground that I push like a sissy but didn’t look for another playmate anyway. I’ve always liked you...just a little bit more now that I’m much more sure of a lot of things.” 

It was all so overwhelming, honestly, but you belatedly muster up a laugh as he recalled such a distant memory from you. “Y-You...God, Han Jisung, you’re insufferable!” You mumbled under your breath, hitting him by his arm with one hand while the other covered your mouth. “Why didn’t you say so?” 

“So, does that mean you like me too?” 

“I let you dance with me the entire night. What do you think?” You scoffed playfully, gaze softening as you looked up at his relieved smile and bright eyes. “You did push like a sissy at the playground when we were kids, though.” 

Age twenty. When Minho bought his roommate flowers to their last cheerdance competition and asked her to be his girlfriend, Hyunjin dared you to one-up the upperclassman and wear Jisung’s jersey to his own final game of the year.

“Well, you did give him that talk over dating someone who appreciates the things he loves.” Eunha told you over video call with the rest of your friend group on the day Hyunjin brought up the idea. Before you could even protest and repeatedly assure that you do support everything Jisung does, she was quick to add, “Yeah, I know you do appreciate them but I just think it’s fitting now! He’s been making a lot of effort for you lately and didn’t you say you wanted to do something in return? Maybe you can finally ask him what you’ve been wanting to ask for a while now too...” 

You hated how she was right and very convincing about it. Since the wedding earlier in the year, Jisung has been nothing short of nicer to you. From actually hanging out with you at the library now (and not just to wingman Hyunjin or dote on Jeongin), buying you food randomly, to letting you vent your own worries and unwind from school by playing soccer with you or playing you music with his guitar, he’s been ‘making it up to you’ with quality time and sweet gestures; the only catch is that he hasn’t officially asked you out like he would. 

The two of you aren’t exactly the direct words type of people but it’s still nice to have some sort of affirmation. 

With a few more coaxing on her part combined with Seungmin’s own persuasiveness nagging at you in real time, your friends eventually got Jeongin to steal one of Jisung’s spare soccer jerseys later that day to give to you for his game on the following Saturday. 

To say that Jisung was flustered is an understatement to say the least. Quickly catching you at the very front of the bleachers before the game started, he waved at you and the rest of your cheering friend group shyly, approaching only when the coach gave him permission to. 

“Hey, that’s mine.” He snickered with even more sheepishness at seeing you up close, holding the jersey he wears by its shoulders before gesturing to the identical one you wear. The two of you stand by the stairs leading down to the field, on the side where you aren’t in the way of passing players and staff. “The jersey—maybe the one wearing it too.” 

You held up the bouquet of daisies in your hands close to your face, effectively hiding the heat rising up to your neck. “I bought your favorite flowers too.” You pointed out next before gesturing to your friends sitting around you. “Those smartasses dared me to outdo Minho’s stunt at the cheerdance competition which I still think is dumb since you were in on that one but, hey, it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?” 

“Just seeing you is already enough.” He added with a flirty wink, making you cringe teasingly. “The jersey’s a really big bonus, though. I think I can score everything on this one because of you.” 

“You better or else this jerseys’ going to be mine now.” 

“I don’t mind.” He shook his head immediately, pulling you closer by the waist in his now ritual good luck hug from you and placing the flowers back on your sides. “I don’t mind calling you mine too.” 

The cheesy pick-up line makes the two of you laugh. Either way, you push yourself to not let go of him too soon. “...ew, Jisung!” You hit his back instead, heaving a sigh of relief anyway before finally pulling away from his hug to send him off. That’s enough confirmation now. “Now, go win this game and get it over with. We’re still on for movies later, right?” 

“Yep.” He assured, patting your head affectionately before boldly leaning closer again for a kiss. “I’m looking forward to it!” 

[ditch-witches]

asa butterfield x reader

request: wasn’t requested, but we wrote this in march and decided to post. we’re opening our inbox to other actors and characters, so feel free to send us a request :)

warnings: mentions of sex (slight), crude language, a family gathering

word count: ~2000

Your grandmother threw open her front door, hair in curlers to match her fuzzy pink slippers. Her face brightened at the sight of you, yet once her eyes fell to Asa it was like you were last year's ham. She nearly hooted in excitement before throwing her arms around him and dragging him inside, Asa’s face furrowing as he looked back at you. You smirked slightly, hanging your jacket on the already full coat tree by the door and kicking off your shoes before meandering through her gigantic house in search of your boyfriend. There were various cousins sprawled out around her living room and hanging out of the archway to the kitchen while watching whatever sport was on TV. 

You furrowed your brows at the group and half of them pointed down the hallway where a round of hollering and an old crackly radio was sounding off. You nodded and moved in the direction they sent you, turning a few corners before going through the sliding glass door in the back, spotting Asa being shown off to several of your uncles from different generations and your older cousins by your small grandmother. You sighed, coming out from behind them and capturing the attention of the group who greeted you with smiles and a few pinches on the arm. The stereotypical conversation questions were thrown around briefly: How is school? How’s the job? Are you hungry? 

Some of the guys were talking to Asa and shaking his hand a ridiculous amount until you finally had enough. “Oma, maybe you should go get ready?” You suggested, finally taking hold of Asa’s arm to pull him from her grasp. She inhaled sharply as if forgetting she was walking around in a housecoat while her guests continued to fill her house. You were sure Asa would already be overwhelmed, him being whisked off was not what you had expected, but he remained smiling, talking to whoever started conversations with him. You couldn’t really believe it but Asa was prospering. 

Before you knew it, the two of you were sat beside each other at a long table of most of your cousins, separate from the massive group of adults, passing food amongst yourself and talking over the polka music that seemed to always be playing from the radio in the living room. You leaned over to Asa as he passed you a basket of rolls. “Are you all right?” You whispered, passing the food again. 

He smiled at you slightly, his icy blue eyes seemingly lighting up even more. “Never better. Relax, okay?” He mumbled, sending you a wink. You hadn’t realized how tensed up you were as you dropped your shoulders at his words. If you weren’t surrounded by family members, you would have kissed him. The meal went on without ripples, listening to how people were doing in school and sitting through several of the members of the family closer to your age tell embarrassing stories about yourself to Asa like it had happened last week, not when you were three and still wearing Garanimals. 

“You’re Asa, right?” One of your middle school aged cousins asked from across the table. She put her chin in her hand, her makeup more intricate than you ever could master. He shook his head hesitantly. “You’re probably so good you don’t use protection. Am I right?” Her almost seductive glance and question made you choke on your water and Asa’s mouth dropped open a bit as the man beside her cackled heavily. 

“Oh, my God,” you breathed. “You can’t say that,” you hissed and she shrugged. 

Her eyes trailed him from across the table. “I don’t hear a ‘no’.” 

You groaned, telling Asa to ignore her through gritted teeth. “You should always use protection,” he answered instead, attempting to hold back his own laugh as you kicked him under the table, sending the man next to her into even greater fits of laughter. 

“Are you staying at oma’s tonight?” Another asked, thankfully one that hadn’t heard the previous topic. 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, debating if it was too late to get a hotel. “No, I haven’t drawn a card yet…” You mumbled, trying not to alert Asa beside you. 

Your actions were for nothing as he piped up. “What is drawing a card?” 

At his question, several of the cousins attempted to answer at once, urging you to let him be the one to draw this time and you shook your head. “My grandmother has a deck of cards that have locations written on them and whenever there’s a family gathering, you draw a card to figure out where you’re staying. It’s because my dad’s generation all fought over who was staying with Uncle Mike,” you answered, closer to his ear to combat the several voices. “But we should just get a hotel room-” 

“That’s breaking the rules and you know it!” Another cousin yelled, pointing his fork at you. 

You shook your head. “You’re a grown ass man and you still want a shot at staying with Uncle Mike?” You almost snapped, making him shrug. 

“You’re just pissed because you never get it!” He snapped back. 

You shook your head almost dramatically. “What if I didn’t want to stay with Uncle Mike?” 

“Liar!” 

“I like staying with oma!” 

He sent you a sarcastic smile as if to call your bullshit. “Fine then, we’re taking bets on who has to sleep in the tent.” 

You had almost forgotten Asa was there until he piped up. “I have ten on you then,” he quipped and your heart slightly fluttered at him as your cousin pointed to him, leaning over the table aggressively to shake Asa’s hand as the other cousins began saying it was other people. One got up to grab an old pad of paper to take down the bets and you pinched the bridge of your nose between your index finger and thumb. Asa was loving every minute of this. 

After dinner, half of your great uncles were passed out on the couch and your grandmother was shuffling her beat up deck of cards, long past the date it should have been retired. Your heart began to beat slightly, the adrenaline rushing through you as you thought about the bets that were made and the possibility of having to sleep outdoors. You sat on the couch, watching closely as the deck was brought around, shuffled and fanned out for each of the kids. Meanwhile Asa leaned his elbows on his knees, playing Cat’s Cradle with one of your younger cousins. Your leg rested against his as you focused on the cards, maybe it wasn’t the chance that you would have to sleep in a beat up old tent, but rather the rush of competition. So far, most of the spaces in the upper level of your grandma’s house had been taken as well as the spots in your cousin’s. Uncle Mike’s had yet to be completely claimed and the tent still hung in the air. 

The deck came towards you, your grandmother swooping down slightly for the cousin that was entranced by the string game. She drew a card: the top bunk of one of many stacked beds at Uncle Mike’s. Her older brother cheered, knowing that you now had an even bigger chance of getting the tent. The deck was offered to Asa, your grandmother raising an eyebrow. “No, I don’t trust him,” you quickly stated, ignoring his sarcastically hurt expression. The deck was turned to you. “I love you, but you have some of the worst luck.” Your mind raced at what was left and then you realized that Asa would be sleeping with you. Then you prayed to whatever higher being could help you to not give you an upper floor. “We have a lot riding on this,” you muttered as she fanned the cards for you. You drew your card, quickly turning it over and snapping it around towards your cousins who all groaned at the fluent, swirling writing your grandma was known for. 

“Are you kidding!” 

“How?” 

“Fuck! I could have bought a ton of M&M’s with that money.” 

Your grandma whipped around to the last cousin to speak, yanking on his ear quickly and hissing, “Halt deinen Mund!” He put his hands up in defense looking at her with wide eyes and you smirked. 

“Yeah, Halt deinen Mund,” you mocked and she snapped her fingers at you, making you close your mouth quickly before she moved on. You all broke out into a fit of giggles silently, relieved that no one had the tent yet. The one who made the bet with Asa was who you hoped would get it, in all honesty. You finally let out a breath, relaxing completely. 

You snuggled into your seat, crossing your legs and throwing an arm around the section of the back of the couch where Asa was sitting. He leaned back, tucking under your arm slightly, raising an eyebrow in your direction. “And where did we get?” 

You handed him the card. “Oma’s back basement room. There’s a waterbed, but other than that, it’s a win.” 

He chuckled, flipping the card between his long fingers. “That could be fun,” he whispered slightly and you pushed his face away with your hand as he laughed. As the party died down enough that people were heading to their designated spots or out back to set piles of leaves on fire, you and Asa grabbed your bags and headed through the maze of a house to your room for the night and possibly the next. It really depended on how much Asa could actually take of your family. 

Your room was just off the retro bar that was always used around the winter holidays. You thanked whoever was looking out for you up above as you threw your bags down on one of the dated couches and peaked into the newly renovated bathroom. “So, how are you feeling?” You asked, putting your hands on your hips as he slipped his sweater over his head and readjusting his t-shirt. 

“I’m exhausted,” he stated, biting back a wide grin before plopping down into the middle of the bed, it sloshed around under his movements and he giggled slightly before laying back. You perked an eyebrow. “I’m ready. Fuck me on a waterbed,” he jeered, smirking up at you. 

He tucked his arms beneath his head, and you sent him a tilted expression. “You are so strange.”

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 9

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

Tulipa gesneriana ~ Commonly called the Garden Tulip. A lovely flower with cherry red petals that is never seen cultivating by itself.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

“Now that we’ve had our pity party, how about I act like a proper grandmother and show you some photos.” Oma smiled and rose to grab a weathered tin and a photo album from the bookshelf. Levi felt like the couch was engulfing his form with its soft cradle. When Oma turned around she was met with his body half eaten by the overly plush material; his shoulders hunched and tea propped up against his chest as his body reclined even further inward. He looked pleasantly comfortable and stiff at the same time.

As she plopped the two memory vessels on the coffee table, Levi’s features hardened akin to the rusted box now in front of him. The foreign lettering connected in geometric shapes that he recognized but could not decipher. They left remembrance teetering on the tip of his tongue.

“That’s my father’s cigar box.” Oma explained when she noted his fixation on the object. Levi heaved himself out of the couch’s embrace and propped his elbows on his knees, still fixated on the memento.

“The writing on the side…” Levi let his sentence flit away on his breath as his brain delved deeper into the patterns.

“Writing? What makes you think its writing?” Oma pursed her lips and picked up the weathered box to give it a closer examination. “Looks more like a decorative design.”  

Oma shrugged and passed the box to Levi. It felt cold on his freshly tea-cup warmed palms. Flashbacks of loitering about the weathered guard posts, frosted cabins, and Utgard Castle drew back vivid images of the strange symbols. They sparked his curiosity enough to imprint within him, but he didn’t care enough to debate with the old woman.

It would be a memory put on hold for another time.

“I’ve seen something like it at one of the outposts on old crates of supplies and alcohol.” He stated, placing the box down in resignation.

“Hmm.” Oma gave one final acknowledgement before popping the top open. She lifted the haphazardly stacked photos out of their resting place with a gentleness that cradled each precious paper.

As she flipped through them, Levi felt like he was gaining memories of a childhood... a family ...that he never had. It was like observing someone’s entire life through a looking glass. These pictures were of Oma; of her and her husband, of her and their children, of her and you and Petra.

Levi’s brow knitted when she came to a photo of a spry, young version of herself embracing a familiar face-only with a full head of lucious locks.

“You and- Pixis ?” Levi said in exasperation and squinted at the photo as if that would make his shock dwindle.

Oma couldn’t have been much older than you; her statue was slight but her physique was robust. Her hair cascaded from her bun and softly framed her face that smiled wryly at the camera. She was arm in arm with Pixis; his eyes crinkled with happiness and hair (comically) blowing in the wind.

“Ah yes. Dot and I were both squad leaders and grew very close.” Oma sighed with a nostalgic glow. “That man truly had a way with his hands. The last time I saw him Ymir knows I couldn’t restrain myself-”

Levi inhaled his tea so furiously that it seared his throat with the same passion Oma gave off for the garrison commander. She looked on in amusement as he collected himself and cleared the assault on his lungs.

“You mean, you two-” Levi started, mentally wiping away the unwanted visual before it left a permanent stain in his cranium.

“Oh yes. As casual and dedicated as friends but as steaming as this kettle.” Oma’s youthful vigor radiated extra brightly as she reminisced.

“Why didn’t it work out?” Levi asked.

“My husband snatched me away.” She winked and continued on her trip down memory lane.

“Ah! Now that one of you is here…” Oma began excitedly as the next photo was unveiled. “You can tell me all about this one.”

“You have this photo?” Levi’s voice was barely above a whisper as he relieved the corporeal memory.

“Yup, she sent it to me for safe keepings. Said in her letter that she saw your face enough everyday that she didn’t need the photo right now.”

Levi felt the familiar feeling of his heart expanding when he set his eyes on your elegant beauty. The photo in question was taken at the last Royal Gala after everyone had swapped their military uniforms for evening wear. He always secretly wished he had more excuses to see you in a gown such as that one; the smooth fabric billowed gracefully from your hips, accentuated your curves, and pushed upward the swell of your breasts that were cradled in a lining of lavish lace trim. It would be eternally alluring to him, partially from the lavish overstimulation of the elite banquet and because it was-well- you. He remembered the insatiable feeling of the stark and sudden transition of having absolutely nothing to his name, to being flushed with an abundance of everything in that moment.

You were beaming, a brilliant smile outshining the flashy festival mask that you adorned. Levi...not so much. He gazed into the viewfinder with features hard but eyes delicate in a way that demonstrated he was putting up with your antics. The two of you were pressed into each other's sides as the decadent swirling of the wealthy framed your faces.

If you squinted closely, and looked past the grainy texture and into the background, one would be able to observe Hange swinging Moblit wildly in circles among the party-goers.

↞♞♘↠

“Why not?” You prodded, arms crossed in defiance at his rejection of your proposition.

“I’m not going to wear some gaudy mask that most likely has the sweat stains of hundreds of people on it.” Levi stated with sharp disgust. His eyes nearly rolled out of his skull when you began childishly tugging on the sleeve of his tailcoat.

That tailcoat was the precise reason why you desperately needed to get in line for this photo. It was hard enough to see Levi out of anything but his scouting uniform or his everyday combo of a long sleeved button down and trousers. Both options were easy on the eyes but tonight he looked ravishing. The tailcoat was expertly tailored and clutched the curve of his slim waist and the expanse of his toned arms close to the obsidian fabric.

He was always clean, but cleaned up -so to say-he was absolutely divine. You would never tell him this but his fox like beauty paired with the fancy dress endowed him with the grace of a prince.

“You don’t have to wear the mask! Although that would make it less fun…” You mumbled in a last ditch attempt, hoping he would take pity for you on this special occasion.

“Great now that we’ve established it’s not fun, let’s go get another drink.” He replied, unfazed and unwavered. He began turning towards the outer end of the ballroom where waiters danced with shining trays instead of partners.

“No!” You yelped, scampering as hurriedly as your heels would allow you to stand in front of him. Your chest was heaving in excitement for the extravagant evening (and by the walls was that corset tight). Your heels increased your already apparent height difference and made your very... perky breasts at eye level with his gaze. Levi coughed to rebuild his crumbling composure. He kindly reminded himself he was at a government sponsored event and that no matter how desperately he desired to let his eyes wander this was not the time and place.

“You said I look beautiful tonight, right?” You quipped with a pointed glare.

“Of course.” His lack of hesitation in his answer made the alcohol content in your blood skyrocket as you became drunk on him even more than you already had.

“Well if you would take 5 minutes to take this photo with me that’s 5 minutes until I’m willing to sneak out of here with you. Then you can see this beautiful gown on your chamber’s floor.” Your eyes sparkled with mischief akin to the iridescent pearls that were nestled into your ears.

Levi’s brow quirked in intrigue and you were a deer caught in the sly beams of his eyes.

“Fine.”

