#neither of them have jobs to match but the curiosity rubbed off

[radiosandrecordings]

There’s the person in me who loved psychology before I dropped out of that class and the one who currently studies moving image who really wants to run some kind of study on how fandom interprets things.

I’m gona take The Magnus Archives as a point of study for this. Say we have four test group:

Group 1 has watched every episode of TMA as it came out, episode one to two hundred as it airs, the full four year+ timeline. They have never interacted with the fandom and do not know anyone in real life who has listened to it.

Group 2 has also listened in real time, but interacts with fandom and talks about it regularly, consuming fan content like art and fics

Group 3 did what so many did and have binged all four seasons available to them before catching up and listening to season five in real time. They do not engage with fandom.

Group 4 does the same as group 3, but engages with fandom in the same way as group 2.

Readmore in case you don’t want to read 1000 words of me talking about media. 

I really want to see how this shifts their interpretations of canon. My theory being, group 1 would probably have the clearest view of canon by itself, while group 4 would have the most warped. I’m not saying any of these have better interpretations the source, just that group one would view it more clearly as it was presented in its original format

The thing that prompted this was the treatment of the character of Martin Blackwood specifically. He’s one of if not the most popular character, and is often simplified in fan spaces as the soft, caretaking love interest, or in some interpretations popular in fandom during the airing of the fourth season, the ‘sassy gay’. I’d really want to test how much of that interpretation comes from canon itself, or how people warp canon to fit how they want to view the text. 

I think it’s kind of similar of english class. Your teacher hands you a copy of Mice and Men and you read the book. As you go through, you discuss only what is in the text. You read and re-read the book until you have a good enough view of it that you can recall facts from memory and write an essay on it. What you don’t do, is read half the book, spend two months talking with your friends about it and reading and writing fanfiction about Lenny, George and Curly living on their ranch, just to be horrified and call it ‘OOC’ when somebody dies. 

Back to the study of TMA, Martin specifically is a character who has grown and developed a lot over the four and a bit seasons the show has been running. At a certain point halfway through the series, it becomes clear that he has a romantic interest in the protagonist, and this is later reciprocated. I started listening to the show during it’s season break, with S3 being finished and S4 about to release. At the time it was implied that Martin had feelings, but it was unclear if this would be further expanded upon in canon. I want to know how far fan opinion of him differs from before and after this event, and further when his feelings are returned and the relationship becomes canon. Did the establishment of him as a romantic lead create a softer view of him in the listeners mind?

This is prompted by the fact that, after the relationship became official, his actions have been under much more of a microscope from fans than previously. Things that would be brushed off before, especially if said to another side character, are now scrutinised when he says them to his partner. Would this view be shared by someone who listened to the show in isolation, or is it purely a construct of a fan base who are more used to their own fan comics and fic of him where he’s the soft, doting boyfriend who would never offend his partner? 

Because he has said things previously that are similar to how he is acting now, as episodes are released. He has been impulsive and inconsiderate with his words and missed cues in conversations, such as impulsively trying to touch some plastic explosives, or not getting a piece of self deprecating sarcasm and pointing out that the protagonist had just referred to himself as an idiot. This is where I would want to examine group 4 specifically. As people often listen to the whole four years of backlog in as short as a week, they often miss details such as this. They power through the source text, and then spend a longer amount of time immersed in fan interpretations, and my theory being that this long exposure overrides their memory of what his actions are in canon, and instead give a fan’s mental picture of him more of a fan created personality. They are more likely to remember something when it’s included in ten different fanfictions they read, all bouncing off each other, than an episode they listened sandwiched between two other episodes. 

Fan headcanons are also a slippery slope, because often you can end up with things being perceived as canon which have little or no basis. This is usually all in good fun, but chasing rabbit hole after rabbit hole from au to headcanon to interpretation can often create something entirely indistinguishable from the source (Hell, remember the Onceler thing?). Plus, the creation of one interpretation of a character that inspires another will spread if it gains enough popularity, possibly even seeping down into the bare bones of the fan base until it’s somehow everywhere. An example of this is the almost always used design for the protagonist as a south asian man with long, dark hair, glasses and a largely green colour scheme. Someone with no fandom knowledge like groups 1 or 3 would have no idea this popular design for the man exists, but it is likely whenever listening to the show, groups 2 and 4 would picture a variant on this base design. 

An added aspect of groups 1 & 2 that 3 & 4 don’t have is the fact that they get time to sit and theorise between episodes, whether alone or with a group respectively. When listening to a backlog like 3 & 4 you don’t need to sit and go ‘I wonder why he said that?’ because you can move on to the next episode and see why. 

Basically, TL;DR: It’s here’s my hypothetical proposition for a psychology/anthropology study on how people’s perspectives on a media are shaped by the nature of how they consume it, focusing on the timeframe in which they consume it and their exposure to outside influence. 

[holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight]

Hothead

Summary:  Extended station scene from 1x03 between Carlos and TK, from Carlos' POV. A snapshot of how they started to mend things between them after TK had stormed out on the date that Carlos had tried to spring on him.

Rating: General Audiences

A/N: I do not pretend to know anything about the inner workings of a police station, their rules and regulations or what sort of things are contained in their reports. Tried to be as realistic as I could but apologies for any inaccuracies.I also do not claim any ownership of 9-1-1 Lone Star or the associated characters. Pretty sure they own me instead... (:

First foray into the 9-1-1 fandom but hopefully not the last!

Read on AO3 here.

* * *

Carlos was flipping through the files on his desk, making sure he had signed off on the last of them, when a familiar name being spoken caught his attention.

"TK Strand, yeah. He's a firefighter with the 126. Guess he got a little hot-headed."

"You can't keep reusing the same joke every time something involves a firefighter, Ben, seriously."

Carlos looked up from his desk to see two of his colleagues ribbing each other, all talk and no malice.

Jill was right – Ben liked to reuse the same heat-related jokes about firefighters, but his curiosity was peaked over the implication in regards to TK.

"What's that about one of the 126 firefighters? Did they get hostile at a scene we were at or something?"

The two cops looked over at him in surprise. He wasn't normally one to join in on gossip.

"Nah, he was off duty. Started a fight at a bar. Provoked two built men that were drunk off their asses. Bartender called it in after security tried breaking it up."

Carlos felt his worry double. What was TK doing? Why was he picking a fight? He knew he had freaked out on him the other day, making it clear there was a lot more going on internally than he was letting on, but volunteering to get pummeled? That had to be a cry for help.

"EMS clear him?"

"Yeah, he's fine, just some cuts and bruises. He's cooled off now; just gotta process him, give him back his shit, and do the usual stern warning that means bull."

Carlos seized the presented opportunity, hoping Ben would take the bait. "Hey, if it's that easy, why don't I take over? Your shift just ended and I owe you for staying late when I had my abuela's birthday to run to. I've finished the last of my reports from that three car pile-up earlier, so I'm free."

"Well, me and Ella were supposed to do date night tonight… yeah, all right, Reyes. He's all yours. Thanks, man."

"Of course. Have a good time." Carlos said, trying to play it off casual, like it was no big deal, even though he was itching to corner TK and ask what the hell he was thinking. He didn't need his coworkers knowing details about his private life so it was better they didn't know he knew the guy more intimately than professional overlap.

"I think you still owe Spencer, Reyes. Pretty boy is easy on the eyes, even if he is an idiot who started a bar fight." Officer Porter teased.

Carlos didn't bite; the station knew he was out, at least most of them did, so it wasn't that weird of a comment. Reacting would only make it obvious that something had gone on between them and he didn't need a lecture from the sergeant on duty about professional conduct or bias.

Ben passed over the folder on his way to his desk. Carlos immediately sifted through it, scanning the pages quickly to learn the basics of what had gone down.

Caucasian male, mid-to-late twenties, athletic build. 0.0 BAC on breathalyzer test. No abnormalities on basic toxin screen. No prior records with APD. No registered fingerprints in American database. New York driver's license – Tyler Kennedy Strand. Firefighter identification lists station 126. Charges of assault and disturbing the peace dropped by others involved. Release from policy custody with warning.

He read further through the other two men's files, piecing together that the story detailed matched what he had already been told.

Carlos looked up as another one of his colleagues led a handcuffed TK to his work desk and nodded in his direction. He accepted the plastic bag of TK's belongings from Jill and headed over to his… well, he didn't really know what they were.

He watched as TK held an ice pack to his temple, the odd cough wheezing out of him. He probably had a bruised rib or two, if not fractured, and it no doubt left his chest extra tight.

Carlos strode over and dropped the plastic bag of belongings onto the desk without a word.

TK looked up and groaned at the sight of him. "Seriously?"

Carlos grimaced as he sat down. "Austin's a small town, TK. Or should I say, Tyler Kennedy."

"Ugh." TK grumbled, eyes closed as he kept the ice pack against the side of his head.

"Bummer about getting arrested – people might find out your real name. Which marks the first actual thing I've learned about you."

Being good with his mouth, hands, and body notwithstanding…

"Isn't your processing me, like, a conflict of interest?" TK asked, a thin shred of hope clinging to the words.

It wasn't really an issue, given that Carlos hadn't been the deciding officer on charges and, technically, he wasn't even sure what their relationship could be classified as in order to consider it. If anything, it would be their definable working relationship that was the issue, but most officers in the precinct would have the same problem since they all crossed paths at one time or another on the job.

Carlos chose not to answer him, instead changing the subject. "The good news is that neither of your new friends want to talk about that little scuffle tonight…" he explained while unlocking the cuffs around TK's wrists, trying not to react when their hands brushed in the process. "…and since you blew a 0.0, we're not even giving you a drunk and disorderly."

He finally freed TK entirely of the metal, and TK rubbed his wrists, still not looking at him straight on.

Carlos pushed the bag towards him. "You're free to go."

There was a pause as TK digested that.

"And what's the bad news?" he asked as he picked up his stuff.

Carlos inhaled. "The bad news is that means you did this with a clear head." He swallowed before leaning on the desk to bring them closer together, lowering his voice so any nosy coworkers couldn't overhear. "I'm not trying to be your boyfriend, or even your friend if you're not into it, but you should probably talk to someone about why you felt compelled to do something so suicidal."

TK's eyes held so much pain as he looked back at him that Carlos had to look away. Needing something to do with his hands before he grabbed TK and refused to let go, he tossed the tissue box in front of him.

"You've got a little crud there, by the way." he added, gesturing to the side of his mouth.

TK plucked a tissue out and rubbed at the opposite side of his mouth to where the blood had piled up.

"Other side." he said, staring unblinking at the computer screen without taking any of it in. He was way too hyperaware of the man he hadn't been able to get out of his head to concentrate on the words on the screen.

TK wiped closer to the spot but still missed and didn't get the bulk of it, so Carlos sighed and grabbed a tissue of his own.

"Stop. Just… let me."

Deep green eyes bore into his brown ones as Carlos gently wiped the area, managing to get at least the worst of it. Their gaze was locked so intensely, Carlos was half-expecting sparks to explode in the air. God, he wished he could read TK's mind. There was some sort of storm brewing behind his eyes and Carlos had no idea what kind of emotion was rolling in.

He pulled the tissue away, crushing it up in his fist to stop him from saying or doing something stupid. He had already put his heart on the line enough with the man. No need to solidify his humiliation any further.

"Thanks." TK muttered, looking away finally.

Carlos didn't look at him, pretending to be wrapped up with finalizing the paperwork on the computer.

TK leaned over the desk, crossing an arm over the space between them. "Hey. I'm sorry I went crazy on you the other night." he said softly.

Carlos didn't want to reveal all of his cards, but there was no denying the thrill that rolled through him that TK was trying to apologize for what went down between them the other day. It had been eating him up inside since. And if TK was bringing it up unprompted, maybe that meant it had been bothering him too. And that he actually wanted to mend things between them.

Carlos managed to play it cool and indifferent. "I'm a cop. I'm used to crazy."

"Look, I just went through a really bad breakup. Like, nuclear bad. And then I relapsed."

Carlos had turned his body to face him but couldn't look him in the face, instead busying himself with a report on his desk. "You mean with me?"

Great, he was just a mistake. A 'relapse'. Guess that meant TK slept around, or used to, and it really had meant nothing to him.

"No. I mean with substances."

Carlos finally looked up at that. He wasn't expecting the confession, nor the way that TK was exposing himself to him right then. TK had addiction issues? Had given up substances likely due to misuse or overuse and his breakup had been bad enough to trigger using again?

Something clicked in his memory from the other night and he felt shame wash over him. "Right. Which explains your reaction to the champagne."

He had never asked if TK was even a fan of champagne or alcohol in general. He should've been more respectful and anticipated the idea that maybe TK had a poor relationship with it, or a bad experience, or just wasn't interested in it at all. No wonder he got his back up right away – Carlos had been trying to have a proper date with him but he didn't know this important thing about him. And TK was still probably pretty raw after his relapse that even the pressure to be polite would've been enough to set off some ugly emotions. That he'd have to come up with an excuse or lie, because who wanted to reveal their deepest secrets that early on?

"I'm such an idiot. I'm-I'm sorry…"

TK cut off his stammering. "No, it's fine, okay? I just… ever since I got here, it's just… it's just grey. And I just feel numb, all the time. I guess I just… I wanted to feel something."

TK's eyes were wet now, and there was nothing but heartbreaking honesty reflecting out of them.

Carlos felt his own eyes filling with moisture. He didn't know what to say. Hearing that TK had been hurting so badly, that he still was struggling so much… it broke his heart.

TK slipped his wallet and phone out of the clear bag finally and stood up to leave, heading in direction of the exit without another word. It seemed he had said all he needed to say.

Carlos couldn't let him go yet, couldn't let that be the last thing said between them tonight. "Judging by that lip, I'd say mission accomplished."

TK stared at him in irritable disbelief, the barest hint of amusement at the edges. "You really busting my balls right now?"

"Yeah. I suppose I am." Carlos replied.

He couldn't help the way the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk, and he felt his heart pick up its pace when he saw TK's expression break into one of his gorgeous smiles.

TK shook his head at him in mock-disappointment. "And all this time, I thought you were too good for me."

It was clearly meant in jest, but Carlos could detect the hidden truth behind the words. He was a little too stunned to say anything to dispute it, their easy banter normally coming naturally to him but he was drawing a blank.

It wasn't until the door closed behind him that Carlos moved, and then he was crossing the station to chase him outside.

"TK! Wait."

TK turned from where he was walking down the sidewalk, his movements more ginger now than they were in the station. He likely was in a lot more physical pain than he had let on.

Carlos stood in front of him and inhaled a breath in the hopes that it would instill some courage in him.

"Thank you for telling me all of that. I know that couldn't have been easy. But I want you to know, it doesn't change anything for me. I still want to be with you. Whenever you decide you're ready. I…" He exhaled shakily, glancing down at his shoes as he tried to dig for that bravery somewhere deep inside him. "I really like you, TK. Not just because you're the best sex I've ever had. I… there's something here. I feel it when I'm around you. You're… you're special. You make me feel… so many things I don't know how to name yet."

Great, now he was rambling. Even better, making it clear how much of a lovesick fool he was over the guy. That wouldn't freak him out or anything.

He corrected his throat, trying to calm his anxiety. "Look, all I'm saying is that if you feel anything for me, I can be patient. I can wait until you're more ready. I think you're worth the wait."

TK's responding smile could outshine the sun. He wasted no time in coiling his arms around Carlos' waist and burying his face in his shoulder.

"I really like you too. And I do want to give this a shot. Just… when it has a better chance of not blowing up before it gets started."

Carlos pressed a quick kiss to his good temple before pulling back.

"For now, try to stay out of trouble, okay? You won't always be so lucky to get such an understanding cop like me processing you at the station."

TK blew out an exasperated breath that turned into a laugh. "I'll do my best."

Carlos couldn't help grinning at him, a much bigger fan of a laughing and teasing TK than a shattered and beaten one.

"I should get back. You gonna be okay to get home?"

TK nodded. "Yeah I already called a ride."

"Well, see you later then." Carlos said, not really sure how to be less awkward as he headed back up the stairs to return to the station.

"Hey, Carlos?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Best sex you've ever had, huh?"

TK was sporting his cockiest grin, and Carlos wished he could kiss it off of his stupid smug face.

"You would pick that as the only takeaway from that whole speech…"

TK chuckled. "No, I remember it all. I just latched onto that because it was the same for me too."

Carlos took an extra second to process and then he felt himself flushing in pride.

TK's smile softened, no doubt reading his reaction even from several feet away. "Goodnight, Officer Reyes." he said cheekily as he moved towards the car marked with the Uber sticker that had pulled up.

Carlos could only watch as the car drove off into the night.

He felt a little bereft being apart from TK after all the honesty of the evening. Something about being so vulnerable together gave him the urge to be within close quarters, not wanting to give up the resulting rush that came with exposing your heart and having it be safe with the other person.

But Carlos knew that TK needed time. And he was willing to wait as long as it took.

For now, he returned to his desk, this time with a little more of a spring in his step.

[rose7420]

It All Works Out In The End

A request from @laurenandloki!

Loki is trying to be a better human from the guidance of Tom Hiddleston and he messes up when he finds a borrower.

“I have to leave for a few hours, please don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Tom informed Loki. Loki looked up from his novel, his long-form curled comfortably on the couch in the living room. He only spared Tom a glance in his general direction before focusing on the bland words of the page. Truly the book wasn’t worth his attention, yet, neither was Tom. Tom grabbed his backpack, dressed casually in dark jeans and a navy blue shirt, and closed the door behind him. He was neither impressed nor disappointed in Loki’s progress at becoming a “better” person. As long as he didn’t commit any serious crimes he would be relieved.

Loki closed the book when Tom left. He stood and ambled aimlessly around the large apartment. It was a good size living space, not comparable to that of Asgard but still admirable. His steps echoed on the hardwood floor as he arrived in the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, looking for what the mortals called ‘strawberries.’ He had taken a liking to the sweet fruit after he had tried it out of curiosity one day. They hadn’t had any type of treat like that on Asgard.

While searching, he heard a small noise come from beside him as he hunted the second shelf. He put back the carton of milk he held and shut the door. His eyes searched the counter. He heard another sound, which was easier to make out now. He could now tell it was some sort of squeak. His gaze flicked to the jar on the end of the counter. Slowly, he approached and slid the jar over revealing a very tiny creature. It was humanoid and appeared to be female by the curve of her waist and long hair. As he took away her barrier she whipped around and let out another squeak. This time it was fearful as her head craned back to look at his face. He couldn’t make out her face and ached for a closer look, he instinctively reached for her. She backed up as far as she could, stopping when she reached the edge of the counter. He knew she was cornered and had nowhere else to go. That drop would certainly kill her should she jump. He smirked as he knew he had won this short chase and wrapped his fingers around her capturing her in his fist.

She struggled, twisting to escape his hold but it was futile. He was much stronger and bigger. He opened his hand letting her breathe for a few seconds in an open palm, sensing her trembling form as she was on hands and knees. After, letting her believe she was free for a moment, he closed his fingers over her entirely, marveling at the fact that he could no longer see her. He felt her tiny fists hit the inside of his curled fingers as he walked to the dining table set in the middle of the kitchen. He opened his fist and let her fall the short drop to the table, hearing her squeak as she hit the hard surface. He lowered his head onto his arms to see her better, watching as she raised herself to a sitting position.

“Aren’t you a little thing?” He teased, reaching out to pinch her thin arm. He twisted it carefully, minding the fragility of her tendons and joints. Despite his gentleness, she whimpered, attempting to tug her limb out of his pinched grip. He loosened his grip, allowing her to think she’d won this match. Her small victory gave her the courage to stand in hopes of running away. With a single finger, he pushed her chest and forced her to fall back onto the tabletop. He was unaware that he had caused all the breath to leave her lungs as he picked her up by the middle with a pinched forefinger and thumb. Another cry escaped her from the sudden elevation. He pinched her jaw to keep her head still trying to gain a better look. Tears escaped her eyes but he paid no attention to that. Releasing his hold he prodded at her form. His finger aimed for her cheek but he accidentally poked her nose. A simple prod to him, but a full punch in the face to her. Her nose leaked blood, dripping from her chin to her shirt. And right at that time the front door opened.

“I’m back, didn’t take as long as I thought it would,” Tom shouted, Loki heard him drop his keys in the dish on top of the table in the hallway. Loki looked down at the tiny girl struck by the blood on her shirt his fingers reaching for her. She cried in horror and pushed his fingers away, tears streaming down her face. His heart rate elevated and he lifted her to his face to examine where the blood was coming from.

“What is that?” Tom exclaimed from behind him. Loki felt him lean in closer and flinched at his voice right next to his ear.

“Why is she crying, and bleeding?” Tom asked worriedly, then looked at Loki suspiciously.

“What did you do?” He questioned. For once Loki was at a loss for words. He truly had meant for no harm to come to the tiny being, he only wanted to tease her a little. She had done nothing to him, and he had scared her immensely and hurt her in the process.

“Give her here Loki,” Tom ordered, holding out a raised palm. Loki did as he asked and watched as the little lady backed away in fear from the new giant. She whimpered audibly and cried loudly when she hit Tom’s curled fingers.

“Shh, you are in no danger here Little One,” Tom coed and reassured. He tentatively rubbed a finger upon her back when she did not flinch away. Tom walked to the counter and went to set her down, but she clung tightly to his finger and wouldn’t let go.

“It’s okay, I’ll be right back. I just need to set you down here.” She shook her head and held steady.

“Alright, I think I can manage with one hand.” Tom kept his voice low and soft as if speaking to a child. He tore a piece of paper towel off and wet it under a stream of water. He handed off the damp towel to the girl.

“Here you go, use this to stop that nose bleed. Make sure to keep your head down and pinch the bridge of your nose. There you go, great job.” He rubbed her back again and looked up from his palm to Loki who stood a few steps away. His face was sad, downturned to the floor, and sneaking glances at Tom’s hand every other minute. Tom knew he felt guilty and was disappointed in him but not angry.

After her nose had stopped bleeding the girl looked up at Tom. He raised her to his eye level so she wouldn’t have to strain her neck. He instantly noticed the bruises on her arms, legs, and one dark one on her cheek.

“Were those bruises there before?” Tom asked.

She shook her head, eyes glistening with fresh unshed tears.

“I’m so terribly sorry Little One.” He apologized but also realized he had no idea what her name was. So he asked for it.

“I-It’s Y/N.” She said meekly. Tom nodded, “My name is Tom, and that’s Loki.” He gestured to the moody god. Loki walked closer, keeping his steps light, attempting to make himself less menacing.

He felt utterly terrible. He had hurt her, made her bleed, marked her skin, and caused her to cry. Standing beside Tom he cleared his throat nervous to speak. He watched Y/N back away from his imposing frame and huddle next to Tom’s thumb. She clung to it like a lifeline, terrified of Loki himself. He imagined if it was quiet enough he could hear her tiny heart pounding in her chest.

“I would like to apologize for my actions earlier. And the harm that I caused you.” Loki wasn’t very familiar with apologizing and the words were awkward, but he deemed them necessary. Y/N said nothing, practically ignoring him, only clinging to Tom’s digit. He walked away, back to his room to clear his head.

Tom had found out that Y/N had lived in his house for years. And he hadn’t even noticed. She was looking for food today and had been trying to get the lid off the jar when Loki had found her. Tom had cooked a nice, hot dinner for them to eat especially after finding out she had never had a hot meal. He had managed to calm her down enough to sit on the counter while he cooked, being extra careful to not knock her down in the midst of the process of cooking. Tom had called for Loki to come to eat but Loki ignored him, locking himself away in his room. He sighed in frustration but made sure to not think too much about it, afraid Y/N would think he was mad at her. The poor thing had been through enough already today.

After eating, Y/N was happily full. Tom let her sit on his shoulder as he cleaned up and talked to her like an old pal. He went into the living room and turned on the television.Y/N had never seen the moving screen up close, and was mesmerized by all the colors and sounds.

“Do you want to watch a movie, Y/N?” Tom asked.

Y/N nodded enthusiastically. Tom laughed from her excitement and set her on the coffee table promising he’d be back soon. After a few moments, he returned with Loki. Their footsteps were hard to miss and vibrated the ground beneath her. She stared up in fear at Loki, backing away from his presence.

“Loki has promised not to touch you, Y/N. Isn’t that right Loki?” Tom explained. Loki grunted his agreeance. Scooping Y/N off the table, Tom let her settle on his shoulder. He scrolled through a bunch of different pictures and settled on one that looked scary. Tom asked if it was okay and she hesitated. Y/N didn’t really like being scared on purpose but she felt like a wimp after today and how pathetic she was with Loki. So she said yes.

A few minutes into the movie she knew she was completely screwed. Five people had already been brutally murdered and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon. She huddled closer to Tom’s neck and buried her face into the warm skin trying to shield her eyes from the screen. He assumed that she was cold and raised a hand to blanket her with.

“Is she alright?” A deep voice asked, Loki’s voice.

“I think she’s cold,” Tom explained.

A second later Tom was handing her a woolen blanket of her own size.

“H-How?” She asked astonished.

She looked over at Loki who winked and settled his back against the cushion wordlessly.

“Hey Y/N I need to go switch out my laundry so I need to put you down. Don’t worry Loki won’t mess with you.” He assured her and plucked her up effortlessly blanket and all setting her upon the middle cushion on the couch.

She looked up at Loki who had his eyes trained on the screen, paying her no attention. She copied his action and regretted looking at the screen at all when a particularly gory scene happened. She whimpered quietly, not noticing how Loki looked down at her worriedly. A loud scream broke through the silence frightening her out of her wits. She dropped the blanket around her shoulders and ran to Loki’s lap. She stayed close to the outside of his thigh and attempted to climb the fabric. Loki looked down at the ticklish sensation and saw the cause. He slowly reached down and boosted her onto his lap letting her rest upon his thigh. She scooted backward burying herself in the bunched-up fabric of his shirt and nestled herself in the soft cloth.

“Are you scared Little Miss?” He asked, feeling the nod of affirmation against his abdomen. He reached over and picked up her blanket and draped it over her dainty shoulders. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hand, so he cupped it around her serving as a barrier from the screen and her sight.

“I’ve got you. Nothing can hurt you now. You’re fine.” Loki repeated, calming her. Soon her breathing slowed and she stopped trembling. He peeled his hand back to view her sleeping form curled into his shirt. Loki smiled with relief as he realized she no longer viewed him as a bad guy.

Tom stood in the corner smiling as he realized his plan had worked perfectly. KnowingY/N didn’t like scary movies, got cold easily, and leaving at the right time. The only thing that had gone wrong was how long it had taken Y/N to seek Loki out for comfort.

[marchioness-caprina]

Mentor Day

Note : In This AU, Hawks is adopted by the todoroki Family, enji is a good dad and dabi is not a villain. And Todoroki's Mom is a Hero.

Pairings : Jealous! Hawks x Reader

Writing style: 3rd Person

Warning : Cussing

Word count : 3623

3rd Person's POV

" I'm so excited for Today! I can't wait to meet your Mentors! " Kirishima yelled with enthusiasm punching the air.