↞♞♘↠

“What a wonderful gala that was. I usually despise such events but I gotta examine you in person for the first time, no matter how brief our encounter was. I got to see my girl in such a lovely gown, and I got to absolutely feel Dot-”

“I don’t need a narrative.” Levi intercepted quickly with a sharp tinge of annoyance that sent Oma into a mess of snorts and laughter.

That strange sensation washed over him once more. The pleasantly warm bubble that made him feel like he was home but standing on the outskirts of the precipice all at once.

“Is that why we didn’t get to actually meet?�� Levi trailed off as realization snapped him like a taut rubber band. While he was forced to blandly entertain the higher ups and delegates your grandmother was snogging a commander.

“Oh hush, you’re an adult, stop acting like a teenage boy.” She playfully chided with a glint in her eye that made Levi take step closer to that tempting bubbling feeling.

A gentle knock on the wood paneling caused Oma and Levi to raise their heads to meet Felicia’s gaze.

“I’m going to head home now, Frau Vogel.” She said with a tired smile as she poked her head around the living room archway.

“Damn, it really has gotten dark hasn’t it?” Oma mumbled as she took in the waning light.

“My dear, it’s much too late to be walking back by yourself. You can stay in your old room.” Her response was a medley of chastising and fondness.

“O-oh, no. I mean-how kind of you-but I don’t have a change of fresh clothes and these ones have bits of blood and schnitzel on them…” Felicia sighed with a whine. Oma was about to interject her dramatic behavior when Levi’s voice filled the space instead.

“I’ll walk you home.” He offered, tone as smooth and calm as the golden liquid in his cup. He placed his cup on the saucer with a small clank and rose from the couch. Felicia bristled in bashful gratitude as he quietly padded over to the front door and began lacing his boots.

Oma gave Felicia a wink and nestled further into the couch, letting the cushions cradle her old bones and the aroma of the tea lull her into relaxation.

“The kitchen is clean, I folded all of the towels-” Felicia hurriedly explained when Levi held the door open for her.

“Yes, yes, thank you. Now off you go, I’ll come fetch you tomorrow.” Oma shooed the jittery girl out of the house with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, Felicia-” She interjected. The young woman poked her head back into the archway.

“If I hear one peep out of you about not paying you for looking after Y/N this next week I will have to start cooking the schnitzel myself.”  

Felicia gasped in betrayal as the fireflies that worshiped the porch flowers sent she and her companion off on their moonlit walk. The grit of shoes against the pebbled road took over the silence which Levi observed Felicia desperately wanted to fill. She seemed to feel pressure to speak, to offer something other than the emptiness of the countryside. Levi, on the other hand, was completely content with bathing in the blissful numbness of the cricket symphonies and the wind kisses of the path.

“How does our village compare to where you’re from?” Felicia barely overpowered the whistling of the grass with her slight tone. Her question was an innocent one. One with good intent that Levi didn’t dare spoil given the past two days of anguish.

“It’s...definitely more colorful.” He let the sweet air fill his tired lungs. He had seen a larger aurora of colors in these past 48 hours than he reckoned he had ever seen in his monochromatic existence. Going from the diluted underground to the emerald green seas and burnt brick of the walls didn’t leave much room for hue.

“So you’re from an urban area then?” Felicia continued, enthused that Levi had picked up her conversation.

“You could say that.” His reply was vague but left no room for further explanation. Truthfully, he felt as much from that festering tumor as a migratory bird feels for its winter home. It was where he was birthed, raised, existed . But he didn’t truly live until he rid his mouth of the dusted, stale air and crumbing ceilings of the underground.

Felicia’s mouth hung open with an incoming response when a screech erupted in its place. Levi grunted as she jumped sideways right into him, colliding into his sore shoulder. He just barely caught her as he staggered backwards. She stumbled against his chest before he propped her back up straight by her underarms.

“What the fuck just happened?” He asked with an irritation he couldn’t restrain. Felicia’s bodyweight had punctured his shoulder with sharp needles that disturbed the dull hum of his pain.

“Oh walls, I’m so so SO sorry sir-I MEAN LEVI!” She babbled as she floundered to eject herself from his support so as to not burden him any more.

“I-I, something moved in the bush right next to me!” Felicia’s tone wobbled just as her legs did. Levi followed her trembling gaze and prepared himself for a feral dog or a wild boar. If it was anything bigger than that, like a bear, they were absolutely fucked.

The snort that erupted from the bush elicited another shrill scream from the maid. Levi’s muscles tensed in the realization that he would have to fend off the beast with his bare hands in his absence of weapons. He brought up a protective arm in front of Felicia when a pawing in the foliage neared the paved pathway. The thick anticipation mingled with the drumming of hearts was the soundtrack to the animal moving into the lamplight.

Levi’s muscles instantly relaxed. All except his chest. It shook with candid chuckles that materialized as a small hum and blossomed into a full blown laughter.

“Hello Big Shit.” Levi’s smile was radiant against the artificial lighting as Puddle aparated out of the bushes, his form now fully visible in the dim illumination. “He must have followed us.”

“B-big shhhh?” Felicia stammered, eyes wide with embarrassment. She was too polite to finish the last word.

Then he did it again.

He laughed so freely it put the crickets to shame. Felicia pursed her lips awkwardly and smoothed her nervous hands along her apron.

“He’s Y/N’s.” Levi cooed , reaching a delicate hand out to the horse and letting him press his plush nose to his knuckles. Felicia’s jaw went slack once more. She felt like she was regarding a completely separate individual she had previously been acquainted with. His cicada shell had been discarded on the path with the others and now only tenderness enveloped the man’s being.

“He is quite terrifying.” Levi teased gently as Puddle extended his neck to nuzzle hot breaths into his cheek. Felicia flushed at her overreaction. Levi turned from the horse to her with a glow that made her swear he was a tranquil forest spirit rather than the man who was walking her home. At her shock he immediately reigned himself back in, clearing his throat and partially crawling back into his cicada skin.

“If he’s followed us this far he’ll keep walking with us.” Levi said, the brief bloom of outward happiness coming to an end.

After a few minutes of only the comets’ luminous words trickling through the sky and the occasional snort, Felicia spoke up.

“It’s nice to see you happy.” She commented bashfully.

“It’s not like I haven’t been happy before.” He huffed, unsure of where to place her heartfelt compliment among the ever turbidness of his mind.

“I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just-I’ve never seen you smile before.” She cringed as she said it and Levi’s snort mimicked the horse behind them. He let her observation marinade under the moonlight.

“Happiness shows itself in different ways.” He mused and the corners of her lips upturned smally at her silliness.

“I just can’t imagine what you and Y/N have to go through.” She said with the careful articulation of a confession.

“D-did you see it happen?” She asked apprehensively. The nightmare scape tore through his cornea and implanted itself as if he was seeing it vividly again.

“No.” He exhaled.

The mass of flesh reeked of steamed rotted meat in the background of your shuddering form blanketed in torn cloth and soaked in sticky blood. His feet were caught in a time loop, too slow to reach you but too fast to wrap his mind around the potential discovery of your demise. His knees burned against the fabric of his trousers as they slid on the viscous ground to you. Your eyes were open wide and even though they were looking right at him, they went right through him like he was transparent against the skyline. The titan and you shared a bed of grass but by the walls not a resting place.

“But I saw the one that did it to her.” He continued as he blinked away the flash of mental scar tissue. “Her blade was lodged into its neck and it was bleeding profusely from its eye.”

Felicia winced at his description.

“She’s grown so strong.” Her whimper got lodged in her throat.

Little lanterns perched on the exterior of modest cottages floated into existence on both sides of the road as they neared Felicia’s neighborhood.

“How long have you known Y/N and Oma?” He asked to change the conversation for the sake of both their emotional turmoil. Felicia brightened up a bit at his term for her mistress.

“Since I was very young.” She smiled the weight right off of Levi’s shoulders. “My parents worked for Oma and her husband. I became Y/N’s babysitter or sorts, and by default many times Jean’s too, then the housekeeper to make some money.”

Levi recounted her reaction to the photo of Jean earlier and decided to attempt to lighten the mood like the wispy moss that dangled over their heads.

“Jean is single.” He revealed and eyed her in muted amusement for her reaction. Felicia turned beet red, the statement adding an extra sheepish pop to her step.

“O-oh, that’s hard for me to believe.” She laughed awkwardly.

“Really?” Levi replied without a drop or sarcasm. He understood why you put up with the boy because you had been friends for so long. But he would forever wonder how mentally stable the person who would willingly date him was.

Felicia gulped as his question hung out to try on the overarching maple branches.

“W-well, I mean-he’s funny, considerate, determined-”

“Determined to keep his long face up my asshole.” Levi finished her musings, dodging a moth as it flew too close to his nose. Felicia giggled at his half-assed insult.

“Determination, no matter what the kind, is a handsome quality.”

Levi hummed at her sincere answer. Her excitement over the boy rubbed warm circles into his chest. It reminded himself of his blooming feelings for you.

“When was the last time you saw him?” He asked as Felicia led him down a left fork in the road.

“Oh, a little less than a year ago? He and Y/N don’t get to come home a lot, you know.”

Their conversation was concluded in the middle of the road when Felicia halted in front of a beige cottage.

“This is me.” Her grin pushed up the apples of her cheeks and she cheesily pointed to the home. Levi nodded once and watched as she delicately climbed up the steps, deftly avoiding the garden rocks in the darkness until she reached her porch.

“Thank you for walking me here. You’ll be okay finding your way back?” She affirmed as she turned her key into the lock. Levi nodded once more and she breathed out a timid laugh.

“Alright, good night Levi.” She smiled sweetly.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Big...um.” She turned to Puddle and wrinkled her nose.

“Shit.” Levi finished with crinkled eyes.

“Sh...shit.” She blurted and danced in place as if she had uttered a tremendous sin. Levi waited until she was halfway inside when she surprised him by returning to his presence. She paused, the light emanating from the open door allowing them to see each other clearly. She threw him a genuine smile that made him feel naked in the pale night.

“You know, you fit in really well here.”

Levi twirled the circlets of metallic promises between his fingers as he let the warmth of this evening’s reactions carry him home.

Fuck, did he just think home ?

In such a short amount of time, these gardens of tulips and those that harvest them had uprooted the numbness he had trained himself to harbor. He’d now gotten a sickeningly sweet taste of life and it was going to be hard for him to not grow addicted to it. The rings began to feel too heavy for him to carry and he placed them securely back in his pocket as he neared the estate.

With Puddle contained for the moment, he tapped his dirtied boots against the doormat and stepped into the living room. His feet sank deep into the fertilizer as he looked upon Oma. She had fallen asleep curled into the sofa, her empty tea cup cuddled into her embrace and the photo album discarded on the adjacent cushion.

He felt oddly like an intruder as he gingerly released the cup from her grasp. Felt the peculiar stab of domestic alienation when he draped the crocheted blanket over her. This was what home was supposed to resemble. Not a sullen room with a single bed and a mother called upon only to come home a wilted flower with her petals torn. Levi was knee deep in the garden soil now and he dove further and further into the dirt every passing day he spent here.

He tiptoed up the creaky steps, shed your father’s clothes in exchange for more appropriate sleepwear, and gravitated to your room. The armchair screeched dully against the flooring as he brought it closer to your bed. And he allowed himself to dream of living for once instead of just existing.

You fit in really well here.

Morning arrived on the chaotic wings of angry sparrows and a pleasant plush heat on his back. Levi groaned as he felt his back scream at him for his hunched over position. He clutched the blanket to his body as he stretched out the kinks. He rubbed the fluffy material between his fingers as he groggily recalled that he definitely didn’t go to sleep with this. As he sat up a light fluttering fell to the ground from his shoulder. Looking to the floor he noticed a note. He bent down to retrieve it and held it close to his sandy eyes.

I let you sleep in today because you need it-don’t deny it.

I’m off to get Felicia and we’re stopping by the apothecary on the way home but we shouldn’t be too long.

Here’s a blanket.

You don’t want your body to be as cold as your heart <3.

Oma

Levi rested his head on his blanket covered palm, nuzzling into the softness as he sighed in mild contentment.

“I lied-I understand how the two of you are related.” Levi whispered lightly towards you, the sounds as airy as the birds tapping at the glass.

It was another beautifully scenic day dressed in another of your father’s outfits babysitting another kettle of tea. Levi peeked out the kitchen window and wondered if everyday in this countryside was euphoric. But rather than basking in the lovely weather he opted to spend his morning tea with the one whose absence left this house just short of paradise.

He was careful to not clank the tray around as he reentered your room and spread open the curtains. However, the moment his fingers pulled the fabric apart the little winged rats announced their presence rather aggressively.

“Fuck off.” Levi threatened with a flick to the glass. His finger came back coated in dust.

"Felicia is a fucking disappointment of a cleaner."

And so the morning was spent sipping on temporary relief and gazing at the embodiment of comfort in your bed until his cup grew vacant. His chair creaked with age as he abandoned his post to refill his energy source.

Time slowed as it did two days ago and it was a miracle he avoided burning his fingers. They froze on the hot kettle as he was electrocuted by a weak gasp.

“Lee-” A desperately familiar voice with the body of a crumb murmured. He whipped around to see his most treasured blend of colors open up into his being.

Conscious.

Looking at him.

Actually at him.

The china fell from his petrified fingers and hit the rug with a bounce.

“Le-vi”

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 30- Shadow Fox

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Doc, Zed, and Scar have made their way to the city of Foresta, deep in the forests where animals are going missing and the nightmares grow worse daily. Meeting with a local shepherd, they find allies in the most unusual ways.

____________________________________

“Oh, yeah, watch it with the Zhenniao, their spit burns like mad.” Zedaph crows as he 

pets the soft white feathers of a Caladrius, the two having a conversation about their favorite seeds. 

“Uh… is this thing supposed to have three legs?” Scar leaps back, narrowly avoiding the corvid. He laughs though, and preens the beast’s wing. 

“Yep! Yatagarasu are born with two legs, but the third one grows when they learn to fly!” Zed sets the Caladrius back. As much as he loved the insightful debate he held with the bird, it’s not the kind of help they need. Besides, it would bring as much attention as an alicanto. “What about it, you three legged birdy? Want to join our team? Phoebe can teach you all the best ways to get letters to us- and the best places to peck at the hermits to get them to wake up.” 

“I swear to god I don’t want to have to build another eye.” Doc sets the acid spitting bird down, and waits for Zedaph to respond. But the blond hermit was always having a thousand different conversations at once. On their way here, he had a whole horde of forest creatures following him. 

The city of Foresta was open, patches of grass and trees older than the kingdom sprouting between houses and wide streets. Between the throngs of people, creatures of all shapes and sizes wandered down the dirt paths. Satori swing from the horns of a chimaera, leaping over the massive bodies that create the baku. Birds of all shapes, sizes, and different heads fly through the high canopy, fluttering to stop on the stone tower of the postal office. It’s here where the hermits are searching for another carrier bird. Poor Phoebe can’t do all the work herself, especially with so many hermits off hunting down reports.

And that was the other reason they were in the city of Flora and Fauna. Sent here to discover the whereabouts of missing familiars and family beasts. Carrier birds, farm beasts, even a family’s own cerberus have gone missing in the past few months. While Doc had his suspicions of their fate, Scar and Zedaph wanted to confirm his beliefs. 

“Alright, so that’s two more feathery friends added to the family.” The Zhenniao jumps from Zed’s shoulder, pulling on a tassel of Scar’s outfit. 

“I’m sure Grian will make fast friends with them, he already has Phoebe wrapped around his finger.” Scar chuckles, holding the bird close. “But what about the missing familiars? Did you get any information on who we could speak to?” 

“Actually, yes. A very talkative pegasus told me that a few streets down is where a whole herd of shleep went berserk a few days back.” 

Doc doesn’t waste another second. Marching down the street, eyes set on the direction Zedaph pointed. His gaze so intimidating, even a brigade of baccas part to stay out of his way. With one bird holding onto Zed’s hair, and another clasping Scar’s elongated ear, the other two give chase, Zed yelling turns to the marching beast that is Doc. He only halts in his tracks when he hears Zed yell “Stop! We’re here!” 

Screeching to a halt, Doc is left standing in an open field, sunlight blazing on the bright grass. Dotted with white patches of flowers, the pasture is empty. Unlike the busy city, even the parks in Foresta, this moorland was empty. 

Mostly empty. A young boy, laying beside a three headed sheepdog, is weaving dandelions into a flower crown. One for each head of his friend, and one for his own. Doc trains his mismatched eyes on the boy, and makes his presence known. 

Unfortunately for Doc, his presence is impending at best, downright terrifying at worst. The boy opens his eyes, and squeaks like a mouse at the sight of the hermit. He curls up, hands raised. “Please, just take my money I don’t got anything else!” 

“I’m not here to rob you.” Doc growls, rolling his eyes. Years of being a hardened criminal never really fades off his face. “Are you the shepherd?” 

“I’m sorry the shleep have been acting up lately! I don’t know how to make the nightmares stop, they’re still alarmed from the attack the other night.” The cerberus nuzzles one head beneath the boy’s arms, while the other two growl at the intruders. 

Until Zed steps up, a smile and a soft cooing voice turning one head from foe to friend. All it takes is one scratch of the ear, and he’s got the sheepdog wrapped around his finger. “That’s actually why we’re here. We came to help.” 

The boy lifts his head, looking at the unusual troupe. Two innocent, smiling faces surround the hardlined scowl of the hybrid hermit. Scar nudges Doc in the stomach, and the puppeteer sits to his knees. Looking much less impending when he’s not towering over the shepherd. “We heard that some unusual things have been happening in Foresta. Familiars going missing, pets getting lost left and right. Do you know anything of what’s causing that?” 

“What’s your name, kiddo?” Scar chuckles, plopping down next to the shepherd and beginning to weave his own flower crown. 

“I-Isaac.” He twists a blade of grass in between his fingers. “I...yeah, yeah I’ve seen a lot of it happen. When you’re a shleep herder, you see all manner of things happen in the night. But no one believes the boy who cries chupacabra. Or bakunawa, or ‘oh gods the neighbor’s cactus cat is suddenly an ash monster’!” 

“We’ll believe you. We came here just to hear those stories.” Scar chuckles. He looks over, and sees Doc’s expression start to soften, and the puppeteer reaches out to help Isaac finish the knot of his flower crown. Doc hates to admit it, but they all know he’s very good with kids. When he’s not being a hardass. “What have you seen?” 

“I...I’ve seen these critters, sneaking through the streets at night. All kinds of critters, actually, but...different from the normal. They look like they’re falling apart, like a cherry tree’s bark.” He runs his hands over his arms, attempting to find flakes of his own skin as proof. “They scare the shleep every night, and disappear into the city. And then I see more, and more. They drag other critters out of their homes and barns, and turn them into more flake monsters.” 

“Husks.” Doc whispers, his suspicions confirmed. Dark magic has even made it into the depths of the Evernight forest. But Isaac is hardly listening. Like any child, he has more story to tell. 

“The other night, those flake critters went after my herd. A chupacabra. But...I thought they never went after shleep! Shleep aren’t tasty- I don’t think so, at least. They’re all cosmic wool and gristle.” 

“Husks aren’t exactly looking for a tasty meal.” Zed whispers, “They’re looking for magic, and shleep are full of them.” He would know, he was once a shleep farmer when he was young. It’s how he honed his magic. 

“They come every night, stealing more critters. Soon, all that will be left is shleep causing nightmares and those husky things.” Isaac shakes his head. “Foresta won’t be much fun without all the critters here.” 

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo. Us hermits are here to stop it.” Scar announces, grinning and tossing his short brown locks of hair over his shoulder. Trying to look as heroic as he sounds. 

The shepherd giggles. “Hermits? But you aren’t alone, you can’t be a hermit!” 

“Ask Hypno why we’re named that.” Doc laughs as well, even though he knows the story full well, it’s still funny every time someone points it out. “Don’t worry, kid. By the time we’re done here, you’ll all be having sweet dreams again.” 

“You’re the coolest bad guy ever.” Isaac whispers, and places the flower crown on Doc’s tangled mess of hair. 

-----------------------------------------------

He refuses to take it off. Even as the sun falls and the city goes quiet, only nocturnal creatures lurking among the streets, he keeps his flower crown secure on his head. All three hermits watch the ruminants bleat and make their way around the town, cosmic wool spinning with stars and galaxies, entire worlds for their fur promising night rest. Wisps of the shleep’s fleece dance into the damp, warm air of Foresta. But it’s dancing in the air that the soft mist turns to harsh dust, slipping through open windows and under closed doors. Delivering nightmares to the people. 

In the distance, Scar frowns at the sound of someone crying. Waking up from the bad dream. It’s not the poor shleep’s fault, they can’t control their own magic. They’re just sleep sheep, it’s the husks that have them all bothered. If the hermits can stop the husks, the shleep can be happy again and the entire city can finally get a good night’s rest. 

Doc waves to Isaac, walking out with the last shleep from the pasture. Zedaph opens his eyes, blinking away the embers of magic. Oddly enough he feels the desire to chew grass now. The shleep are scared. Scared of the creatures that lurk in the dark, bodies lacking souls or even life. Just corpses- husks- forced to move by dark magic. One ram told Zed they were never afraid of the creatures of the night, their fellow nocturnal beasts, until that chupacabra turned on them. 

Doc and Zed share a quiet conversation about the information they’ve gathered, and Scar lays back in the grass. Watching leaves shadow the sky above him, stars twinkling in the same way they glimmered on the shleep’s coat. The distant titter of dyads among the trees, the soft hoots from various birds in the post office sound like music to Scar’s ears, and he closes his eyes to bask in the quiet night. Hunting dark magic isn’t that bad, if it leads to quiet, serene moments as well as exciting action. He feels himself dozing off, figuring that Doc or Zed will keep an eye out for some creepy dark beast. 

He’s alone. Sitting up in a dark alleyway, the sound of yelling echoing from his parents’ silk shop. Something warm pools on his cheek, burning along his very namesake, mixing with saltwater. Scar raises a hand to try  and staunch the blood, and discovers his hand is covered in mud, adorned with gemstone rings of gold. 

“You’re not a farm boy, Forest.” The words spit out in his father’s voice, but the lips that speak them are none other than the Magistrate’s. “Stop playing in dirt, this magic of yours is a disgrace as it is. You’re going to ruin the family image. And you’re clothes.” 

“But I like my magic.” Scar whispers, turning his hand over. The mud changes color, dripping through his fingers into pools of blood. 

“You should have let your magic wither away, or better yet- give it to me.” Dolios grabs Scar’s wrist, dragging him into darkness.

Dragging him from his nightmare. But while Dolios was a dream, something tugging on his wrist was very real. Scar leaps to his feet, retreating from the creature that is pulling his bag from his clutches. “Hey, no that’s my stuff! My snacks!” 

Scar stumbles to his feet, kicking Doc on the way up. “What the hell Scar?” 

He doesn’t look back, chasing after the black furred monster. As dark as a husk, with white glowing eyes and all. He can’t see the creature’s form, just the illumination of white light from it’s eyes, Scar’s purple bag swinging from it’s mouth. He needs to catch up, get his stuff back. Rather than scooting around a fallen tree, he makes the ground rise from beneath him, flinging him over with a much less graceful landing. “Get back here you little cretin!” 

Behind Scar, Doc and Zedaph stumble through the forest. Tripping over roots and twisting their ankles in holes, they lose sight of the terraformer as moonlight is engulfed by the trees of the Evernight forest. The only light is the soft glow of bioluminescent mushrooms, moss, and leaves. At the interface between Foresta and the Evernight, the glow was indistinguishable. But Zed knows the deeper they go, the brighter the bioluminescence should get. 

But it never brightens. He continues to get caught in roots, eyes never finding enough light to see where he’s going. A stone halts Zed’s forward momentum, and he tumbles to the ground. “How can Scar keep up such a pace?” 

“Because he’s Scar, how does he do half the things he does?” Doc sighs, collapsing to his ass and looking around. The darkness of the forest is endless, leaves stitched together to be a roof that blocks out all light from the sky. He toes a mushroom, watching the fungi glow weakly. Shouldn’t it be brighter this far in? 

“Oh, Doc, look!” Zed slaps Doc on the shoulder, harder than he realizes, pointing in the direction opposite of where Scar went running.

“What, I can’t see shit.” Doc growls. 

“Perytons!” Zed crawls forward, light appearing under one arm. “They can help us, we just have to make friends with them! They’re very skittish cre-” 

In one swift motion, Doc casts his magic. In one blink, he’s watching Zedaph crawl through the mossy floor, the next he’s grazing on a nearby tree branch. The Peryton gave almost no resistance, and now Doc can control the beast. See through it’s night-adjusted eyes. Lo and behold, Zedaph looks stupid no matter what eyes are watching him. Zedaph sits up, pouting. “Well that’s no fun.” 

Doc can’t answer him, not while he’s in control of the Peryton. Stepping his hooved feet over Zedaph and fluttering iridescent green wings, he takes care of his own body standing still as a stone. One eye remains glassy, as if looking through a lens, but the red oculus of his other eye has disappeared completely. He can see the glow in the metal of his arm emanating from the deer creature, as he picks up his body with his rack of antlers and places it on his feathery back. 

By the time Doc has cared for his vulnerable physical form, Zedaph has cast his own spell. Such similar results, but completely different magic. Zedaph shepherded the mind of the creature into helping him- Doc just took full control. Either way, the two are able to follow the direction that Scar disappeared. Deeper into the forest, away from the city. 

Zedaph notices that the bioluminescent of the Evernight Forest is missing, no matter how deep they go. The darkness remains, clinging to the branches and bark like a tapestry slung across the forest. He’s not even sure where Scar could be at this point- this wilderness expands on for thousands of hectares. 

Until he hears the spluttering mix of a laugh and a whimper, the noise so uniquely Scar that both Doc and Zed turn in the direction it arose from. Even through the eyes of the Peryton, it becomes almost impossible to see around them, darkness consuming everything around them. 

Because that’s what it is. Returning to his own body, Doc stumbles to his feet and rushes to light up a torch. A few paces ahead of him, Sca has trapped himself in a bramble bush, a tiny shadow fox dangling his bag just barely out of his reach. “Come on little guy, I’m sorry I mistook you for a husk. You’re cute, I promise! It’s just with your eyes and coat, you looked like a darkness monster.” 

“Need some help, or have you learned from Zed?” Doc snickers, pulling Scar from his thorny trap by the collar. The shadow fox chirps, ears turning to the side in joyful mischief. It approaches the hermits, dropping Scar’s bag at his feet. Glowing eyes, bright as sunshine, cast the shadow that creates the fox’s body. Zedaph can’t help but reach down to pet the shadow creature either way. 

“She guided us here. To...this.” Scar whispers, feeling the tension on his body already. The weight in his lungs, watching the light from the fox’s eyes and Doc’s torch be consumed by the black cluster of crystal. 

“This is what’s making the husks in Foresta. Just like in Gildara, it’s draining the forest.” All of the light, Limal’s creation with the goddess of death, vanishing as Dolios’s thirst for power drains the forest of life. Doc shakes his head. “We can’t let it continue. Scar, why don’t you…” 

Scar is gone again. Disappeared from between Zed and Doc, though not as far gone as before. Just a short distance away. Being attacked by another creature. This one, however, isn’t aiming for Scar’s bag like the thieving fox. 

It’s aiming for his throat, naked tail and matted fur thrashing and foam snarling from scraggly teeth. But unlike the shadow fox, the monster’s body is flaking and breaking apart with each movement, tufts of fur turning to smoke and ash. Zedaph sighs, more tired than before. “Great, now we got a ROUS to deal with as well as a creepy crystal.” 

“Massive rat first, please!” Scar cries, snapping his boots up and digging the spurs into the massive beast’s stomach. He rolls away, gnarled roots and dirt barricading him and the ROUS. 

Doc and Zed look at each other, then the ROUS before them, the darkness-crazed animal clawing through the barrier. It has a taste of Scar’s flesh, and he tastes sweet. Alive. Neither of their magic can work. There’s no soul to shepherd. Dark magic is already controlling the ROUS. They have to resort to another method. 

A much more combative, cutthroat method. One that Doc knows well. Grabbing the bone handle of his knife, dark metal and nicked, toothed edges of kaber blade pulling free of old leather. “Scar, can you try to pin it down?” 

“I'll add it to the list.” A startled squeak harmonizes with the viscous growl. The muzzle of the ROUS reels back, spittle glistening and falling from ivory white blades, and snaps. Scar rolls out of the way and slams his hands down on the ground once he’s been freed. The dirt erodes into sand and water, a pit of quicksand opening it’s maw beneath their feet. Scar scrabbles backwards, the mud water attempting to pull him in as well, gasping for air. With another wave of his hand, the ground resolidifies. The naked hands and feet of the enormous rodent are trapped in solid ground. 

Doc wastes no time. Freeing the body of the ROUS from the claws of darkness, his blade cuts through the empty body like he’s cutting fabric. The darkened for withers away into dust, and Zedaph kicks it away from the pile for good measure. 

The three boys sit on the silent, blighted forest floor. Ignoring the angry crystal, or the darkness consuming around them. Scar is panting like he ran a mile, Zedaph petting the soft shade ears of the fox that led them there, and Doc twirling his own knife. They just need a moment, a second to recollect themselves. Doc looks at his blade, forged in False’s fires. No matter what, no matter how strong a mage can be, sometimes they have to resort to the same tools as every other person. “Alright, enough sitting down. Let's put this crystal to ruin and let Isaac and his shleep finally get some peace.”

[cozy-the-overlord]

Crimson Curls

Summary:  A barista at the Avengers Tower coffeeshop goes missing. Her boyfriend, prominent Avengers engineer Michael Hauer, headlines a desperate campaign to find her, aided by the support of Tony Stark and the rest of the super-powered team. But as Hauer’s narrative begins to unravel, it becomes clear that a certain Asgardian prince knows more than he’s telling.

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 2: Perception

Previous Chapter  | Next Chapter

Word Count: 7,914

A/N:  This is a long one... I actually considered chopping it into two chapters, but that would have messed up my careful three-act-structure plans, so I kept it in one. Hope you don’t mind!

TW: domestic violence

Read it on Ao3

It all started because of the Christmas party.

The funny thing was Loki didn’t even want to go to the party. He would have much preferred to remain in his room, flipping through a book he had read hundreds of times before, shielded from the crowds of eyes widening in alarm and conversations that would trail off when they noticed his presence. The mood always shifted when people realized that the alien who invaded New York was in the same room as them, and Loki had become rather exhausted of it.

But Thor had insisted. “Please, brother,” he wheedled. “Just this once. You’ll enjoy it, I swear!”

He had ended up humoring his brother, simply because he knew he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t. He didn’t expect to be there long. Surely, within an hour Thor would have broken out the Asgardian mead and subsequently have forgotten all else, and Loki could slip away to the sanctuary of his soundproofed quarters.

Stark had been going around introducing them to his various compatriots: everyone wanted to meet Thor, and Loki was an unfortunate obstacle that they had to put up with to do so. Loki hadn’t been paying much attention to them.

But after a while, there was one couple that caught his eye.

“Oh, Thor, you wanna meet this guy!” Stark said excitedly, steering them over to the corner of the room. “Hey, Hauer! Over here!”

Michael Hauer was unimpressive. Tall, pale, blonde—his face looked no different from the dozens of other men Stark had paraded in front of him throughout the night.

It was the woman that stood next to him that piqued his interest.

“This guy’s one of our most talented engineers,” Stark was saying. “That new Quinjet was mostly his design.”

“You give me too much credit, sir,” said the man, grinning widly. He grasped the arm of his companion and pulled her forward. “This is my girlfriend, Kristine.”

Kristine smiled too, but it didn’t quite reach her cerulean eyes. She was a small woman, but her posture made her look even smaller, with the way she huddled in on herself, her face barely peeking out through the strands of her curly red hair. Her long-sleeved dress clung to her body and only accentuated her thin form. She looked like a twig, ready to snap in half.

Her dress was green. Perhaps it was silly that such a thing still garnered Loki’s attention after all this time, but it did. On Asgard, green had been his color, just as red had been Thor’s. Women hoping to gain his favor used to wear green to the royal balls, hoping that he would notice how perfectly the color of their gowns matched his cape. He was well aware, of course, that such a practice was practically nonexistent on Earth. He understood that the Midgardian holiday they were celebrating was associated with the very same colors he and his brother had once claimed for their own. The color of the woman’s dress meant nothing.

But it still caught his eye.

Thor bowed gallantly. “It’s lovely to meet you, my lady.” Studying her face, he added, “I think I’ve seen you before. Don’t you work at the coffeeshop?”

Kristine tensed. “Yes sir, I do,” she mumbled, her voice just barely legible amidst the hum of conversation. She refused to raise her gaze from the floor.

Stark laughed boisterously. “Of course, how could I forget?” He motioned towards her wild mane. “You really do stand out in a crowd, don’t you? Gee, is that how you two met? What do you know, I’m a matchmaker!”

Hauer and Thor both joined in his laughter, but Kristine just looked uncomfortable. Loki cocked his head to the side. It seemed he had found someone even more miserable at this godforsaken party than he was.

He kept an eye on her for the remainder of the night. It wasn’t that he intended to watch her, but his gaze kept drifting back to her frizzy red hair and her sparkling emerald dress. She looked rather lonely, hovering in her boyfriend’s shadow for the entire night. Hauer barely acknowledged her. He was too busy laughing with Stark or enthusiastically explaining something to Rodgers or guzzling beer with Thor. Loki was rather disgusted by it. Had he been Kristine, he would have walked out hours ago.

It was later in the night when he finally decided to approach her. He had been debating about it for a while. On one hand, perhaps she preferred to be invisible—as unhappy as she looked, she didn’t appear to be complaining about her situation. She certainly wasn’t making the effort to capture Hauer’s attention or to find other means of entertainment. But still, something ached in his chest at the way she stood by so stiffly silent as her boyfriend frolicked about the room having the time of his life.

When Hauer joined the crowd gathered on the balcony attempting to lift Thor’s hammer, Loki made his way to her.

He bowed slightly. “Forgive my forwardness, my lady, but I was wondering if you’d honor me with a dance.”

Kristine was startled. “Oh!” she gasped, jumping a bit. She glanced towards the balcony uncertainly. “Uh… alright.”

He saw it there, that familiar flash of fear that he had been so desperate to avoid tonight. He cursed himself inwardly. What had he expected? “I don’t mean to pressure you—”

“No, no, it’s fine!” she interrupted hurriedly. Behind them, people hooted and chanted as Hauer tried his luck with the hammer. She turned back towards Loki. “I’d like to. Dance, that is.” Her cheeks flushed pink.

“Wonderful.” Loki offered his hand, smiling slightly when she took it.

Loki had long been of the opinion that Midgardians had no regard for proper dance. The complex steps and fluid motions of his youth had no place on the barbaric mortal floors. However, that night he experienced a rare stroke of luck. The song that was playing was softer, the couples dancing merely swaying slowly to the notes. He pulled Kristine on to the dance floor, and the two fell into a rhythm quite smoothly.

At first, they didn’t speak. Loki wasn’t sure what to say. She was clearly not at ease—he could feel the tension in her muscles as they danced—but he was beginning to doubt that he was the cause of her discomfort. She kept looking back towards the balcony, as if at any moment she expected something to come crashing through the windows. When somebody coming back into the main room slammed the door, she whipped her head around so quickly that Loki’s cheek was pelted by red curls.

Kristine gasped in embarrassment. “Sorry!” she said quickly, stumbling over her words. “My hair—I know it’s a complete mess, I try to get it to stay put—”

Loki laughed. “Nonsense. It’s lovely the way it is.” She made a face, shrugging indifferently, and he frowned. “Why would you ever think otherwise?”

“I mean— it’s so hard to care for,” she said. “And it gets on Michael’s nerves. Such a mess…”

There was something in her tone that Loki didn’t like, something that seemed to go deeper than hairstyles.

“It’s perfect,” he said fiercely. After a moment, he added, “My mother always thought red hair was the prettiest shade.” He inhaled at the memory. Frigga had loved the color because of her mother’s red hair. Her sisters had all inherited the same shade, but she had been left with her father’s golden brown. She used to tell him this story often when he was a child, whenever he questioned why he looked nothing like his older brother. Although now, all things considered, he found himself wondering if that had just been yet another lie to keep him from trying to look deeper.

Kristine looked thoughtful. “Really? Huh. My mother used to say the same thing,” she sighed. “But I guess all mothers tell their kids they’re pretty.”

“Perhaps, but in your case, she was speaking the truth.”

The girl blushed. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Kristine seemed quite shy, but she laughed when he made a sarcastic joke about Thor’s hammer overcompensation, and when the first dance ended, she agreed to the second without hesitation.

“I’m not used to doing much at these things,” she admitted. “I don’t really know anyone here except Michael. I never know what to do with myself.”