Everyone was gathered around Ground Beta for the sole reason that the Head of Agencies they were currently interning in were coming over to discuss the growth of the students, also because they chose U.A as the meeting Venue knowing that it's one of the places in Japan that is Highly guarded and secured and the School was Near the City so if anything were to happen they could always get there in a jeepy. There was another Reason but it wasn't disclosed to any of the students and nobody questioned it.

" Shut Up shitty Hair! " Bakugou snarled smacking Kirishima who seemed to be unaffected by Bakugou's ' affection ' towards him.

" Hey aren't You and Tokoyami Under Hawks's? The number 2 Pro Hero!? " Mina pointed out and suddenly everyone's attention was now settled on Y/n and Tokoyami.

Tokoyami had an unreadable expression but his face mostly showed that he was awkward and uncomfortable with the Topic. Not because of His Mentor... It's because of His Mentor's Interest.

Y/n on the other hand looked annoyed pissed, it was very obvious that neither of the two wanted to talk about it because of the lack of answer and their current expressions.

" So... What's it Like to be Under Pro Hero Hawks? " Momo began to press deeper onto the subject and was oblivious to her two classmate's look of disapproval. And it seems like she wasn't the only curious one.

" Well? " Jiro raised a brow when they didn't hear an answer. The two were very hesitant until y/n finally spoke up.

" Tokoyami-kun would I be breaking the law if I talk shit about him? "

" Eeehhhh!? " Everyone was confused as to why the sudden change of their classmate's personality took shift at a questionable rate.

" Technically there's no law about that and since he's not here to hear it... It's fine " Tokoyami answered with a straight face and his response got everyone questioning their experience even more.

" What the hell happened to you two while you were there? " Denki asked staring at the two. Tokoyami was hesitant but y/n just looked pissed and angry .

She showed irritation that could match Bakugou's.

" That's not something you should be asking me... You should be asking y/n that... I just had the unfortunate privilege to witness... That.... And I know a very dark secret I wish to unlearn " Tokoyami muttered at Everyone was fidgeting with curiosity while staring at y/n who looked like she was about to explode any minute now.

" Well if you Must know. On the first week I had to endure a bunch of whiny one night stand's Drama and Rage while trying to get them to go fuck themselves and trust me... Persuading a bunch of love struck delusional hoes to go home and keep silent for the rest of their lives isn't a very charming job. I had to suck in every single cheesy pick up lines that'll have anyone gagging, I had to endure being dragged around through the wonderful 'skies' like a ragdoll in the most unfortunate hour and I had to deal with Birdman's constant fuckery every single day so yeah... It wasn't that bad.... It was terrible. " Y/n's tone was forcefully dragged out and polite but her hostile expression got everyone shuddering.

Yes, Hawks was a flirt and he'd flirt with her with every chance he got, much to y/n's dismay. But knowing Hawks's reputation she brushed it off like it was one of his most common habits and got used to ignoring him, he was nice though and she felt like a sheltered child. Hawks never let's her go out to patrol on her own unless it's with Him and only Him. He constantly brings her gifts and snacks to which she is thankful and greatly flattered but she didn't like hearing Rumors about her with the Pro Hero himself. Overall she was thankful that she was being treated well but she didn't appreciate the special treatment.

Tokoyami on the other hand knew of his Mentor's love and affection for his Classmate, if he knew any better he found out that Hawks had imprinted on y/n like a new born chick. The reason Tokoyami knew that was because of the gifts, the flirting, Hawks's constant need to be around y/n, His possessiveness and Don't even get Tokoyami started on How much Hawks talks about y/n during patrol. Hell, Even when Hawks is literally stepping on a Villain's Face he'd still talk about How ' Perfect she was ' . At most of all, his Classmate was very unaware of Hawks's actual feelings and he's afraid he couldn't blame her simply because of Hawks's reputation as a 'playboy'.

" Wow.... I didn't think it would be like that.... Hawks's still pretty cool though " Sero muttered and that left y/n gawking at him because the least they could do was sympathize with her!.

" No shit " She grumbled sarcastically and she felt two hands grab hold of her shoulder behind her and speaking of the Devil, Hawks was already here.

" Hey there chicken nugget, what are you kids talking about? " Hawks asked leaning down , resting his chin on y/n's shoulder while both of his hands clamped down on each side of her shoulder blades protectively.

" Nothing Hawks, we were Talking about Nothing " Y/n who was already immune to the Touchiness of the male behind her was nonchalant on her reply and she sounded bored but her expression clearly showed ' Oh No, Not this Shit Again ' .

" Oh really? Well ok then baby bird but I have to say You look Perfect little dove but that is to be expected by my Epitome of beauty " Hawks grinned rubbing his cheeks against y/n's own in a very affectionate manner.

" Yeah, Yeah. Get off me Birdman you're getting that irritating Chicken stench on me " Y/n grumbled pushing him away from her to which she was successful with.

" Aww~ But you felt so soft " Hawks whined in an almost childish way.

Everyone was witnessing the very thing Tokoyami dreaded and they were choking on their own spit after seeing the interaction between the two.

They and so many questions yet so little answer and they knew they couldn't just bombard y/n with questions, not when Hawks was around.

" Uhh... You two seem.. Close" Denki commented to where he earned a proud grin from Hawks.

" No we're Not. He's just being A flirt, you'll Get used to it " Y/n snickered rolling her eyes at Hawks who was trying to hug her.

" You should have heard How much He talks about her at Home... He's like a broken Radio. Y/n this and that " Todoroki snorted and his comment got everyone gaping.

It didn't look that way to everyone else, it was clear that the Pro Hero liked her if throwing himself around her wasn't enough, the look in his eyes definitely spoke otherwise.

" So this is the little Lassy Hawks have been talking about? " Fatgum along with the rest of the pro Heroes Were slowly gathering towards them.

" This is Her? She's adorable in person . Keigo Never stops talking about her at home" Another voice came from a woman with white hair, and is almost identical to Shoto.

" .... Hah! You should hear what he has to say when he's asleep " Dabi murmured with a laugh.

" .... You Talk about me? " Y/n asked staring at Hawks who was nodding his head, a smirk plastered on his face.

" Ewww, Stop that. It's annoying and creepy " Y/n sighed shoving Hawks away.

" Isn't she lovely? " Rei mumbled a small chuckle escaping her lips as Dabi stared at her in bewilderment .

" So you're not gonna question their age gap?..... Really mom? " Dabi snorted and enji stood behind him, patting his back.

" You know how your mother is " Enji muttered staring down at his son.

" You have a point.... "

____________________

By now everyone was gathered around, some of them chatting with their mentors and some were meeting their classmate's other mentors.

Rei, Enji and Dabi were intently observing Keigo who looked so close to snapping, sure his face looked playful and relaxed but they knew him well enough to know that it was Keigo's facade.

On the other side was Y/n and Hawks talking to Fat gum, well it was only y/n showing enthusiasm about their conversation, Hawks had never left her side the whole time. Always trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

" That's really cool! I heard from Kirishima that you have two Forms? " Y/n's eyes gleamed with curiosity.

" Why yes little lady " Fat gum answered as he nervously glanced at Hawks. He could feel the raging intensity of Hawks's Jealousy radiating brighter than the sun's ray. To which y/n was oblivious of.

" Ya know buddy, you really have nothing to worry about when it's me " Fat gum stated his words directed towards Hawks who let out a sigh and gave him a genuine smile for once.

" Sorry, I couldn't help it when it comes to my little dove " Hawks chuckled slinging his arm around her shoulder and y/n immediately reacted by shoving his arm away without even glancing at him.

" Stop talking about me like I'm not here " Y/n muttered to which Hawks replied by doing it again and y/n shoved his arm again.

Fat gum was both entertained and a bit awkward with the situation until he spotted his side kick. Tamaki whom he had kindly asked to pick up something for him

" Anyways! That's enough you two, I'd like you to meet Tamaki Amajiki. He's my sidekick " Fat gum proudly introduced Tamaki who froze in his spot and began trembling nervously.

" Oh wow! I've heard so much about him! Our class was introduced to him before! But I never got to see his face clearly because he had his face on the wall the whole time! Let's start all over again. Hey I'm y/n l/n! Nice to meet you senpai... For the second time " Y/n grinned putting her hand out to shake his.

Tamaki who was nervous and flattered that someone remembered him shakily reached out his hand to shake hers but a look of pure shock flashed through his face when Another hand met his.

" Nice to meet you Buddy " Hawks grinned in an odd and threatening manner squeezing poor Tamaki's hand .

" U-u-uhh" Tamaki stuttered at y/n was annoyed at Hawks's actions.

" Hey! I was the-- you know what? Never mind. Anyway, senpai I heard stories about you from Kirishima-kun! And I think you're really cool! And you're cuter up close! " Y/n tried easing the nervous senior with compliments in order to atone the actions of Hawks. But Hawks took it in a different way.

Tamaki flushed red and Hawks let go of his hand with disdain, his eyes having a deadly glint and his smirk almost looked threatening and sadistic.

Fat gum who witnessed the scene knew he fucked up by calling Tamaki over, the Todoroki family were astonished to see how reactive Hawks could be when y/n was involved. At home he was really hard to read and when they thought they knew him Hawks suddenly surprises everyone by proving them wrong. But now his expression looks so raw and unmasked.

" Tsk, He doesn't Look much to Me " Hawks suddenly spat out in an irritated tone.

Y/n elbowed him after seeing Tamaki's expression.

" He doesn't mean that! He's just really insensitive... Aren't you Hawks? " Y/n glared at the man beside her and he scoffed looking away.

" You're actually really powerful Senpai! Trust me! Kirishima talks about you all the time it's adorable seeing him look up to someone who's equally as cute as Kirishima " Y/n tried covering the damage done by Hawks and Tamaki was conflicted. He didn't know who to believe anymore.

Another scoff was heard from Hawks and before he could make another comment y/n stepped on his feet making him wince.

" Ouch! " He grumbled looking down at y/n who was glaring at him threateningly.

Jealousy bubbled at the very core of Hawks, She called two men cute at the same time and she dared to do it in front of him! He praised men who aren't him. Sure they aren't official but isn't it clear that he was showing how much he could give her? He knows he's enough but it seems like his little dove was very dense. It's starting to irritate him. He didn't feel good inside and he really wanted to punch a bitch. Was she taunting him? Oh she definitely was. Just look at how she looks at them , it really makes him want to rip off someone's throat.

His wings began to bristle and rose intimidatingly the edges becoming sharp and ridged, jealousy was getting the best of him.

With a rough Tug, he dragged her away forcefully even with the harsh protest from the girl.

" Hey! Ok this is getting out of hand! " Y/n pulled her hand away and Hawks looked back at her with a gaze that could kill.

" Stop taunting me Y/n. I'm not handling it well " Hawks muttered but his voice was rough and demanding. Y/n shivered at how her name rolled out of his tongue. He never uses that tone or calls out her name like that unless she's in deep shit.

" Clearly, you're mad about shit I didn't do so go cool off or something " Y/n shot back her expression was out of sheer anger and Hawks responded by spreading his wings and he flew off without another word.

With a sigh y/n went back to her classmates, she was unaware if the stares that were thrown her way.

" A lovers quarrel? " Mt. Lady mumbled.

" Definitely a Lovers Quarrel " Fat gum confirmed.

" Is no one seriously questioning the fact about their age gap? " Dabi stated and Rei gave him a cold glare. Even shoto was seen glaring at him from his group.

" Ok fine jeez " Dabi shrugged shoving his hands into his pockets.

_____________________

20 minutes had passes and Hawks was still gone, by that time everyone was gathered around, the class was seated on the ground as the Pros started giving out their opinions and deductions on hm their performance.

Rei began to feel worried about her adopted son that had raged out of the area. Enji tried reassuring her that Keigo was old enough to take care of himself.

And on cue Hawks had arrived holding a box in his hand, he looked calmer now and more relaxed.

" Keigo dear, are you ok? " Rei asked approaching the male.

" Yeah I'm fine... Just needed a little breather.... " He muttered, his eyes glued to y/n who was listening intently to the discussion. Rei noticed this and a smile graced her lips.

" Go get her dear " Rei encouraged the male and Hawks flashed her a grin.

" Oh I will. And I'm going to make sure you're going to have a daughter in law soon " Keigo smugly stated and Rei's eyes widened only to have the woman laugh.

Luckily the little lessons the Pro's were conducting had finished and everyone was free. As the students began to stand up. Y/n was pulled away immediately by Hawks. And once she was a few feet away a box was shoves towards her. She was caught off guard but managed to hold it in her hands as she lookes up at Hawks questioningly.

" What's this? " The girl asked suspiciously.

" You like that doughnut shop near our agency yeah? I was flying by and decided to buy some for you as a Sorry present.. I admit that I went overboard... " Hawks explained rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

" What!? I can't accept thi---"

" Eat it or Throw it. I'm giving it to you and that's final so do what you want with it... Although it would be a waste if you throw it away... I did go out of my way to buy that for you with my own money even though I was still angry---"

" Ok fine you don't have to guilt trip me! I'll accept it ok?.... But you did say I could do what I want with it so... I'm sharing this with everyone " Y/n smiled and Hawks snapped his head towards her his eyebrows furrowed.

" What? No. I bought that For YOU not for them " Hawks grumbled and the girl gave him a playful smirk.

" You did say it was mine and I could do whatever I want with it " She replied slyly and Hawks turned away stomping his way towards Rei, Enji and Dabi.

" Ooo... You got it Bad. She's denser than a--"

" Don't finish that Touya I swear " Hawks glared at Dabi who only laughed at his protectiveness.

" Just be patient Keigo, she is young and she probably still doesn't have Love on her mind yet " Rei assured Keigo while rubbing his back.

" Tsk. You better not give up. You're a Todoroki after all , and I already acknowledge her as a daughter in law... No crazy woman would stomp their feet on the number 2 hero like that " Enji nodded and Hawks should be delighted but his eyes were glued to the girl.

She was sharing the doughnuts he bought for her and the last straw came when she had fed Kirishima with a doughnut.

His fathers on his wings bristled and the ends began to sharpen, his eyes darkened at the sight and his teeth were gritted.

The girl took notice of this and approached him. God he was losing it. One wrong move and he might forget the fact that she's still a minor and just go straight up to breeding her if he had to. Fuck everything she does is turning him on . He is smitten.

" Hey what's wrong? "

" You have the guts to ask me ' What's wrong?' Oh why don't ask that to all the other guys you fed doughnuts to? The ones I bought for you! You're so oblivious it's starting to piss me off little dove. Was I not subtle enough? I fucking Like---mphf--" Hawks was cut off when a Doughnut was shoved in his mouth by the girl in front of him.

" Shut your worm Hole You stupid Birdman, I like you too ok? But please stop being so annoying. I'm also protecting your reputation as a Hero here. I can't have you all over the tabloids stating that you like a high schooler. You'd be seen as a pedophile you dumbass " The girl finished and was about to pull her hand away from his mouth when he grabbed hold of her wrist, he kissed her finger gingerly before licking and sucking on that very finger she held the doughnut .

She froze, Dabi Froze, Everyone froze.

" What the fuck? " Katsuki was she first to speak up.

" I second that ' What the fuck ' " Y/n muttered and Hawks gave her a look that could have her melt into a puddle. A smug and triumphant grin plastered on his face as his arms wrapped around her waist possessively.

" Awww~ it warms my heart to know that you're protecting me that way. For a moment there I thought you don't care and all that shitty jealousy was so worth it because you told me you like me in the end.... " Hawks cooed his face nearing hers and she immediately distanced her face away from him.

" Hawks get off me! " She yelled her face was flushed and he had the sudden urge to kiss her right now.

" You'll have to pay for making me jealous though. It was not a very pretty feeling " Hawks grinned before his wings spread open and gave one strong flap and he was already flying her away from the scene.

" Holy shit.... Dude " Denki muttered staring up at the sky.

" Enji! Do you think we should renovate the house? " Rei asked enthusiastically.

" I think we just might have to " Enji replied.

" .... I ship it though " Mina stated and the girls gave an unspoken agreement to her statement.

" So... How many chicks do you think they'll have? " Dabi asked and Rei smacked him.

" Touya! " Rei scolded making Dabi chuckle.

" Nah it's too early... He won't knock her up just yet... Or will he? " Dabi grinned and this time Rei had frozen him in place.

" Touya! Stop that! " Rei fumed.

Dabi shut up immediately fearing Rei's wrath after seeing her angry expression.

[fanartfunart]

Fly Away

Episode 6: Riposte

Ao3 - First - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

(Féline Sombre & Paon Lilas designs)

Summery: An AU where Adrien never went to in-person school, not getting the cat miraculous, and found the peacock miraculous. - Marinette and Sabrina try out for D’Argencourt’s fencing academy, and a mysterious person challenges Adrien for a spot in the academy.

-

“You've been reviewing the fencing rules all weekend, it's going to be great!” Tiki exclaimed cheerfully. Marinette smiled and nodded.

“Oh! Marinette!” Sabrina waved cheerily, holding her fencing helmet under her arm. Tiki squeaked and hid in a fencing helmet as the other teen ran up to Marinette. 

“Hi? Sabrina?” Marinette said slowly, looking around the room, “...Is Chloé here?”

They nodded, “Yep! She’s going to be watching!”

Marinette grimaced. Great, now she had to worry about Chloé judging her too. She shook her head, “I… didn’t know you were interested in fencing?”

“I thought it’d go well with my self defense training. It should be fun too! For lots of reasons! Chloé and I roleplay as superheroes sometimes... Well, actually, Chloé’s always Ladybug-” Marinette made a face, but Sabrina didn’t comment on it, “and I used to play the villains. But now that Paon Lilas showed up, I finally have a superhero to play as! …. Anyway, while I researched the sport, I noticed much of his combat style is informed by fencing-” she shifted into a fencing stance, making a few combat poses (which did in fact, remind Marinette of Paon Lilas), “You can tell by the way he moves.”

“You roleplay as… Paon Lilas? Why?” Marinette frowned, crossing her arms, “What about Féline Sombre? They’re cool.”

Sabrina straightened their posture, smiling almost nervously, “...You think Féline Sombre’s cool?” she shook her head, “I, uh, do too... but... I uh- I... Paon Lilas matches my color scheme! Blue and purple!”

Marinette sighed, “Of course… Well, good luck Sabrina-” She grabbed a fencing helmet, and dropped it on her head. Marinette yelped, stumbling back, noticing something inside the helmet. Tiki stared at her from inside with wide eyes. After the initial shock, the kwami had to cover her mouth to contain her giggle.

“...You okay Marinette?” Sabrina asked.

She gave Tiki a glance and took the helmet back off to allow Tiki to subtly hide in a better spot. “Yep. Yep, don’t mind me, just- thought a loose hair was a spider for a second…” she pointedly brushed some of her hair away from her face and grinned awkwardly. She ran from the room to get in place with the rest of the prospective students.

-

“I am the fencing master, Mr. D'Argencourt. Instead of the estimated one open spot, we have two, due to an… unexpected drop out…. The coward,”  Mr. D’Argencourt said, flourishing his saber, “So, in order to select the best possible candidates, I will observe the beginners performing a number of attacks on the experienced students,” he gestured to the group of the current students, “Get into position!” 

Marinette squeaked as one of the students walked towards her, “Actually, maybe I’m not cut out for this…” 

“If you’re worried about why Landon dropped out, it’s because of the akuma attacks, not because of the classes. He and his mom are moving out of Paris,” the fencer explained. 

“Oh thank goodness- Oh well, I mean, not for Landon because that must be hard- I- It’s just- I mean, the akumas certainly aren’t great- ” Marinette sputtered. She sighed, and offered her hand, “I’m Marinette.”

The fencer raised his helmet. Adrien smiled, “I know. It’s nice to see you here.”

“Wh-” Marinette’s brows furrowed, “Wait, weren’t you sick? Why are you doing sports?”

He blushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ve been feeling better since last week. And, uh, skipping class… wasn’t an option. Don’t worry, I talked to Mr. D’Argencourt beforehand. If I ever raise both of my hands in surrender, it’s because I got dizzy or something, and we’ll stop. He’ll get you rotated with a different partner.”

Marinette nodded firmly, “As long as you’re being safe.”

“Get into position!” D’Argencourt commanded. 

Adrien smiled at her and dropped his helmet back over his face. With a quick instruction on her form, Adrien stepped back into his side of the strip, waiting for Marinette to get a hang of what she was doing. They fenced for a while as Adrien explained how saber fencing worked. Eventually, he regretfully had to request a time out.

Marinette pushed her helmet up, “You feeling okay?”

He nodded, pushing his own up, taking in a deep breath of the unrestricted air, “Just winded, I’m gonna get some water and I’ll be good to go for another bout.” 

When Adrien returned, the class was bunched together. He easily spotted Chloé in the crowd (being the only person not in fencing gear) and walked next to her. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, Adrikins!” Chloé hugged him, and really, he’d rather not have had the air squeezed out of him at the moment, but resigned himself to it anyway. “This kid in red showed up and says they’re the best fencer everywhere they’ve been- but don’t worry, they’re obviously not as good as you.” 

He raised a brow but said nothing. 

“All right!” D’Argencourt exclaimed to the newcomer, “I may consider your admission, shall you defeat one of my students.”

The fencer in red strode forward, “Which one of you is the best combatant?” the fencer demanded. The crowd parted, and Adrien found himself alone in the center. He glanced towards Marinette, who gave him an awkward thumbs up.

D’Argencourt gestured to the primary fencing strip, “Adrien, please give our visitor a lesson in chivalry.”

He halfway suspected D’Argencourt had entirely forgotten he wasn’t at his best, but, if everyone thought he was the best here, who was he to disappoint? He nodded, “Yes sir.”

-

Chloé could care less about fencing. It’s all sweaty and involves clashing and clanging metal together. But, it's her Adrien's sport, and Sabrina seemed to think it was fun too. Least she could do was watch in support. With Marinette’s incessant questions and the answers other students were giving, Chloé could somewhat follow the bout. Really, who did this random red rouge think they were? Trying to take her Adrikin’s place as the best fencer in the Academy? 

“Uhhh… Abstention!”  D’Argencourt called. The fencers returned to their starting line.

Adrien pulled his helmet up to breathe, and looked up at the fencer in red, brows furrowed in determination. He dropped the helmet back over his face. 

“Tired yet?” The fencer taunted.

“Just getting started,” Adrien called back, straightening his stance.

“... Shall I request we do this the old fashioned way then?” they turned to D’Argencourt, “We'll be much more at ease without the machine.”

D’Argencourt considered it, “Adrien?”

He smiled behind his helmet, “Fine with me.”

Chloé focused on each move and clash and blow. Freed of their attachments, the fencers moved with agility and panache. Jumping, spinning, clashing. Some boring person muttered “Aren’t they supposed to stay on the strip?” The fencers raced up the stairwell and Chloé made her way to the front to watch them closely. Chloé didn’t pay much attention to the fact that Marinette was the only other person who had kept up with the fight. Nor did she pay attention to the fact that Sabrina had been clearing her path among the crowd before.

The fencer would lunge, Adrien would parry. Adrien feinted a step and pulled back, drawing them in, and the fencer would leap out of the way of his counterattack. Blades clashed and clamored. Adrien knocked the fencer through the doors of the Library. Marinette stood in front of the opened doors as the pair fought, watching intently.

“Out of my way,” Chloé huffed, shoving Marinette to take her spot in watching the pair fight. She yelped as a book cart was sent her way and she narrowly jumped out of the way, “Hey!”

Neither fencers paid any attention. (Which, ouch, really? Is she not important enough here?) 

“Let’s finish this!” the red-clad fencer announced, and they both lunged. Chloé blinked and both sabers were being pulled away from the other fencer’s chest. 

The fencers turned to look at Chloé. “Who got the first hit?!” The figure in red  demanded, “Who?”

Adrien pulled off his helmet and rubbed the spot he’d been hit, grimacing slightly.

“Er…” Chloé frowned and the group finally caught up to them, whispering curiosities. “Adrien?” 

“Wait, you’re not even one of my students….” D’Argencourt noted, “Are you sure?”

Chloé huffed, tilting her head up, "Of course! And I'm sure my father, the Mayor, would love to explain to you why I’m right~” she side stepped closer and lowered her voice, “You already lost the election to him, do you really wanna lose your job as well?"

Adrien frowned. “Actually, I think they touched me first,” Adrien said, turning to D’Argencourt.

“Er- Referee has the last word!” D’Argencourt exclaimed, “This victory is… certainly an honor to the D’Argencourt Academy!” He chuckled nervously as Chloé grinned.

Adrien frowned and watched as the fencer walked away and thrust their saber into the ground. “I’m going to offer them a decisive match,” he said, and raced after them. 

“Hey! Adriekins, why are you following them? You won!” Chloé sighed and followed him, rolling her eyes. 

Adrien pulled the fencer’s sword from the ground and ran towards the fencer’s car. “Wait! Your saber!” 

Chloé raced down the entrance, “Come on Adrikins, you won, what’s this...” she halted as she looked up. The red clad fencer removed their helmet and…well she was unfairly pretty. Dark hair and dark eyes and a dusting of freckles like stardust on her cheeks... “About…”

Adrien continued forward anyway, “Let’s do a, er, decisive match?” Adrien offered, smiling.

“Like she said-” The fencer said, gesturing to Chloé, “You won. There’s no such thing as second chances in my family. Goodbye.” She turned and got into the car. 

“Hey! What’s your…” The car door slammed and the car drove off. “...name.” He frowned and glanced down at the red saber. 

Chloé shook him. “Who was that? I must know immediately.”

He sighed, watching the car retreat into the distance. “Well… I saw her ring, it reminded me of something... Give me a second-” He grabbed his phone and looked up the imagery of the ring.

-

“Oh curse the passage of time,” D’Argencourt grumbled, “We will finish the last rounds of candidate selection next Thursday. Er, you four-” He pointed at Marinette, Sabrina, and two other students, “You’re in for the last rounds. Everyone else, farewell, no need to return,” he waved the group of prospective students away and the group dispersed. 

Sabrina was suddenly next to Marinette. Marinette yelped as she noticed the other teen so close. “You’re in the last bracket! That’s awesome!”

Marinette raised a brow, “Uh… Thank you. Congrats to you too.” 

They smiled, “Yeah! I’m super excited!” she bounced in place, “I can’t wait to master the blade.” 

Somewhere outside, Chloé screamed.

Sabrina gasped, “Chloé! I’ve gotta check on her!” Sabrina ran off, brow furrowed in determination. 

Marinette frowned and ran off in another direction, finding somewhere to transform. Chloé’s screams usually meant akumas.

-

“Adrien!” Chloé cried out as the akumatized villain pointed their sword at him. Adrien was on the ground, holding the red handled saber against Riposete’s sword.

“I’m taking you up on your offer for a decisive match!” Riposte exclaimed.

Adrien strained against the sword. He gave up and rolled out from under her. “I can’t fight you like this!”