“He’s not one for dancing, I take it?” Loki asked.

Kristine laughed nervously. “No, not really.”

Their conversation continued, soft and simple. Slowly, she began sharing tiny details about herself. She grew up in Virginia. She liked to draw. Her favorite color was dark blue, but she liked green too—although she seemed embarrassed when he complimented her gown.

“It’s just a plain old green dress,” she told him. “I’ve had it for years. There’s nothing really special about it or anything.”

“I don’t find it plain. It’s quite striking on you,” he twirled her gently, watching her skirt fan out around her legs. “Very pretty.”

When he pulled her back, her cheeks were bright red. “Thanks,” Kristine sputtered. “I-I think you’re pretty too.” She winced. “Oh, that sounded weird—”

Loki chuckled. “Not at all,” he said. “I’ll take what I can get.”

He was enjoying himself far more than he preferred to admit. When was the last time he had had a friendly, casual conversation with anyone? His interactions with the Avengers were stilted at best— a reluctant necessity that both parties avoided as much as they could. And Thor… Thor was still trying to live a fantasy where the past had been entirely forgotten and everything had been fixed between the two of them. Call it irony, but Loki wasn’t that talented at lying to himself.

But this… this was nice. Just talking, joking, laughing. Spending time with someone who didn’t have any ulterior motives or unreasonable expectations. It was rather refreshing, even.

Which is why it of course had to end abruptly.

“Kris!” Kristine stiffened, ripping herself out of his arms immediately as Hauer came barreling across the dance floor. “Kris, where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking all over!” He grabbed her arm and began pulling her back across the room. “I want you to meet this guy I work with. Remember, I told you about him—”

Kristine glanced back at Loki, shooting him what he thought was meant to be an apologetic grin. It came off as more of a pained grimace. He frowned.

It wasn’t the place to make a scene. Loki of Asgard, the invader of New York, throwing a fit in Avengers Tower because he wanted to dance with another man’s lover—oh yes, that would go over spectacularly.

Still, he lingered far longer than he ever intended, his gaze following the couple from the corner of his eye. Something about the whole situation didn’t sit right with him. He watched as the man Hauer had been so eager to introduce to her moved on after a few minutes of conversation, and Kristine returned to her dutiful place trailing behind her boyfriend. They left shortly before one in the morning, Hauer’s arm around her waist as they slipped into the elevator.

Kristine met his gaze just as the doors were closing. She smiled softly.

And then they were gone.

He spent the next few days pretending to have forgotten her. He should’ve forgotten her. She was nothing to him—a random mortal who he had just happened to dance with at a party.

And who had a selfish, egotistical boyfriend.

Now that he had been introduced to Michael Hauer, Loki noticed him more often. He worked a lot with Stark, drawing up new designs and overseeing their test runs. From what Loki saw, Hauer was quite intelligent, and well aware of it. He clearly prided himself on his work, as it seemed to be the only topic he ever wanted to discuss.

Loki had found himself lurking around the lab more often, listening in on the discourse that went on between the engineers. His behavior was… odd. Despite many of his coworkers often bringing up their significant others in conversation, Hauer never once mentioned Kristine. Had he not known better, Loki wouldn’t have thought the man was seeing anyone at all. It may have been nothing, of course—perhaps he just didn’t want to discuss his personal life while he was focusing on his work—but Loki couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about Michael Hauer. His concern for Kristine grew.

It was about a week after the party that he spoke with her again. He went down to the lower floors a few times to scope out the coffeeshop where she worked. It seemed she was always on duty—her crimson curls stood out even when she had them tied back behind her head as she spoke with customers and punched numbers into the cash register.

It was something of a marvel, really; here was this woman who had stuttered and blushed her way through two dances (or a dance and a half, to be more precise), completely calm as she juggled the demands of what had to be hundreds of impatient strangers a day. Was she truly that comfortable with her task, he wondered, or was she simply a better actress than he would have given her credit for?

It was late in the day when he decided to find out.

For once, there wasn’t a line to the counter. Loki sidled up to the cash register and smiled. “Good afternoon, my lady.”

Kristine looked up from her cellular device with a jump. “Oh, hi!” she smiled, but her shoulders remained tense. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you down here.”

“No, you haven’t,” he said. “But ever since his first visit here, my brother has been completely infatuated with this drink of yours. I thought I might give it a try.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s-it’s kind of addicting.” She shifted, pushing a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. He frowned. She still had yet to look him in the eye. “Um, I wanted to tell you… I’m really sorry I dipped so quickly the other night. Michael had told me he wanted to introduce me to his friend, I had just forgotten. I didn’t mean to—”

Loki’s features softened. “I completely understand. No need to apologize,” he said. Kristine’s posture relaxed at his words.

“Really?” she asked.

“Of course. If anything, I should be apologizing to you. After all, I’m the one who stole you away from your party in the first place.”

“Oh no, you’re fine! It was—it was nice. I had fun,” Kristine blushed once again. He smiled wider. Never had he encountered an individual so easily embarrassed by everything she said. It was rather endearing.

She cleared her throat. “So, um, what can I get you?”

Loki glanced at the screen behind her, the various types of drinks laid out in an electric menu he didn’t have the patience to read. “It seems I am in need of your assistance on that front,” he said. “I know nothing of these beverages. What would you recommend?”

“Um,” she shifted, settling into her barista voice. “Well today’s special is the peppermint mocha—it’s kind of the last of the holiday drinks, so—”

“You misunderstand,” he interrupted. “What would you recommend?”

“Oh. You mean—,” Kristine stumbled. “Well… I’m probably the wrong person to ask. I—I don’t really like sugary drinks. I just stick to black coffee most of the time. But that’s just me!” she added hurriedly. “Most people actually prefer—”

“I think I will trust your judgment. After all, I am hardly most people,” he grinned. “I can’t say I enjoy you Midgardians’ obsession with sugar that much myself.”

Her brow furrowed anxiously. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s not that exciting—”

“I’m sure.”

She studied him for a moment, as if attempting to assess his sincerity. Her eyes really were quite piercing. Loki wasn’t sure if he had ever met a mortal with such vibrant blue irises.

“Okay,” she said finally, turning to the cash register. “Small, regular, or large?”

Loki followed her movement, leaning over the counter. “Large,” he said. “Why not? Let’s be dangerous.”

“Well, you are getting the most boring item on the menu, so I don’t know how dangerous you’re being.” Her eyes widened at her own words, clapping her hand over her mouth as her cheeks flushed pink yet again. “I’m sorry, I—”

But Loki was chortling. “My my, now where did that sharp tongue come from?”

Kristine giggled. “Cash or credit?”

She was still smiling when she handed over the warm paper cup. Loki took a whiff of the liquid and winced. “Norns, that is potent.”

“I think it smells nice,” she protested. “I—” Suddenly she stiffened, eyes trained on something over behind him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder and seeing nothing particularly alarming.

“N-no, no, um—” she looked away quickly, raising her voice. “Is there anything else I can get for you today?”

Frowning, Loki shook his head. “No, I suppose that would be all.”

“Well, have a nice day!” Kristine’s smile was wide and strained. Her message was clear, although Loki couldn’t fathom what had so quickly flipped the switch from playful conversation to such an abrupt dismissal. It was only after he thanked her and made to leave that he found the object of her concern.

Michael Hauer was exiting the stairway, making his way across the room to the coffeeshop. She must have noticed him coming down the stairs.

Still, he was confused. What was so alarming about her boyfriend coming to see her? Was she concerned that he’d see her with another man and get the wrong idea? But surely the brilliant Hauer understood that his girlfriend’s occupation required her to interact with a plethora of different characters every day.

Loki watched as Hauer spoke with her at the counter. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but Kristine had become very still. In fact, she didn’t seem to be speaking at all: she just nodded and shook her head as her boyfriend continued. Loki found himself remembering all the things he disliked about Hauer.

After a few minutes, he left without buying anything. As soon as he was gone Kristine ducked into the back room, only to be replaced a short while later by another girl in a matching apron. Loki returned to his room silently, unable to shake the feeling that something was drastically wrong with Michael Hauer.

He began making a point of stopping by the coffeeshop once a day in the late afternoon. Furtive observation taught him that Hauer had a habit of showing up at the counter in the middle of the morning and again shortly after the lunch hour, although the purposes of these visits were still unclear to him. Kristine’s answers were evasive when Loki had attempted to casually broach the subject.

“Oh, you know,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “He just likes to check up on me.”

Despite his concerns about Michael Hauer (or perhaps because of them), Loki and Kristine struck up an odd little friendship. The coffeeshop was never that busy at the times he came by, so usually he’d stick around to talk for a bit. Their conversations were never anything earth-shattering: they’d complain about their lives, reminisce about their past, make fun of the eccentric individuals they’d see shuffling through the food court. Once, when she learned that Loki still had no idea how to use the cellular phone Stark had given him, Kristine insisted upon teaching him.

“So these are your text messages here,” she said, her fingers sliding across the slab of metal. “See the speech bubble? Geez, you have a lot of unread texts.”

Loki watched over her shoulder, doing his best to feign interest. “Now how could you tell that?”

“The number in the red circle in the corner. See that?” Kristine pointed. “That’s how many new notifications you have.”

“What am I being notified of?”

“People have been texting you. You can go in and—” she pressed the text icon “See? Here’s all your messages.” She frowned at the jumble of capitalized letters that greeted her. “It looks like they’re all from Thor.”

Loki yawned. “Is that so? Well then, we know they’re not important.”

She giggled. “Here, let me show you how to text back.”

Sometimes, she’d show him her sketchbook. Kristine really was a talented artist: her penciled sketches of the birds she’d see outside her apartment window looked as though they could almost fly off the page. She drew a lot of people as well. Most were portraits of Hauer, of course, as well as a light-haired, middle-aged woman Kristine identified as her mother, but Loki also recognized some of the Avengers: Tony Stark, Captain Rodgers, even his brother.

“You spent the time to draw Thor and not me?” he cried in mock outrage. “And here I thought we were friends! I must say, I’m quite offended.”

Kristine stifled a giggle. “I’ll draw you next,” she said. “I promise.”

In return, he’d show her bits of his magic. He’d conjure an illusion of a snake on the counter or make his hand glow or turn the sugar jar into a goblet of wine or something equally silly—hardly anything remarkable, but he loved how her eyes would light up at even the simplest of tricks.

“That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” she laughed as she ran her hands through a fading illusion. “That is just so cool!”

He grinned. “You’re easily impressed, my lady.”

“I wish I had magic” Kristine continued. “It would make my life so much easier. Wouldn’t have to drive anywhere, I could just teleport. If I left my phone at home, I could just summon it through a portal or something.” She snapped her fingers. “You know what I’d do? I’d make it snow inside. It’s always so freaking hot in here—we could use some indoor snow.”

“There’s a far simpler solution to that problem, my lady.” He nodded at her shirt. “You should change your wardrobe. It’s far to warm in here for long sleeves.”

Kristine tugged at the collar of her turtleneck uncomfortably. “I guess. But—I’m just used to wearing this, you know? Like, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, right?” She laughed again, but this time it sounded far emptier. “Besides, it’s not that bad in here. I just always make a big deal out of little things, you know?”

Loki nodded in agreement, but inwardly, he was distressed. He had suddenly realized that in the weeks he had been spending time with Kristine, he had never once known her to bare her arms.

His concerns only grew when one day Kristine came in to work with a blackened eye and a bruise that stretched down her cheek.

“Norns, Kristine, are you alright?” he cried. “What happened?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, speaking so quickly he could barely understand what she was saying. “I just fell down the stairs at my apartment. It was my fault, they’re really steep, I wasn’t paying attention. It looks a lot worse than it is.” She smiled desperately. “One large black coffee?”

“What is your opinion on Michael Hauer?”

Stark looked up from the box of spare parts he was rummaging through in his lab and frowned.

“Hauer?” he asked. “Why do you care?”

Loki glared coldly across the room. “Simple curiosity. Indulge me.”

He smirked. “What’s the magic word?”

“Stark.”

“Fine, geez,” Stark turned back to his work. “Hauer’s a genius. You know that new Quinjet we tried out in Novi Grad? That was his model. I never would have thought to—”

“I understand that he’s intelligent,” Loki interrupted. “But what are your thoughts of his nature?”

“His nature?” Stark shrugged, dumping the contents of the box on his desk. “I don’t know, he’s nice. Fun at parties.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “That’s all? Hasn’t he been in your employ for years?”

“Hey,” Stark raised his arms in mock surrender. “I focus on the important stuff. You know,” he continued as he picked out pieces from the pile. “You can see for yourself, if you hang around a few minutes. We’re staying late tonight to test out one of his new designs—”

He started. “Hauer’s coming up here?”

“Yeah. If you want to meet him, I can—”

But Loki had already dashed out of the room.

Kristine usually got out of work early in the evening, but he knew that when Hauer stayed late she’d wait for him at the tables across from the coffeeshop. Perhaps this would be the best time to confront her, when she knew her boyfriend would be occupied for the foreseeable future.

He nearly ran into the man on the stairs going down to the food court.

“Watch it!” snapped Hauer as he came barreling up the steps, not even looking up to see who he was snapping at. For a moment, Loki was tempted to remind him, but he held himself back. Now was hardly the time or place.

The dark-haired girl behind the counter wasn’t Kristine, and she visibly stiffened when she saw Loki coming.

“H-how can I help you today, sir?” she stuttered.

“I’d like to speak with Ms. Ververs,” he said. “Is she here at the moment?”

The girl looked surprised. “Kristine?” she asked. “Oh, um, you just missed her. I think she went to the bathroom.”

He nodded. “Ah. Very well. Thank you.”

Loki made his way to one of the tables, resolving to wait for her return. Time passed. Men and women trickled down the stairs and out the door. Outside, the sun began its slow descent beneath the horizon. Kristine still did not return. He had waited nearly forty-five minutes when Loki decided to go looking for her.

The nearest restrooms were empty. He went down the hall to check the others, peeping into the cubicle offices along the way. He couldn’t imagine what she’d be doing in there, but perhaps she had run into a friend and struck up a conversation and lost track of time—he hoped that was what had happened. But she wasn’t anywhere he looked.  

Loki was on the brink of alerting Stark that one of his employees had gone missing so that he could check security footage when he overheard what sounded like muffled sobs coming from a broom closet.

Frowning, he tapped on the door. “Kristine?” He cracked it open and called again. “Kristine, is that you?”

There was a moment of hesitation before the answer came. “Yeah,” she mumbled, sounding completely exhausted. “Yeah, it’s me, Loki.”

He pushed the door all the way open. She was huddled in the corner, hidden behind a mountain of cleaning supplies. Her hair was beginning to slip out of her ponytail, framing her face in wispy strands of unkempt curls. Her eyes were swollen. Loki’s chest ached as he took in her appearance. In the low light, she looked more like a frightened child than a grown woman.

Loki made his way into the closet, stooping to avoid the low ceiling. “What are you doing in here?” he asked gently as he sat down next to her. “What happened?”

“Oh nothing, it’s just—I thought—” she hiccupped. “I just wanted to get away from everything.” She rubbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron.

“Here.” Loki summoned a clean handkerchief to his hand and held it out to her. This time, the magic trick sparked none of the usual wonder in her eyes. She took the cloth with a barely audible thank you.

“What do you mean by everything?” he asked.

Kristine sniffed. “It’s nothing. Really. Michael and I—we just had a little argument. That’s it. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing,” Loki echoed. “And yet you’re hiding in a broom closet.”

“I—it’s just—” she sniffed again, blinking back tears. “He gets mad sometimes.”

She blew her nose into the handkerchief, wincing when she pressed too hard on her bruised cheek. Loki thought of Michael Hauer, fuming on the stairs as he stormed off from the coffeeshop. He thought of how he had dragged Kristine away on the dance floor, how terrified she had been when she saw him coming while speaking with Loki at the counter.

Hesitantly, he gave voice to the suspicion that had been lurking in the back of his mind ever since he first laid eyes on the couple.

“He hurts you,” Loki whispered quietly. “Doesn’t he?”

Kristine looked up with panicked eyes. “You can’t tell anybody!” she cried, trembling. “You won’t, right? You won’t tell anybody?” she grabbed at his shoulders as the tears streamed down her cheeks, her breathing coming in fast spirts. “Please, he’ll get so mad at me if he thought—you won’t tell anybody, will you? Please—”

Loki gently pulled her shaking body into an embrace, trying to soothe her as she hyperventilated. “Kristine, it’s alright—”

She sobbed into his chest. “He’ll get mad, he’ll get mad!”

He hushed her softly, rubbing her back. “If you don’t want me to tell anyone, then I won’t,” he murmured. “Can you breathe in slowly for me now? And now out. Just like that…”

They sat in the dark for a while, Loki whispering quiet nonsense into her ear as her breathing stabilized. People passed by outside, but thankfully no one barged into the broom closet.

“Why do you stay with him?” he asked after several minutes of silence.

Kristine shook her head. “He-he’s done so much for me—”

“He hurts you.” He looked down at her in disbelief. “You don’t owe him anything.”

She inhaled hoarsely. “I didn’t have anything when I came up here. My mom had just died, everything was going wrong, I was so lonely—” she sighed. “I’ve never been good at—at making friends. But he—he was so nice to me… I don’t know what happened.”

She sounded utterly broken. Loki’s arms tightened around her without realizing. “He’s not worthy of you,” he whispered fiercely. “You deserve to be treated like a goddess.”

Kristine laughed humorlessly. “But I can’t just leave him,” she said. “I’d lose my job. He’s literally best friends with Tony Stark, he’d be sure of it. And I wouldn’t have anywhere to go—he owns the apartment.”

“Don’t you have someone you could stay with temporarily?” he asked. “Friends, family? Surely you aren’t entirely dependent on that rat.”

“My parents are both dead,” she whispered. “And I never really got to know anyone out here before I met Michael. After that… I never really hung out with anyone else.”

“You hang out with me,” he reminded her. “I’m sure I could arrange for you to stay somewhere. I’ll tell Stark what kind of person Hauer really is. I’m sure the Avengers would be eager to have him terminated if they knew.” It would take some convincing, but if he got his brother to believe him, Thor could surely convince the others. Perhaps Stark would be unwilling, but Rodgers held just as much authority as the mechanic, and Loki somehow doubted that keeping a known abuser on Avengers payroll would sit well with the Captain’s heavy moral compass.

Kristine was less convinced. “They’d never fire him,” she said bitterly. “Not for me. Michael builds all their world-saving technology. They rely on him. I’m just some random barista. They’ll never sacrifice all that stuff for me. And he knows it.”

Loki frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve called the police on him. Twice. I thought he was going to kill me,” she gulped. “The police got there, and he just talked his way out of it. Told them who he was, who he worked for, and they were like, shaking hands with him!” She sobbed. “They asked me if I wanted to press charges, and it was like, how could I? They were already on his side!”

“What do you do then?” he asked, horrified. “If you’re afraid to call law enforcement, what do you do when he’s attacking you?” Somehow, he already knew the answer.

Kristine shrugged. “Pray. Wait for him to get tired.”

“No.” Loki shifted, digging out the glossy Avengers-sanctioned cellular phone from his pocket. “Here. If you can’t call the police, call me.” The screen lit up the broom closet as he pulled up his number.

She frowned. “What?”

“Take down this number. If you ever feel you’re in danger, I want you to call it. Without hesitation.” Loki looked at her somberly. “I’ll teleport to your location immediately.”

“Are-are you sure?” she asked hesitantly. “Isn’t that number supposed to be, you know, like, top secret?”

“Don’t worry about it. Stark claims it’s untraceable.” He watched as she pulled out her own phone and began typing the number in. “I will get you out of this, Kristine.”

She ran her hands through her red hair. “You really think you can?”

“Yes,” he said. “I swear it.”

Things changed after that. His daily coffee-stops turned into check-ins: asking if she was alright, if Michael had done anything the night before, if he could do anything for her. It seemed that they had reached a period of peace: Michael was so distracted with his latest project with Stark that he didn’t have the time to be violent. Loki feared that it wouldn’t last long though.

Kristine had made him swear that he wouldn’t tell anyone else of her circumstances, so Loki figured that he’d have to get creative with getting Hauer out of Avengers Tower. Framing him as a security threat seemed to be the best option, as security was Stark’s highest priority. Loki set about planning to make it look as if Hauer was stealing SHIELD intel. It was a more difficult task than he anticipated. Leaving too obvious a trail would make Stark suspicious that Hauer was being set up, but too subtle a trail and nobody would even notice that something was wrong. He went back and forth on various plans, all harboring some flaw that could potentially give it all away, before storming out of his quarters one day in frustration.

It really shouldn’t have been so difficult. Loki sat in the food court, cloaked by an illusion, watching Hauer make his way down the stairs for his morning visit to his girlfriend. If he were to trip at the top of the staircase, put the wrong foot in the wrong place at the wrong time and go tumbling to his death, nobody would think anything of it. Oh, what a tragic accident. He was so young. And then they’d move on with their lives.

Yes, Loki thought as Hauer went on his way, it would be so much easier if you would just fall down the stairs.

He didn’t kill him though. It wasn’t out of any love for Michael Hauer—the very thought of the man drove Loki into fantasies of burying a dagger into his chest—but because of Kristine. Loki didn’t tell her about his murderous dreams, but she had her suspicions, and she didn’t like them.

“You wouldn’t do anything to hurt Michael, right?” she asked suddenly one day. “Like, physically?” She looked up at him, eyes wide and anxious. It cut him deeply to see her looking at him like that, as if he was the unpredictable monster she had to fear.

Loki shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, I wouldn’t do anything like that.” He left with his coffee, unable to shake the feeling of shame weighing down his shoulders.

It was late at night when the phone rang. Loki had been sitting on the couch in his quarters, the open book in his lap failing to hold his attention as his mind wandered to more pressing issues, when the ringtone crashed through the silence.

Loki jumped to his feet, clawing at his pocket to find the damn device. As quickly as it began, the room fell quiet. By the time that he had the phone in his hand, the ringing had stopped. Across the screen flashed a message: Missed Call from Kristine Ververs.

He didn’t remember making the decision to teleport to her apartment, only that suddenly he was there, ripping the door open so forcefully that the lock cracked.

Three things greeted him inside the apartment: Hauer, standing only a few feet from the door. Kristine, curled beneath him on the floor, gasping for air. And blood. Lots and lots of blood.

Hauer whipped up, eyes wild. “The fuck are you?”

Loki grabbed him by the collar and flung him into the television set.

Kristine was sobbing. Her bloodied hands clawed at the knife handle buried deep into her abdomen.

Oh Norns, what did he do to her?

“Here, hang on,” Loki knelt beside her in a frenzy, pulling her wrists away. Her shirt was soaked through with red. Helplessly, he pressed against her wound, hoping to staunch the bleeding.

How much blood has she lost already?

Panicked, he glanced around the room. The carpet was stained, a trail leading all the way back to the kitchen area.

“Loki,” she choked. “I didn’t—I tried—”

“Shh,” he hushed. “It’s alright. You are going to be fine.” He needed to get her out of here. He had no medical supplies in here, no healing stones. Gingerly, he scooped her up in his arms, kicking himself when she whimpered in pain. “I’m going to take care of you, alright?” he whispered as he stood. “You’re going to be fine. I swear, you’ll be fine.”

He teleported back to his quarters and laid her on his bed.

Healing stones. Need healing stones.

“Kristine,” he said urgently, bringing her hands to either side of the knife. “I need to you to press down here, okay?” He pushed her hands against her wound. “Just like that, alright?”

Kristine gave a short nod, but her eyes seemed to be staring past him.

“Kristine,” he tapped her cheeks, “Kristine, stay awake!”

She made a nondescript noise and nodded again. With a troubled look, Loki grabbed a healing stone and broke it over her stomach, casting a spell of light to activate it. The dust shimmered as it sank into her skin through her shirt. He pulled the knife out as the wound closed and tossed it aside.

Kristine moaned, her head falling backward on to the pillow as her eyes closed. That was okay. In the handful of times Loki had used healing stones on mortals (usually members of the Avengers), he had learned that their bodies tended to be overwhelmed by the magic and need to sleep it off. It was okay.

He watched her chest rise and fall with each small breath, her crimson curls seeming even more vibrant against the paleness of her skin.

It was okay, right?

Her pulse was steady. Loki took it twice more, just to be certain. Her temperature was normal. Her breathing regular. Everything was fine. He sighed.

Loki cleaned up the blood best he could without disturbing her, then washed off and pulled up a chair. Kristine was still sleeping peacefully. He wondered suddenly what Hauer was going to do. The man was used to getting away with violence, but this went beyond beatings: this was attempted murder. Would he come clean? Or (and the more Loki thought about it the more likely this seemed) would he attempt to pin the blame on him?

“He crashed through the door and kidnapped my girlfriend! I tried to stop him, but he attacked me!”

From an outside perspective, the story might seem believable. After all, most of this world still saw him as the monster who lurked in the shadows, waiting with sharpened claws for the opportune moment to strike. It would be easy for Hauer to paint him as the villain.

Loki considered waking the others and explaining what had happened, before Hauer had a chance to tell his warped version, but he decided to wait until Kristine awoke. It was her life, after all—she should have a say in how things played out. Besides, doing so would require him to leave her by herself for a bit.

He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t want to leave her alone.

By morning, she still had not awoken. It was a bit concerning—the other times he had used stones on mortals, they had only slept for a few hours. By the end of the day, she still had not stirred and he was convinced that something was wrong. Frantically, he consulted his books, searching for some caveat he had overlooked.

The obvious answer would be that she was having a bad reaction to the healing stones, but such a situation would merit a reaction: racing heartbeat, wild seizures, delirious hallucinations. But Kristine was still. Her vitals were normal, her sleep tranquil. Loki didn’t know what to do.

It wasn’t until he found a footnote in his old healer’s textbook that he realized what was happening.

Note that the potency of healing stones can be affected by the mental wellbeing of the patient. An individual who has suffered under extreme stress for an extended period of time may have a longer recovery period than one who has not.

“Oh, dear,” Loki murmured. He closed the book slowly. “Extreme stress for an extended period of time”—that practically described Kristine’s entire existence. She was going to be out for a while.

He looked at her on the bed, eyes closed, breath soft. He had never known Kristine to look so at peace. Perhaps a long, deep sleep was just what she needed. He patted her knuckles gently.

“You’re safe here, my lady,” he whispered.

The next day, when no one had crashed into his quarters accusing him of kidnapping, he thought that perhaps he better find out what was going on. He slunk into the common room, hoping to overhear some tidbit of information. Of course, Thor was never one to appreciate his desires for stealth.

“Brother!” he cried when he noticed him, patting him on the back. “Where have you been? Have you heard the news?”

Loki stiffened. “News?”

“Michael Hauer’s lady has gone missing! You remember her, don’t you? You danced with her at Stark’s last party.”

“Yes,” Loki frowned. Thor didn’t seem to have any idea of his involvement. “What do you mean ‘missing’? Has she been abducted?”

“We don’t know,” Thor said, shaking his head ruefully. “She and Hauer had a fight the night before last, and she stormed out. Hauer only saw yesterday morning that she never returned.”

“Oh.” Loki stared for a moment, shellshocked. Hauer had made up a story that didn’t include him in it. Why would he cut out his easiest option for a scapegoat? “Well,” he said cautiously, “I assume every effort is being made to retrieve the young lady.”

“Oh, yes. Stark plans to help the police, to make certain she’s found safely,” Thor sighed. “Poor Hauer. I can’t imagine what he’s going through right now.”

Loki shook his head. “No, neither can I.”

It was an interesting tale that Hauer had concocted. Loki watched it play out over the next few weeks as he watched over Kristine. Listening to the piece of filth pretend to weep over the woman who he had beaten and abused and buried a blade into made his blood boil, but Loki put up with it in an attempt to understand what Hauer was trying to accomplish. Shockingly, he continued to stick to his story: he and Kristine had a fight at around ten, she got angry and stormed out, and when he woke up the next morning he realized she hadn’t come back.

At first, Loki thought he was simply trying to cover up his violent history. But it didn’t make any sense: he had the perfect opportunity to solidify his innocence by throwing the blame on to Loki, and yet he continued to dig himself into a hole by claiming Kristine left on her own—something security cameras proved never happened.

It was only when he stopped to consider that Hauer had to have taken the time to clean the apartment, wash away the traces of blood and fix the lock and right the television set, that Loki began to examine an alternative explanation. Did… did Hauer even know what happened that night? Loki hadn’t exactly checked his force when he threw him across the room. It was possible that he didn’t even remember Loki showing up, didn’t remember what happened to Kristine… and woke up in an apartment full of blood…

Oh my, Loki thought as he watched Hauer stumble through an interview on television. He thinks he killed her.

The revelation and thought of the stress it must have been causing him gave Loki great joy, but watching the world fall for Hauer’s story hook, line, and sinker was frustrating beyond words. As the Avengers showered him with pity, not even bothering to question the shakiness of his ridiculous story, Loki thought of Kristine’s words in the broom closet, her steadfast belief that nobody cared enough about her to turn on her boyfriend.

Then the narrative flipped.

Loki remembered Kristine telling him about those two phone calls, but nothing could have prepared him for actually listening to them.

“Can you please just send someone?” her voice was shaking, barely holding together as she breathed into the phone, “He’s really mad, I think he’s going to break down the door. Please, is someone coming?”

Loki wasn’t sure what hurt him more, hearing her whisper through such unadulterated fear, or knowing that when the someone did arrive, they did nothing to help her.

The public had turned on Michael Hauer. The police found traces of blood in his apartment. Stark fired him. Descriptions of the missing knife plastered the news. Demands for an arrest flooded the Internet. The search for a body kicked into full gear. And then Loki had an idea that could put the nail in his coffin.

He left the knife where it was sure to be noticed by someone, just sitting atop the dumpster behind their apartment building. Sure enough, it was found within hours.

Four days later, Michael Hauer was arrested and charged with the murder of Kristine Ververs.

That same day, Kristine woke up. He had become so used to her stillness that he nearly jumped out of his skin when she groaned.

He knelt next to the bed. “Kristine?”

She stretched, blinking her cerulean eyes. “L-Loki? What—where are we?”

“My quarters in Avengers Tower,” he smiled wryly. “You’ve had a bit of a nap.”

Kristine shot up as if she was struck by lightning. “Michael! Oh my God, he—” her hands flew to her stomach, where the knife had gone in. “What—how—did he—”

Loki hushed her. “It’s alright. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you,” he said, taking her hands in his and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I have much to tell you…”

[leechtwinsfling]

Twisted Wonderland @ DISNEYLAND  [ Chapter 1 ]

✨ Twisted Wonderland FanFiction ❤

[ Disneyland Date Series - HEARTSLABYUL ]

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“Seriously, [N/A], how popular can you be?” Ace asks grasping hold of my right wrist.

“You can’t blame [N/A[, he/she has been through a lot with us.” Deuce states holding my left wrist.

The two first year Heartslabyul saved me from the fighting crowd that surrounded me moments ago. I guess my plan of hanging at the park calmly with Grimm has been thrown out of the window as all the dorms seem to have me in their schedule.

“Hey! I also went through a lot!” Grimm adds running beside us.

“Guys, I love the small talk, but can we please focus ahead of us? I don’t want us to bump into children, okay?” I ask in worry as I find their concentration not in front as many kids fill the faculty.

In a silent agreement, they watch carefully for the parents and their children around us as we slip through gaps between them. Our surrounds full of beautifully designed pavement roads, structures, shops, cart stands, and nature change it’s theme. Instead of being a neutral theme, a path leading towards the Queen’s Garden has roses and Medieval-like surrounding it. In astonishment of this change, my eyes gleam in amazement. 

We rush through the path as I make a mental note to remember taking photos of this place once the situation has calm down. Nearing the end of the pathway, I spot a small tower ahead. A bridge-like pathway connects it as large figure card soldiers are on each side of it leading towards the tower.

Seeing as we’re heading over there, we finally arrive at the entrance of Heart Garden. Inside the tower, nearby, there is a shop selling Queen of Hearts merchandise which instantly has caught my eyes. But as of this moment, I need to catch my breathe as we finally stop running. 

“Okay, Vice-Prefect Trey told us to wait here until they come.” Deuce states.

“How do you guys run so fast without losing breath?” Grimm panting for air.

They both shrug innocently.

“Track and Field Club?”

“Basketball Club?”

Grimm groans getting me to chuckle at his dramatic reaction.

“Seeing how fast and reactive the six of you were when we were escaping, I’m going to assume you all planned this beforehand?” I ask taking a seat at a nearby bench.

Deuce nods, “Prefect Riddle guessed that you’d probably be in trouble as it seemed like we weren’t the only dorm that wanted to hang out with you here. So he devised a plan during the time you were with the other dorms. Then once everyone gathered, we took action.” 

“Our jobs were to get you out of there when Grimm was making a commotion. The seniors are as of this moment trying to escape, Upperclassman Cater is using his magic to confuse the other dorms so they can slip free.” Ace adds.

Suddenly, a familiar voice calls out to us getting our attention to look down the road to find our seniors. Arriving to our side, I seriously debate on trying to exercise as they all seem totally fine from running such a distance.

“We have 20 minutes to spare before the line for Queen’s Theater is open.” Riddle informs checking the time on his device. 

Without any warning, Grimm perks up as he sniffs the air, “I smell tuna!” 

“Are you serious? We ate before coming here, and you’re already hungry?” Ace asks in disbelief.

“There will be food at the Unbirthday Party and the Banquet Hall, so let’s save our stomach until them.” Trey suggests.

The group discusses what their next action shall be as my attention is far away from them. Instead, it’s on the nearby shop as my eyes can’t stop looking at the merchandise. Sneaking a peek at them, I decide to head over to the shop for a minute to possibly buy one of those popular headbands.

Arriving at the shop, my eyes gleam at the products as I know one minute won’t be enough to choose. Seeing how appealing they all look, I wreck my brain into thinking what to buy especially with my money budget (if there is one, usually you should have Sugar Daddy Crowley to pay for everything)

“[N/A]~ You’d look so cute in this!” Cater suddenly appears frightening me, “Here, try it!”

He places the headband onto my head before facing me across a nearby mirror. The headband has wire ears, beautiful white and red roses and a cute white bow and crown. Blushing at my appearance as I never assume that I’d wear something like this.

“I think it fits you more, Cater.” I smile before taking it off and placing it on his head.

Seeing how adorable he is, I giggle as he looks at the mirror.

“Let’s keeping trying some on~!” he persists as he picks up another headband.

“Cater! I found some phone cases!” Trey shouts across the shop getting the orange hair boy attention.

“Where?” Cater asks before rushing over to his friend.

Chuckling, I look around the shop before spotting Riddle. A plan comes into my mind as I look over the assortion of headbands in display before choosing one. Picking up one with two different color ears - black and red - it has a glimmering heart jewels on the golden crown.

Heading over to Riddle who’s looking through tea sets, I surprise him when I place the headband on his head. 

“Aw~ You look adorable, Riddle!” I coo at the view in front of me,

Riddle blushes before huffing, “I’m not adorable [N/A].”

Tell that to the millions of fans you have.

Pouting, I see him nearly taking it off.

“Please keep it on?” I ask using my puppy dog eyes.

He flinches staring at me as I can see him slowly giving in.

Sighing, he drops his hand, “Fine.”

Cheering at his reluctant approval, my eyes find something else that interests me. Rushing towards it, I grab it before heading back to Riddle.

“Try this too!” I open the lock of the choker. 

It’s design was simple yet elegant, it has red frills with a black leather collar. A rose dangles from the middle of it. (I changed the appearance a bit, but if someone finds a nice Queen of Hearts theme choker, message me please!!)

Leaning towards him, I wrap the choker around his neck before closing the lock. Not realizing how close the proximity of our faces are to each other, we both bloom a blush as I spring back away from him. Sucking in my lips, an awkward silence is in between us. 

To break the awkwardness, I always know I can count on one of my three stooges (Ace, Deuce, and Grimm).

“[N/A]! Look at what I found!” Ace shouts getting me head to swivel towards him.

In his hands, he hold these humongous heart-shape sunglasses that gets me to laugh. Knowing he’s going to buy those without a doubt, the expedition through the shop continues. 

Nearing the end, I have bought a few merchandises from the shop deciding to buy more later the day. Finding Trey nearby, I smile as he’s looking through the accessory section. Heading towards him, I halt for a second before picking up a flower crown that gets me to smile. It has a variety of white and red roses matching with the extra accessory of a hedgehog, tea cup, flamingo, and crowns. Sneaking up behind him, I place the flower crown on him before he looks back to me. Raising an eyebrow at my action, he takes it off before inspecting it.

He chuckles before placing it back on, “Well, does it look good on me?”

“Adorable.” I smirk getting him to laugh.

“Well, then, I’ll buy it.” he decides before looking back to the accessories in display and picking one out. 