“Fight!” she demanded with another slash. Féline Sombre tumbled in and knocked the sword away with her staff. 

“Hey now, play nice,” Féline said, shifting to get in front of Adrien. 

“I’m not playing,” Riposte said, “I will show you all just who the greater swordsman is!” 

Adrien groaned and scrambled to a stand, moving through a blur of dots in his vision, only to run into someone. Strong hands balanced him. “Careful,” Ladybug said.

“She’s after my Adrikins!” Chloé explained to Ladybug, hiding behind a pillar, “You need to protect him!”

“I can protect my-” his body decided this was a perfect time to betray him. He stumbled and coughed. ...Probably too much exertion today.

Riposte knocked Féline Sombre back, and rushed towards Adrien and Ladybug. Ladybug wrapped her yoyo around Riposete’s sword and yanked. Riposete’s arm was pulled away from Adrien, but the yoyo slipped off.

“It’s fused to her hand?” Ladybug exclaimed.

Féline Sombre got back up and vaulted towards Adrien and Ladybug. 

“I guess you can’t dis-arm her!" Féline Sombre chuckled awkwardly. 

"Puns? Seriously?" Ladybug shook her head, “Féline, get Adrien somewhere safe, I'll keep her occupied.” 

"Can do Bug, come on Adrien," Féline grabbed him around the waist and he yelped as they extended their staff into the air and the ground twirled away from him without his input.

Riposte growled under her breath and sliced a pillar and kicked it towards Ladybug. She stumbled back and lassoed the pillar before it could fall into her. Riposte was already bounding off after Féline Sombre. Ladybug sighed and hooked her yoyo on a nearby chimney to follow after.

"I really need somebody who's better at distraction than I am."

-

Féline Sombre landed on a bridge, gently dropping Adrien. She looked around, "Okay, okay, we're probably far enough to pause and make a plan of action. If she's looking to fight you then hiding might be your best bet, but that could become dangerous if she finds you and you're somewhere you can't escape-"

"No, hiding is great!" Adrien grinned awkwardly, already stepping away. He glanced around for places to transform. "I can do that! I'll just-"

Riposte landed just a few feet away from them before Adrien could run away. "Stand and fight, you coward!"

"I’m not going to fight you like this!” Adrien protested, “You're not yourself! What's the honor in this?"

Riposte lunged forward and he ducked, rolling out of the way. Féline Sombre twirled on their staff and kicked Riposte away. 

Riposte growled and slashed the lampposts. Féline Sombre’s eyes widened as the old metal lamps crashed and caged her against the edge of the bridge. They strained against the metal, “Adrien look out!”

Riposte immediately turned to him. She advanced quickly and he scrambled back, automatically shifting into a fencing form, red handled blade in hand. Riposte slashed at his feet, forcing him to leap up onto the edge of the bridge. 

Féline Sombre called for their cataclysm. Riposte prepared to strike at him. Féline wouldn’t be able to interfere fast enough. He knew it. 

-

“If you really are Paon Lilas, transform, Adrien,” Hawkmoth muttered under his breath, brows furrowed in concern. Because if he didn’t, what did that mean? His son was in danger and he put him there. Does he have to hope for yet another failure? Is it a failure if his son is safe? He practically growled under his breath, pushing such things out of his mind. “Come on. What are you waiting for?”

-

Adrien closed his eyes. He jumped. Riposte’s sword crashed on brick. Wind whipped around him. He held his breath and splashed into the water below. 

It was cold. His lungs were already protesting. He opened his eyes and spotted a red figure dive in after him. Ladybug’s arm wrapped around him, securing him as she pulled him up and secured her yoyo to land. He hacked on coughs as soon as they breached the water.

Ladybug dropped him on the ground and he groaned.

"You're kinda reckless, aren't you?" Ladybug noted with some sort of half smile on her face.

His lungs hated him. He wheezed with a cough, "I trusted Féline Sombre not to leave me."

Ladybug frowned at him briefly. She glanced towards the bridge as Riposte looked down at the waters below. Féline Sombre gave Ladybug the quickest of a wave, and she ran out of sight, presumably to detransform.

"Come on," Ladybug said. She picked him up (really these superheroes have got to stop doing that, it's making his vision blur) and bounded away.

"What about Féline Sombre?" Adrien exclaimed, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on Ladybug’s shoulders to keep the dizziness from overwhelming him.

"They'll be back, we need you somewhere safe before Riposte figures out you're not in the water." Ladybug landed and gently put him on the ground. He looked around, finding she had brought them to a park. 

He coughed more, shaking from the wind-whipped, damp, cold settling in his bones. Ladybug frowned at him again strangely. 

"How are you doing? ...You seem ill."

He forced a smile, "Just the after effects of my little dive I think. I'll be fine."

Her expression changed strangely yet again and she nodded, “Okay…” she looked around and nodded to herself, “here,” she grabbed Adrien’s hand and tugged him towards a statue, “Hide behind here. I’ll uh, come get you when we deakumatize Riposte.” 

Adrien nodded and watched as Ladybug dashed to the edges of the park, activating the phone in her yoyo. “Duusu,” he whispered, “we should help them-”

“You’re sick,” Duusu said, coming up and pushing against his cheek, “I’m sure Ladybug and Féline Sombre can handle it from here, right?”

Adrien frowned, glancing back towards where Ladybug was talking to Féline Sombre on the phone. “Maybe…” he muttered, “but it’s also the easiest way to get Adrien out of the way while still doing something, right?”

“You’re not in the way,” Duusu whispered.

Adrien grumbled anxiously, watching from behind the statue.

-

“She’s coming your way, bye Bug!” Féline Sombre exclaimed as they ended the call.

“Bye Kitty,” Ladybug searched for the silvery akuma with a frown. “Hm, better safe than sorry- Lucky Charm!” Ladybug called. The charm produced a metal wireframe chair. She tilted her head. “A...chair. Am I supposed to sit around for Riposte to come attack Adrien?”

Riposte dove in, sword aimed, and Ladybug yelped as she tumbled out of the way. 

“Where did you hide him?” Riposte demanded, flourishing her weapon. 

“You think I’d tell you?” Ladybug scoffed, briefly glancing to where Féline Sombre was inching forward. Hidden. Waiting for an opening. “This is just between us. Unless you’re scared to test your mettle against me?”

Riposte huffed, turning her full attention to Ladybug, “Oh? I’ll defeat you swiftly and then I’ll take your miraculous!” Riposte lunged and Ladybug twirled to block with the chair, gasping as she noticed the sword slip between the backrest supports. Riposte was too fast however, and the sword slipped back out before she could do anything about it. 

Féline Sombre vaulted in on her staff and kicked Riposte from behind, into the park fence. They shifted into a fencing stance, staff aimed like a sword, “You wanted some fencing, right?”

“Who told you all these puns?” Ladybug frowned, glancing at her redheaded partner.

“Would you be mad if I said all the puns is because I’m kinda missing Paon Lilas’s jokes?”

Ladybug made a face, “What? No, but-”

“Your face says otherwise!” Féline Sombre exclaimed, chuckling.

“Oh hush!” Riposte exclaimed as she lunged towards Féline. Féline Sombre used her staff to block the sword and shifted to get behind her.

“So Bug, what’s our plan?” Féline asked, extending her staff to hit Riposte again. They twirled out of the way of the counterattack.

“The sword!” Ladybug said, “That’s got to be where the akuma is. But she’s too fast!”

Adrien frowned, “I- I can’t just watch. Duusu-” he was caught off by a cough.

Riposte huffed and leaped out from the middle of Ladybug and Féline Sombre, skidding backwards. She turned her head to the sound of a cough. “Of course,” she sent a slash through the statue.

Ladybug gasped, “Adrien!”

Adrien dropped to the ground, then leaped up over the broken base of the statue. He tightened his grip on the fencing sword, frowning towards Riposte. “You want a fight? Fine. Let’s fight.”

Riposte grinned, “Finally.” She lunged and he doubled back, towards Ladybug and Féline Sombre.

Ladybug looked between the fighters and Féline Sombre and ran forward to meet them, smiling. “Féline, I’m gonna need your ribbon soon.” Adrien continued to retreat and block.

The cat hero tilted their head briefly but pulled the ribbon off. Féline Sombre moved in around Riposte’s other side. 

With the heroes in the right positions, Adrien drew in another attack from Riposte and called, “Ready?!” He twirled, switching positions with Ladybug. Féline Sombre came around with the ribbon and secured the sword into the metal bars of the chair’s backrest. They ran and tugged backwards to keep it secure as Riposte struggled in the snare.

“Prêt, Allez!” Adrien and Ladybug announced as they both used their combined weight to snap the sword trapped in the chair’s back.

Ladybug grabbed the back of the chair as Adrien fell into the seat, keep him from falling with the chair. Adrien blinked, “Huh, handy.”

Ladybug smiled at him as she grabbed his arms and pulled him up to a stand.

He looked up and down at her and barely flickered a smile at her. He turned towards Riposte with a frown.

“Wow, impressive fencing,” Féline said.

He shrugged, “I’ve been in fencing since I was really young.” 

Ladybug caught and purified the butterfly. “Bye bye little butterfly...” She grabbed the Lucky Charm, frowning towards Adrien, “You didn’t have to do that. You put yourself in danger.”

“What happened?” Kagami muttered, looking up in confusion.

Adrien frowned and glanced down at the ground before shaking his head, ignoring Ladybug in favor of the fencer. Ladybug sighed and called for her miracle cure.

He leaned down to the fencer and offered a hand. “You were akumatized,” he said softly, “It’s… a… whole thing. It’s fine now though.”

Ladybug walked over to Féline Sombre. They high-fived and smiled at each other.

“Hey, Adrien,” Ladybug said, “...take care of yourself…” she smiled, and waved as her miraculous beeped, “Bug out!” 

Féline Sombre waved goodbye to Ladybug and turned towards the two civilians, “Do either of you need a lift home?”

“I have a chauffeur,” Kagami said.

“Same,” Adrien chuckled awkwardly.

Féline shrugged, “Alright! In that case, I should probably head out too. See you later!” She vaulted away and Adrien turned back to Kagami.

“So…” Adrien muttered.

“Listen I-” she sighed and glanced at the ground.

“I’m sorry” both teens said. 

Adrien laughed and offered the saber, “Here’s your saber back… Maybe, uh, we could do a proper rematch?”

She shook her head, pushing it back towards him. “No, I lost. Keep it.”

“Chloé really doesn’t know anything about fencing. I personally think it was your point. Besides… red’s not really my color.”

“She certainly acted like she knew.”

“She can be… enthusiastic, she just… she means well, just goes about things wrong.” Adrien sighed and shrugged, “but I… I think- If you want, we could uh, be friends?”

She looked almost shocked, “You… You want to be my friend?”

“Of course! I- Here, let’s start over-” Adrien huffed a smile and offered his hand, “My name’s Adrien. What’s yours?”

She paused, glancing between his face and his hand. She took the offered hand and shook it. “Kagami.”

“Nice to meet you, Kagami.”

“...Yeah. Nice to meet you too, er, Adrien,” she smirked, “You better get ready for that decisive match.”

He laughed, “Oh, I will.”

-

Fencing swords clashed. One fencer lunged, and the other spun and hit. The buzzer sounded.

“Point!” D’Argencourt called, “Sabrina Raincomprix, welcome to the academy!”

Sabrina pulled up her mask and smiled at Marinette as she disconnected herself from the buzzer cord. Marinette raised her mask up with a sigh. They saluted with their sword and Marinette did the same.

“Good game,” Marinette muttered with a sigh, preparing for whatever mocking she would receive.

“You did awesome! It was a close game, you almost had me there."

Marinette raised a brow. "Uh. Thanks?"

Sabrina sighed, "It's really too bad there's only two spots, I was looking forward to sparring more with you. Next time there's an open spot you should definitely try again."

"I… you really think so? Chloé would've hated seeing me outside class on a weekly basis."

"I- I’m not Chloé’s clone, I... don’t hate you. I’m...sorry if I’ve ever made it seem like that," they sighed, and offered a hand, "Seriously. Good game, Marinette."

She smiled awkwardly and accepted the handshake. "Same to you, Sabrina."

Marinette walked into the equipment room and Tiki zipped out.

"You did great, even if you didn't get in. You can always practice on your own or get Adrien to help again!" Tiki cheered.

Marinette sighed and nodded, "True. ...I think that fencer- Kagami? and Sabrina wanted it more anyway. I wouldn't change a thing… and… Sabrina was weirdly nice."

"Without Chloé around she seems much more open."

"Yeah, I guess. ...Actually- huh. I guess they've never exactly been outright antagonistic… I guess I just… associate her with Chloé that much…" Marinette shook her head, "Weird."

[haledamage]

Coming Home

I'm a day late because this thing got much bigger than I expected, but better late than never! This is for @shepherds-of-haven Shepherds Summer 2021! The prompt was Pacific Rim AU!

Some of the backstory stuff is from this post here. Some is just pushing ShoH canon slightly to the left so it fits better in a Pacific Rim setting. Some is the result of reading ShoH and watching PacRim at the same time and then taking a nap to see what seeds got planted. There will be a part 2 to this because I had to split it up in order to finish it on time and then I was late anyway.

Shepherds of Haven/Pacific Rim AU. Iorwen Emroth/Blade Bronwyn (well, hints of it. more in part 2)

---

The Haven Shatterdome looked very small from overhead. Iorwen watched it loom closer with a trepidation somewhere between “being late for an important exam” and “being read her last rites.”

It had been just over two years since she’d last been this close to a Jaeger, half a world away and in a different life, but all the Shatterdomes looked the same after a while. Steel and glass and everything painted in olive drab, black, and safety yellow. 

Part of her felt like it was too soon to walk into those hangar doors again, the empty space at her side where her partner used to be still a raw, open wound. She couldn’t even think xer name yet without feeling like she couldn’t breathe. Returning to work felt like a betrayal of xer memory.

Another part of her, louder with every passing minute, was just so happy to be home again.

"Wen!"

Iorwen had barely stepped out of the helicopter when she heard her name called and turned to see Red jogging toward her. He looked more tired than she remembered him, but his smile was as bright as ever, his hair vivid against their otherwise drab surroundings. She’d known he was here - he’d transferred to Haven shortly after she left Capra - but hearing it and actually seeing him were two very different things.

She dropped her bag carelessly to the tarmac and ran to meet him halfway, throwing herself at him as soon as he was close enough to wrap her arms around his neck. He hugged her back without hesitation. They were making a Hel of a scene in the middle of the landing pad, but neither of them really cared.

"I knew you'd come back," he mumbled into her hair.

"Had to." She finally pulled away, stepping back just enough that she could see him. "You can barely tie your shoes without me, Liefred."

He only laughed before leaving her side just long enough to grab her bag. He slung an arm around her shoulders as he rejoined her, dragging her towards the hangar. "Welcome home."

She stared up at the Shatterdome, hangar doors towering over them. It didn't look nearly as welcoming as Red seemed to think it should, and was much more intimidating than it had been from the air. It still smelled like blood and motor oil - or maybe it was her memory that did.

She tried to put on her best smile anyway, for his sake if not her own, and let him drag her inside.

They stepped into a hive of activity, the sounds of machinery and voices echoing off the walls, laughter and shouting and clanging metal rising up to greet them. She tried to stop and take it in, but Red was still dragging her along with him out of the main hangar and into a labyrinth of hallways; she probably could have escaped him if she tried, but she didn’t really want to.

“Have you met the Marshal yet?” he asked, once they were in a quiet enough place that he didn’t have to yell to be heard.

“Not yet. Mostly talked to his second so far.” Trouble Alder had, in fact, shown up out of the blue one day three months ago, sitting on her front porch with a stick of charch between his lips and looking completely at home. He’d revisited her every day for a month until he’d finally worn her down enough to convince her to come home. Stubborn bastard. “What's he like?”

“Intense,” Red answered almost immediately. “Most of the younger crew are terrified of him. He doesn't like me.”

Iorwen scoffed. “Bullshit. You’re the most exceptionally likeable person I’ve ever met. Everyone likes you.”

“He doesn't.” 

They stopped in front of a door in what was probably the barracks, the walls lined with identical doors on either side. Sure enough, there was a simple bed, a dresser, and not much else inside. Iorwen didn’t mind; she didn’t need much else.

Once she’d dropped off her bag and they started down the next hallway, Red continued, “I don't know if he likes anyone. He barely says two words to anyone but Trouble.”

She was still skeptical, but didn’t push. “Well, he must be doing something right. Look at this place. Capra barely had a skeleton crew compared to this.”

“It’s amazing!” Just like that, Red lit up again. “Some of Blest’s best and brightest are here. Pilots, mechanics, scientists, strategists, you name it.”

“And which of those are you? All of the above?”

“Mostly scientist, I think,” Red rubbed a sheepish hand over his hair. “There’s better pilots. Pan, Neon, and I serve better in the lab than on the field most of the time.” He paused, watching her cautiously, before adding carefully, “And… which will you be?”

“I’ll be working in the clinic,” she said quickly. “As a Healer. I’m not… ready to be around Jaegers again. I might never be.”

“I understand,” he assured her, reaching out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We all do.”

They fell silent after that, and stayed that way until they stopped in front of a door labelled Administration. “This is Shery’s office. She’ll get you all set up.”

“Thanks, Red.”

“Anytime.” With one final quick hug, he turned to leave, only to stop halfway down the hall. “Oh, and Wen?”

“Hmm?”

“Welcome to the Shepherds.”

---

It was two weeks before Iorwen finally met the Marshal, and it happened entirely by accident.

She had just finished a shift in the clinic, patching up minor burns and bruises on unlucky mechanics and restless pilots. The silence between Kaiju attacks left everyone on edge, and that led to carelessness, which inevitably meant stupid injuries. She didn’t mind. All things considered, she’d rather have the silence.

As she turned a corner, she noticed a light was on in the training room, and curiosity led her there without much input on her part.

She recognized the man in the room easily enough. Even if they’d never spoken directly, she’d seen him around enough to know who he was. He commanded the attention of a room like no one she’d ever met before. He was hard to look away from, even here, out of uniform and either unaware or uncaring of her presence.

Magnetic. That’s what he was.

He was also much younger than she expected for a Marshal. He was close to her own age, or at least she assumed he was. She wondered about the story there - obviously there must be one - but knew better than to ask the rumor mill. Gossip was like dust: inevitable, everywhere, and harder to see through the more you stirred it up.

The Marshal’s back stiffened, and Iorwen knew she’d been caught staring even before he glanced over his shoulder in her direction. She stepped into the room as casually as possible. “Hello, Marshal.”

He simply nodded, dark eyes unreadable. “Ranger.” She bit her lip to stop herself from correcting him. “Emroth, right?”

“Yes, sir.” She approached until she could finally see his face. “Iorwen.”

Another nod. “Blade.” She thought he would leave it there, but after a moment, he spoke again. “Antiqua speaks highly of you.”

“Of course he does. He's biased.” She laughed, rolling her eyes at the idea that Red was going around extolling her virtues to anyone who would listen. When the Marshal - Blade, she mentally corrected herself - gave her a look that she interpreted as curiosity, she elaborated. “We trained together as cadets. He was my first Drift partner actually.”

“But you never piloted together?”

“No. It…” Iorwen broke eye contact, the floor suddenly fascinating. “It didn't work out that way.”

“It's not too late,” he said, almost softly.

“Yes it is. I'm not a Ranger anymore. Not after…” Xer name got stuck in her throat, like it always did. She took a couple of deep breaths until she could comfortably breathe around it again, but her smile was still sad. “I'm happier on the ground. I'm a good Healer. It's where I should be.”

She could feel Blade’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look back up to meet them. Eventually, all he said was, “I see.”

He turned his back on her again and it didn’t take long before her gaze was drawn to him again. He was wearing a tank top, like most people did when they came here to train or spar, and standing this close she could clearly see the web of electrical scarring trailing over his arm and shoulder.

She knew those scars well. The scars of someone forced to solo pilot a Jaeger. She should know, she had a matching set.

Blade did an admirable job of pretending he didn’t know he was being observed, but he moved too carefully for it to look entirely casual. Or maybe he just always moved like that. He picked up a bo staff and tested the weight of it.

Iorwen took the opportunity that presented without thought or hesitation. “Looking for a dance partner?”

The briefest flash of surprise crossed his face before his expression smoothed back out. “Are you… sure?” he asked carefully. If she didn’t know better, she might say he almost sounded nervous.

She found it charming. She found him charming, with his not-quite-smile and his cool confidence, this magnetic man who could simultaneously terrify the cadets while inspiring absolute loyalty in them.

But she didn’t tell him that, of course. She just grabbed a staff of her own and grinned as she lifted it in a fencing salute. “On your guard, Marshal.”

---

After that first night, it became a regular thing. Not every day, not even on a set schedule. But sometimes after she was done in the clinic or in the garage, Iorwen would stop by the training room, and sometimes when she did, Blade would already be there. Not waiting for her, not exactly, but never surprised when she arrived.

He never really said much, but she didn't mind talking for the both of them. She could tell he was warming up to her, as the weeks passed; his silence felt much less formal and stiff and more cordial. Eventually, even friendly.

Two things were apparent from the very beginning, though. Well, three things. The first was that Blade, as a fighter, was completely out of her league. She never stopped by with any expectation of beating him; she was content to follow his lead. It was nice to be active again, to feel the familiar burn in muscles left dormant in her self-imposed retirement.

The second was that they were extremely drift compatible. While Iorwen could never beat him, she could consistently predict him. They could both be blindfolded and still know what move the other would make. There was an effortlessness to the way they understood each other that bordered on the supernatural. It was a kind of connection that she hadn’t felt since Zori had been killed.

The third thing was that neither of them were willing, in any way, shape, or form, to admit the second thing.

It was barely a week before Red found out.

He flopped down on the bench next to her in the cafeteria. “I brought those papers you were looking for to your room last night, but you weren’t there.” He didn’t say it as an accusation, but it still managed to feel like one.

“I spent a couple hours in the training room,” she said as casually as possible. “Trying to get back in shape.”

Red blinked a few times, letting that sink in, before smiling wide. “That’s really good. Let me know if you ever need a sparring partner.”

“I kind of… have one?”

“You do?” His smile went from friendly to devious, the look of a man who had four sisters and was willing to tease her as if she was a fifth. “Who?”

Before she could stop herself, she looked across the room at Blade. He sat at a table with Trouble, whose laughter was loud enough to reach them even from the other side of the busy cafeteria. The Marshal’s face remained impassive, looking like he wasn’t even listening, but Iorwen knew him well enough to tell he was amused.

As if he could feel her watching him, his eyes snapped up and locked on hers. She smiled at him; he nodded almost imperceptibly.

Red cleared his throat, and she looked away quickly, turning her attention back to the smugly amused grin of her best friend. “Well, I guess maybe it’s not everyone he doesn’t like.”

“Guess it’s just you.” She nudged his shoulder and he rubbed at it as if she’d hurt him. “He’s not as bad as you made him out to be.” She couldn’t stand his knowing look anymore and turned away, but doing so led her eyes right back to Blade. “He's nicer than he looks. And surprisingly funny. He doesn't treat me like I'm fragile. Like I'll break if someone talks about… Zori.” 

Mentioning her former Drift partner and copilot didn’t hurt as much as she expected it to this time. Less like twisting a knife in her heart and more like being poked in a fresh bruise.

Mentioning xer also stopped whatever comment Red had been about to make right in its tracks. He studied her with obvious curiosity, mouth still half-open in surprise. Whatever he saw on her face had him leaning forward and tapping his forehead against hers, a quick gesture of affection and understanding. She leaned into it until he pulled away.

And then his teasing smile was back as if it had never left. “Plus, he's handsome.”

She eyed him warily, but let him have the subject change. “That too.” She picked up a piece of fruit from her plate and popped it into her mouth. “Please don’t say anything about this to Pan or Neon.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“I mean it, Red. Not a word.”

---

“So I hear you and the Marshal have a thing.”

Iorwen sighed from the very depths of her soul. “I hope Red knows how very dead he’s about to be.”

Panrachus looked legitimately confused at her response. “What? I didn’t hear that from Red, I heard it from Caine.” Then he gasped, eyes widening with sudden, delighted recognition. “What does Red know?”

She only barely bit back a groan. “Why are you even here?”

“Right! We’ve got something you oughta come see.”

She followed him, with more than a little trepidation, out of the clinic, through the office labyrinth, and out into the hangar. It took her a few minutes to get her bearings and realize where exactly they were going. “Why are we going to the Jaeger bays?” He didn’t answer. “Pan?”

Then they turned the corner, and she had her answer.

Looming over her was a Jaeger unlike any she’d seen before. It looked almost lanky, the proportions lean and sleek instead of the more familiar bulky designs. It would be unbelievably fast with the right pilots; she could tell that just from looking at it. From the top of each wrist, a wicked-looking blade extended over the hand, almost long enough to drag the ground. It was painted black, navy, and silver, but its eyes glowed bright blue.

From the ground, it almost looked like iladrin. Like the same blue light that lit Iorwen’s own eyes.

“What’s her name?” she whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the Jaeger.

“Stellar Enigma.”

“Who’s piloting her?”

“You are.”

She jumped at the unexpected voice behind her and turned to see Blade, Red, and Trouble approaching, along with an entourage of what looked to be equal parts Shatterdome leadership, actual engineers, and nosy onlookers.

“You are,” Blade said again, quieter, softer, “Ranger.”

“Blade, I--” Iorwen started, but she wasn’t sure what she actually intended to say.

He reached up and lightly pinched her cheek, a faint smile on his lips. “You’ll be alright.”

Before she could reply, Trouble gently but pointedly cleared his throat, reminding her of their audience. She glared his way, just for a second; he grinned back, unabashed and unrepentant.

“Who’s my copilot? Sir.” She added the last as an afterthought, trying to act some semblance of professional.

“I get the feeling you already have someone in mind.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Bit early to be reading my thoughts, isn’t it, Marshal?”

---

Iorwen’s suit didn’t fit as well as she remembered. Tight around the shoulders, too loose at the waist. Like it was meant for someone else, no matter how many things tried to tell her otherwise.

Blade’s fit him like a second skin. He looked like a Jaeger cockpit was where he was always meant to be. Like it was the rest of the world that didn’t fit him right instead.

She met his inscrutable gaze before ‘admiring’ could cross the line to ‘ogling’. “You look good.”

He paused for a long time, staring back at her in silence, before finally clearing his throat. “You too.”

She grinned, both at the compliment and at the sight of the Marshal so off-balance, but she took pity on him and changed the subject. “Do you want the left or right?”

“Right.”

“Good. I prefer left.”

They didn’t speak anymore as they connected to their harnesses and their suits started interfacing with the Jaeger, the computerized voice talking them through system checks. It took longer than Iorwen remembered, but it had been a long time since she last Drifted with anyone, let alone with someone new.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, once their helmets were in place and they’d run out of checks to do. “I’m not--”

“Yes,” he interrupted sharply. “You’re ready. We both are.”