It’s a beautiful pendant as it has a four leaf clover with different styles on the leaves. One is entirely silver, another has green and white jewels as the last two leaves are sparkling in green emerald. They all connect towards the center where a green jewel shines. A silver steam is behind it before it connects with the necklace chain. 

My eyes sparkle in the necklace’s glory as I’ve never seen something so beautiful.

“Turn around.” he orders.

“Why?” I ask.

“Just do.” he smiles getting me to blink in confusion before doing so. 

I hear a click before finding his arms around my face. Feeling his breathe near my ear, I feel myself stiffen with a slight blush. The necklace is in his hands as he wraps it around my neck before closing it. Turning me over to face him, he looks up to my face before down onto the necklace and smiles. 

“Beautiful.”

He then makes me turn around again before taking the necklace off me. In complete confusion, I look back to him as he closes the necklace again.

“Uh, are you buying that for someone?” I ask wondering if he has a lover that he never mentioned.

He chuckles at my expression before patting my head, “Yes. It’s you, silly.”

A frown appears on my face as he begins heading over to the cashier counter. Following him, I try to snatch the necklace away.

“You don’t have to buy me anything.” I argue trying to reach him despite being shorter than him.

“I’m your upperclassman.” he dodges my other attempt.

“But it doesn’t mean you have to buy me something!” 

Seeing how my tries are futile, I jump onto his back before trying to reach the necklace in his hand that he’s holding up high in the air. People give us looks as we pass through the store. Failing in my attempts to be able to grab the pendant as we have arrive to the cashier, I realize the flower crown on his head. Just when I was going to grab it, he beats me to it.

“Hey! If you’re going to buy the necklace, let me pay for the flower crown!” I huff seeing him handing it over to the cashier. 

“Now, now, it’s normal for the father to pay for their children.” he supports me as I slowly reach back onto the ground.

“Really? Now you use the family card?” I ask in disbelief knowing the smile on my face is betraying my seriousness. 

“Yup.” he winks at me before grabbing the paid products and handing me the necklace, “Just enjoy us spoiling you.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m not a kid.”

“You’re one of the youngest.” he argues as we head off away from the cashier counter.

“Yeah, but I’m mentally older than the other two.” I proudly smile.

He laughs patting my head, “Okay, then.”

“You know I’m going to repay you, no matter what.” I challenge.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Finishing out conversation, we find the others waiting at the outside of the shop. Smiling, I rush over to them before seeing them all holding bags of merchandises they bought a minute ago. I frown feeling something is very off within the group. It was...too quiet. Looking around, I can’t find a specific magical cat.

“Where’s Grimm?” I ask in worry for my only dorm mate. 

“Ah, he suddenly went off to find his tuna.” Ace sighs.

“He said he’ll meet us at the Unbirthday Party after getting his tuna.” Deuce mentions.

Seriously, that cat.

“[N/A]! Here!” he hands me the heart sunglasses he found in the shop, “I won another pair from the manager!”

“Won? How’d you win it and when did you meet the shop manager?” I raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, “We had a bet, and I won.”

“What was the bet?”

“If he can win against in a card game.” he smirks with a hint of evilness.

“Ace.” I give him a disapproving look knowing how he can easily win card games from his expertise of cards.

He gives me a pathetic shrug with his tongue slightly sticking out.

“I also got you something [N/A]!” Deuce interjects.

“What’s with you guys getting me so many things?” I ask being slightly cautious and confused as I remember all the times I had to buy them lunch.

He takes out a folded shirt before handing it over to me with a huge adorable smile, “I also got one, but in red.”

Holding the sunglasses and shirt in hand, I smile at them, “Thanks, guys.”

“You’re welcome.” they both sync.

That’s when I realize our group of six has turn to four getting me to wonder where the other two seniors are.

“Where’s Upperclassman Cater and Prefect Riddle?” I ask.

“They went to change clothes that they bought, and I suggest we also do since I assume we all also bought some.” Trey states getting all of us to agree before heading over to the bathroom/changing room. 

Inside the stall, I unfold the shirt given to me by Deuce before giving it a scan and smiling. It was a sleeveless black top with a string design at the end of each arm holes. On the shirt, it was a monotone color of the Queen of Hearts with her famous quotes. 

Taking off my outfit I have on, I change into this shirt before matching it along with Queen of Hearts pants/skirt (or whatever outfit you want). Placing the necklace around the neck, I loosely let my finger touch it as a smile and blush is on my face. Taking out the Queen of Hearts back I bought, I place all my other merchandise inside.

When I finish fixing my appearance with the heart sunglasses on my face, I head out of the bathroom/changing room. Finding a familiar orange hair upperclassman waiting nearby on his phone, I head over to him. He wears a simple dark cardigan with a four of diamond card shirt underneath. His pants are like leggings as there are golden orange designs on the sides of them. On his head there is a headband similar to the one Riddle wears. Instead of round ears, they are heart shape with one red and one black. A huge bow in right smack in the middle with black and white chess board design, golden accent and a red heart jewel.

On his wrist is a black and red bow as it’s center piece with ribbons behind it with other designs. 

Noticing my presence, he smiles before gesturing me over, “[N/A]! Come over and take a picture with me!”

Abiding his wish, I stand beside him before looking up towards the camera and giving out a smile. 

“Oh! I found these and the shop and thought they’d look amazing on us!” Cater rummages inside his pocket.

On us?

Taking out a golden 3D diamond shape earring, he smiles, “Here, try it on!”

Doing so, I replace my right earring with the one given.

“Now we match~!” he cheers.

Confused with what he means, I look over to his left ear to find the same earring. The other pair of the earring. He then pulls me into a hug before taking another picture of us showing off the earrings.

“Gonna post this~!” he taps his phone, “#Disneyland #matching earrings #heart garden”

Allowing to continue typing, I twirl the earring between my fingers feeling the light material. Soon later, the rest of the group appears as we regather. 

Riddle wears a shirt similar to the original Queen of Hearts outfit, in the chest area with the heart design it has one of her famous quotes ‘Off With Their Head’. Black-grey pants match with the shirt as he continues to wear the headband and choker. 

Trey has a black t-shirt on with Queen of Hearts designs all over it - heart, roses, crown, axes - and dark sweat-like pants. The flower crown continues to sit on his head as he tries to adjust it to his comfort. 

Deuce wears the red version of the sleeveless shirt I am wearing with slightly torn up denim jeans. Under his sleeveless shirt is a tight turtleneck bicep length shirt showing his quite built body. On his head are two large round ears made out of black frills and three red roses on each ear. In the middle is a red, black and yellow bow with a white ribbon and crown holding it. 

Ace is wearing his a white hoodie with black Queen of Hearts designs and a red jacket on top. To match the top wear, he has denim-like sweatpants withe white bold ‘ACE’ words on the sides of it. The heart sunglasses is on his face as he has black dog-like ears for his headband as there is also a tea cup on his left ear that looks like it’s spilling. In one of his hand, he holds a wand similar to the Queen of Hearts sector. On the other... a huge crown full of popcorn.

“Acem why do you have popcorn?” Riddle asks frowning at the sight of the buttery popcorn.

“Over there!” Ace points towards a nearby food cart.

“How are you going to eat all that before the Unbirthday Party?” I ask in concern looking the amount. 

“There’s always room for popcorn! Especially with a movie!” Ace proudly exclaims. 

“Just don’t complain to us when you don’t have room during the Unbirthday Party, idiot.” Deuce huffs getting the usual duo to once again begin bickering.

Riddle sighs, “Let’s just head towards the theater so we can get good seats.”

Agreeing, we all begin heading towards the Queen’s Castle with small talk as we admire the surroundings. Seeing Riddle guiding us as he holds the map, I smile before rushing to walk beside him. 

“So what’s the whole schedule?” I ask curiously.

“Well, first we’re going to watch Queen of Heart’s History which will take half an hour. Then we’ll head over to the Meet & Greet and get signatures. After that, there’s an Unbirthday Party Event. We’ll have an hour of free time to ride attractions such as the Mad Tea Party and Queen of Heart’s Castle Tour. For lunch, we’ll be going to Queen of Heart’s Banquet Hall. When finished, we’ll have time to go on other attractions before the Queen of Heart’s Parade later the evening. Then there will also be a closing ceremony at night” Riddle informs.

He seriously thought this through.

“Sounds exciting!” I smile as my heart pumps in excitement.

He smiles back before looking up to the top of my head and staring.

“Is something wrong?” I ask tilting my head.

“Your head is empty.” he states before suddenly taking out an identical headband like his, “Here.”

“You got two of them?” I question wondering why he did.

“Well it seemed like you liked it, so I got one for you too.” he says turning his head slightly away hoping to hide his slight blush.

Smiling, I grab it before putting on top of my head, “Thank you, Riddle!”

He smiles, “You’re welcome.”

[ to be continued ]

[supposed2bfunny]

2doc Week Day 5-Quarantine

This one’s a tad longer, so putting it under a ‘read more.’ Just some really insipid shenanigans for this day’s prompt!

“You ready, Muds?”

“This is an astonishing waste of time, Stu—”

“On three, then?”

“…fine.”

“Great! One, two, three…go!” 2D jumped out of his room, a little confused to find that Murdoc was already standing in the hallway, staring at him. “Hey, you cheated.”

“I came out on three, you came out on go. You just said ‘on three—‘"

“Well yeah, but you count to three and then you—”

“Nevermind,” he cut him off, smirking. “Mate, you look ridiculous.”

“You’re one to talk!” 2D clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the giggle that threatened to end the sentence in a highly undignified high pitch.

Murdoc was dressed in the clothes 2D had worn in their “Saturnz Barz” video, complete with a pair of blue trousers that looked uncomfortably tight, belted way above his paunch, and a black button-down, opened to reveal a tempting tuft of coarse hair. His chest looked alien without his usual upside-down cross. Without thinking, the singer reached up to his own chest, where the cross sat between his skin and the worn material of Murdoc’s striped jumper.

“Those pants look more like capris on you!” the bassist cackled, pointing at his bare ankles.

“Shut up! The jumper suits me quite well, don’t you think? The color brings out my hair. Least I don’t look like the male whore in some B-movie!”

“Mate,” Murdoc was still laughing, and having a hard time getting his words out. “You can’t say I look like a whore when I’m dressed as you!”

“I wore that outfit better than you!”

“Great, so can we agree that we both look completely mental?”

“I don’t think that’s entirely fair; I think I pull off your frumpiness like a model!”

“That jumper was designed for someone with a complexion more like my own.”

“Green, you mean green skin?”

“Well, I guess green is a state of mind,” he grumbled, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “So slip into that mindset, turtledove, because for the rest of the day, you’re me.”

“Oh, I’ve had two decades to observe you, Muds,” he replied casually, leaning against the doorframe. “All I have to do is act drunk, shout every hour or so about how great my band is, and go out of my way to grate on everyone’s nerves. Easy. Think that mastering the nuance of my enigmatic personality will be way harder for you.”

The bassist-turned-frontman rolled his eyes and moved to brush past him. “All I have to do is not think for the rest of the day. This’ll be a bloody vacation, pet.”

“Hey wait, before we start officially, give me a kiss,” he requested, catching the shorter man by the simple gold necklace—his necklace—around his neck, dragging him in closer and pausing as their lips hovered over each other.

“Am I kissing you as Murdoc, or as 2D?”

“As hot as a little 2D-on-2D action sounds, I want a kiss from my boyfriend.”

“Needy bitch,” he chuckled, but he obliged, pressing the taller man against the wall and kissing him languidly, reaching underneath that hole-filled sweater to trace the cross against his boyfriend’s chest. “Let’s stick a pin in that idea, huh? Now then, shall we pop off? There’s a certain drummer I’m dying to pester with my extensive knowledge of zombie flicks.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go see if Noodle notices the difference—oh, careful!” He reached out quickly and caught the shorter man as he tripped over his slightly-too-big shoes. “Watch it, luv. Being me is a right safety hazard.”

Grinning mischievously, the two parted ways, and the man formerly known as 2D made for the living room, where Noodle could be found flipping through a magazine.

“Noods!” he crowed, doing his best to sound gruff and Stoke-on-Trent-y. “I’ve got some grrreat news! I tried a new skin-care product and it took decades off my skin. I’d say I look at least twelve years younger: what do you think?”

She glanced up and frowned. “What fresh stupidity is this?” she asked.

“Stupidity? Don’t be so rude, poppet, I look good don’t I? Don’t worry; there’s no shame in admitting that a bloke so many years your senior is more attractive than you, really.”

“2D,” she sighed. “Why are you impersonating Murdoc?”

“Impersonating? I am Murdoc!”

“Sure you are. And is Murdoc also Murdoc, or is he 2D?”

“Um…wait, I’m confused…” he paused to try and track what she’d just said, and he realized that  he had completely broken character. “Sod this! Your questions just show that you’re…you’re confused by my superior genius!” Yeah, that sounded about right.

She tapped the magazine on her lap impatiently. “I’m trying to gauge my astrological compatibility with Tessa Thompson right now,” she said. “Can you come back to be annoying and strange later?”

“Er…but I…”

“Get lost, Murdoc.”

She’d done it! She’d acknowledged his acting skills! Satisfied, he pumped his fist in celebration. “Right, enjoy flipping through that trashy magazine telling you what nail polish color will make Tesla love you! I’m going to sit here and watch my soaps!”

“It’s…nevermind.” She sighed, looking like she had a lot more to say, but no energy to say it, and ‘Murdoc’ cheerfully flounced across the room to grab the remote, moving with more spring in his step than he’d had in decades.

Meanwhile, Russel was in the kitchen, preparing himself a hoagie of epic proportions, having been inspired by one of his favorite cooking shows. Just as he was debating whether to opt for dill or bread and butter pickles (or both? life was short), a nicotine-laden pair of lungs cleared themselves right behind him.

“Oh no,” he said, spinning around. “I’m having ‘me time:’ whatever stupid scheme you’re up to, it can damn well wait, Murdo—” he froze, pickle jars in hand, and after a moment, he bent over in a ground-shaking belly laugh. “You look ridiculous!”

“W-wot d’yew mean, Russ?” he asked, pressing a finger to his lips in an attempt to look juvenile. “It’s me, 2D, innit?”

“Murdoc, that belt looks like it’s constricting your ribs, and your belly is about to pop out. What gives?”

“Nuffink gives, just fought I’d try on my old cloves from ‘Saturnz—”

“Man, if you don’t stop talking like that immediately, we’re going to have bigger problems than whatever wardrobe malfunction this is.”

“Easy, easy, big guy! I’ll cut back on the Cockney accent! Fortunately I’ve picked up the ability to speak a bit better in recent years. Can you understand me now?”

“Not at all,” he said dryly. “Why are you dressed like 2D?”

“Mate, I am 2D! The adorable and absentminded singer for our band!” the dark-haired 2D insisted stubbornly.

Russel stared at him, ready to launch into yet another insult. Then he considered the two pickle jars in his hands. “So uh,” he shrugged. “What day of quarantine is it?”

“Oh, seventy-three or seventy-four, something like that. But who’s counting?”

“So you two are just messing around because you’re bored.”

“Well, it’s more fun than making a sandwich, wouldn’t you say?” he asked, smirking, realizing 2D wasn’t really the smirking type, and settling on a softer smile.

Russel weighed his options, and decided the prospective entertainment value was too good to pass up. “Well then, ‘Dee,’ do you want to make this monster sandwich with me? You can regale me with stories of what it’s like in your head the whole time.”

Murdoc—no that wasn’t right—‘2D’ beamed at him and nodded. “I’d love nothing more! Could probably use some extra calories, frail little waif of a man that I am.”

“Oh yeah,” Russel agreed, playfully patting his middle-aged potbelly. “You’re a real waif. Now grab the mustard.”

“You got it, Russ! Yellow or spicy?”

“Yes!”

Several hours later found the singer and bassist reunited in 2D’s bedroom. They sat together, swapping their clothes back piece-by-piece: first 2D pulled the striped jumper over his head, then Murdoc unbuttoned the black shirt as though he were giving a strip tease. They giggled the whole time, each looking particularly relieved when their pants came undone and they could step into comfortable sweatpants once again.

“I’d say outfit-swap was a roaring success!” Murdoc said cheerfully, grabbing a sip of a lukewarm beer sitting on the bedside table.

“I don’t know about that…I think Noodle and Russel were just humoring us.”

“Well at first, sure,” he conceded, gracing the singer with a kiss as he reverently returned his cross necklace to him. “But I think that as we really got into character, they forgot that we were simply acting. Once this quarantine ends, we should head back to LA and reconsider the whole movie star thing!”

“I’ll pass on that,” he replied, pulling a face, then falling down onto his bed, motioning for Murdoc to finish his drink and join him. The older man happily obliged, and the mattress creaked slightly at their combined weight as they cuddled together. “So…what are we going to do tomorrow to annoy the others?”

“We could speak only in riddles the whole day!”

“What if I’m not smart enough for that?”

“Was that a riddle?” Murdoc asked, cackling as he got a poke in the ribs for the comment. “Gentle, gentle! I’ve got it: let’s speak the way people write your dialogue online.”

“Not the super Cockney?”

“That’s right! Let’s speak like Dick Van Dyke attempting to sound like a proper Brit! That’ll be a right laugh!”

“You’re so cruel: what did Noodle and Russel do to deserve you as their bandmate?”

“Hey,” he teased, “you were in on today’s game.”

“Fine, I’ll consider the Cockney schtick, but I think you can do better. Keep working on it.”

“Yes sir,” he agreed, nuzzling into the singer’s neck. “So, we still have the night ahead of us: what did you want to do?”

2D was quiet for long enough that he began to get a little suspicious. “Stu? Simple enough question, luv. What’s on that pretty mind of yours?”

“I was just thinking, Muds…” another long bout of silence.

“Yes?” he prodded.

“Would you still be up for that 2D-on-2D action we were joking about earlier?”

Murdoc pulled away from him abruptly, and he scrambled to follow the bassist, to apologize for the stupid suggestion. As he opened his mouth to voice his mortification and backtrack, Murdoc caught his eye with a playful smirk and slowly pulled his necklace off. “Mate,” he said, voice unusually high, like he was trying to imitate someone else, “I fought yew’d neva ask!”

[subliminalhero]

Here is a WIP of my most recent MHA OC. (Edit: I forgot to post this and actually finished it in full color. I’ll attach the pictures of each phase at the end)

Meet Tsumugi, Habiki. INTERPOL agent and Pro Hero Stelth Siren.

Quirk: Subliminal; the ability to mesmerize others with their voice. They have a second set of vocal cords that can be used to reach pitches that can no be heard by humans. This double set is what allows them to brainwash people. Works best when Habiki is singing but can be used during normal conversation or even with only the secondary set for silent control. Intent is crucial to it’s use. And can be used to lift a persons natural restrictions. For example, humans have a jaw strength capable of biting off a persons fingers with little to no problem. Like biting into a carrot. Habiki can use subliminal to convince the human mind to lift that restriction. This is used to help give other hero’s a short boost with their quirk use. It is only used short term because it can be dangerous for the health of the target. It can also be used to make restrictions on a persons quirk use. Or even turn off that part of the brain that activits the quirk in the first place. The effects of Subliminal are permanent unless they have a built in trigger phrase or sound and must be undone by Habiki themself. It does, however, put a strain on Habiki that can lead to insomnia, depression, and other negative health troubles. Since Habiki is not actively using their quirk but is using it passively. Habiki tries not to have more than 5 people under Subliminal at any given time and will usually stay at 3 max for safety reasons. Their max control is actually much higher but can lead to brain bleeding when sustained for longer than a few minutes. 

The younger half-sibling of Endeavor, Habiki was born as a way for their mother to control Enji. Neither Habiki or Enji use their mother’s family name, while they both use their individual Fathers names. Their mother would threaten his younger sibling any time her perfect heir stepped out of line. Enji and Habiki are 11 years apart in age. When Habiki’s quirk developed at 4 1/2 years old Enji petitioned for emancipation and the year after was cleared to take over guardianship of Habiki. After Enji graduated and got his own place, he hired a nanny to take care of Habiki while he worked. He also set Habiki up with an apartment closer to their school and their nanny’s home so they didn’t have to worry so much about commuting. Habiki adored their older brother and aspired to be a Hero just like him. The siblings relationship is close at this time, and somewhat akin to a parent and child. Enji works hard to take care of his sibling while Habiki works hard to keep up their grades and make it into their brothers alma mater. They train together so Habiki can pass into the hero corse even without an offensive quirk. These are facts of Habikis backstory for all AUs they are involved in.

This version of Habiki is from my What If AU called Escaped AU. There are two more AUs involving Habiki, Free AU and Damned AU. Once I have designs for those version of them. I’ll post them.

For now, Escaped AU Habiki was kidnapped when they were 16 by hired goons sent by their bitter mother and sold off to Dr Kyudai Garaki (Ujiko) for experimentation. Enji would be told his sibling was missing and presumed dead, which would go on to have a terrible effect on his psyche. During this time, Habiki was experimented on by the dr in the first of many attempts to transfer All for One into a new host and to see if the new host could adapt to multiple quirks. This was before the Nomu experiments. Also in this time, Habiki became close to one of the Drs inters and he took a liking to them right back. This young man would eventually father Habikis one and only child that would be taken from them immediately by one of the nurses. The young father would be killed and Habiki would be placed in a new lab. Habiki would eventually escape with the help of a few other subjects who would go on to be members of Habikis team, the Freakshow Unit though one subject was unable to escape with the rest. After being a real vigilante with their little rag tag group, Habiki was eventually caught and given the option to join Interpol and work to take down the ones who ruined their life. Habiki would then have been undercover as a vigilante for the passed 10 years working the All for One case. They spent significant time in other countries for this job, mostly in the US. Habiki would check in on their brother and his family from time to time without any of them knows they are alive. When Toya supposedly died, Habiki actually used that moment to get their nephew out of the house. Instead of going down the path he originally would have in canon, they trained and raised him while helping him learn to manage his quirk and getting him the psychiatric help he needed after his time at home.

This would all lead into the Escaped AU. I plan on doing a snippet/Drabble series that would involve all three AU ideas. The whole idea is a What If scenario on how things would be different with the addition of one more character.

Now for the closer to finished version!

I was unsure what color I do for their hair, and was debating between purple and red. Then I thought. What if thy were dying it red while they were undercover? So this final headshot is the result!

I’m rather proud of it? It was one of the first times I’ve used alcohol markers. It’s a cheap set so it’s not very good and I don’t actually know how to use them. I only used them for the dark gray. The reds, purples, and skin are done with Faber-Castell India ink markers. I did use a Prismacolor ink blender on the hair to make it look like more of a fading dye job?

Anyway, that’s Escaped Habiki. There is a lot I left out for one reason or another. Like the identity of their child (not much of a mystery really) and how Toya becomes Dabi in this AU. And who I ship them with.

I’ll eventually make a manga style character page for them. Just to get their age, height, and some other things out of the way. I’m looking forward to that.

[tyrustrash]

Bon Bon Chocolat

What's everyone's deal with chocolate? Especially the whole dark vs white chocolate debate. Why does milk chocolate get ignored? It is a completely valid form, and so is white chocolate. White chocolate is real chocolate, no matter what you think. It has the word "chocolate" in its name, so how is it not? The answer is simple. It. Is. Chocolate. Periodt. And people will do anything for a bit of chocolate. Just look at that one guy from Spongebob. A boy leans against the entrance of the cafeteria, eyeing the tray of chocolate muffins and chocolate delicacies. This is Cyrus Goodman. Watch him drool over the sweetness of it all. It's adorable. Cyrus has been referred to by the entire student population of Jefferson Middle School as the most fragile student in the school. He takes his time maneuvering across the room, in attempt to grab one of the muffins. He dives into a rolling position and rolls to the counter, unnoticed. He really doesn't give a care. If he's hungry, he's hungry. And he'll do anything to satisfy his hunger. He rolls for a hot second. He's really feeling his oats as he expected this to go another way. He couldn't even do a somersault a few weeks ago, and now he's all athletic and all that. All this exercise activity will make TJ proud. Oh God. Now he's thinking of his best friend. Why would he do this to himself. He knows every time that he thinks of the jock, he gets weak in his knees and too shook to function properly. The sudden thought messed him up and instead of continuing straight, which is the only time he's been straight, he wobbled and started shifting left and right. Instead of landing at the counter, he ran into a trash can. One of those big metal ones that made a loud 'clunk' like noise when made in contact with. On the upside, no one was near him to see it. Or so he thought. As he rubs his head to relieve some of the pain, a hand reaches out towards him. Cyrus opens his eyes, which then widens. "And, I oop- " TJ chuckles and shakes his head a little. He forms a small smile as he looks at the smaller boy. Thoughts upon thoughts ran through his head as to how this happened, but overall couldn't stop thinking about how cute he looks, even if he's on the ground and has specks of dirt on his clothes. "Need some help?" Well, obviously, Cyrus couldn't what he really needed help with, but he has to accept what he's offered. He reaches out and takes hold of TJ's hand. He's pulled off the ground and brushes off the dirt. "What was all that about?" TJ asks. His concerned tone was melting Cyrus's heart faster than the chocolate by how adorable it was. To be fair, anything TJ says in any tone made Cyrus fall for him even more. "Do you need some more help with your somersaults?" Cyrus shakes his head. "Nah, fam." He points to the counter. Almost all the muffins were already gone, along with the random chocolate candies. "Wanted my usual muffin. Tried to be a little extra, but as you saw, it failed." TJ sighs and places a hand on Cyrus's shoulder, which causes the boy's heart to pound faster than the time he drank a whole can of Red Bull. His breathing is stammered. TJ opens his mouth to say something. "You could've asked me to get you one. Just stand by and look pretty as I get it for you." TJ walks away, leaving Cyrus with his mouth wide open. Did TJ Kippen, THE TJ Kippen, captain of the basketball team, most popular guy in school, his bestest friend ever, just tell him to look pretty? Was he pretty? Of course, he has his charm. But does this mean that TJ thinks that he is pretty, as in a synonym for attractive? Cyrus couldn't really spend much longer on the question as his mind went to another place, along with his eyes. He kept his eyes on TJ the entire time. The way the boy walks conveys so much swag that it made him look pretty, well, prettier. TJ reaches the counter and pops up the hood of his hoodie, like the sly guy that the is. After a minute, TJ returns. Empty handed. "Sorry, Underdog. They ran out before I got there. Tried to find out if they had any in the back." "It's ok." Cyrus tells him. Although he was upset that he was without muffin, at least he's with TJ, and that he tried. A boy that kinda sort of finds him pretty and that attempts to get his favorite school food, Cyrus couldn't get luckier. Even if they were just friends. "Let's just go to our table and enjoy the rest of lunch." Cyrus went to their usual table and places his head on his hands in defeat. TJ watches his friend and frowns. He hates seeing him upset, that's why he's willing to do anything for him. He just couldn't figure out how to get him out of this state. Or did he? TJ frantically shakes his head and pulls out his phone. He opens his email app and scrolls through everything. He soon finds one that was sent a week ago. He finds the one from Hersey Factory. About a month ago he entered a contest and won two tickets to tour the factory. He smiles hard and ran to his friend. He practically shoves the phone in his face. "What, TJ?" Cyrus asks. He barely lifts his head. "Just read this." Cyrus listens and reads the email. He lightens up and smiles. "What's this for?" "Just thought this would make you happy. Going to a whole building dedicated to chocolate. Even say we'll be given gift baskets at the end. It'll be like a date." At that, Cyrus really perks up. He still doesn't comprehend what TJ means. Did he mean like a romantic date? A date as casual friends? Or did he accidently say that word? ''And this weekend is the last day I can use them. Didn't know who to take and now I have a reason to use them." "And I have a reason to live." Cyrus says softly. "What?" Cyrus tries covering up what he said. "Oh, it was nothing. I'm so excited that I'm practically about to explode." "Don't hurt yourself." A few short days later, which felt like eternity to Cyrus, the weekend came. For the past few days Cyrus has been a nervous wreck, even more than usual. His mind continued to be filled with thoughts about TJ. How cute he was, how he looked good no matter what he wore, the way he took care of him and made him feel special. And now he couldn't get the words 'pretty' and 'date' out of his head. He couldn't figure out if those were said accidently or just in the moment, or the option that wasn't even a possibility, was that he was secretly trying to tell him he wanted to try dating. Nah. TJ is straight. He plays a sport. Right now, Cyrus's room is a mess from the clothes that are thrown all over the floor. He usually wasn't this worked up over what he wore around TJ, but this wasn't their usual day at the swings. This was, in Cyrus's mind, their first date, even if TJ didn't see it as such. Eventually, Cyrus settled on slacks and a green button up. He remembered that green is TJ's favorite color. A knock on the door snaps Cyrus back to reality. He runs downstairs and opens the front door. He sees TJ standing on the other side, and he's wearing his usual hoodie and jeans attire. Today's hoodie is a black one with rainbow sleeves. Upon seeing it, Cyrus's face practically turned into the heart eyed emoji. There was so much UWU that one could take. "Están listo?" TJ asks. His Spanish is improving, and his accent is so adorable. "Sí." Cyrus steps outside and locks his door. The pair walk down the driveway to RJ's truck. Since neither of them could drive, and all their parents are busy, TJ asked his older brother to drive them. Cyrus got in the back and buckles up. Next thing he knew, TJ is opening the other backseat door and sits next to him. RJ adjusts the front mirror. He sees the two as he starts the engine. He begins driving to the factory. "You two better have a good time. TJ's been talking about this nonstop for the past three days." TJ blushes, which Cyrus doesn't notice. However, Cyrus does notice RJ chuckling. He doesn't know if he's joking or what. "He even waited to wear that hoodie for the longest time." RJ continues. He turns onto a different road, getting closer to their destination. This time, both backseat boys were blushing. This lasted the rest of the ride, which fortunately was only a few minutes. When the car pulled into the factory, TJ and Cyrus quickly got out. "Enjoy your date." RJ then drives off. TJ rubs his neck and faces his friend. Their faces are back to normal. "Ignore him. He likes to joke and mess with me. Typical older brother things." Cyrus shrugs it off. The two looked around and find the entrance. The door is designed like a chocolate bar, which was pretty cool. Once inside, the layout was nothing like the chocolate factory from those movies. There were no edible rooms, no colorful field with chocolate rivers, no little orange men with green hair who sang songs. People say never believe everything you see on tv, but they were hoping this would be the same. Instead, the rooms were full of machinery. Everything was gray and the logo of the company was on everything. An employee approached them and shook both their hands. "Welcome to Hersey Factory Shadyside Section. I'm Mr. Walter and I'll be your tour guide today. Please follow me, and don't touch anything." The boys followed him, super bored by the way. The website made it seem so much more fun. They groaned after everything Mr. Walter said. There were times they felt like they were sleepwalking. The entire atmosphere felt like a magnet that was dragging them down, causing their walking to decline to them forcefully dragging their feet. After what felt like forever, they were given a break. TJ pulls Cyrus to the side. "Sorry for bringing you here. Should've let the tickets expire." Cyrus shrugs. "It's fine. At least we got to spend a Saturday together." "But I wanted to make it fun, exciting, and memorable. Gosh, I'm so horrible." TJ starts tearing up. He turns away and wipes his sleeve across his face. Cyrus comforts him by placing a hand on his shoulder. "Teej, it's ok. I'm happy as long as I'm with you." Cyrus froze as he caught on to what he said. Did he, did he just out himself? He stands still for a second too long and realizes his hand is still touching his crush. He swiftly removes it, which results in TJ turning back around. "You know what will make this fun?" TJ says as he grins like he's up to something. Cyrus couldn't figure out what TJ meant. Did he know about his crush and wanted to try something? Was he playing a prank? "What do you have in mind?" TJ peaks around to make sure none of the employees were near. He leans down to Cyrus's ear, which causes the boy to shiver. "I saw an interesting room down that hall over there. I think it has something we'll both enjoy." Cyrus gulps. He starts shaking. "What do you mean?" TJ grabs his hand and leads him away. The whole time Cyrus couldn't stop thinking that TJ is technically holding his hand. Leading him to do who knows what. Cyrus always wanted to try the wild side of life, but this may be too wild for him. Seconds after, they reached the door TJ talked about. It was slightly open, the key still in the lock. TJ made one last look around to confirm no employee was looking. Once the coast was clear, they went in. TJ turns on the light switch to reveal the room. Both gasp loudly at the sight in front of them. It was a literal chocolate room. Like, for real, everything is made of chocolate, except the door they entered through. The walls are chocolate. The floor is chocolate grass. A huge fountain is in the center, and you guessed it, it's made of chocolate. And instead of water, chocolate is coming out of it. There is a chocolate pool in the back. It was enough to send them into a sugar coma simply by looking at it all. Cyrus is in awe of everything that he's, for once, speechless. He keeps his frozen stance until the corner of his eye sees something. Next the he knew TJ is shirtless. If his mouth wasn't open, it is now. "TJ, what are you doing?" TJ starts making his way to the pool. "I was dreaming this would be like the movies." He takes off his jeans right before he jumps into the pool. Chocolate from the splash got over the already chocolate covered ground. "Man, this feels relaxing." He takes sips of the pool. "And delicious. You should come in and taste this. Or the grass. Or the walls. Chocolate is just so good." Cyrus walks over to the fountain and sits on the edge. He dips a finger inside and licks the chocolate off. TJ was right, it is good. Cyrus continues the process. Next thing he knew, his entire face ended up covered in chocolate. He looks to his right and sees a chocolate covered TJ smiling. "TJ!" Cyrus yells. He looks down at his shirt, which caught some chocolate. "This shirt is brand new! And my hair!" TJ couldn't stop laughing. "Sorry, Cy. But it was too convenient." Cyrus tries wiping off as much as he could. This just about solidified that TJ was straight, because straight guys love playing these jokes on each other. A loud thud startled them both. Mr. Walter stands in the doorway. Although Cyrus's eyes still have traces of chocolate in them, he could tell he was angry. Maybe just about to explode. "Out! Now!" The boys didn't have to be told twice. They scurried out of the room, Cyrus grabbing TJ's clothes. They were immediately escorted out of the factory. It wasn't too bad because at least they ended the pain of boredom early and had a little bit of fun. Also, they were given the gift baskets because the contest required them. Luckily RJ was there early to wait on them. When he saw them, especially his brother, he laughed hysterically. "Towels are already in the back. I expected this to happen." The ride back home was silent. However, RJ was able to stop and let TJ dry off and get dressed again. Once home, Cyrus plops onto the couch. He opens his gift basket and takes out the chocolate bar plushie. He squeezes it. Outside, TJ stands at the beginning of the driveway. He looks deeply at Cyrus's house. He doesn't know how much trouble he might've caused, but he wants to fix it. Thing is, he might've ruined things for good. Everything was perfect between them. School, then park, then home. And the occasional basketball game Cyrus would watch and not understand. After sighing, TJ looked at RJ, who simply nodded. TJ slowly made his way to the front door. Each breath he took felt like shards of glass attacking him. Each step felt like lava. When he managed to reach the door, the knock felt like his hand hitting nails. Cyrus opens the door with a blank expression. Seeing TJ made a simple yet small smile form. Basically a Mona Lisa smile where it's debatable. "Yes." TJ sighs. A subtle tear runs down his face. "I'm sorry about today." "What about today?" "Getting you in trouble. I know how you feel about that. And about splashing chocolate on you. I know it was a stupid move but I didn't know what else to do. I care about you, a lot. I just didn't have the right words, so I acted stupid." Cyrus looks him in the eyes, seeing the tears fall. Now he knew the truth. "It's ok. We all do stupid things when we're in our emotions. Come on, I have a whole gift bag of chocolate that's not going to eat itself." TJ smiles and follows him to the couch. They sit, eat, and just have a good time until RJ got annoyed of waiting and started honking his horn.

[videogcmesmovedagain]

i feel like for once i should properly introduce my test muses. so here we go some recent additions to the family.

HARLEY DONOVAN | 25 | in charge of the business aspect of his father’s garage

older brother to jax donovan. has completed a business management degree and plans on running his own place someday. for now he’s in charge of a lot of the book work and upkeep of his father’s shop. it’s a small family business the three guys take care of run themselves ( his father and jax work on the cars. ) their family is pretty much upper middle class. his father’s name is david and really big on puns, he insisted he introduced himself as harley david’s son for the first twelve years of his life. he’s got a lot of commitment issues as in his early years he was known to wear his heart on his sleeve. his mother walked out when he was sixteen, so for the past nine years it’s just been him, his father and his brother. the three are really close and big on family. if he intentionally takes you to meet either that’s kind of a huge deal. i don’t know. he’s kinda trash, dirtbag, who has the potential to do big things but has a lot of loyalty to his family.