There were a lot of things she wanted to say. To thank him, mostly, for a list of things that seemed to be growing bigger by the hour. She kept quiet; he’d hear it in her thoughts soon enough.

“Initiating neural handshake in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… neural interface drift initiated.”

Between one breath and the next, she was somewhere else. Images flowed over her, some familiar, some new. She did her best to let them pass, to not cling too hard to any of them.

The destruction of Drummond's Point, the first attack the day the Kaiju came. Iorwen, dragging Zori's unconscious body out of town as fast as thirteen-year-old legs could carry her. Blade, stern and silent even as a child, a soldier from the day he was born. Zori, tears at the corners of xer eyes as xe laughs at a joke Pan told, Red and Neon joining in, the three of them always together even then. Blade's older brother, startlingly similar to him in appearance and demeanor, the two of them either sparring or fighting; for them, there had never been much difference.

Zori's scream as xe's ripped out of the cockpit. Gladius didn't make a sound as he met the same fate.

Iorwen's grief washed up against Blade's, soothing in it's familiarity. A gentle reminder that they weren't alone anymore, that thanks to the Drift they'd never be entirely alone again.

She saw him in her memory of their first meeting. Stern, aloof, but warm underneath, like a fire behind frosted glass. Captivating her before he even so much as looked at her. 

And then herself through his eyes at that same introduction. Sad, withdrawn, but still burning bright. The embodiment of stubborn hope, like a flower blooming in a snowy field.

And then they broke through the surface, both gasping as they came up for air. Below them, Stellar Enigma came to life. The rush of memories and emotions settled into the background, present but no longer demanding attention.

“Pilot connection stabilized.” It wasn’t the computer’s voice this time, but Shery over the intercom. “How do you feel?”

Moving as one, Blade and Iorwen lifted their hands, right fist resting on left palm, and bowed. Stellar Enigma did the same, moving as smoothly as her pilots did. Iorwen couldn’t tell which of them the wave of elation came from, but it burst out of her in a laugh.

“It feels like coming home.”

[damn-stark]

A new friend & A new problem

Chapter 9 of Different Light

A/N- I hope you all like this chapter :)

Warning- only slight angst, Slowburn

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader, Fred Weasley x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

“So your parents are fighting?” Fred wandered once George had separated from the both of you.

You sigh and stop in your steps so he could catch up beside you. “Yeah, just a bit, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

Fred nods while he puts his hands in his pockets, looking to the floor before glancing at you. “Really? Because, well Harry seemed to know a lot about it.”

Damn.

What could you say to ease the situation? “I’m sorry Fred, but Harry is just easier to talk to.”?

No, that would make this matter worse. Even if it was true.

You continue to walk towards your common room, and Fred follows by your side, waiting for your response that you delayed a bit, just truly tensifying the situation even more. “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you,” you begin slowly, “it’s just I didn’t think you’d really care.”

“Not care?” Fred scoffs, “I’m your boyfriend, of course I’d care, plus I understand having parents argue,”

You sigh and begin to gently rub your wrists, avoiding his gaze and looking to your approaching common room door. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”

“Yeah,” Fred nods slowly, “well you know you could tell me anything right?”

You stop just a few feet away from the door and turn to face him, leaning your back on the wall and watching him stop just inches before you. You nod in agreement to his comment and add a small smile. “I know.”

Fred smirks and looks down to your lips, taking another step towards you and grabbing your hand that was at your side and slowly sliding his hand all the way to your cheek, “how was your summer by the way?”

You shrug and sigh in an exaggerated manner, “boring. How about yours?”

“Interesting. Very interesting.” Fred replied cheekily.

“Oh?” You quirk your brow.

“Well you know with George and I starting our business, making our boxes and other stuff to sell here.” He lied unbeknownst to you.

You add a feigned smile and grab his free hand that remained at his side. “Well I will say that I missed you.”

“Is that so?”

“Definitely.”

Fred’s gaze drops again and this time he leans in to crash his lips on yours, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss just a bit before parting away and offering a cockier smile. “I missed you too, darling.” Fred steps back and his cocky smile turns mischievous. “By the way I do hope you could help George and I sell our Skiving Snackboxes.” He proceeds to take out a small pile of yellow fliers and pulls your hands out so he could drop them on your hands. “Just put these around school, yeah?”

You scoff and chuckle, looking to the flyers and then Fred, noticing he was being serious. “You’re serious,” you calm down and grow serious, “Fred, you know next year is my last year, I’m very busy this year studying for exams and trying my best to get the best scores.”

Fred finds some humor in your comment where you hadn’t and he doesn’t seem to grasp that you weren’t joking. “You got NEWTS last year, you’re in Snape's NEWT class and just about every class that you wanted. You’ll be fine.”

You furrow your eyebrows and take a step towards your common room. “Fred? You’re not being serious are you? Being an Auror takes a lot of work.”

“And yet you don’t have to please your parents all the time, Malfoy.”

You frown deeper and tilt your head slightly, “impress my parents? Fred I’m doing this for me. Just like George and you are doing that joke shop for yourselves. Yeah my parents may require me to do a good job at school, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’m just doing what I want and what will make me proud.”

Fred frowns and nods, “I’m sorry.”

You sigh and keep backing to your common room. “I’ll hang the flyers, and try and help George and you when I can though, okay?”

Fred puts his hands back in his pockets and nods slowly, “okay,” he turns around and doesn’t say a simple goodbye, or goodnight, he just turns and begins to walk off before stopping to add one last thing. “By the way, get ready, this new professor is going to provide a lot of fun this year. That’s a promise, darling.”

A half smile tugs on your lips whilst you nod in slight agreement, “right. A lot of fun.”

——

“Your previous instruction on this subject has been disturbingly uneven, but you’d be pleased to know from now on you’ll be following a carefully ministry approved course of defensive magic.” The annoying pink lady explains in a squeaky voice that hid the fact that this all sounded monotone, like if she has rehearsed saying this hundreds of times. Her weird, creepy smile seemed that way too.

Regardless you look down to the yellow book down in front of you, and you part your lips and blink in disbelief at how childish this book looked. When you skimmed through the pages it got even worse, there was nothing on new spells, or spells at all actually. All there was on the book was paragraphs upon paragraphs about stuff you didn’t even want to bother reading.

Curiosity was getting the best of you and just as you planned to ask what was going on, a hand beside you flew up. Professor Umbridge plastered on a bigger feigned smile and pointed to the girl next to you.

You shift in your seat to look to your side at said girl, seeing her stand up and hearing her clear her throat before speaking in a soft, soothing and elegant voice. “Ma'am there isn’t anything on defensive spells here, it’s all….just a whole bunch of mess.”

Professor Umbridge giggled and it made you cringe, she walked up to your table and looked to the girl beside you. “Well that’s because we won’t be learning spells, there's no need for them.”

You scoff, “no need for them? I would think that learning spells would be our highest priority since you know who is back.”

Professor Umbridge snapped her head to you and her gaze turned icy as she glared at you. “The next time there's a question please raise your hand like miss?” she turns and points to the girl beside you and her smile turns more genuine.

“Clementine Zabini.” The girl you knew as Clementine answered sweetly, sitting back down as the pink lady turned around and walked back to the front of the class. “I’ll tell you,” Clementine continued in a loud enough whisper so you’d be able to hear her, “If Monday was a person, this old hag would definitely be it.”

You blink in disbelief and look at her just the same, noticing her red lips lift to a smirk. “And here I thought today was Friday.”

You scoff lightheartedly and glance back to the front of the class to pretend to be listening to the professor as she went on. “Yeah well as my boyfriend says, she’s a complete destroyer of fun.”

Clementine snorts and nods, “yeah I can agree. What do you think of her.”

“Well,” you shrug, “let’s see, beside frigenteing, I think she’s a bore and well a complete fake pink lady that seems to be up to something.”

Clementine nods and puts her book to pretend to be reading as she examines the professor. “What could it be?”

You shrug and prop your elbows on your shared desk, glancing at the girl next to you and noticing her robes match yours; the same green color, same snake on the side of her cloak. How come you hadn’t seen her before? Or really noticed her? She had the same surname as one of Draco’s only good friends, Blaise Zabini. And she was obviously in your same year—perhaps it was because last year, you only really focused on the twins as your sole companions and didn’t care for much else even if Hogwarts was a hundred times better than your previous school. Maybe with this new year, you being secluded to only a couple friends could change. Plus she seemed to have the same vibe the twins gave. That could be fun.

“I’m y/n Malfoy,” you introduce yourself kindly.

Clementine meets your gaze and offers you a kind smile, “you already know my name so I won’t even bother, but I will have to ask, your brother is friends with mine, right?”

You nod, “yes.”

“Hmm, well how poetic is that?” She continued as she neatly clasped her hands together and rested them on the table. “Our brothers are friends, and now we are.”

“Ladies in the back, I do hope you can write up here on the board what rules I’ve just said.”

Clementine and you turn your attention to the pink lady and you both offer a feigned innocent look, you shake your head and speak up first. “We can,” you both stand to do as she said and Professor Umbridge just watched the both of you with a narrowed gaze as you make your way to the front of the class. However neither of you actually knew what she had said.

Knowing that, you both look at one another from the corner of your eyes and then glance at the board, picking up chalk and lifting your hands to start writing. Before either of you could try to write down whatever rubbish you could think she’d say, you inch towards Clementine and bump her shoulder with yours, earning her discreet attention to then whisper a spell on the both of you without a need for a wand that would write what was instructed. Your gazes slid back to the board and you pretend to write, smiling proudly once you were done and saw Professor Umbridges taken back expression.

“I do hope it’s right,” you tell the pink lady once you’re back on your seat, trying to suppress your threatening smile.

The professor looks to the board and her eyes scan the rules of what appeared to be hundreds of times before looking back at you and nodding slowly. “It...is.”

“Good,” Clementine interjected smugly, smirking wider as the pink lady just returned to her teaching. “That was nice, y/n. Saved both of our arses over there.”

You shrug nonchalantly and prop your clasped hands on the desk. “Thank you.”

“Look,” Clementine pointed out, tapping on a spot on the desk beside her elbow, “I drew the horror on her face just now when she saw that she was wrong.”

Your gaze lowers and you have to bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing out loud at the carved out drawing, and the name scribbled at the side of the drawing that said; “pink silly old witch.”

“You know,” you attempt to warn her, cutting off by her reassurance.

“Don’t worry, I put a spell on it, she won’t see it, just us and the other students who sit here.” She winks at you and in that moment you knew that she was going to be a great friend.

——

“I’ll catch up with you later, Clementine!” You wave as you start walking back towards Harry.

“Dinner?!” She shouted out and you nodded before spinning around and running to fall by Harry’s side.

“Hello, Harry.”

Said boy jumps slightly and looks up at you with a slightly frightened gaze.

Your lips twitch and you quickly apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No,” Harry lied, “you didn’t.”

You narrow your gaze on him, but let it go. “Okay if you say so.”

“New friend?”

You look over your shoulder to where Clementine was before for a second before turning back to Harry and nodding. “I hope so. I think it’s about time I had a friend in my own year. Albeit I don’t think professor Umbridge likes us that much.”

“I don’t think she likes anything at all,” Harry remarks bitterly.

You glance at him and can’t help but smile at how angry he looked at just the mere talk about the professor. “You should’ve seen her face when we proved her wrong today,” you snicker, “looked like she was going to get an attack of some kind.”

The corner of Harry’s lips tug into a small smile that doesn’t disappear as he changes the subject. “How are your classes going so far?”

You breathe out deeply and feign exhaustion. “It’s going to be tough this year. The easiest class surprisingly with Umbridge’s stupid change, is defense against the dark arts.”

“That class is compelelty boring and stupid,” Harry grumbles in a tone that caught you by surprise. “How are we supposed to learn to defend ourselves if we’re getting taught nothing but damn rubbish.”

In your disbelief at his new anger and the frown that had so quickly formed on his face you walk in stunned silence for a brief moment. “You’re right,” you pause and glance at how hard he was grabbing his books and that’s exactly when you notice a fresh scar on the back of his hand. “Harry what happened to your hand?”

Said boy without even looking at his hand just dismisses your concern. “It’s nothing to worry about. It’s just a scratch.”

“Just a scratch?” You scoff, trying to grab his hand to examine it better, but suddenly stopping as he pulled away swiftly and put some distance between him and you.

“I said it’s fine,” Harry continues, only growing your concern, “I need to get to class. I’ll talk to you later.”

Before you could say goodbye, Harry walks off in a hurry.

That was odd.

——

“SAVE YOUR MONEY NOW!”

“YOU WON'T REGRET IT! A DELICIOUS MYSTERY WITH EACH SWEET!”

The twins announce in a booming voice, showing off their skiving snackboxes to passing students in the courtyard. All while you hand out the brightly colored flyers.

“Oh, hello, Malfoy, I didn’t know you worked.” Clementine teases as she stops by at the sight of you next to the twins.

“Well since I’m not getting paid,” you say out sharply whilst you glare at George and Fred. “It’s not work.”

“You’re doing it because you love us,” George butts in with a smug grin as he comes up behind you.

“Exactly, it’s an act of kindness,” Fred adds. “Besides when we go big, you get anything you want for free. That’s your pay.”

You roll your eyes and take a flyer and hand it to Clementine. “You won’t regret it.”

“That’s the spirit.” Fred exclaims as he pats your shoulder.

Clementine smiles and sighs, “fine, I’ll buy a box. It’d be a shame if I didn’t support a small business.”

George grins and pulls out an orange box to hand it to Clementine after receiving the needed amount of money. “You—”

“Won’t regret it,” Clementine finishes for George, “I got it.” Her eyes shift to a couple of passing first year Slytherins and her lips twist into a mischievous smirk; she gently elbows your arm and whispers, “watch this—hey wait!”

“What is she doing?” George asks as the three of you turn to watch what she was planning to do with a curious wonder that stopped you from trying to sell for that moment.

“I see you’re fellow Slytherins and I know how tough it can be so—”

“Oh,” Fred grins, “wicked.”

Clementine rambles on in a tempting manner that wins the kids over and gets them to take the box from her hands and try it right there. All of them innocently falling for her trap just like many other new year students did when George and Fred attempted too. And it's as funny as before as it is now, watching the students eat the candy and not expect to get pranked and temporarily change in appearance, or experience some odd feelings.

“Eh, that was wicked!” George blurts when Clementine returns, “Slytherins are usually the toughest sell.”

“More like an impossible,” Fred corrects him.

“Hey! I try!” You interject, feeling Fred grab your hand to head to your other spot to continue and sell their snacks.

“Maybe you could team up with us, that way you and y/n try selling to your house mates.” George explains in an over excited tone.

You scoff and shake your head. “Don’t bring her into this.”

“It’s not bringing her into this if we’re friends,” Fred continues.

Clementine smirks continues to walk beside the three of you. “Well when I’m not too busy with homework, or studying, we’ll see. It’s a maybe.”

“Maybe is almost a yes,”

“No it’s a maybe,” Clementine argues with George.

Just as Fred was going to pitch in, the moment the four of you turn the corner, the pink lady rounds another corner and almost runs into all of you. You try to just walk past, but she gets in the way and looks at all of you with that same wicked look.

“What is that in your hands?”

Fred steps up and attempts to ease the situation. “It’s just a group project we need to finish.”

“A school project?” She repeats with a raised brow. “So early onto the school year?”

“Well,” you add, “we are busy.”

Her eyes burn into Fred and you before her eyes drift down to your connected hands, proceeding to pull out her wand and use a charm that parted you from each other. Neither of you said anything after the action, you just looked at one another before backing away as she tried to get one of the boxes. “If it’s just a school project then it won’t mean anything if I just take a peek right?”

“Well if you take a peek then our project will be ruined,” George protests, hiding the boxes under his cloak.

Umbridge shoots him a cold feigned smile and uses her wand to pull the boxes towards her, she looks at all of you and smirks. Clementine glances at you and smirks, discreetly pulling out her wand and secretly using a charm to hide what was actually inside.

“See,” she innocently adds, “nothing but boring school stuff.”

Umbridge snaps her gaze towards her and shoots her a scowl. “Well I’m still taking this for further examination. You see I don’t understand how two six and seven years are teamed up.

Fred shrugs, “they’re smart.”

Professor Umbridge huffs and just turns and walks off with all the boxes, leaving all of you with nothing.

“Well that was a bust,” you grumble.

“Well I guess we’ll stick with more discreet ways.” George attempts to lighten the mood.

Albeit the next day a rule went up that read, “all Weasley products will be banned”, just like there was a rule that “boys and girls are not to be within eight inches of each other.” Not only that but there was more and more each day, she was slowly turning school into some kind of prison; no type of fun was allowed, she regulated the halls and classes, she checked uniforms, she kept all talk that had anything to do with anything bad, forbidden. She was changing everything and trying to take away professors, she was trying to be under control, and proclaimed that she would, that the ministry of magic would approve of it.

She was changing things for the worst.

——

“Have you noticed that Gryffindors, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs all talk with one another; they’re all so friendly, but when it comes to talking with a Slytherin it seems that they’re suddenly so quiet and competitive.” Clementine mused while the both of you “studied” in the courtyard; when in reality, you were just talking about anything that came, and watched as students from other houses all talked peacefully. “I mean why is that?”

You tilt your head to the side and study the students closer, noticing the big gaps left between Slytherins and the other students from different houses—“when I was put into Slytherin, the other houses ‘booed’.”

“See,” Clementine exclaims, “they put us aside. I know some fellow Slytherin can be a bit rude, but that’s only because they know the other students are being the same. I know a lot of friendly Slytherin; like you for example.”

A heat grows on your cheeks at her compliment and you turn to offer her a sweet smile. “Thank you, I think you’re very nice too.”

Clementine returns your smile and then looks back to the courtyard. “I mean they’re not all mean towards us, but a lot of them are.”

“Yeah I see what you’re meaning,” you sigh, leaning back and resting your hands on the grass, from the corner of your eye catching Harry and Herimone walking up to you. You fully twist your head and smile softly when they reach you. “Hi, guys, what a surprise.”

“Hi, y/n,” Hermione greets sweetly, glancing at your friend beside you. “Hello.”

Clementine offers them a simple “hello,” and let’s them speak what was obviously on their mind.

“Y/N, can we talk to you for a minute,” Harry interjects in an almost nervous manner.

“Sure.”

“Uh,” Hermione parts her lips as her eyes nervously drift to Clementine. “Alone.”

“Oh,” you breathe out slowly, glancing at your friend and preparing to stand up to follow them, but stopping as you recall your conversation that happened just mere seconds ago. “It’s okay, I trust her. You can too.”

The pair hesitate and look at one another for a second before deciding to do as you say, sitting down to begin with this talk that brought obvious tension.

“Well,” Hermione starts, “you know how poorly Umbridge is teaching defense against the dark arts, and how she’s trying to rule this school with an iron fist and not let us practice any important spells. Well…” Hermione glances to Harry and without a word to do so he continues.

“Well since we know you’re good at defensive magic, we wanted to ask, or really I did, if you’d want to join our secret group where I’ll be teaching other students defensive spells.” Harry turns even more nervous and averts his gaze so he wouldn’t see what reaction you’d give, instead he talks to the ground. “And if your friend wants to join that’d be good too. The more the better.”

“But,” Hermione interjects, “it’s top secret, nobody outside of our group can know. We’ll be trusting the both of you with our secret.”

Without hesitation, or much thought, you sit up and offer a single nod. “I’ll do it, I’ll join your secret group.” You look to Clementine and quirk your brow. “What about you? It’s fine if you don’t want to.”

Clementine looks at the three of you before landing her gaze solely on you, taking a long agonizing minute before giving an answer. “I’ll join too.”

“Great!” Hermione grins cheekily, “thank you! I’ll tell you both when and where we’re meeting! Thank you y/n and….”

“Clementine.” Said girl says.

Hermione nods and offers one last sweet smile before she stands up along with Harry.

Albeit before Harry could leave he turns to you just as nervous as before. “Can we talk later?”

Your face lights up and you nod. “Of course.”

.

.

.

.

A/N-I just wanted to provide a faceclaim for our new character just so it’s easier for some of you to imagine the character :)

Yara Shahidi as Clementine Zabini

Tagged- @peter-laufeyson , @swiftlymoniquesblog , @spideyyypeter , @gsvshsjsbs, @accio-prozac , @cherriesanwine , @kokomaesadie , @april-14-blog , @prettypinkpeachh , @pest-ill-ence, @ilovespideyyy , @m3ssytrash , @hogwarts-babe-blog @yodaboo , @missryerye

[whump-town]

A Wonderful Life

Why. Does. This. Fic. Just. Keep. Going.

I swear, the next chapter is the LAST chapter. I mean it. 

Warning: talk of a miscarriage 

Part one. Part two. Part three. 

Haley and Hotch were not the kind of couple that managed to get pregnant on accident. They tried for years, long before law school graduations, years with the district attorney, the academy, Seattle… Hotch was worming his way into a nice cozy profiling job when Haley got their first positive test. Dave was still around back then and he’d been overjoyed-- tripping over his own excitement at just the opportunity to see so much emotion out of his prodigy.

Two months later Dave was sleeping on the couch, the future ex-Mrs. Rossi in their bed, when he got the call. He’ll never forget how quickly Aaron worked to compartmentalize everything happening. Dave could hear him softly sniffling, rubbing at his face as he took back slip-ups. Brushing away any comfort Dave might try to provide. Considering the loss he just suffered as nothing-- not a baby, not even cells. Just a stupid, silly idea.

Haley stopped trying to getting him to grieve with her.

They stopped trying after that.

It’s entirely an accident. A slap to the face to the years they spent with their lives measured out on calendars, going to doctors, and throwing money at her uterus and his sperm to magically make them physically compatible. They had both grown desperate but in opposing ways.

He could not rest. Spent the nights tossing and turning.

Haley needed a child, wanted one with all her might. To love it and teach it all the best parts of the world. She wanted to see how something good and kind could come from the two of them. She held him close and imagined a child with his annoying curiosity and her stubborn streak. Of coming to greet him at the door and squint her eyes and inform him of the mischief his child has been into. So that he might spend hours telling that baby silly stories, catching them up way past bedtime having fallen asleep to his nth retelling of how they fell in love.

The announcement could not have come at a better time.

Haley had been at home when Jason Gideon made the call in Boston that would nearly kill her husband. She hadn’t felt it, no cosmic hand wrapping tightly around her heart to tell her that the other half of her soul, the only person she’s ever loved was in mortal peril. It had been Derek Morgan, standing numbly in an isolated hospital wing, watching her husband’s body be shocked back to life, having air forced into his lungs that had been her telling moment.

And there she was with the child she thought she might never have and a dying husband.

She put an expiration date on both their heads and waited. Prepared to bury her husband and lose the only part of him she has the ability to protect. But the days crawled by and she found herself listening to that little baby’s heartbeat, the same slow pace as Aaron’s. Neither died.

But Jack’s birth could only hold off Aaron’s inability to self-preserve minimally. He’d live to see his son’s birth and Haley was certain he’d get himself killed before Jack’s fifth birthday.

Jack’s developmental delays were a point of much dispute, having a lot to do with Hotch’s denial. Hotch had been the smallest in his class, in his age bracket until ninth grade-- spent years as skinny as a rail and not meeting healthy markers for children his age. Haley had, mercifully, bitten her tongue and hadn’t reminded him that why Jack is small and missing delays have nothing to do with why Hotch had. Jack isn’t being abused at home… he’s just autistic.

Their marriage, no matter how strongly they still loved each other, was going down the drain. The news of all this had been a cross of startling and... about as hard to miss as the broad side of a barn.

“Two is-- Two is a good age to get diagnosed.” Reid, like Emily and Morgan, mistook Hotch’s primary concern. Saw his disappointment, his unease and pinned it on Jack’s diagnosis. The autism. And Hotch had smiled, calmly allowing Reid a moment’s tangent to get out what he needs to say. To try and convince Hotch that autism isn’t the end of the world-- because Reid can’t handle it. If Hotch leaves, if Hotch disowns his own son-- the way Reid’s own father had not long after his own “off the books” diagnosis had been given-- he’s not sure he can handle that.

“Reid,” Hotch had softly, placed his hand on Reid’s arm. The faintest touch. “I love Jack. I’m-- I’m not the best father but…” He won’t leave. The autism he can handle, Jack’s always been Jack and that changes nothing but finally provides some answers. Some guidance where’d they had been left blind.

It felt like Hotch was never going to be given a second chance to prove himself wrong. They seemed to turn around and there George Foyet was. Knife in one hand leaving behind a zombified Hotch and Jack. They watched, unable to do anything to help. Jack wanted Hotch and only Hotch but it was like just seeing the boy physically hurt Hotch.

“He’s late.”

They all look forward to Wednesdays. The two hours that they have to just sit and relax-- to let Jack entertain them with his many interest and love for random things he finds on their desks to play with. So they don’t take too kindly to Hotch coming in late and stealing their Jack time.

Emily glances at the clock at the bottom of her computer screen and shakes her head. Her stomach sinks as she realizes that they’re not just late, they’re nearly forty-five minutes late. Hotch abides by a strict, self-imposed schedule one made of utmost importance by Jack’s own intermingled schedule. She rolls her eyes, though, at Morgan rather than admit that it scares her just a little.

“It’s been raining,” JJ reminds them confidently. “I’m sure they’re out catching frogs in the parking lot or looking for washed-up rocks.”

Frogs. Right, Jack loves frogs. He hates to hold them but thoroughly enjoys chasing them and watching his father squirm and fight to hold them. It is pretty funny though, Aaron Hotchner scrambling to keep a tiny frog in one of his hands. Ending up slightly mud-stained, disheveled all to wrangle a frog.

It’s… humanizing (cute but she wouldn’t be caught dead calling the likes of dumbass Aaron Hotchner “cute”).

Morgan yawns, stretching out his arms high above his head. “I’m sure we have nothing to worry about,” he shrugs, tampering off the end of his yawn with the back of his hand. It’s far more likely that they’re getting breakfast-- the two of them love muffins. It wouldn’t be the first time that Hotch has stopped to get breakfast. If that goes in their favor, he’ll probably bring them some too. That’s not to say they’re not walking down the hall right now, Hotch trying to be as patient as possible as Jack hops down the hall.

Besides, if there was anything to worry about Dave would have gotten a call. If not for the simplicity of one of Hotch’s stories-- some long-winded, exasperated thing about Jack weighing down his pockets with rocks, Jack having a bad morning and he’s not going to be in for a few more minutes because he had to clean oatmeal off of himself and kitchen floor. Then, at the very least, something.

Yet, they have only radio silence.

Which is good.

Probably.

“Any word from Monsieur Crabbyass this fine morning?”

David Rossi has always been fascinated with the relationship between Emily and everyone else on the team-- though his typical interest is in the utter insubordination that occurs so effortlessly and flawlessly between Hotch and Emily. Naturally, it’s on his mind. He can’t consider the week complete until they’ve both stormed into his office to whine about the other. It makes him reconsider why came back.

It’s for that fact that he knows this is going to crush her the most.

Morgan and Hotch go about like a match to a candle wick. Burning one another to the ground. Things between them don’t go unsaid. If there’s an issue they get to it and neither can walk away until their hands are clear.

JJ and Hotch make the perfect parental tag team. So much of what they do is hidden but the thoughtless, mechanical way the two work together is never taken for granted. If shit hits the fan, those two are who you want.

Garcia and Hotch may not get a lot of time but they know she’s his soft spot.

Reid and Hotch are the strangest carbon copy of one another venturing to having a little too much in common to nothing at all.

Emily and Hotch have far too much left unsaid. Tension and, what he believes, to be penance for the courses of action they have both taken. In her inability to trust the team, running from them and forcing Hotch to kill her to protect her. His distance from them, which she has always read as distrust and tinged with his ego. Neither are as simple as they prefer to pretend to perceive themselves to be.

Not as mysterious either.

Leaving him, standing on the catwalk watching her little joke hit the others with fond laughter. Monsieur Crabbyass. That’s a good one and Aaron is probably never going to hear it. Never clench his jaw and glare to the side, forcing himself not to react and admit that it’s actually kind of funny.

Dave watches over them for another moment, taking in their innocence. Emily still snickering at her own joke, Garcia and JJ both shaking their heads at her. Morgan shakes his head but there’s no hiding his own amused smirk.

“He’s not coming in.” Dave clears his throat, “there was an accident on the way here this morning.” He can’t even get out what he needs to say, they’re already trying to talk over him. “Jack alright,” he’s standing there, trying to get his piece out. “Jessica’s already made her way to the hospital, sitting with Jack. He’s hardly got a scratch.”

There’s general ease that settles them with the relief that Jack is fine.

“And Hotch?”

On life support.

Laying in the intensive care unit with defibrillator sticky pads on his chest, waiting for the next episode of tachycardia to have the nurses and doctors of the unit holding their breath. Wondering just how many more times his body can take them beating the shit out of it or if he’ll come back this time.  How many more times can he toe that line before he can’t come back?

“I--” Derek is standing numbly at his desk. Arms limp at his side. “What are-- Is Jack-- Jack is alright? How? Can we-- Will they let us back-- back to see him? They have to let us back to see him, right?”

To see what?

That his body is laid out on a stretcher bare of blankets and pillows. Neck held still by a brace. Jaw titled back and pale, cracked lips stretched around an incubation tube. The hiss of which fills the small empty room. To see that he’s covered in crisp white bandages, wrapped delicately around the purple bruises up and down his ribs. His unstable, flail chest.

To see the x-rays?

To have a doctor stand and explain the damage, the history of Aaron Hotchner’s bones. Old cracks and improperly healed aches. By forty, it’s easy to assume that the ghosts of childhood have long since lost their grasp, but today they nearly cost him his life. A decade worth of cheap shots to his sides, his father’s angry tyrannical downpours wore down the bones.

When he hit the steering wheel, those old bones never stood a chance. They gave out on him.

And what of Jack?

It’s one thing to have those words written out “In the event of my death…” but those are just words to be said. Never meant to be used. Jessica doesn’t understand all of Jack’s charts. She won’t ask him what color his socks are and let him weigh his pants down with rocks and carry him when he gets tired. She won’t get muddy and slimy to chase down frogs. But Jack and everything he owns (aside from some silly knick-knacks and stupid things he thought better to go to Morgan or maybe Garcia) go to Jessica Brooks.

In the event of my death…

“If he’s still alive by the time that we get there… it’s unlikely that they let anyone aside from family back.”

They stand in the silence of that. Of the implication. Does a single one of them know how to do any of this without him? Morgan doesn’t want to be fucking Unit Chief. He got his taste, he’s done. And, the most surprising part is that the somber, truth omission of what they are all thinking comes from Emily Prentiss. Righting her shoulders like she’s standing in front of the nurses and defending them right now.

“But we are his family.”

[mrsbarnes107]

Secret of the Widow

-part ten-

Summary: Post Endgame time period. The team is healing, trying to navigate this new normal they’ve found themselves in when Bucky and Sam bring home a stray with an attitude and a secret. Will the broken team take her in? Or is it too much to bare?

Warnings: language, violence, smut, death, fluff, angst, blood

Pairings: Bucky x OC

Our footsteps thundered down the halls, narrowly ducking corners and vaulting stairs as we make our way to the containment unit.

"Do you have your suit?"

"No I didn't think I'd need it!"

"Shit. Okay. You stay back and find the one straggling okay? I know you're good hand to hand but without the suit your vulnerable and significantly weaker."

Luckily I always keep two knives strapped to my belt, so I toss one to Peter as we near the hallway leading to the prisoners.

"Aim between the ribs or the center of the throat. Don't stab yourself."

Just as we burst through the doors, the room shakes, pieces of the ceiling crashing to the floor, throwing us against the wall.

Immediately one of the bombers is on top of me, fist connecting sharply with my jaw. From the corner of my eye I can see Peter handling himself decently. With a swift knee to the gut I have the man under me, one knee pressing into his throat.

Before I can react, his fist slams into my stomach, sending my body further down his own. Taking advantage of my pause to get air back into my lungs, the man hauls us up and slams my skull against the wall then shoves me away.

Hot, thick blood crept slowly down over my brow, dripping into my eye, and flowing down my cheekbone.

With a sigh I plant my foot on his leg while hooking the other around his neck, throwing my body forwards. Bitches belong on their back, he seems to have not gotten the message.

Peter let's out a pained yell from across the room that has me leaping up, pausing to throw my knife straight into the piece of scums heart.

Before I can get to Peter the building is shaking again, a loud roar coming from the adjoining room. With a glance in the kids direction I can see Clint pushing him back while jackknifing the other bomber.

Heavy stomps make there way into the large room. A man well over six feet tall, covered in a billowing cloak, stalks towards me.

His face is obscured by a hood, but from what is exposed, it looks like a decomposing skull.

Black eyes meet my own, a low chuckle reverberating from his chest. "After a year of searching, here you are beautiful."

Not breaking eye contact I bend down to pull the blade from the dead mans chest, standing upright with my head cocked and a brow raised.

"I'm certain I would remember meeting you. Might I suggest a better moisturizer? You seem a little dry."

To the left Clint has disposed of the other prisoner, bow aimed at the beast before us.

The room is filled with black shadows, lit only momentarily as the red alarms flash in sequence.

As the man takes a slow step towards me Clint releases the arrow piercing the beasts arm. With a pause the arrow is snapped in half, point still embedded in the muscle.

Suddenly Clint is running at him, ducking into a slid between his legs while slicing the ankles. The large man grunts and turns as Clint swings a fist towards him. Immediately the man begins mirroring Clints every move. Matching each punch and kick, never once allowing the archer to land a blow. The avenger however was growing weaker with every hit.

With his back facing me, I jump onto his narrow hips, stabbing the blade into his shoulder, dragging it as far down his muscled back as possible. The gash is flowing with blood, covering my hands as the man throws my body to the floor, launching Clint into a wall across the room to land with a thud.

The beast of a man turns back to me, pure rage written across his dead face. "You're incredibly lucky I was ordered to bring you back alive, otherwise that pretty face of yours would be carved to pieces."

A second too late I see Peter sneaking up behind the man. His knife plunging into the mans ribs, likely grazing the heart. With a roar he falls to a knee, ripping the knife from his side. As he turns towards the boy I launch myself at him. Throwing my body weight into my punch, his head snaps to the side, his face glitching for a split second before I drag my knife up his abdomen. His large fist meets my ribs, sending me back a few yards.

He looks into my eyes and laughs as he turns to Peter, the kid stares up at him with doe eyes, terrified but standing his ground. I wish the idiot would run.

"However beautiful, him I can enjoy killing."

He launches his body at Peter, blood flowing down his back and chest, movements stuttering and slowed from his injuries.

A scream is ripped from my throat as I launch my knife into his open side wound and close my eyes.

I appear at the kids side within a blink, yanking him to me.

The last thing I see is the beastly man walking from the room slowly, his body red and weakening.

"I'll be back beautiful."

My eyes close again, opening to see Peter and I back in the lab.

***

Hours later we're sitting in the medical unit, me stitching up the boys as Peter looks at me with confused concern.

"Ali... did you know him?"

I press an alcohol cloth to Clints head, ignoring the dried blood sticking to my face.

"No, not in the technical sense. I'm pretty sure I know of him though. I called the team while you were helping Clint, they're on their way back, as is Nicky."

"O-okay, are we gonna talk about what happened earlier? In the lab?"

"Yeah Petey, we'll look at the video after the meeting. They'll be here in a couple minutes." With that I finish the last stitch and head out of the room.

Rounding the hallway I stop and fall against the doorway, a shuddering breath finally heaving from my lungs, tears welling in my eyes.

I was so fucking close to loosing them. And I'm so fucking tired.

"Ms. Romanoff, the quinjet has landed."

Letting out a deep breath I wipe my eyes and drag my body upright, forcing my legs to walk steadily to the conference room. Only faltering as I fall into the chair I sat in just yesterday.

After a few minutes Peter comes in, Clint hanging off his shoulder. They sit in the chairs to my right as I take a deep sip of my water, hopping it revives the little energy I have left.

"Hey Red, couldn't handle a few lowlifes without-" Sam playfully said as he waltzed into the room, pausing as he took a look at the beat up members in front of him, face becoming livid. "What the hell happened?"

Behind him stood Wanda and Banner, neither saying a word as they silently sit at the end of the table. Wanda eyeing me with curiosity, so I let her see the events herself.

She lets out a small gasp just as Bucky rounds the door, coming to a halt as his eyes meet mine.

Flashing a small smile I shrug, "At least you didn't do anything stupid."

That was definitely not what he wanted to hear it seems. His jaw looks like it's about to break from clenching so hard, his blue eyes cutting into me like steal as he slowly stalks forward.

He stops once his feet meet my own, bending down as his hand cups my chin, raising my eyes to meet his.

His gaze is terrifying. He looks murderous.

But his hand is gentle as he moves my head, eyes scanning my injuries. He growls from deep in his throat, "How the fuck did this happen."

***

After finally getting Bucky to sit down, albeit practically pressed against my side as his leg is hooked underneath my own, Nicky walks in demanding to know how a non-mission went to shit so hard.

I have Friday pull up the video footage of the containment room in the center of the table. All of us watching as Clint walked in and opened the cell, ordering the men out. All eyes glanced his way, but before anyone could speak the Clint in the video shimmered and turned into the beastly man.

Peter looked from the footage to me."He shapeshifts?"

"No. He projects a hologram. He likely walked past the guards straight through the front door."

I hold in a breath as I lean forward to move the footage to our arrival.

Bucky feels me tense in pain, his large hand coming to rest on my knee as his thumb rubs circles against the muscle.

Nicky stands to my right, his hand resting on the chair above my shoulder. Knuckles cracking as he watches me and the boys getting thrown around.

Bucks hand squeezes my thigh as if holding himself in place as he watches the fresh blood run down my skull.

The footage stops after I disappear with Peter from the room.

The team sits in silence for a moment, everyone staring at the paused hologram.

I take a sip of water and clear my throat. Jeez, I think Nicky is infecting me with his throat problem. "Well today wasn't boring am I right."

Nicky let's out a very burdened sigh as he shakes his head. I don't know why he seems fed up with me.

"Okay. We're going to ignore that little disappearing act for the moment while you tell me why the hell that guy seemed to want you so bad."

Buckys hand clenches tighter. Reaching down I lay my palm over is unwavering fingers and give them a soft squeeze.

"Friday, bring up a frame of Skelator please."

A grainy image of the decomposing man hovers in the center of the team. I nod at the photo as I take another drink, trying to keep from collapsing.

"To answer that very snarky comment I'm gonna have to also explain the uh the little 'disappearing act' as well."

I sit up a little straighter and push a clump of blood soaked hair from my face with a sigh.

"Having to go dark is a part of the job, we all know this. There's been a few instances where I've had to go underground for a month or so, like I said it's common in our line of work." I have to pause for a moment, trying to figure out how to best word my story. "You see, while the avengers were all tearing at each others throats after the accords, I was dealing with a group of terrorists in the mountains of Siberia. I suspected they were old Hydra members, however I did not expect getting trapped in a very well functioning base."

I glance up at Nicky, "You remember a few months ago when you asked why I went dark for six months before the snap?" A weak chuckle escapes my lips. "I was kind of taken by Hydra. The only reason I even escaped was because the snap."

Living up to his name, Nicky is looking at me with pure fury in his eye as he calmly berates me. "And you never thought to mention this?"

"There was a lot going on okay. Anyways, there were a couple others like me being kept there. Hydra was running experiments again-" Buckys body has been rigid since I mentioned being taken, but now his hand turns to weave his fingers in mine "-dozens of injections and tests, torture meant to stimulate a reaction to the serums. I was the only one to survive. And well, you saw what I can do."

"You teleport?" Sam asked with interest, concern hidden beneath the words.

"Um kind of I guess. I don't do it much, which is why I've never mentioned it. It takes a lot of energy. Like a lot. Just moving myself a few miles away requires a Barnes size serving of food and a short nap. Moving myself to another continent? I'm out within a couple hours. Moving another person? Well.." I shrug. "It's hard and it takes a lot. I can only jump to places I can visualize: my room, Tower of London, I can't just jump unless I've been there or have seen a photo."

"Have you practiced much?" Banner looked like he was running equations behind those glasses, trying to piece together an explanation.

"Not really, besides my time at Hydra I haven't used it much this past year. I think that's why today wiped me out so much."

I take another drink of water, draining the glass.

"Anyways, during my stay at the base I heard the doctors talking about a hired assassin a couple times. A man they have train new recruits and take out certain hits."

Bucky gives my hand a squeeze, his eyes never leaving my face.

"They call him Taskmaster. He has photographic reflexes, meaning he can mimic anyone's fighting styles, sometimes even their powers. I never got to see him and they never described him, but based off of what we saw with Clint and the fact that he's so adamant on finding me, I'm gonna guess he was sent by Hydra. And I think it's safe to also guess that the bombing from yesterday was to lure me out, while today's separated and weakened the team."

Peter gets up and pulls me into a soft, firm hug. Pulling away he looks into my tired eyes as I give him a smile. "Oh Petey-" "Shush and accept my thank you while I go get you some food." With a kiss to my check he jogs from the room.

[comehomeducklings]

Past [Part 3] (Obsession)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1940 - 3rd year

There’s no chance of getting out of this. Our mentor must be out of their mind. No smooth sailing this period, not for me. Nothing at all has prepared me for this point in time.

My heartbeat rises by the second. At the brink of jumping out of my chest. I constantly try to reassure myself as I prepare. Forcing the illusion that I have everything together.

I most definitely don’t have anything, not a crumb, together.

My hands sweat with anticipation, my wand almost slipping off multiple times. The magical stick even wants to run away from this situation. I’ll start running with it soon enough.

The whole room is quiet in expectation. The tension levels in this area are too high for me to even start to comprehend. All I can hear is the sounds of my breathing and the occasional ruffle of robes. The high regard these people hold for me isn’t doing me any favors. I’m about to ruin any confidence anyone holds in my skills.

My friends are holding their thumbs up for encouragement. It does little to calm my panic, but I appreciate the effort anyway. Other acquaintances from the same house nodded their heads in an attempt to console my emotions.

Before the teacher signals to start, he gives us a bit to come up with a plan. Ten seconds at most. Now, this isn’t something possible to win. Not against him, no. My only goal here is to last as long as I can and don’t mess up.

Act smart, seem like you know more than you do.

He looks as easy-going as ever. This may seem like a walk in the gardens to him. No “threat” whatsoever to make him feel uneasy. I’m quite irritated at the thought of being anything but a challenge. He may be a little right, but that doesn’t help my ego.

Easy, I’m nothing easy.

Riddle might be stronger at this, but that doesn’t mean I'm complete garbage. I can hold my own, I will hold my own.

My breathing patterns change into more of a deep inhale and exhale. Focusing on completely dropping my heart rate and keeping my thoughts intact. Madam Rose, the school nurse, hates seeing me walk in there. Frequent visits from dealing with plants has her hair getting pulled out. I don’t think Miss Rose would be too keen on me passing out from the lack of oxygen.

“Only stick with the one basic spell of force. For both offensive and defensive tactics.”

Riddle’s atmosphere surrounding him is focused, deadly. He hasn’t moved his gaze from my lips. Probably on guard for whenever I cast something. I’m slightly unsteady on my feet from nerves. It’s almost suffocating being under all these watchful eyes.

A snake takes their time to strike. They examine all angles where you may be weak. Testing the vulnerability of your actions and thinking process. A few testing snaps of their mouth can tell them how the fight will go. They are well-balanced and focused, masters of intimidation.

Breathing.

Oxygen informs the snake how much you’re able to hold on for. The more you intake, the tighter it gets. Restricting the amount of oxygen the prey respires. Until they are physically unable to anymore, slowly weakening. The fight they were presenting lessens to almost non-distinguishable. The prey’s struggling to get free, dying down. Then it passes away, openly given to the snake without any more thought. A mere temporary meal in its eyes.

“Begin.”

Our eye contact is steady, neither of us moving an inch. Our mouths are closed shut, wands at the ready. I slightly squint my eyes while I focus. If he’s waiting for me to go first he is out of luck. I’m not budging, we will stay in the same position until next period if we have to.

Riddle also slightly squints his eyes. His hand doesn’t shake even if his wand was out in the air for a long time. The arm he holds out is steady and unmoving. Nothing triggers my attention since his movements are of little importance. I search his eyes for any life, no emotion is found swirling in those charcoal black eyes. Absolutely brilliant and fierce when focused or aggravated. The class starts getting rowdy, finally allowed to talk since Riddle just made the first move.

There’s only one spell I need to remember, that makes it a little easier to think of ways to find my opening. I quickly revert the spell away from me and send it right back. A tennis match is played between that one spell. Tom huffs and sends his enchantment straight towards the ground. It bursts into tiny magical specks of green. During that time I sent a spell his way.

After a while, I start to notice right before he casts a spell he moves his mouth like he inhales to take a breath. I’ve noticed him do it quite often. Since he casts fairly quickly there wasn’t much to go off of. Not much to use to my advantage. When he “inhales” he’s most of the time not actually breathing in air. It’s just a simple movement he does. It might be because of his accent, the way he learned to talk. Quite a small little quirk of the lips.

To start testing out this theory I centered most of my attention on his mouth. Waiting to see if my theory was reliable enough to depend on. He’s starting to gain more offensive attacks on me. Most of my spells undecidedly move more defensive by the minute.

Right before he mutters the words, I send a spell of my own. The magic aiming for his knees. Before he could defend himself from that one I prepared another offensive conjuration to his wand. He forwarded an incantation my way and I hurriedly obviated the sorcery as it was also heading to my stifle joint. Some of the force still slightly makes contact with my left knee. My balance is suddenly thrown off.

As I scramble to catch my footing, Riddle with point accuracy parries my wand attack. Then diverts my knee attack towards my right knee. Since I was focused on stabilizing my posture I didn’t notice the spell approaching my other knee

Forthcoming my inevitable demise.

I end up planting both hands on the ground. My knees falling one after the other from the pressure.

Our audience starts yelling complaints and praise. Calls for a rematch and cheats. My loss was bound to happen, but I did get to do that three combo. Two offensive and one defensive, all in the span of 5 seconds. Not too bad if I say so myself.

“Mr. Riddle wins this duel. Excellent job to the both of you. A very good strategy was well thought out for each side.”

I make my way down the steps on my platform’s side. Immediately being greeted by hugs and pats on the back.

At least my feet didn’t get tied together from restlessness causing me to fall and he wins the duel immediately. I would have dropped out right then and there from embarrassment.

There’s barely any feedback for Riddle, his little posse praising him like a king. People either saw no fault in him or were too frightened to actually comment on it publicly.

For me, that’s another case. Quite a bit of suggestions are offered, keep my form ready and my attention on more than one thing. Any and all advice is welcomed. Who knows how it can help me one day.

Amelia hugs my side with the biggest grin on her face, “You did so well! I think he actually had to work a little for that win.”

Everyone is dismissed and we head our way to Herbology. Tom’s face looks as if he’s already forgotten about the duel. His body language remains tranquil as ever.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Bubotuber pus, one of the grossest things I’ve had the misfortune of learning at home. Now I have to live through it again? How can one endure harvesting the essence?

“All of you are required to wear gloves for today’s class. Does anyone know what effects you would have when touching this substance with your bare skin?”

Quite a number of students raise their hands. I’m guessing they did research on why they needed to buy these gloves when handed the school procurement catalog.

Exactly what I did, curiosity might actually kill the cat.

“Yes, you sweet girl,” she picks, “What’s your name?”

“Merlene,” the student answers, “If you touch this without protection then extremely painful boils will appear in its stead.”

“Correct! 5 points to Hufflepuff,” she claps.

My fingers already lay inside the dragon-hide gloves. Its rough texture rubs against the calluses from dealing with the harsh stems of different plants.

This substance is usually processed to be used for acne treatments. Only touched in its weakened state. Oddly satisfying to some, I am not a part of that group of people

“This is disgusting,” I say as I harvest the pus. My gagging reflexes acting up every time the plant gets squeezed.

A few students chuckle at my remark. They seem to be having a good time, weirdly focused on this substance. It smells of petrol, not a big fan of the scent. Reminds me of the sketchy gas stations my parents and I would take on family road trips.

Its thick goo is finally contained in bottles. Relief washes over me from finishing the collecting process. My gloves are removed and I do a quick spell to clean my area. Nothing really fell on it so it didn’t need scrubbing beforehand.

Amelia seems to just be finishing her plant. A lot of goo splashed all over her table. Luckily it doesn’t seem like any of that touched anyone’s face or uncovered arms.

“I’m just about done, can you help with cleaning please?” Amelia starts collecting all of her bottles into her arms. None of the glass vials touched in green gunk.

“Yeah, I got you, turn those in to the professor.” I immediately started helping her out. In that process, I also cleaned other’s messes too. Why not, there is still time to waste until we can all leave. Cleaning products smell better than whatever chemicals intoxicate the air.

“Pop quiz, shout out the answers. Why not use spells instead of treated bubotuber pus for treatments?”

Easy question, I whisper the answer in Amelia’s ear when she comes back from turning in the assignment so she can shout it.

“Using spells proves to be too risky, like the Eloise Midgen incident,” she answers.

Good, she remembers Eloise's event.

“Yeah, she cursed her nose off, poofed from existence,” a girl from Hufflepuff adds.

“Precisely, everyone has permission to leave now,” the professor exclaims, “don’t head out without cleaning or I’ll reduct points. Last time a student got boils all over their hand from an improperly cleaned station.”

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“It actually went decently. Nothing blew up, surprisingly.”

At lunch, we are all talking about our first three classes. Potions being our first topic.

“Thought as much, I saw your stupid grin. You looked like you just won the wizarding lottery,” I say with my mouth stuffed with food. Hoping they could understand me between my chews.

“Both of you, slow down. The food ain’t going anywhere damn,” Devyn laughs.

Amelia and I pause, we look at each other, then at Devyn, then back to us. After a silent halt in our actions, we continue to shove down a bunch of food.

“I noticed you kept gagging at the pus. You looked queasy, your face was so pale.”

I audibly shiver at the recollection of said class. My eyes were watering so bad there. That stuff would never stop coming.

“I’m eating, stop mentioning that nasty stuff,” Amelia starts shaking her head. If only I could see the thoughts forcefully being shaken out of her head.

“You should have seen her station. That stuff was everywhere. How bad is your aim, the opening to the bottle wasn’t that small?”

“It wasn’t even that!” she drops her fork, “I squeezed that bloody plant too hard and it squirted everywhere!”

“Poor choice of words,” Devyn snickers. All she gets is a shove from me.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, she’s clearly traumatized.”

Devyn shoves me back, “You’re clearly traumatized from the duel. The one you failed at, the one-”

“I’m aware of the duel you’re talking about,” I interrupt, “I bet you wouldn’t have lasted as long as I did.”

“Oh please, you’re just salty about losing.”

I roll my eyes and subconsciously scan the room for him. There he is, mysteriously talking to his group of buddies. After a little bit, he catches onto my staring. He briefly looked around him to see if I was looking at something else. Finally, he comes to the realization it was in fact him I was blessing with my attention.

During this, he was talking to his friend next to him. He stopped his conversation to completely give me his attention. The guy he was just talking to engaged in another conversation quickly.

The moment was interrupted with hands waving in front of my face, “You gonna eat that?”

“Nah I’m full, go ahead.”

Riddle continued on with his food. Never looking my way again.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“Hey, uh, Riddle you have a second?”

I stop him by tapping his shoulder a couple of times. His height already makes mountains seem molecular.

He furrowed his eyebrows and glances at the shoulder I just touched. Making it a scene to dust that part off, what an ass.

“No, I really don’t have a second,” he responds.

“Well that, really, sucks for you huh. Can you teach me techniques for dueling?”

“No,” he starts to turn away.

“Please, you will get one favor from me. Whatever you need.”

Tom turns back around, “Anything? Does that favor expire?”

I shake my head no. If he plans to wait a long time he’ll probably forget about it. He seems to be deep in thought for a bit. No rush really since we're on our break. If he agrees I could get ahead of so many competitors.

“Fine, every Friday afternoon starting tomorrow in the Room of Requirement.”

He immediately strides away while I stare back in shock. My brain didn’t expect him to actually accept. Getting this far wasn’t a very possible outcome.

Now I just have to find out where the Room of Requirement is located.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Taglist:

@empath-bunny

@jinxqsu

[lordabovehelpme]

Could you write a fluffy fic ab din being in a relationship with a queen of a planet s/o and them trying to avoid being found out by the royal staff and silliness ensues 🥺👉🏽👈🏽

My Queen- Din Djarin x Reader

A/n: so I might have gotten carried away... whoops. Also I so in love with this idea!!!!

Edit: Part 2 can be found here :)

masterlist

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

“Good evening, Mandalorian.” You curtsey as he dips his head at you. “Alfred, will you get the mandalorians room ready, he is always welcome here.” One of your noble servants rush off, “Thank you!” You call to him.

Two little hands collide with the front of your dress. Looking down you see the green child who peers back at you with a toothy smile. “Hello to you too!” Picking him up you rub one of his ears.

“Your majesty, shall I guide the mandalorian to his quarters?” An older maid who has become more of a mother figure inquires.

“No, I shall do it myself, thank you Miltilda. Although, will you take the child?” The maid smiles before taking him from your arms.

“Of course.” The child is used to her now, cooing as she walks away with him in her arms.

“Follow me, Mandalorian.” You send him a glance before turning into a hallway.

He follows you as you lead him into the castle. Turning a corner you grab his hand pulling him behind a column. Rising to your tip-toes you wrap your arms around his neck and press your forehead to his helmet. His hands trail down your back to find purchase on your hips.

“I missed you, cyar’ika. You look as breathtaking as always.”

“You flatter me too much. But maker, I am so happy to see you here.”

“Nonsense, you can not be as happy as I am.”