MAXINE SULLIVAN | 20 | street racer

part of the cliche pax(ton), jax, & max(ine) trio. max was the last to join the squad, moving next door to jax in the second grade. she was often picked on and ridiculed for having a boy’s name and quickly took under the wing of jax himself. the three became inseparable and had a lot of backyard and tree house adventures. growing up, max was always more of a tomboy, very sporty and put minimal effort into her appearance. she’s learned a lot about cars from jax although similar to paxton she figures herself best behind the wheel as opposed to beneath the hood. she has a very dominant personality and is rather reckless and straightforward. very brash and often doesn’t think before acting. she’s currently pursuing a liberal arts degree as she can’t decide on a major, though her parents are very adamant that she doesn’t take time off school. she’s rather fickle and has had about eight different majors in mind, only to find flaws before enrolling or applying herself in the slightest. right now she’s leaning towards a graphic design major as she loves creating and doodling logos for their squad.

REINA NAVARRO | 20 | political science major

twin sister to rachel navarro ( @wildthrns ), though she’s younger by like five minutes. she’s very guarded and reluctant to instantly let people in. she hopes to someday make a change in the world, whether it be on a grander scheme or even just small waves in the ocean. very liberal and politically involved, will probably judge you if you share different believes and attempt to educate you. in her spare time she likes to paint. it’s a form of therapy and despite how much she claims to be a cynic you’ll find a desire for love in her paintings, if you look close enough that is. sort of soft girl with a strong personality. you know, hard headed but soft heart. she likes to think she’s always right and will turn just about anything into a debate. however, she’d also give the shirt off her back for about anyone in sight and protect someone without knowing as much as their name. in her eyes, you’re good until you prove her wrong. unless you’re a man trying to get in her pants, then it’s suddenly a double standard on her end and you’re the worst for finding her attractive. she’s stubborn. okay.

BECKETT FOX |  21 | DRUMMER

beckett is a connection muse to oliver ( cliche, two 5sos members in a band together, drag me by short hair into the filth. ) the two sort of balance each other out. while oliver is more arrogant and entitled after their fifteen minutes of fame, beckett remains much more humble and grounded. ( DEATH TW )  he was fifteen when his parents passed away, sending him to go live with his grandmother. at this time their band was just starting out, a small garage band that sounded god awful and they didn’t think was going anywhere, yet his parents still let them use the garage and were his biggest supporters. after their death he hit a sort of low, and almost gave up music entirely, until some words from his wise, old grandmother put him back on the drum set. his parents had wanted nothing more than for him to succeed, driving him to work harder than ever before to make them proud. he’s based loosely off the song if you could see me now by the script. despite his now semi famous status, he remains very humble and grounded, lighthearted and eternally thankful for everyone that believed in him along the way. however, like i said, they balance each other out, and while beckett keeps oliver grounded, oliver drags him into some shenanigans he wouldn’t normally get into on his own.

ALRIGHT YIKES THAT WAS A LOT BUT IF YOU WANT PLOTS WITH ANY OF THEM PLEASE HMU AND I’LL GLADLY GIVE YOU THEM !!

[flockofdoves]

wait ok maybe a bad time to start this at 1:30am (<- started this post last night lmao) but i’ve been thinking so much (for a long time but this week i think maybe prompted by jonny saying stuff in the s5 q&a part 3 about fanon character designs getting more homogenous as the fandom gets bigger its really been on my mind again) about my thoughts on the magnus archives character design stuff

(this turned into such a fucking long post my god sorry lol. just writing this for my own purposes really but i feel ridiculous i spent like a good portion of the past day writing this out dkjfhgfd)

like i already said on that other post character design stuff is full of so much under the surface both really silly and almost nonsensical (like ‘oh this character just feels like they have a lot of triangles incorporated into their design’ or the slightly more connected to reality arbitrary ideas people have about what type of character might wear glasses) and stuff thats incredibly loaded and very much connected to real life systems of oppression. so its like. idk. i like drawing people and fashion and harmonizing shapes and the idea of coming up with people who dont exist through abstracted drawings that somehow click and that can feel cohesive even with different angles/expressions/poses/etc is really fun to me conceptually but Character Design(tm) as a thing even outside of established tropes and schools of it that really lean into elements that can uphold gross shit as shorthand just inevitably theres so much to consider in the implications of making a person (visually) and ascribing traits to them (or i guess in this case largely the opposite)

so thats not something id call fun its just important and inevitably a big factor if i’m going to put any of this to words and can only hope i do so non-clumsily when i wanna talk about this on the whole just bc i find the process of how fanon designs get homogenized interesting (and the purpose of it understandable and maybe a bit inevitable in certain contexts) but also regardless of any actual potential problematic implications in any of that just bc i like the creative process of coming up with character designs i like trying to see when it comes to practicing that through applying it to characters in non-visual media i care about how i can break my guides for what they could look like down to their bare essentials between canon description, things i vibe with personally, etc so that if i have all that written down for myself it can be a good starting place for just experimenting with designs (i dont have any desire to settle on any one design for these characters but its just good general practice for this stuff) and maybe pushing a bit against some things that seem to be generally defaulted to mix things up or w/e. so yeah i’ve just wanted to write all this out for myself for a while, so after that long fucking intro fdkgh here goes!

jon!!!

ok so canonically hes born about 1987 and is like roughly 28-31 throughout the series but looks older to the point where he straight up lies and says hes a decade older at one point, he has graying hair, has been described as looking like he hasnt slept in weeks

(this bullet point contains spoilers up to early s4) depending on what part of canon youre describing him in he canonically has scars from worms probably all over his body (post ep 39), a burn scar on his hand (probably right and probably roughly shaped like a handprint) (post ep 89), actually i’m checking on the wiki now and it specifically says melanie stabbed him in the shoulder? but rereading the transcript and another couple parts that i thought potentially could mention it i dont believe it ever actually specifies (maybe the person who wrote that is conflating how both melanie and daisy’s first injuries from the slaughter are on their shoulders? so even if not canon good guess i guess that his scar from thats on his shoulder) (post ep 125) plus also probably on his throat from daisy (post ep 91), somewhere from michael stabbing him (post ep 47), and who knows maybe even something from mike crew (probably not it was just the height part of things not a lightning strike but i saw fanart of him getting a lichtenberg figure scar once from that which was interesting) (post ep 91)

has been described as ‘scrawny’ and ‘little’ which may just be more of a insult but because of that i support manlet jon lol. also because of that tend to think of him as skinny and not very muscular but i’m def not opposed to him being fat i think its really fun when i do see interpretations of him as such esp in juxtaposition with martin its nice having stuff sometimes where its two fat characters in a relationship. but if i’m leaning on every little word to narrow down character design i’d say hes most likely thin and probably short too.

getting into stuff with no real canon basis, i am a fan of him having long hair like a lot of fanon has him with. its a very tangential justification because i know its more the specific events surrounding this this was describing but when he was described as a “grubby jesus” that helped lol

but! my jon hair opinion that seems to differ from fanon is that i think maybe itd make sense with him being described as looking older and stuff to give him a bit of a receding hairline

not sure about glasses either way i think it just comes down to the specific design whether it looks good or not. there is something conceptually funny to me about giving an avatar of the eye glasses and debating whether that “makes sense” or not lol. one time i saw someones design where he stopped needing to wear glasses later on and i thought that was kinda fun

i don’t really care for like. idk. glowing green eyed jon or multiple eyes or w/e. like i get it. idk probably somethings happening when hes doing like the ceaseless watcher thing or like that one scene where he forced a statement out of that person who described him as “all eyes” like the phrase but maybe not just that as a phrase. so that plus the cover art of the show being green and making people probably theme stuff on that color i guess i cant blame people for doing that but idk just like. it feels kinda just Blah and not that novel to see a lot of the time and a bit too tropey or w/e for my personal taste unless people mix it up a bit. so i tend to prefer him just looking like some guy even later on usually. also with just like brown eyes or w/e

okay so this next part is for both jon and martin because i cant fit this into either of their sections because i feel like i cant adequately talk about this without doing it in juxtaposition to one another

this post summarizes basically anything i’m reiterating here far better but basically by nature of this being a podcast written by a white person for whom most of the first characters voiced (who included most of the most frequently appearing characters outside of those described by others because they were reoccurring avatars or w/e long before voice appearances) were from a small pool of people at a majority white company and their family members, even if that wasnt “intentional” of course that pattern happens so much and more productions should be conscious of that from the get go and reach outside their immediate circles to cast more actors of color from the start of their productions if they have the resources to properly compensate them. so basically from there theres no real totally satisfying solution for portraying “aracial” characters acted and written by white people’s race, because the situation just isn’t ideal in the first place

so like, with that in mind, i know its a bit of a mixed bag with jon in fanon being pretty consistently either ambiguously a person of color or specifically south asian, because i know people of color who were excited from fanon going in for him to be a person of color only to realize hes written and voiced by a white guy and has no canon race (which might just somewhat default to him being written as white since theres no active thought to how him being a person of color, let alone any specific race or ethnicity, might affect anything), but then on the other hand, characters with no race given being defaulted to being portrayed as white is absolutely another common issue in fandoms of things like books and podcasts. so personally because of that i would feel weird portraying him as white in my own designs in contrast with how consistently hes depicted as a person of color, but i would be interested in potentially depicting him as other races beyond the default fanon of him being south asian too (although theres def stuff to consider there that doesnt prevent any interpretation but just is there regardless like his dynamic with daisy in like s4)

and then this post expresses things better than i could ever rehash, but because of the stuff outlined in there in my own attempts at character designs i try to avoid making martin white because of the juxtaposition between that and making jon a person of color in their dynamic. not as pertinent and not something i’ve taken in from any fan of color saying it so i’m definitely not dictating this just talking out my thought process, but by extension of this i’ve also tried to consider how colorism in juxtaposition between them might make it sit better to have martin have darker skin than jon. this does get a bit weird though when balancing how martin has a couple really goofy lines implying ignorance about police abusing their power (i guess charitable interpretations could be that hes plenty aware but nonetheless vocalizing shock in the moment of it actually happening in front of him), so even if as one of the few characters i’ve posted designs of before i drew him as black, when i remembered those lines i guess its just an issue of an “aracial” character being defaulted to being written as if hes white, so even if he certainly could still be black (or any race besides white who might not have the luxury of ignorance about police brutality) it just makes clear that by him being written the way he was nothings ideal because theres not necessarily much depth that can be taken from canon to make certain depictions of him as satisfying or well fleshed out as they could be. oh also so inconsequential to the rest of this and i dont care about this at all beyond just latching onto any scrap to base things off of but the fact that martin maybe knows at least some polish i feel like thats not a language most people just know from school (esp as someone who didnt go to college) or w/e so maybe his mom is polish so probably hes part white at least to wildly extrapolate from there? idrc tho its just one more thing to note on the subject depictions of jon and martins races

martin!

canonically the same age as jon (so approximately born 1987 and roughly 28-31 throughout the series)

theres at least like 4 things in canon that can be used to say hes canonically fat, and some of those lines also more just generally describe him as “big” or w/e so while i dont care about sticking to this as much its easy to argue hes tall too (esp that one point where he says a worm “jumped literally 6 feet through the air at my face” which i guess could be approximate or the worm like. arcing lol and also iirc jonny says he doesnt remember writing that line but regardless its another thing to latch onto to narrow down design stuff)

melanie!

canonically has a scar on her shoulder (as of late 2016), probably on her leg too (if not by early 2017 then by early 2018/ep 125), and is described as skinny

(spoilers for late s4) (also eye trauma mention) post ep 155 she’s blind but trying to research what exactly she might look like like would the results of the damage she does with the awl after going to the hospital would her eyes need to be eviscerated vs enucleated? idk. thinking about lydia saying in a s3 extra in retrospect talking about this where shes like ‘it wouldn’t work like that with [an awl]!’ bc . lol yeah idk. or like would she have scarring on her eyelids or anything, would she have glass eyes, would she feel a need to wear sunglasses to protect her eyes or as a visual cue that shes blind (bc idt shed be the type to just wear it to hide her eyes) or not, etc. i’m not sure! one thing i do know for sure though thats a pet peeve in art is that people make her cane have a red stripe on it when it the UK especially a red striped white cane is for deafblind people, so her cane is most likely just plain white (also theres different styles of white canes but from researching i think shed probably make use of a long cane imo)

my biggest non-canon appearance thought about her is just. melanie king butch 💗

i do think its fun when characters get drawn with unnaturally colored dyed hair for no real reason and do think people should have fun with that more but simultaneously the contrarian in me gets annoyed with how common blue grown out roots straight hair bob melanie is. like the fun of the novelty of being ‘fuck it dying this characters hair’ gets sucked out of it from it being so consistent in fanon. also while she def could be a long haired butch or w/e regardless i just wish fanon of her was way more masc for my own self indulgent reasons

basira

i think the only canonical appearance description is the implication that shes not thin by jared when describing her, melanie, and martin, distinguishing melanie as “the skinny one”

hussain specifically as a surname spelled that way while i’m def no expert, from people i know personally and looking online too seems to be most common specifically with pakistani, indian, and bangladeshi muslims so it makes the most sense to have her be depicted as south asian. considering her VA, her being part black could make sense too but also i feel like its kinda a Thing in a lot of media where they’ll barely have black characters but when they do they’ll make them cops so like idk that’d def require more thought to it.

definitely not on authority on this of course this is just me talking through my own thoughts but i feel like maybe the common fanon of her being a hijabi feels a bit just like . theres not much thought behind it for a lot of people doing it? like it feels like ‘she has a muslim name’ -> ‘she’s muslim’ -> ‘she wears a hijab’ and not much else. like theres just like a whole lot that would need to be unpacked with any main character being religious in this series and actually specifically iirc theres a part in season 5 or something where her and jon reflect on the implications of all this on human religion? and both seem a bit agnostic in their approach. and of course theres people who wear hijabs who arent particularly religious (just like obviously vice versa) but for adults in places that arent majority muslim i feel like a main motivator for that would be connection with ones wider community? but basically all of the main characters in this story like necessarily with the themes and how all this was able to happen to them they feel pretty atomized from any real community (she specifically is paralleled with martin in how she latches onto daisy) none of this is at all to say she couldn’t be practicing islam and/or a hijabi but just that if thats how people want to depict her i think it deserves more thought than just drawing her as such (like for one example of how people have done cool things with making characters muslim i appreciate this artists comics about muslim jon (1, 2, 3)) but yeah! idk just something i’ve been thinking about but very much is not something i can act like an authority on of course. because being a hijabi is something stigmatized i do nonetheless feel slightly weird if i were to go against that fanon but idk

part of me is like ‘we dont need more butch cops’ but then the other part of me just defaults to wanting to make every woman gnc lol. for w/e reason i tend to picture her dressing pretty practically in like khaki cargo pants and hiking boots and flannels and such

daisy

canonically theres here starburst shaped scar on the back of her shoulder

(spoilers for mid s4) i dont care to find it now but i feel like once she was described as scrawny or skinny or whatever (not sure how much focusing on muscle vs thinness if so) but if so that was after she came out of the coffin so i dont think that really implies she always looked like that and i think maybe even by contrast could be implying she was muscular before

def think it makes sense to make her white. generally i do see her similar to fanon depictions of her although i do kinda wish in juxtaposition people would make more women look butch besides her. i think when i first pictured her before seeing fanart or anything it was pretty similar in build and hair color and demeanor such as most of fanon but i pictured her with like . you know like the tight bun women in the military wear lol. so its more ambiguous if her flavor of powertripping “tough” white woman is gay or not. but idrc regardless i dont plan on making much art of her

tim

uhhh i think the only canonical description of him beyond his worm scars (post ep 39) is that basira called him hot in comparison to jon and martin lol

ever since i started listening i keep defaulting to picturing him vaguely like tim from marble hornets lol. so like idk i think its fun when he has defined eyebrows and sideburns and stuff. but not even that i’m really Set on i think theres a lot of fun potential designs for him

sasha

canonically has long hair, is tall, and has glasses

(spoilers for either end of s1 or end of s2 depending on if you’ve figured out something. if you know you know lol) like obviously theres weird stuff in juxtaposition if you make not!sasha a different race than her. i think probably regardless theyre the same race considering melanie didnt note that when describing what sasha looked like. idrc about figuring out what not!sasha looks like ig if i ever make art of her i’ll just figure it out

i think this was the first art i ever saw of her like right around the week or so i started listening to the show that was posted and a mutual reblogged it so i think from basically the start thats how i pictured her essentially. but the main parts of ‘long dark hair, glasses’ i internalized from that are so close to just canon so maybe not saying much

georgie

uhhhh i dont think theres any canon description of her? and i dont have very many opinions on what she does look like honestly except that i think she looks very bisexual lol. i like the idea of her presenting pretty gnc but still maybe having some fun with feminine aesthetics too, but honestly making her present totally masc is really cool too

oh also wrt body type stuff. part of me is a bit tired of how sometimes it feels like fat characters only get to be in romantic relationships if its with skinny characters and rarely are there character designs of two fat people together and melanie is canonically skinny (which doesnt really matter i Could ignore it but i like latching onto descriptions just to narrow things down) and jons maybe implied to be which makes jon/martin like that too. but on the other hand idec i care more about just having fat wlw characters so if melanie in all i project on her cant be that then georgie will be

oliver!

only canonical description of him i believe is “tall, black and careworn, deep lines of worry etched into an otherwise handsome face”

uhh beyond that idk.. not really set on this at all but i feel like maybe he dresses like. business goth lol. like idk. well put together casual clothes like nice quality short sleeve button ups and chinos or nice cuffed jeans but maybe darker colors and a bit of a vaguely edgy but not tacky flair (like fucking idk. raven pattern button up or something lol)

i saw some art of him once where he had long locs and also just idk he was like doing that ominous floaty thing which included his hair and that had a nice rhythm in the art together with the black tendrils in the background so i could appreciate him having long locs/braids/twists or something. but def not set on that and ofc theres like a lot of years to depict him between he could have various hair styles

this is hard to really judge but ive seen posts where people are like ‘haha i draw oliver just like i drew kravitz in the adventure zone’ which is like vaguely annoying to me idk lol. but of course i cant Really know if thats what people are doing from depiction alone bc theres no set appearance for kravitz himself but sometimes i get the Vibes thats whats someones doing and its just like. whatever idk. branch out and design another character!!

there are literally soooooo many more characters i really thought i could make a short-ish thing for each character beyond a few necessary addendums but god even on inconsequential shit this post is already SO fucking long lol so i’m giving up for now i’ve done most of the main people plus my favorite side character so its fine i can get back to this later if i really want to