Smiling, you place a kiss onto his helmet. “Come on, tin can. We need to get out of the open.”

He grumbles something under his breath before releasing you. Grabbing his hand you lead him to his designated room, which happened to be very close to your own quarters.

When he closes the door behind him, he latches onto you as fast as he can. Hands are trailing all over your body as an overexcited teenager would. You’re giggling as he nuzzles into your neck.

“Let me worship you my queen.” His hands start pulling the fabric of your dress up your legs. “It’s been too long.”

It pains you as you stop him, swatting away his hands. “I’m sorry love, but the fest is tonight and I can not miss it.”

“You’re the queen, you should be able to make some time.” You can hear the pout in his voice.

“There’s something I have to tell you about tonight.” His visor snaps to meet your gaze. “Well, tonight one of my advisors invited the King of one of our ally planets.” Your eyes scan his body, looking for clues to what he is thinking.

“Okay, so dinner is just more fancy than usual. That’s fine.”

Biting your lip you look anywhere but his face. “The King is one of my suiters.”

His body instantly grows ridged. You can see his thoughts processing as his mind works too fast. “Do you like-”

“NO. No, not at all.” Your hands fly to clutch his shoulders, pulling him close to you again. “You know I love you and only you. But, I need to pretend that I am interested so nobody grows suspicious.” You lean your head against his again. “Okay, baby?”

A loud sigh comes from him before he nods slightly. He cradles the back of your head, pushing you further into his keldabe kiss.

***

The table is filled with advisors, your commander, the King’s advisors, and your beloved mandalorian to your right.

“So, your majesty, I do love this planet. The landscape is amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many flowers before!”

You hate the King. He is loud and obnoxious; a true bachelor. Already on his third glass of wine, he beckons one of your servants to fetch him another glass.

“Yes, it is quite beautiful here. I have worked hard on finding peace for my people and providing them with a home they can be proud of.”

The mandalorian grimaces as the King hiccups. His hand finds hold of your thigh under the table. You quickly glance at him warningly.

“So you’re single.” The Mandalorian tenses and his hand grips your thigh tighter. “Why is someone so beautiful as yourself without a husband to watch over her?”

Practically fuming at his question, you take a deep breath and calm yourself. You can see your mandalorian sit more up in his seat, preparing for anything.

“Well, King Herold, I personally do not believe that women need husbands to watch over them. I have proved that I am not just some piece of eye candy who does not know the first thing to being a queen. I have ruled this kingdom for five years now and in these years the territory has flourished and expanded. This would not have been possible with the respect and help of my people. In fact, most of my advisors are very capable young women who I have found do the job better than some of my male subjects. This is why when you look around the room you find that the commander of my army is female and when you look around all my advisors are strong females. I trust my life with these women, something I could never say for you.”

The King stares at you in silence, mouth moving open and closed, trying to find words. Servants arrive with the meal and place it on the table.

“I do not appreciate you coming to my kingdom, drinking all my wine, and then insulting not only me, but also my people. I hope you learn to respect your peers as well as the one who you get all your resources from. Remember King Herold, I am the one who makes your planet worthwhile.” Looking around the room, everyone is speechless, no one even meets your glance. Clapping your hands together, you place your napkin on your lap. “Now, let’s eat.”

***

After wishing the dreadful King a smooth ride home, you wander to your mandalorians quarters.

When you see no one around, you slip into the doors of his room. Running into his arms you finally let the tears of frustration fall.

“What’s wrong, cyar’ika?” He rubs your back and plays with the ends of your hair. Laying down on the mattress, he places you on top of him.

“He is just so...ugh! I can’t even think of a word. It’s stupid! Why does everyone assume I need a husband to lead me? I just wish we could show everyone how much we love each other and that I am taken.”

“Cyare, you know what you are saying. Don’t tempt me.”

“I know, but would it be that bad? I wouldn’t have to keep pretending to be interested in sleazy men and you would always have a warm bed to come home too.”

He sighs, pulling you out of his chest so he can look at you. “Cyar’ika, you know all I’ve ever wanted is to marry you, but are you ready for the universe to know?”

Before you can respond the doors open. A loud coo comes from the green child in Miltilda’s arms. A gasp comes from her but shortly a knowing smile follows.

“Here is the little one. Be sure you two lock the doors next time. And Mandalorian, be careful with her.” She gives one more look before leaving and closing the doors.

The child runs over to you two with outstretched arms. Neither of you two have moved, but then you both break into laughter.

“See, tin can. We wouldn’t have to feel guilty about holding on another.”

Placing the child in the space between his chest and your arm, you hum. The child coos once more before closing his eyes and falling into a slumber.

“Cyar’ika, if you are being totally serious, then of course. But you need to understand that I will demand children and I still will have my helmet. After you become my riduur I can show you my face, but only you are our family.”

Nodding your head, you cry out a yes.

“Then you should know my name.”

Holding your breath you wait in excitement.

“Din Djarin.”

Repeating his name back to him, you smile. His breath hitches when you say your first name and then his last name. “I like how that sounds.”

“Mmm. I do too.”

***

The next day he flies you out to his covert. He needs to get a blessing from his armorer, or so he tells you.

Walking with him you smile at all the children who peer at you in curiosity. He leads you with your hand in his. You both had left the child with Miltilda at the castle.

When the armorer gives you her blessing, he brings you to one of the rooms adjacent to the main room of the covert.

He reaches out and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You’re ethereal, cyar’ika. I love you so much. But to make this official we need to say the mandalorian vows.”

Placing your hands in his you nod your head. You can feel his smile even though you’ve never seen his face. He reaches onto a table and grabs a ring. You can tell it is beskar from how perfectly it matches his armor. It is a simple band with a diamond on the top.

He presses his head against your forehead, “Repeat after me. Mhi solus tome.”

“Mhi solus tome.”

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

“Mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde.” His voice falters as emotion floods his mind.

“Mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde.” He slides the ring onto your finger. Looking up to him you smile. “What does it mean?”

“We are one when together. We are one when parted. We share all, we will raise warriors.”

“How poetic.” You giggle.

He pulls you over to the bed. “Come see your riduur, cyar’ika.” Grabbing your hands, he leads them to the sides of his helmet. When he feels you hesitate he assures you, “It’s okay, cyare. I am yours as you are mine.”

Nodding you begin to push the helmet off. Closing your eyes, you decide that you want to take him in all at once. When the helmet is finally off, you place it down on the bed.

“Open your eyes, silly girl.”

Slowly opening them, you suck in a breath. His chocolate eyes watch you with such love you nearly melt. Reaching out you run your hand over his cheek, facial hair slightly tickling your palm. Your thumb brushes over his lips, gasping at how soft they are.

“You’re so handsome.” You feel like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

He grabs your hand before pressing a kiss to your hand. You can only watch as his lips trail over your skin. His head rises to meet yours and place a long overdue kiss to your lips.

“Are you ready, cyar’ika.”

“More than you’ll ever know.”

***

The sun gleams down on the two of you, as if the maker himself was giving you his blessing. The people of your kingdom fill the castle courtyard and gardens, each trying to catch a glimpse of their new king. They applaud and rejoice, accepting him into their hearts.

The armorer had used some beskar to wield him a crown, perfectly complimenting your own. It is now placed on top of his helmet proudly.

***

“Shhh. Alfred will hear us.” You’re giggling as your king nibbles at your neck. “He’ll be here any moment.”

As if on cue, a knock sounds at the door. “Your majesties, it is time to rise.”

“We’ll be out in a second.” You call back to him, but your sentence is cut short when your husband finds that sweet spot on your neck. You have to clamp a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle your sounds.

***

“Come on, no one will notice.” Dragging your husband into the kitchen you are on the mission to steal some pastries from the baker.

“You are going to get us in trouble, cyare.” He means to sound stern but you can hear the amusement in his voice.

You reach out and grab one pastry before footsteps flood down the stairs. “RUN!”

Flying past your husband, mouth filled with pastry, you nearly choke from laughing so hard. The mandalorian is right beside you in no time, before scooping you up in his arms.

Servants and maids watch with smiles as the two of you run through the castle halls. Never have they seen you so happy before.

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

Part 2: My King 

Okay so I am in total love with this ask.

However, I got carried away and wrote more emotion than fluffy scenes, so If you want I am toally open to writing a part two with more little scenes.

Anyway, I hope you liked it!

Love, Lordy.

[yokelish]

Worth millions.

Remember that? Back by popular demand. Reworked, improved, but only miserly so. And with chapter two coming soon~

✏ Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs ✏ Characters: Nakahara Chūya, Dazai Osamu ✏ Word count: 3,650 ✏ Warnings: swearing, smoking. ✏ Part I; Part II

Worth millions.

Chūya narrowed his eyes at the figure near on the pier. It was close to midnight and no sane or law-abiding citizen would wonder around those docks alone. He did not expect a fight tonight but would be willing if it come to that. It was, after all, his mess to deal with. And whoever was standing in the way would be crashed by gravity. Chūya took a minute to observe what the person on the pier was doing. If it was some vagabond scaring them away wouldn’t be an issue. At first glance it seemed the figure wondered around the pier aimlessly — looking around to satisfy their curiosity or satiate the desire to observe small beauty of the world, —but only at first. Nakahara didn’t have to waste another minute to understand the person on the pier was looking for clues, evidence. And that was Chūya’s job. Then, it wasn’t a simple-minded wanderer or a drunk wondering in the moonless night. This person had a purpose to be here.

“You better know how to swim,” Nakahara said with a dangerous cadence. With his silhouette shrouded in darkness, he knew and meant the danger emitted. There was no escape from the pier unless they wanted to swim. Or face him. He had no issues with either option.

“Shiiiiit,” the voice uncertain echoed. “I’m taking too long.”

Chūya smirked and moved closer, slowly, biding his time. There was no need to be hasty with this interesting encounter. It was rare for something interesting happening on the job in the dead of the night. Someone else was here with the same purpose. It couldn’t be boring. But he wasn’t planning to let them go. If they were a part of those thugs that dared to challenge Port Mafia, there was only one way out for them.

“Port Mafia, right?” the voice asked, refusing to move, standing their ground. Intimidation was only present in their voice, and Chūya wondered if he was carefully toyed with. Pretending to be frightened before making a move.

The stranger raised their hands in surrender. “I am not looking for a fight,” they continued talking to him confident that they were listened to. The pier wasn’t enough for the two of them. Nakahara came closer, close enough to recognize their features in the moonless dark.

“That’s unfortunate,” Chūya said, smirking. “I might be.”

The person didn’t say anything, didn’t back away from him or step close as if kept there by stubbornness, ignorance, or blind bravery. Instead, they reached inside their pocket. And if this stranger thought a gun could scare Port Mafia, they were both wrong and stupid. A figure dressed in black and wrapped in deep-red glow, For the Tainted Sorrow. Suddenly, the dark space between them brightened. It wasn’t a gun they were reaching for but a torchlight. The light was aimed at the sky enlightening them about this encounter. They didn’t even use it to blind the mafioso and make a run for it. Even more stupid than he gave them credit for.

“Well, damn,” they said with a bright and irritatingly unafraid smile on their face. “Nakahara Chūya, the gravity-manipulator and martial artist. I am not buying lottery tickets this month.”

Chūya tilted his head in question. A very well-informed enemy or… simpleton Dazai never failed to open his big mouth. “Dear Detective Agency,” he sighed with irritation. “Suicidal moron can’t shut up about me.”

“That’s where you’re right,” they confirmed, straightforward and facile.

“What do you want?” Nakahara asked, crossing his arms. The Agency was an enemy; however, fighting them here and now would do nothing for the greater conflict. Boss, too, proclaimed temporary ceasefire. Acting against Boss’ orders was equal to betrayal. Also, they didn’t look like a challenge or threat in any way with that too eager to please and appease attitude.

“Just looking for something stolen,” they replied, nonchalant. “My guess is that you are here for the same reason.” This openness of theirs was getting on mafioso’s nerves. He wasn’t known for a patient temper. The Agency member could have tried to dance around his questions, run or offer a trade-off. But it seemed like they were trying to work out some semblance of functional cooperation. As long as it went within the lines of his loyalty to Port Mafia, he could match this pace.

The smile grew on their face before they turned off the light. It was bright.

“We can help each other!” Agency’s detective offered in a chirpy manner.

“Can we now?” Chūya scoffed, amused. “Just say you need my help.”

“I don’t,” they shook their head. It wasn’t spoken in mockery or false confidence. While the darkness blurred their features, he still heard the smile on their lips. “But you need mine.”

Nakahara raised a brow, antagonized. Dazai must have been giving out lessons. Bandaged freak had an unmatched skill, but they were gravelling him fairly fast too. Chūya didn’t need help, especially from a detective of the Agency. Nakahara was a Port Mafia Executive; he was the merge of a human and a god Arahabaki. Help was the last thing he needed. He expected them to prove the point, but his patience was running dangerously thin each second.

“The smugglers,” the person started talking quickly as if sensing the heat, “didn’t finish their transaction. What did they do with the merchandise? It’s a pier. Not many places to hide things.”

“If they had half-a-brain, an airtight aluminum case would take a day or two underwater,” Chūya shrugged.

“I bet you don’t want to swim tonight, it’s cold, brrrr,” they rubbed their shoulders, mimicking the experience. “So, I will graciously save you from that.”

Mafioso crossed arms on his chest and smirked. There was no way of impressing him, less so of doing him any favours. But he was allowing for this to happen simply because it was quite fun. It didn’t last long, however. Soon, the sound of moving water filled the dark and silence around them. And something rectangular came from the water and floated into their hands effortlessly. It was the case, unmistakably, it couldn’t be anything else.

“I can beckon objects towards myself if I know what they are,” they succinctly explained. “Since I know yours, it’s fair that you know mine.”

Chūya didn’t ask but was given an answer. Perhaps, by some strange morality it was fairer for him to know their ability since they knew about his. But this wasn’t the world that cared about fairness. They were coming from two different worlds, opposing views. They were enemies. It wasn’t personal. From the wrong side, one of them for sure was, had to be. Yet the Agency’s detective continued with the task as if nothing were amiss. Chūya watched them take out a lock-picker’s set. He chuckled, amused. All that talk about morality…

“You are probably here for the valuables,” they continued to talk, unbothered, while trying to pick the lock. “Allow me take one thing. Our client has sentimental value attached to one of the objects inside.”

“They stole more than just valuables,” Nakahara replied. Wittingly or not, he almost said more than needed. Chūya had to hold his tongue from saying anything more. Speaking more than needed would be more than just unwise.

“Ah, is that an invitation to take everything else but what you need?”

“No.”

“Kidding, kidding.”

The case opened with a distinct click. A sound of a skilful lock-picking. From the Armed Detective Agency, indeed. But, true to their word, only one thing was taken. Nakahara had no clue why that would be an object of sentimental value, however, but Lady Luck was on their side. He didn’t need that.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” they said, standing up, and offering a polite and reserved smile.

“That’s it?” mafioso asked, unimpressed. There were a few things he could imagine being spoken, tastefully mixed into the conversation, to make a little sharper, a little more dangerous. “Nothing else to add, dear Detective Agency?”

“Gimme a sec.” There was a theatrical pause perfectly executed. Acting worthy of the effect it produced, with a finger to tier mouth and a thoughtful expression on their face. “Oh, no, Port Mafia! How could you! That’s not right, Port Mafia!”

Chūya shook his head. It was amusing it its twisted, overly dramatic way, but the comedy was too close to reality to be truly funny.

Their act was quickly dropped, switched for a more serious expression and tone. “You could have thrown me into the water the moment you saw me or a moment after when you realized who I was. But you didn’t. And agreed to cooperate.”

“That’s—”

“Hm?”

“Never mind,” Nakahara dismissed the protest. For one, defending his perfectly logical actions seemed foolish. Second, and most importantly, there was no need for him to voice it and neither it seemed to be heard. If that’s gratitude they were offering — to hell with it.

“Scatter,” Chūya commanded in slight jest. “I have work to do.”

The detective bowed to him in jest, most graciously bowing out of their encounter. He let them go and afterwards sighed. There was much a lot of work left to do.

One would safely and reasonably assume this one chance of an encounter was the only time he’d meet someone from the Agency outside of conflict. It wasn’t so. Sometime later he got to see them again. It wasn’t anything related to a job and happened in the light of day. He saw them with jinko and young murderess approaching the local shopping centre. At the entrance, however, they stopped and waved goodbye. The kids proceeded on their own inside. That would have been it: Chūya saw them, they didn’t see him. Such was his conviction, until they waved at him. From afar, sure, and it could have been anyone else who was in his general direction. But somehow, he had a feeling it was aimed at him and no one else. He didn’t acknowledge them in any way.

“C’mon out anyone who’s still alive,” he grinned maliciously into the camera. Chūya was having a bit too much enjoyment with this. After all, it was about time he’d get to play cat and mouse with the Agency. Ceasefire wasn’t much fun.

In the dark tunnel, finally echoed footsteps other than his. Playing the messenger was a boring beat, but a brawl wasn’t completely out of the question, ever.

“Just two of you? What an insult,” Chūya sighed. Just two enemies and not even the most intriguing ones. It all unfolded just the Boss’ predicted. The Agency cannot help itself but to be predictable this way. A confrontation was started to make the blood run hotter. He wasn’t a good match for a messenger job anyway. Everything was working out splendidly. Except for when the voice came from the speakers. The voice belonged to an enemy, the other side that Port Mafia will never reconcile with. He knew the voice — knew exactly who it belonged to — but still hearing it here and now was somewhat unexpected. Something he couldn’t even explain to himself.

“President, with all due respect, I’d like to say something,” came from the speakers. Nakahara stilled the moment he heard it coming from the speakers, he wanted to hear everything.

“I believe in the Agency’s strength just as much as you do, you know it. But we cannot take on the Guild alone. There’s one thing Nakahara was right about: we are short staffed,” the voice on the other side spoke with underlined worry. Mafioso wondered how it felt to speak rather defensively of your enemy. What he’d like to know even more is why even speak in defence of an enemy. But since it was serving Port Mafia’s purpose…

“But if you think such crude tactics would work on us, then Mafia is unfit for waging war,” the President’s voice spoke.

“Veiled threat from the enemy leader himself? Such an honour,” Chūya mocked.

“What are you hiding?”

“Not a thing.”

“He is not lying,” familiar voice interfered. The gravity wielder grinned devilishly. He wasn’t lying, they were correct in that assessment. But it was no good news for them. A shame, truly. For them. So bravely and insistently speak in the enemy’s support. That was the luxury or stupidity few could afford. He couldn’t.

“Why would we need to move?” Nakahara asked with the same smile on his face.

“Alright, fancy hat,” another voice spoke up. And then there was a snicker. Chūya never heard them snicker before but had no doubts it was them. Otherwise, it was the enemy leader and that was a far less appealing thought. Fancy hat?

It wasn’t because he had any doubts about Boss’ plan or because he didn’t trust in the abilities of his fellow comrades. It was because he hated Dazai. Because he wanted to see what was going to happen, what that schemer had pulled this time. And because deep inside Nakahara already knew what sort of deal the Boss would make given the chance. Mori wanted Dazai back in the Mafia, and while Chūya was perfectly content without the failed suicide around, it wasn’t for him to say so. Whatever cliché game he was asked to play, he’d play it till the end.

From up here he could witness the whole thing and, if something were to go terribly wrong, he’d be down there in seconds. But he had unwavering faith in Boss’ planning. Still, the cigarette in his mouth was burning. It was boredom. From up here, he could see everything but not hear it or be entertained by any other means. One, two, three, four…Number four is deadly, according to superstitions.

“Fancy seeing you here!” said the voice from behind. Familiar voice, sure, but it was not supposed to be heard here. Chūya turned his head. That very same detective of the Agency coming to him at such convenient time? It couldn’t be a coincidence. What a cliché, Dazai, especially for you.

A huff, a puff. The cigarette started to taste a lot better now. “What are you doing here?” It wasn’t a question but a warning.

“Don’t worry, no one knows I am here. If you throw me off this roof, it’s a perfect crime,” they quickly assured. And while there was a small laugh at the end of that sentence, he could hear it was filled with anxious tension. “I wasn’t invited for the meeting either but still came to watch. It’s not as concealed up here as you’d think.”

Mafioso kept quiet, feeling annoyed, feeling played for a fool. But before the right words to scare them off came to mind, the voice spoke once again.

“Here,” there was a nudge on his shoulder, “it’s a far better thing to put in your mouth.”

Nakahara looked at what was offered. Goddamn ice-cream? He raised a brow in question. This was more than just a little strange. This was getting a little ridiculous. And the idea of throwing them off the roof didn’t seem as alien as before. Nonetheless, under his murderous gaze, they didn’t relent, continuing to hold up the ice-cream in stubborn generosity.

He had to look away from them. “Damn it.” Agitated, he still begrudgingly put out the cigarette and accepted the ice-cream. The packaging wasn’t messed with, with drops of water from being in the freezer just recently. They, too, had one. An ice-cream for themselves with the packaging matching. Mafioso tore it open. Damnit. It was cold and sweet, vanilla flavour hidden underneath dark chocolate.

“See? I was right. It is a better thing to put in your mouth,” they grinned at him. Not malicious, not mocking, it was a cheerful, kind smile of a friend. They were enemies, people from different sides, fighting for different things. Reconciliation was not an acceptance — a strategy.

“Choose your words better,” Nakahara scoffed.

“Sorry, sor—"

“Or I will throw you off the roof.”

“I said sorry. So, um, what do you think? It’s going fine, right? Even if it’s just to defeat the Guild, we can come to an agreement of sorts? You’d help, right?”

“What are you getting at?”

“I am… worried.”

“About?” he asked without any interest whatsoever. But since this was a conversation — a very used play at social norms and small talk — he would indulge them only for the duration of this ice-cream. A shame to let a good thing go to waste.

“My…comrades,” the enemy answered. That was a delicate answer. Too delicate for such situation. Even Chūya could understand the worry one would have for one’s friends and comrades. Yet something didn’t sit right with him as if a gut feeling telling something he couldn’t yet understand.

“So, if you are fighting alongside one of them, would you help them?” they asked. It sounded so naïve and genuine. Terribly sweet, just like this ice-cream. Underneath the dark chocolate, something awfully sweet and innocent white in colour.

“Is that what their life if worth?” Chūya asked, thoroughly amused. Quite a conversation maker this one. “An ice-cream?”

“Nah, a life is invaluable. And smoking kills. Take care of yourself.”

Chūya laughed. Loudly, thunderously, profoundly regaled. He was pillorying them and their ideas. But, still a nudge on his shoulder, playful in its manner.

“I am counting on you, Nakahara Chūya!”

This was getting too ridiculous for Nakahara to comprehend as a sane person. “Scatter.” He didn’t even mean it maliciously or as a sincere threat. It was a reminiscent jest. And like before, they bowed to him and offered a polite smile, graciously leaving the situation.

Chūya hated Dazai. He hated all the faces Dazai had: arrogant kid, suicidal failure, scheming bastard, traitor, liar, and womanizer. It wasn’t even all the list of masks his ex-partner had. But Chūya would take out the trash once they were done here. The reunion was a temporary arrangement. After, he would be free to deal with Dazai as he wished. What else he hated? The number of body bags his people came back in. All at the fault of a child whose ability was abhorrent.

“Do it,” Chūya said with certainty. He would remember that number for a good while after this is all over and is but a history.

“Oh yeah?” Dazai sounded too chirpy for himself. “Well, in that case…” The knife Dazai conveniently snitched slashed the wooden cage Q was trapped in. Nakahara watched, and the mafia-black blood boiled inside him.

“Your hypocrisy makes me want to vomit,” he stated with sincere spite. The knife stopped chipping at wood as Dazai started to explain such hypocritical act. Excuses, excuses, that was the core of this traitor. Chūya knew for a fact what his ex-partner thought of Q’s ability. What a pathetic, lying bastard.

“It’s a logical decision,” Dazai excused his actions. “Plus, I don’t know how I would look them in the eye.”

“The Agency?” Nakahara shrugged, uninterested.

“Aren’t you curious, Chūya?” It was taunting. “Nosy about my personal life?”

“Personal life? You don’t have such a thing, womanizer.”

“People change, Chūya,” Dazai replied with a sickeningly familiar smile. The bastard meant what he said. Gravity manipulator hated him all the more for it.

Nakahara crossed his arms. “People? Maybe. What do you have to do with them?”

His ex-partner pretentiously pouted. “You know, Chūya, I know your moves down to pacing and breathing.” Dazai stood up. The knife remained plunged into the wood. “But I never knew you liked ice-cream.”

“Bastard, I knew it was your scheme!”

“What? No.” Ex-mafia shook his head. “What would be in it for me? But relationships are built on trust and honesty. So, naturally, I came to know of it. I was as just as surprised as you were.”

That sickening smile, that arrogant tone! Chūya had Dazai pinned down as well. The assortment of face masks of his once-partner…and the appalling pleasure to study them all. But the most abhorrent thing was that the hypocrite wasn’t lying. The bandaged bastard was taking pleasure in speaking the truth.

Dazai was slowly shortening the distance between them. “So, why did you behave like an obedient dog, Chūya?” The languid steps forward, putting them dangerously close together. The shorter mafioso pressed his fingers into a tight fist. The leather gloves squeaked.

“Answer me, Chūya, for old times’ sake,” Dazai continued to provoke. “I don’t think it’s because of ice-cream, was it? Could it be…? Oh.”

You are on thin fucking ice, Dazai. It wasn’t for any other reason than killing time. It wasn’t because he found them strangely intriguing in their passive acceptance of him being from Mafia. And it wasn’t because they spoke in his defence. To speak in your enemy’s benefit was the luxury or stupidity few could afford. He wasn’t impressed by their stubborn kindness despite knowing that he was stronger than them. That he could kill them. That he was an enemy.

“You never could hide your emotions, Chūya. Your face does say it for you,” Dazai was now grinning viciously. “You like them, don’t you? You like them.”

Chūya pushed forward, angry, provoked, with all the spite he could muster. The fist landed hard. The force of his punch sent Dazai stumbling backwards. But there was glee in those dark eyes. The delight Chūya rarely witnessed, but it wasn’t totally alien. It felt good for him too — to punch Dazai in the face like that. Yet his blood was still boiling hot. And there was a bitter and tight feeling in his throat, tasting of sweet vanilla ice-cream.

“Oh, the look on your face, Chūya,” Dazai mumbled, mocking, gleeful, and seeming to ignore the swelling on his face and the pain that came with it. “How did you say it before? “Better than a masterpiece worth millions”?”

[heycallmeladytypewriter]

The Call of A Siren - Chap. 5

Chapter One / Two / Three / Four

A/N: I’d like to thank seenalready for agreeing to be my beta! It’s been a huge help. Also, thank you to those who not only took the time to read but to favorite, follow, review, or leave me a message on this story!

I don’t own My Hero Academia. I only own my own characters and the story I create within Horikoshi’s masterpiece of a world I’d love to live in.

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“So how’s school going, Cordelia?” Her father asked while passing her the mashed potatoes. She smiled as she plopped some on her plate. “It’s going fine. Just some normal start of the year stuff.”

Her mother was cutting her baby brother’s food into small pieces across from her. “Make any new friends? You didn’t have any last year.” Delia ignored that small barb. Her mother was Miss Popularity when she was in school - something she was reminded of constantly in these small sweet ways. 

“Yes, mom. No official friends yet but definitely some classmates I seem to get along with fine.” 

“Give her time, Amaya. She’ll make friends but make sure not to forget to focus on your studies. Bells always get top marks in school. Right, Cordelia?” Her father is ever the peacemaker between them but always manages to slip in his opinion in the same sentence. She hoped neither of them noticed how tense she became, because despite going ahead with her plan of secretly attending U.A she still hated lying. She was good at it but hated it. She distracted herself and took herself out of the conversation by wiping the gravy off of Henry’s mouth who just painted more on with every uncoordinated bite. 

Later in her room, she made sure all her U.A stuff was hidden because her parents, especially her mother, who didn’t believe her children were entitled to privacy. She would deny it until she was blue in the face even when Delia confronted her with obvious evidence. Delia would find some things moved or pockets left unzipped that were closed when she left for school or a run so now she just made sure anything she didn’t want discovered to be hidden. She had hiding places in between her mattress and bed frame, one in a loose floorboard by her dresser, a notebook taped behind her desk, in her suitcase in the back of her closet, and it goes on. Her mom wasn’t too creative in looking but Delia didn’t want to take any chances. She changed into pink leggings and an old Mayday Parade t-shirt and went for her usual run to the beach. 

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Shake it out, shake it out

Shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa

And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back

So shake him off, oh whoa

'Cause I am done with my graceless heart

So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart

'Cause I like to keep my issues strong

It's always darkest before the dawn

 Delia laid on her back in the grass to catch her breath as she ran an extra mile on the sand today before running back. Once again, she was grateful to have a park like this near home to gather herself before returning home. 

She had her eyes closed as she listened to Florence and the Machine but opened them when a shadow came over her. Angry Boy stood over her and his mouth was moving but because of how  loud her headphones were she couldn’t hear what he was saying. She rolled her eyes and closed them again as she felt no need to listen to his rant during her peaceful time.

Her left earbud was roughly yanked out of her ear. “I was talking to you, dumbass!”

She rubbed her ear and glared up at him. “So? Since when do I have to listen to you?” 

“Move out of my spot.”

“Uh, yeah no.”

“Move before I make you.”

“Try it, Big Tits.” She raised her eyebrow at him in challenge because she knew damn well he couldn’t use his Quirk here without getting in trouble. It was far more noticeable than hers which she would definitely use if he tried to physically move her. Knowing this, he growled and stomped over to his workout bag a few feet over. He picked it up and then threw it on the ground practically on top of her legs. “Fine, brat. If you won’t move, I’m working out right here still.” 

Delia was going to push it further, but her watch beeped signaling she should start heading back home. “Saved by the bell, jerk.” Pushing herself up onto her feet, she kicked his bag off her leg and brushed off some  grass on her shorts. 

“Yeah, fucking sure brat. I’m saved.” Delia rolled her eyes and walked away a few steps before stopping and turning back towards him, unable to help herself from asking. 

“Why did you do that?” 

He was already doing sit-ups in the spot she had just vacated. “Because you were in my spot, idiot.” 

“No. Not that. Battle training.” Bakugo slowed to a stop for a moment and then continued like she hadn’t said anything. 

She tried again. “Was it worth it?”

No answer again but he picked up the pace on his sit-ups. Delia hummed, “Thought so.” She went to turn away when he finally spoke up, “I kicked that weakling’s ass. Its always worth it to put Deku in his fucking place.” He wouldn’t make eye contact with her. Delia pursed her lips and turned away finally. Before she went out of hearing distance she said one last thing, “You didn’t put him in his place. It seems more like you were shown yours. It wasn’t as high as you thought it was, was it?” 

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As she jogged back home on the trail, she could feel those red eyes trying to burn a hole in her back. 

As she walked up the hill to U.A, she was fiddling with her stupid tie when she heard a lot of voices. Looking up from what she was doing, Delia saw a mini army of reporters covering the entrance of the school. 

“Oh, crap!” Delia started to panic as she realized she had to go through them to get inside. She grabbed some sunglasses from her bag and took her hair out of her usual braid and tried to cover her face. They were jumping on students as soon as they got close, but Delia wasn’t having that. 

“Hey, kid!” Someone put their hand on her shoulder. Nope nope nope! Shaking them off, she passed Uraraka and Iida getting questioned and walked even faster. A few other reporters tried to get her attention, but she was not risking getting caught on her second week of school by her mother seeing her on the morning news. 

Mr. Aizawa was  in the front of all the reporters to stand guard and crossed his arms as a particularly aggressive woman demanded All Might. Delia was safe now on school grounds but didn’t dare to take her glasses off or fix her hair until  she was in the building. Out of curiosity, she peeked through her hair to see Mr. Aizawa finally walking away and an aggressive reporter took a step too far only for these giant alarms to start throwing up walls all around the school. Ha, serves you right, Delia thought a bit smugly.  

She finally fixed her hair into a braid when their homeroom teacher walked in and called them to attention. He ruffled some papers and then addressed the class on their performances from last week’s combat training with All Might. “Decent work on last week’s combat training, you guys. Due to technical difficulties, I wasn’t able to review the video feeds until yesterday. I went over every team's results. Bakugo. You’re talented. So don’t sulk like a child about your loss, okay?” Delia fought to keep her face straight as she was seated in front where Mr. Aizawa could easily reprimand her if she didn’t. “ And Midoriya. I see the only way you won the match was by messing up your arm again. Work harder. And don’t give me that excuse that you don’t have control because it’s already getting old.” 

He called out a few other students with some advice before she heard, “Bell. I see you have the ability to think and react quickly as shown in your battle, but you have a long way to go with understanding your Quirk. That is basic and essential. You need to work on that as of last week.” 

She nodded, “Yes, sir.” 

When he finished, Mr. Aizawa switched gears to something a little more mundane. “You all need to pick a class representative.”

Kirishima stood up with his hands in the air, “Pick me, guys! I wanna be class rep!”

Kaminari raised his hand, “I’ll take it.” Jiro followed suit with her hand up as well, “Yeah, you’re gonna need me.” Ashido and Aoyama threw their hats in the ring too. Bakugo even started yelling behind her to be elected. Delia, despite knowing what a big deal it would be, just sunk further in her seat wanting no part of it. 

“Silence, everyone, please!” Iida grabbed everyone’s attention to tell them the responsibilities of class rep when she decided who better for this job than Mr. Responsibility and Lecture himself? She was sure he’d thrive at the job as he already organized how they would choose and simultaneously advocated for himself. 

She snorted when Aizawa basically told them to figure it out before his nap was over and curled up in his weird yellow sleeping bag on the floor. Despite how strict he was, Delia loved how weird their teacher was. 

After everyone handed Iida their small pieces of paper with their vote written, he quickly and very neatly wrote the results with his shoulders slumping along the way. 

Izuku Midoriya - 3

Momo Yaoyorozu - 2

Well, that was unexpected and immediately questioned by even Midoriya himself. Who exclaimed, “How did I get three votes?” 

She turned in her seat when Angry boy slammed his hands on his desk, “Okay, you idiots, who voted for him?” Delia raised her eyebrow at him, “You mean instead of you?”

“What, did you honestly think anyone was gonna vote for you?” Sero said. She barked out a laugh at that and put her hand up in a high five. Sero returned the gesture while Bakugo fumed even more. 

“What did you idiots say?!”

“Hey, Bell!” Delia’s head snapped up from her tray and saw Uraraka waving at her from a table. “Come and sit with us!” 

“Thanks, guys. What’s up?” She greeted as she sat down next to Midoriya. 

“Hi, Bell. We were just talking about how Midoriya would be a great class rep. His courage and quick thinking will help make him a worthy leader. Not to mention the strength you’ve demonstrated. Those are the reasons I voted for you, at least.” Iida explained before taking the next bite of his lunch. 

She nodded. “Oh, for sure. You’ll be great.” 

Uraraka looked puzzled. “Iida, didn’t you want to be rep really badly? I mean you look the part cause of the glasses!” 

“ Well, that's not exactly how you should base things.” Delia jokes, pointing her fork at the small brunette. She just shrugged in response and grabbed another ball of white rice. 

“Wanting a job and being suited to it are quite different things. Observing the Iida family’s hero agency has taught me that much.” 

“Right there. That’s why I voted for you.” Delia pointed her pork at him before shoving the deliciousness in her mouth. Ugh, I’d go to this school for the food alone.

Iida had his mouth open as he stared at her, “You were my one vote?” 

She smiled at him, “Well, yeah! You seem perfect for the job to me based on everything I’ve seen so far.” Her eyes widened when she remembered who she was sitting next to and waved her hands at the boy, “No offense, Midoriya! You’ll be great at it as I said.” He waved her off before turning his attention back to Iida.

Taking a few more bites, she heard her phone chirp in her pocket. She pulled it out to see that her mother had texted her. 

Mom: Cordelia, we are having dinner with Josephine this Friday at 7. Make arrangements to pick up Henry from the babysitter’s house. I’ll write the address on the fridge. 

She rolled her eyes but sent back a quick ‘okay’ that she will pick him up. Whenever her sister was free, they ran to her side to devote all attention to their favorite child. It probably helped that their favorite child encouraged it every chance she got which irritated Delia to no end. 

Brrrrrrriiiiiinnnnggggggg. 

She was pulled out of her thoughts as the bell went off abruptly. 

“Warning. Level Three security breach. All students please evacuate the building in an orderly fashion.” 

Orderly fashion, my ass! Everyone was soon swept into a massive mob of pushing and shoving which Delia did not care for. 

“Ow! Goddamn watch those elbows dude!” She held her side and then was shoved against the window next to Iida. “Oh seriously! Iida look out the window!” 

“Who would dare try and - it's the press that was outside!” He immediately tried to yell to everyone which proved useless. She heard Kaminari and Kirishima trying to calm the herd as well, but that wasn’t working either. “Iida we have to tell everyone that it’s just the stupid media!” Delia yelled to him as her face was smushed up against the glass. 

“I have an idea, Bell. I need Uraraka! Will you be okay?”

“Go and stop this, and then I’ll be fine!” She used her free hand and helped shove him forward to their poor classmate who was getting dragged away by the frenzy. Her braid was then yanked which caused her to smack her forehead  against the glass again. Freaking jesus! Calm the fuck down people! C’mon Iida! 

She managed to get her head up in time to see Iida flip thirty times in the air then smack into the wall above the exit sign. Ouch. 

“Listen up, everything is okay!” With that, everyone stopped pushing and looked up at the guy balancing on an exit sign. “It’s just the media outside. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about. Everything’s fine! We’re UA students. We need to remain calm and prove that we’re the best of the best.” 

Within the next half hour, the police pushed back the reporters and the teachers came inside to corral them back to class. Delia clapped a hand on Iida’s back who blushed a bit when she said,  “That’s why I voted for you.”

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 In a strange turn of events, Midoriya had stepped down as their elected class rep and nominated Iida in his place. Something that made Delia grin when he walked up to the podium with barely concealed pride and immediately went into his responsibilities. She especially liked that he sent a nod her way with a small smile before strutting back to his seat.

“Now that’s out of the way.” Aizawa rose from the corner where he was attempting a short nap and slipped out of his sleeping bag. “We can head to the training room for Combat class. Everyone change into your gym clothes and meet me in ten minutes.” 

A few minutes later, Delia sat on the floor next to Jiro and Tsu stretching. Aizawa was already setting up a row of punching bags while they waited for the rest of the class to trickle in from the locker rooms. 

“Yo, whassup girls?” Jiro, Tsu, and Delia turned to see Kirishima and Kaminari heading over to them on the mat. They plopped down next to them. “Hey, guys. Ready for training?” Delia asked as she turned to Jiro with hands outstretched. Jiro caught on to what she wanted and had her feet meet hers and grabbed onto one another's arms then pulled back to stretch Delia’s back. 

“Oh, we’re ready. So pumped to finally get into real hero stuff!” Kirishima pumped his fist in the air with excitement. 

“It’s a bummer that it’s a non-quirk class though. I was feeling extra juiced today!” 

“This is even more manly in a way, Kaminari! Real combat without quirks can be a whole ‘nother level of seeing what you’re made of!” He said to the blonde who shrugged in response. 

Delia slowly pulled back to stretch Jiro and laughed at the boys, “I agree. You don’t need a quirk to punch someone in the face which can be just as great as electrocuting them.” 

The class was finally assembled and facing their teacher who stood over them with a small tablet in hand. “Alright, class. As you know this is our Non-Quirk Combat Class which is self-explanatory so if you weren’t aware of that already you shouldn’t be in my class anymore. Now, we are going to start with basics to see where everyone stands before we up the ante. Grab a spot in front of a bag, and we will be doing basic 1-2 punches until I say stop.” Aizawa quickly demonstrated what he meant with the correct form and then shooed them towards the bags he had set up earlier. 

Delia grabbed a bag in between Midoriya and Todoroki who was already hitting the bag with perfect form. Seems like he’s done this before. She curled her hands as Aizawa showed them and hit the bag. Huh. She side-eyed Todoroki before trying again. It felt awkward at first but once she found a rhythm...Man this feels great! Her knuckles were beginning to hurt as she hit as hard as she could but she sort of liked it. The past week and a half had been stressing her out and running was usually her only outlet, but she was finding this was a great way as well. 

“Midoriya, turn your back foot a bit more. Good.” She heard her teacher making the rounds as the class hit the bags non-stop. “Good, Bell and Todoroki. Keep it up.” Delia practically glowed and hit the bag with even more energy than before. 

Through the first half of the class, they were shown punches, kicks, and then some fighting moves when they were joined by Ectoplasm.  He demonstrated some defensive and offensive maneuvers before the class was split into partners to practice for the remainder of class.

Delia was paired with Kaminari which was fine as she had nothing against the good-natured albeit immature guy, but the moves involved getting physical with your partner. She had played twister as a kid but not for some time and never held hands with a guy much less threw her whole body at them. Oh my god, you prude. Get over it. She chided herself.

Kaminari gave a confidant smile and squared up to her, “Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll take it easy on ya.” 

Delia raised an eyebrow at him, “You’ll take it easy on me? How kind of you.” Okay, nerves have left the building and have been replaced by a mini super pro feminist ready to hand him his ass. 

Their teachers had them go through the motions one step at a time collectively as a class before they were given the go ahead to let loose. As soon as Ectoplasm gave the green light, Delia felt a bit more solid with  her moves and was ready to try in real time especially since Kaminari hadn’t lost his smirk. “Ready, babe?” 

“Let’s go, Sparky.” Ectoplasm hit a buzzer and Kaminari swung at her almost immediately, but she grabbed his wrist and pulled towards her. Before he could react, she used the momentum of pulling him to knee him in the stomach (reminding herself to not use full strength as this was training). While he was coughing, she swept her leg under his causing him to fall on his back. 

“Did I take it easy enough? Cutie?” Delia stood over him grinning. Kaminari held a hand on his stomach and grimaced. “Okay, point taken.” 

Delia huffed a laugh and held her hand out to him which he grabbed tentatively like she was going to hit him again. Pulling the blonde up, she felt someone’s eyes on her. Bakugo was standing coolly across the room with his hands in his pockets while Sero got himself off the ground. He looked away when he saw her looking back at him. Hmm. 

Bakugo:

He would never admit it, but he was impressed on how quickly the brat took down the blonde idiot. However,  he also would never admit that he was watching her in the first place as his eyes slid over to her laughing with her partner as she helped him off the ground. Katsuki chalked it up to pure convenience of sight as he had laid out the guy he was fighting in about five seconds, and she was in his direct line of vision. Since the park, what she had said unsettled him. Katsuki couldn’t get it out of his head and hated that she got under his skin and then walked the fuck away with the last word. 

As if she could sense him, the brat turned towards him curiously. Shit. 

Katsuki looked back down at his partner who was now getting off the floor and rolled his eyes. Tch. I didn’t hit him that hard. Fucking wimp. 

“Hit the lockers. You’re done today.” Aizawa announced. Ectoplasm had left already. “Remember to make sure you do the assigned reading and grab the extra worksheets on my desk before leaving for home. We are skipping Ethics tomorrow for a longer class activity.” 

A longer Quirk Training Combat Class, he meant. His eyes flitted to stupid Deku who was flapping his arms at some round face girl and then over to the brat who was walking back to the girls locker room. He was ready for his next combat class despite what the annoying girl said. He was going to be number one and damn anyone who got in his way of that. 

He pushed the locker room door hard enough that the purple dumbass who was walking before him flew forward across the room but Katsuki was too in his head to bother looking where he landed. He kept seeing those stupid blue eyes looking at him, judging and unimpressed. He shook his head as if to shake the image out of his head.  I don’t need anyone's damn approval. 

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

“I’ll Be Here”

Title: “I’ll Be Here”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Warnings: Nightmares, insomnia, mentions of past trauma (nothing graphic)

Word Count: 4,800...because I have no self-control 

Summary: Y/N hasn’t been sleeping well, can Bucky find out why?

The first time I noticed Y/N's insomnia was during an early morning training session. 

She was off to the side, sparring with Natasha as I worked on strength training with Steve. The two women were on the mats, wrestling with one another. I should've been paying attention to the weights in my hands -- something Steve would no doubt scold me for soon -- but as usual I was more interested in watching Y/N. Not because I was totally infatuated with her or anything, just because she was acting a bit off. 

Right. 

Usually Y/N and Natasha were well matched; the two assassins typically sparred for nearly the entire session with neither one getting the upper hand for more than a few moments at a time. Today, however, Y/N was lagging. Natasha managed to pin her in just a few minutes. What's more, Y/N took a few seconds longer than usual to get back on her feet -- normally she was quick to hop up on the off-chance that she was knocked down, but today it seemed like she was moving in slow motion. Confusion rippled through me at the sight of the usually confident and collected assassin lying on the mat looking defeated and tired. Y/N and Natasha exchanged hushed words briefly before Y/N stomped off, grumbling to herself. 

I wasn't tired in the least -- namely because I hadn't even really been working for the last few minutes -- but I felt my curiosity slowly getting the best of me. I stalked off under the guise of getting some water, eyes trained on Y/N's hunched form. I sidled up to her as casually as I could manage and grabbed my bottle. She nodded curtly in recognition of my presence but didn't speak. 

I felt my eyebrows crinkle together in confusion. Y/N wasn't like the rest of the team -- impossibly chatty and self-assured, she was never crabby or tired during training. Realizing I hadn't kept up the act well at all, I sipped from my water almost robotically. While I sipped, I tried to subtly study her face, wondering what could possibly be causing her to act so out-of-character. I noted with concern the deep, purple circles under her eyes and the far off expression on her face.

I opened my mouth to question whether or not she was alright, but was abruptly cut-off by Steve's shout to get back to training. Rolling my eyes, I flashed Y/N one last look of concern before jogging off towards my friend. I'd have to file this encounter in my brain for later. 

After that I began to watch Y/N more closely, trying to figure out what it was that troubled her. She seemed to bounce back by the time I'd seen her later in the day, and I all but forgot my concerns. It wasn't until a few days later that her lack of sleep entered my consciousness once more. 

It was movie night in the tower, and I was bored out of my skull. Everyone had gathered in the tower's massive living room for the weekly event -- Sam and Tony were arguing over which movie to watch, Wanda and Vision were sitting practically on one another's laps as they chatted idly with Nat, Steve sat scribbling on yet another mission report, and Peter was hanging upside-down from the ceiling as he patiently waited for the movie to begin. I was sitting furthest from everyone else, keeping to myself and idly observing the various conversations, when Y/N wandered into the room. 

Though I still internally thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, it was instantaneously clear that something was wrong with Y/N. She looked similar to that morning in the training room -- large bags underneath each eye and a somewhat pained expression splayed across her features.  Maybe it was the way she seemed to move more slowly across the room or just her general aura of dishevelment, but whatever the case she just seemed off somehow. I felt myself growing more concerned by the moment. 

She plopped down into the spot next to me, and I instantly felt my heart rate pick up at the proximity. Heat flooded my face as my mind became a jumble, and I was suddenly thankful that the only other people with super hearing in the room were currently busy at the moment. I tried my best to stifle the stupid little flutters raging inside my belly as I murmured a 'hello'. Y/N rubbed her face tiredly before mustering up a smile and muttering a half-hearted greeting. 

"You doing okay doll?" I asked concernedly. She chuckled lightly, shifting a little in her seat so her head was leaning against my flesh arm. She settled into the position with an ease and familiarity that both warmed my heart and sent me into a panic all at once. 

It was strange, the effect Y/N had on me: on the one hand, she had this ability to calm my entire body with just a single touch, but on the other hand it also made my mind race with over-eager thoughts and feelings. Even now, the feel of the soft skin of her cheek through my shirt sleeve was enough to send tiny pricks of electricity throughout my entire body. But it wasn't the harsh, painful sensations my mind seemed to expect -- Y/N's touch was always gentle, welcomed. Even so, my mind raced with thoughts of why on earth she felt so relaxed around me. Was she just like this with everyone? Did it mean anything? 

"Just fine Buck," her half-joking reply broke me out of my mental musings. "Why, do I look ugly or something?" 

I immediately began floundering, shaking my head quickly and stuttering out apologies so fast I almost missed the soft giggles eminating from Y/N. Even though I was pretty sure she was kidding, I continued to ramble on, unwilling to let her think for a second that she was anything less than gorgeous. Thankfully, she only let me panic for a few moments before lifting her head fractionally and smiling at me. 

"S'okay Buck, I know what you meant," she chuckled amicably before settling back into my shoulder. "I'm alright, just tired as always."

If anyone would've asked, I would've sworn my face was on fire. I hummed lightly in response, not trusting my voice at the moment. Thankfully, Nat saved me further embarrassment by rolling her eyes and laughing. 

"Of course our little insomniac is tired," she quipped good-naturedly. "When's the last time you actually slept Y/N/N?"

I frowned down towards Y/N in concern. She just snickered at Natasha's question, flipping her off as she smiled sweetly. Nat chuckled once more, letting the subject drop and turning her attention back to her previous conversation. Evidently Tony and Sam had finally agreed on a movie, and the lights dimmed as the main titles began to play. 

"You're not sleeping?" I softly questioned. Even though she hadn't been moving before, I could still feel the way she stiffened at my question, and my concern grew. She recovered quickly however, turning her head just enough to look me in the face and shooting me a wary look. 

"Do any of us?" she questioned back. Her face was illuminated by the soft glow of the screen, eyes darkened with a look I couldn't quite place and features as vulnerable as I'd ever seen. The sight of her, so close to my face and so open all but took my breath away. I opened my mouth to respond --

"Hey lovebirds, can you quiet down over there?" Sam interrupted loudly. I tore my gaze away from Y/N to find the entire team looking over at Y/N and I with amused and expectant expressions. Y/N buried her face into my arm at the attention, clearly embarrassed. Unconsciously, my arm wrapped around her frame and pulled her deeper into my side. I glared at Sam and flipped him off with my free hand. He and the rest of the team chuckled before turning back to the movie. 

After the intrusion I was too distracted by the feel of Y/N being tucked into my body to question her any more. Also, she did end up falling asleep during the film, head resting gently across my chest and expression serene. She managed to sleep through the entirety of all 3 movies Tony insisted we watch. Normally I would've left part way through the first, but I would rather die than disturb Y/N as she peacefully slept. She clearly needed it, and the fact that she was cuddled up to me as she did it was just a happy coincidence. 

I chalked her lack of sleep up to a generational difference. Maybe millennials had just learned to get by with less sleep? I wasn't totally up to date with the ins-and-outs of this new generation, but I was fairly sure that insomnia was a common problem. People could say what they liked about them, but I was honestly blown away by the amount of shit that people in this age had to deal with. College cost more than a house would've back in my day, employers were getting pickier and pickier about who got a job, and there was a near-constant threat of some kind of world-wide disaster at any given moment. Not to mention the fact that apparently the arctic was melting? Global warming disturbed me to no end, especially since it was one of the only reasons Steve had been found in the first place. Of course people slept less easily these days, why would Y/N be an exception? 

Currently, we were on our way back from a routine mission. We were the only ones on the Quinjet, sitting across from one another as we flew home. Neither of us said much, both happy to decompress from things silently. 

Studying her face as we sat, I felt the familiar feeling of concern bubble up in my chest at the sight. Her eyes were almost bloodshot, lids weighing heavily as she leaned against the side of the jet like she was fighting to keep them open. The purple bags that I'd first noted all those weeks ago had only seemed to have grown, now sagging low on her face which seemed paler than usual. Her expression was flat, mouth and brows drooping into a very uncharacteristic frown. 

Though I was worried, I wasn't willing to break the comfortable silence Y/N and I had created in the jet. I watched as her eyes fluttered shut and snapped open for a few minutes before she finally succumbed to her tiredness and fell asleep. I breathed out a sigh of relief I wasn't even aware I'd been holding in as I watched her struggle. I wasn't a religious man, but I was suddenly thankful to whatever god listening that she was actually getting some sleep. 

Settling back into my seat, I watched as she slept and internally planned a way to bring her out of the jet without waking her. Seemed simple enough -- she'd slept soundly enough all those weeks ago at movie night that I was able to gather her up into my arms and bring her to her room without waking her. It wasn't exactly difficult to convince myself to help her once more. Outside of the fact that I was legitimately becoming concerned about the amount of sleep she was getting, I would be lying if I said I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of having Y/N in my arms once more. Last time she'd cuddled into me so tightly, like a kitten curling up on your chest. If I concentrated hard enough I could practically still feel her warm body against my torso. The mere thought raised a light blush to my cheeks and made my legs start to lose strength. 

I seriously needed to get a grip. 

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I almost missed the sounds Y/N was making. The soft whimpers reminded me almost like the sounds dogs make as they dream -- small, high-pitched noises that squeaked from her lips as she slept. Her body was still slumped against the metal frame of the jet, but with one glance I could tell her posture had definitely tensed. Her fists were clenching and relaxing over and over, eyes squeezed closed tightly, and every now and then her whole body would jerk around. Fear and guilt pooled in the pit of my stomach as I realized what was happening. 

Y/N was having a nightmare. 

I froze for a moment, unsure what to do, until Y/N let out another cry of pain and terror, louder this time. My body was instantly by her side without even checking in with my brain first before moving. I pulled her onto my lap gently and began rubbing soothing patterns around the expanse of her back with my metal hand while the flesh one delicately cupped her face. She was trembling all over and her fists immediately wound their way into the fabric of my shirt and clenched as she hung on for dear life. 

After a few moments I decided I had to wake her. Whatever was going on in her head was clearly causing her immense fear, and it felt like my heart was breaking with each jerk of her body or whimper of pain. I began softly calling her name, hands still moving gently across her skin as I tried to rouse her. 

It didn't work. 

My gentle prying hadn't woken her in the slightest. In fact her movements had become even more erratic -- she was now thrashing in my arms, futilely trying to fight off whatever she was facing in her dream. Mind whirling, I gripped her tighter and began calling her name louder. 

She woke with a start. Her bloodshot eyes flew open and she instantly attacked me. Her fists flew quickly and landed solidly against my jaw as she scrambled off my lap. She jerked away, back landing against the farthest wall of the jet and posture defensive. Her eyes were wild with a kind of dangerous fire I recognized all too well. 

 I raised my hands up in surrender, not moving an inch from my place. 

“Y/N, it’s me. Bucky. You’re safe, it was just a dream,” I explained slowly. “You’re safe.”

Her eyes darted back and forth for a few seconds, and I could practically feel the realization seeping through her. The fog of terror from her nightmare was slowly fading from her face, giving way to a look of vulnerable confusion. 

“Bucky?” she breathed. Her chest was still heaving with each breath she took and her voice was small. Y/N’s eyes were wide as she searched my face for an answer, and I felt a wave of sympathy roll through me at the panicked, bewildered emotions that were written all over her face. I nodded slowly and began to lower my hands. Y/N sucked in a breath as the final flash of recognition crossed her features and she let out a sob. 

I was up in an instant, arms winding around her shaking body and lips murmuring encouraging words into her hair. I could feel her tears starting to soak through my shirt as she clung against my chest and sobbed. A deep, unsettling weight made it's home in my belly as I listened to her cries. I pushed the feeling down as I comforted her, trying everything I knew to end her anguish. 

Eventually her sobbing slowed, and the jet was silent once more, save for a few hiccups and sniffles every now and again. My hands were still absentmindedly rubbing against her back, but I took her silence as a good sign and I pulled my head back marginally so I could look at her more fully. 

The sight of Y/N's face almost broke my heart in two. Her normally clear skin was now tear-stained and covered in red and pink splotches, and the area under her eyes was puffy. Her mouth was set in a deep pout that didn't suit her at all. Worst of all was the look in her eyes -- her Y/E/C irises looked like a storm cloud, pain and despair swirling within them in a way I was all too familiar with. They looked like the way I often felt during my more dark moments, and the idea that she was feeling anything close to that twisted the rock-like knot even deeper into my lower belly. 

"Y/N…" I murmured emphatically. She sniffled, pulling one of her arms away from its place entangled in my shirt to rub some of the errant tears away from her face. I guided her gently back to one of the benches and we both sat without detangling ourselves from one another.

"Sorry," she whispered almost robotically. "I just...I had…". 

"A nightmare?" I supplied quietly. She nodded, body beginning to lean away from mine as if she was going to pull away. My grip on her tightened marginally, unwilling to let her go just yet. She seemed appreciative at the silent offer of support, and her head rolled back into the crook of my neck easily. 

"How long?" I asked evenly. Though I couldn't see her face anymore due to our position I could feel the way her body tensed at the query. My hands began running up and down her back once more, almost of their own accord. After a few moments her muscles relaxed a bit under my soothing touch, and I breathed a silent breath of relief at the progress. 

"Since Ultron, I guess," she whispered so quietly I almost missed it.  I felt my brows furrow even deeper at the admission -- Steve had filled me in about what had happened in Sokovia, but if I was recalling correctly that was almost 2 years ago. Guilt flooded my chest at the sheer length of time Y/N had been struggling without any help. 

 “I watched...there was a kid, and he…I couldn’t”

“You don’t have to tell me,” I cut her off quickly. Her only response was to burrow deeper into the crook of my neck, seemingly grateful to be spared the task of reliving the nightmare. Though the feeling of the soft skin of her face against my neck was enough to send those embarrassing flutters through my body, my mind was still working in overdrive to try and figure out a way to reduce Y/N’s pain. 

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I...I want to help". 

I felt Y/N's small smile against my neck and I shivered at the gentle movement of her lips. 

"I know you do Buck, but there's nothing to be done," she mumbled regretfully. Almost immediately afterwards she yawned and began stretching her limbs like a cat around my frame before settling back into my embrace. I couldn't help but chuckle fondly. 

The only sounds that filled the jet now were the soft whirring of the engines and the sound of the air passing by the outside as we flew. For a moment I wondered if Y/N had fallen asleep again, but the steady thrum of her heartbeat and the quiet yawns she let escape every now and again told me otherwise. After a few minutes of silence I quietly spoke up once more. 

"I get them too you know."

Y/N's face turned upwards just enough so she was looking me in the eyes. Her expression was guarded, but I could see the spark of curiosity in her eyes. 

"Really?" 

Even though her tone was nonchalant I could easily tell that she cared more about my response than she'd like to let on. I nodded, swallowing thickly and glancing away from her. 

"Yeah. I used to get them back during the war, but they really started up bad after everything with HYDRA," I explained as calmly as I could manage. I could practically feel the holes her eyes were burning into my face as she watched me intently. 

"I still get them sometimes but not as much.”

“Wh-what did you do to make them better?” she asked curiously. I shrugged. 

“I dunno. Therapy and time I guess,” I supplied. Her hopeful expression faltered slightly and guilt fanned through me. “Sorry, I know that’s not exactly what you probably wanted to hear.”

Y/N shook her head, yawning. 

"S'okay Buck, you're just being honest," she mumbled against my shoulder. "Wasn't exactly expecting an answer anyways."

She let out another huge yawn. My hands paused briefly on their circuit up and down the expanse of her back as a thought filtered through my mind. 

"You should sleep doll," I murmured softly against her hair. "I can tell you're exhausted."

Y/N yawned once more and shook her head stubbornly against my chest. 

"S'fine Buck. I've been worse." her soft voice filtered up, slightly muffled by the fabric of my shirt. I frowned. 

"Y/N…" I warned disapprovingly. 

"Seriously, I'm fine!" came her sleepy, half-hearted protest. "Besides, if I do it'll just…"

She trailed off, but the weight of what she was alluding to covered the air in the jet like a thick, wet blanket. The tension in my brows relaxed marginally as I was hit with another wave of sympathy. I tightened my grip on her body into what I hoped was a comforting embrace. My heart lifted and those damned butterflies erupted into a frenzy as I heard her sigh contently. Not even a beat later I felt her burrow herself even further into my arms and I couldn't help but smile at the feeling. 

"It's okay doll. I'm not going anywhere, I'll be here if it happens again," I ventured quietly. After a few moments of contemplation Y/N lifted her head from my chest, and I felt a flash of fear tear through my body. Maybe I'd crossed a line? What if she didn't appreciate my nagging, or thought I was overstepping the boundaries of the tentative friendship we had? I opened my mouth, poised and ready to spew apologies for intruding, but closed it seconds later as I caught the look on her face. 

Her Y/E/C eyes were wide, unshed tears lining them as she looked up at me. Her expression was one of pure adoration, full of hope and cautious optimism. The sight of it almost knocked all the breath out of my body. 

"Yo-you will?" she breathed, voice small and hopeful. Warmth filled my chest and I smiled. 

"Promise." I vowed. Her face split into a lopsided grin and her cheeks flushed with the most adorable pink splotches I'd ever seen. She held my gaze for a few moments longer before her face disappeared into the confines of my chest once more. I settled back into the side of the jet with Y/N's form still gathered closely in my arms, utterly content and pleased with the way things had turned out. 

In no time at all I heard her breaths begin to even out and the beating of her heart slow as she fell back asleep. I sat back, hands still absentmindedly running along her back as she slept with my mind racing as it tried to process the last few minutes. Normally after even the briefest interaction with Y/N my brain would be riddled with self-doubt and anxiety, over playing each second over again and internally cringing at my reactions. But it was hard to form any thoughts that were semi-coherent with her cuddled peacefully against my body. Instead, my mind was occupied by scanning every visible inch of her form, working desperately to try and commit the sights, sounds, and feelings to my memory. 

It didn't take long before the jet landed back at the tower. I paused momentarily before carefully gathering Y/N in my arms and walking out. I made a beeline for her room, ignoring or silencing any of the team we met along the way with a single glance. After the struggle on the jet I’d be damned if one of them woke her. Not that they really tried -- everyone backed off pretty quickly once they noticed Y/N’s sleeping form, irritatingly smug smirks plastered across their features. If it weren't for the sleeping beauty in my arms I was certain that any one of them would've had a litany of teasing comments at the ready. Especially Tony. Poor guy looked like he might have an aneurysm if he didn't get to spit whatever sarcastic jab his brain was cooking up out soon. 

Eventually I made it to her room, and settled her gently into her bed. 

It wasn’t easy. 

Even asleep Y/N was still one of the most stubborn people I knew. She grumbled petulantly in her sleep, and I practically had to pry her off my chest to get her onto the bed. Once I'd successfully detangled my shirt from her fingers' iron grip, I removed her combat boots and brought the covers up over her curled up form. She'd pay hell in the morning from Tony for sleeping in her dirty tac-gear and ruining the sheets, but I sure as hell wasn't about to wake her to change. After I was sure she was settled, I took one final glance at her peaceful face before turning to leave. I made it all the way to the door, finger hovering over the light switch, before I heard her. 

"You said you'd be here."

Y/N was sitting up in her bed, eyes half-lidded and palms rubbing against them tiredly as she piped up. I smiled unconsciously at the sight of her sleepy expression. 

"That I did," I chuckled softly. She raised an eyebrow curiously. 

“So stay here...” she murmured. “Please.”

I nodded, crossing the room once more and dragging her desk chair with me as I went. I set it down next to her bed and settled in before motioning for her to continue sleeping. She blinked a few times, amusement and exhaustion lacing her features. 

"No, you old man," she giggled quietly, patting the empty space next to her. "I meant here as in here."

Now it was my turn to blink in confusion. 

"O-oh," I stuttered. "Is that -- I mean if you want…"

Y/N chuckled again, clearly as amused by my floundering when half-asleep as she was when she was awake. 

"Just get in here Buck."

No need to tell me twice. I shucked off my boots and crawled into Y/N's bed beside her. I paused as I pulled her blankets over my body, uncertain as to what to do next. 

I mean, she seemed like she liked being in my arms back in the Quinjet, but maybe it was different now that we were in her bed? It certainly felt different -- even though the space between us couldn't have been more than a few inches at most, it felt like there was an entire country between Y/N and I. Things were too close, too intimate. I was powerless to make even a single move under the crushing weight of the implications thick in the air. And yet my fingers were twitching against her mattress as they fought the urge to wrap her up in my embrace once more. 

Evidently, Y/N noticed the distance between us. 

She rolled over to her side so that she was facing me. Though she still looked like she was having some trouble keeping her eyes open, there was a glint of mischief and some other emotion in them as she surveyed my frozen form. I glanced down at her briefly, muscles completely stiff and immobile as I silently wondered what the hell I was going to do next. 

Y/N giggled once more, the sound sending the butterflies in my core crazy. She mercifully closed the space between us as she settled into my side. Her head nestled against my chest and her arms threw themselves around my frame like I was a pillow. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, muscles relaxing considerably as I wound my arms around her and pulled her flush into my side. 

"Thanks," she murmured sleepily. Her eyes were already closed and I could feel her heartbeat slowing as she fell asleep once more. 

"Anytime Doll," I whispered fondly, nose nuzzling into the hairs atop the crown of her head. I yawned, suddenly extremely aware of just how tired I was. I leaned my head down against Y/N's and closed my eyes too, sure that for once I'd be guaranteed a good night's sleep. 

[captainpufferfish]

Hurts More Than Just a Memory

AO3

(logan’s birthday fic!!)

Summary:

Logan's got a lot of memories.

Not all of them are good.

(tws for unsympathetic patton, misgendering, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, memory alteration, arguing, ask to tag for anything else!!)

Logan cursed. That was quite out of character for them, but seeing as they had been trying to clear out Thomas’s long term memory and had actually done... this, they felt that it was warranted.

Thomas’s long term memory needed to be cleared out once per year, so that he could get rid of memories that he didn’t need and recover the ones that he did. As Thomas’s brain, it was Logan’s job to do this.

Usually, Patton helped them, because they both shared the concept of memories- Patton usually foresaw the more sentimental and nostalgic side, while they were in charge of the memory itself- but since the Moral side was currently out in the imagination with everyone else, they had to do it alone.

Which wasn’t pleasant.

The way that Long Term worked was most accurately depicted in the movie Inside Out, except the memories weren’t conveniently color-coded, were far heavier and the shelves were more like the kind you would find in a bowling alley. The way the movie showed it was also heavily simplified- not only was there Thomas’s Long Term, but each of the sides as well.

They had a library, of sorts, but with the same shelves as Thomas’s space, and each of them had their own shelves. Everyone’s memories could only be touched or viewed by the person that they belonged to, but because cataloging them was Logan’s (and up till recently Patton’s) job, they had access to everything.

So obviously they ended up fucking it up.

They had nearly finished organizing their own shelf, the final shelf they had to do, but they had reached up to rub their aching shoulder and one of the memories (a particularly heavy one, judging by the thud it made when it hit the ground) slipped out of their grasp and rolled away from them. They had chased after it and had of course forgotten about the other ones they were holding, which of course fell to the ground, rolling in the same direction. (They really wished that they had fixed the slight angle of the floor at that moment.)

They ran down the aisle, losing sight of them as they rolled under Virgil’s shelf and towards the clearing.

And froze as they realized where they were.

The viewing room.

They cursed every small inconvenience that caused them to be standing in that doorway, watching as the grey, faded memories teetered on the edge of the podium, about to fall into the dusty old pipe that would broadcast them throughout the mind palace. Because today couldn’t get any worse.

They stepped closer.

Wrong choice.

The last thing they heard was the orbs crashing into the pipe, and then everything went black.

*

Curiosity ran down the hallway that connected Fear's room to everyone else's. They were visibly smaller, almost a child, and instead of their usual outfit, they were wearing an oversized blue sweater, jeans, and a giant lab coat that dragged along the floor behind them. They were looking back at someone, laughing slightly as they burst through the door.

“Hi Fear! You’re not gonna believe what happened!”

Fear looked down from where he was sitting on a shelf, a small smile on his face as he listened to Curiosity ramble.

“Lies told me and Creativity that we could eat bugs and then we searched it online and the computer said that we could so Creativity made bug candy but then I tried to eat it but the bug was alive so I spat the bug out and the other Creativity screamed so Lies screamed so I screamed and then Joy smashed the bug with a broom because he doesn’t like spiders and so I took a closer look at the spider guts and now I have a pot full of spider guts!”

“...Nice! Please don’t show me!”

Curiosity giggled and climbed onto the desk, nearly falling as they sat on the shelf next to Fear. “You’re really cool, Spooks! You’re my favorite brother!”

“Thanks, Asteroid.” He shrugged and hid his smile behind his hoodie paws.

The two creativities ran in, matching shocked looks on their faces as they made various noises of protest, “We thought we were your favorite brothers!”

“Great, it’s Thing One and Thing Two.”

The two Creativities dissolved into an argument about who was Thing One and who was Thing Two, and as Fear broke up the argument by saying that Green was Thing One and Red was Thing Two, (because stupid, immature humor came before butterflies and rainbows, apparently) Curiosity grinned. There was no place they would rather be.

*

  Curiosity huddled under their blanket, tears spilling down their face as they listened to the argument happening outside.  

“You can’t stay here, Fear. Listen, I’m sorry, but Thomas needs to be good, and your Paranoia doesn’t help him.  Neither do Lies or Green! You’re making him...you’re making him a b̪͇̣̘̳̝̎͜ḁ̡̻̘ͦ͆ͅd͑͏̝̙̥̻̝͎ ̫͓͖͇ͣ̔̆̚͠p̻͎̯̙̖̾ͯ̍͢e̡̘̲̳͕̊̿rͤ͏̙̗̙̰̰s̵̻̙̒ͣö̥̞̬̲́̉̐̒͠n̻̥̺͉̦͍͍̒̐͌͘!”

“Joy, please! I can help them, we can help them get better! And what about your “Good Sides”? This will destroy Curio, you know they spend all of their time with Lies! And Red loves his brother! You’re just being s̆ͬ͗͑҉̘̣͖̮̬̮̥ͅe̛̞̤̩ͪ̄̄l̮͙̜̟̮̯̗̋͞f̷̞̘͚̥̭ͣ͊į̙̠̦̥̳̟̎͐ͫ̈́s̖̣͍͎̠͛ͯ͌͡ḧ̯̙̖̘ͪ͛ͬ͜ !”

“So I’m the one who’s being   s̆ͬ͗͑҉̘̣͖̮̬̮̥ͅe̛̞̤̩ͪ̄̄l̮͙̜̟̮̯̗̋͞f̷̞̘͚̥̭ͣ͊į̙̠̦̥̳̟̎͐ͫ̈́s̖̣͍͎̠͛ͯ͌͡ḧ̯̙̖̘ͪ͛ͬ͜? At least I’m doing what’s best for T̎ͥ͏͇̬h͉̗̰̲̬̹̽͑̊̉͝ȯ͇̪m̡̭̯̥͒ͫ̽a̤̱͔̜̐̊͞s̛̬̣̲͆͛̎! You’re just  m̛̭͍͔͍̈̀o̵̺̩̣̭̹͚̱͂ñ̰̹ͧ͡s̵̟̪̱̟͉͇̦̎t̩̟͔̯̗̥͋̋̽ͭ͝e̲̘͚ͩ̽͟r̵̲̭͚͎̳͋̒͋  !”

“At least I’m not hurting anyone!”

“You’re not hurting anyone? Oh, right, anyone except T̎ͥ͏͇̬h͉̗̰̲̬̹̽͑̊̉͝ȯ͇̪m̡̭̯̥͒ͫ̽a̤̱͔̜̐̊͞s̛̬̣̲͆͛̎  !”

“I’m not hurting T̎ͥ͏͇̬h͉̗̰̲̬̹̽͑̊̉͝ȯ͇̪m̡̭̯̥͒ͫ̽a̤̱͔̜̐̊͞s̛̬̣̲͆͛̎, I’m helping him, you’re just so close-minded that anything you think is bad has to be gotten rid of! You’re the V̡͈̖̮̰͚̥̂ͭi̵̺͎̠͐̓͑ͯl̢̮͉̗͕̽ͮ̌l̿͑͏̺̙̪̗̙a̡͔̮̦̳̤̠͈ͬ͆̄ị͚̳͈̙̻͊̽͘n̜̩͛̀̄ͅ here!”

“I’m the V̡͈̖̮̰͚̥̂ͭi̵̺͎̠͐̓͑ͯl̢̮͉̗͕̽ͮ̌l̿͑͏̺̙̪̗̙a̡͔̮̦̳̤̠͈ͬ͆̄ị͚̳͈̙̻͊̽͘n̜̩͛̀̄ͅ? At least you look the part!”

They breathed out a small sob, curling in closer to the others. They were all in similar states: Lies was curled up next to them, swiping furiously at his tears with his beanie and muttering angrily, quietly enough that Joy and Fear couldn’t hear him. Green and Red were whispering reassurances as they listened to the second-youngest and the oldest tear apart their family.

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

It was later that night when Curio heard something. Red had told them that only him, Curio, Lies, and Green knew about the room. But they were all in the room.

So the door shouldn’t be opening.

They stifled a small gasp and slowly, trying to remain in the darkness of the corner, slid under the cabinet, brushing aside all of the fairy lights and blankets they had stored under there. (They were the only one small enough to fit underneath, seeing as the only other one who theoretically could get in presumably didn’t have access to the room.)  

They watched in silent horror as the small figure, one who would have been indiscernible if not for the shine that reflected off the lenses of polka-dotted glasses and the faint pale blue aura that surrounded him, crept towards the pile their brothers were sleeping.  

They watched as the figure leaned in closer to the sides, placing his hands on each of their foreheads.  

They watched as the figure pulled away with four translucent spheres, each of which faintly glowed a bluish-purple color.  

They watched as Patton sent to memories where only he and Curio could- Memory Dump. (Turns out, a few years later Inside Out got the right idea, just made it ten times flashier.)

They watched as Green and Lies were taken.

*

“Why am I here? What’s going on? Where’s Lies and Green? Where’s Fear?

“Logic, stop it. You aren’t Curiosity anymore, act like it.”

*

“Just one visit? Please?”

“Logic, I’ve told you time and time again, you can’t visit them! They’ll hurt you, okay? Dark Sides are bad.”

*

“Please, just. Just leave me alone!”

“Come on Logic, you know that you’re not supposed to act like this. Good children do what they’re told, and besides! You wouldn’t want me to leave, would you? At least I listen.”

*

“Moral- Dad. Could you please just use my correct pronouns? Once?”

“Oh, of course! You’re such a cool guy, Logic!”

“I’m not a guy.”

“That’s not the point though! You’re so silly, Lolo!”

*

“I know that we’re getting closer to the other sides, okay Logan? But just remember. I left you with the memories of before for a reason. If you tell anyone else, I’ll take them away. Permanently. Now go bother Virgil.”

*

“Patton? Virgil? Roman? Do you remember what day it is?”

“Oh, Lolo! Is it clearout day today? I’m so sorry, I promised Roman I would go into the Imagination with him today!”

“O-Of course. That’s all that’s happening today. Yes. I’m going to leave now.”

“Wow, he seemed stressed. Are we sure that we aren’t missing anything? November Third isn’t an important day for anyone, right?”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Virgil. Let’s go.”

*

Six sides woke up from being knocked out, four with tears in their eyes. One of the other two was faking.

The other stayed asleep, trying desperately to avoid the conversation that was inevitably going to happen.

[otterknowbynow]

Have Agency, Will Travel (1/3)

Not much surprises Alexis these days, but Klair coming to town isn't something she ever expected, and neither is the series of events that follows.

Set immediately after 4x10 "Baby Sprinkle"

also on ao3

Walking out of the noise and lights of the bar is a bit disorienting, but Alexis can’t help but smile as she leaves the bright room behind. Her business card is still in her hand inside her purse, and she rubs the surface of it with her thumb, feeling the letters of her name -- she can’t really identify them by feel, but it’s enough to know they’re there. It’s enough to know she’ll still be running her own life tomorrow. 

She moves toward the stairs without really thinking about it, her mind focused on how proud she is of turning Klair down. Shows growth, she thinks, still smiling to herself, before she nearly trips over someone sitting on the edge of the steps. 

“Oh, sorry!” She holds her hands out in front of her, fingers gripped loosely. “I didn’t see you there! Didn’t really, um, expect anyone to be…” The girl looks up at her from under the brim of a gray stetson and Alexis trails off, taking in the teary face and slightly smudged eyeliner. “Oh, babe, you really should’ve invested in a decent waterproof.” 

“You know what’s wild? I did,” says the stranger, her laugh sounding a bit forced. “But Klair -- she said I should use this one, because it looks more birthday-y, or something.” 

“Oh my God, you’re Albany.” She must be, sitting there with her peasant-sleeve floral wrap dress that would’ve been on trend a couple years ago, blond hair spilling out of the stetson and down to her shoulders -- which Alexis has to admit, does give her an arguably adorable off-hours ranch hand look. Albany raises her eyebrows and nods. Alexis can hardly control her hands, trying to make six different apologetic gestures at once. “I’m so sorry, Klair never actually um, clarified. Which one you were.” 

“Yeah, she never really does.” The dress ripples around her shoulders when she shrugs, which only seems to emphasize the absurdity of that statement. It’s a cute dress -- a look that would fit in here, Alexis realizes, and the thought is strangely comforting.

“Why aren’t you in there with them? Isn’t it your birthday?” Alexis reaches around the back of her hair, smoothing out a nonexistent bump. 

“Oh, yeah, but Klair won’t notice for a bit, and I needed a little quiet, you know?” Her voice is entirely matter-of-fact, but Alexis can’t help but register that her nose is red from crying, and can only guess the tears ended moments before. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she says slowly, though the rest comes out in a rush as she sits down on the step next to Albany. “But Klair is a terrible best friend, and you should really consider getting a new one.” She’s not sure why she says it -- why she thinks any friend of Klair’s would trust her, but there’s something about Albany that seems warm, inviting the kind of sincerity Alexis has been getting more used to living here than she ever was pre-financial catastrophe. 

“Weren’t you guys best friends for, like, years?” Albany looks at her sidelong from under the brim of her hat, and Alexis frowns. 

“Mhm,” She nods a couple times, looking over Albany’s shoulder at the treeline. “Yeah, yeah we were, and um, we’re not. Anymore.” She brings her eyes back to Albany’s face, smiles at her, all charm. “That’s the important part.”

“What changed? I mean I can’t -- I can’t really imagine not having her in my life.” Albany’s smiling too now, though there’s a layer of sadness to it that Alexis doesn’t think is matched in her own. 

“Oh, we fell out of touch,” Alexis says breezily. “After my family, well.” She stops and raises her eyebrows.

“I heard,” Albany confirms, nodding. “Klair talks about it, like, all the time.” 

“Does she?” Alexis asks lightly. She reaches into her purse and pulls out an emery board to start filing her nails -- it’s an old trick, makes it easier to avoid having to make eye contact, relaxes people. 

“Yeah, she says you dropped off the face of the planet and ended up living in some shitty little town --” Albany cuts off with a snort. “Oh, no, I didn’t realize it’s, like, literally --” 

“-- mhm, yeah, I know,” says Alexis quickly. “It’s not so bad, though.” 

“Yeah?” Albany sounds skeptical, and when she looks up again Alexis sees her eyebrows are raised. But she can’t see anything in Albany’s face that isn’t sincere curiosity.

“Yeah,” says Alexis decisively, tucking the emery board back into her purse so she can focus on getting this point across as clearly as possible. “It’s actually kind of cool to be somewhere you can, like, try new things, and people are less judgy.” She purses her lips and puts her hands out in front of her to emphasize. “Well, not so much less judgy as differently judgy? Like, they still judge, but it’s in a nice way, like their hearts are in the right place.” Albany laughs at that, and Alexis smiles. It feels nice to make someone laugh like that. 

“I thought you’d be more like her,” says Albany quietly when she stops laughing, and there’s something in her eyes that wasn’t there before, something that makes Alexis suddenly aware of her own heartbeat.

“I was,” she says, looking away. She’s pretty sure she’s blushing based on the heat in her cheeks, embarrassed at remembering just how alike she and Klair used to be. “And, um -- I still am, in some ways.” 

“Oh? Name some,” Albany says, tilting her head, which causes a lock of her hair to fall across her face. She blows it away impatiently, and it’s Alexis’s turn to laugh. 

“Um, that, for one -- laughing at you just now is totally mean.” She can’t help but keep grinning, though, and Albany grins back. 

“That was my own stupidity doing that,” Albany says, still smiling. “You get to laugh at that and not be considered mean.” Her eyes are soft, the smile reaching them easily. They’re a shade of brown Alexis is used to considering boring, but they’re nice when combined with that smile, she thinks. 

“Fair,” Alexis says. “But I’m a little bit like her in the selfishness department, for sure, since I have, like, a lot of work to do since I turned down that job and all, and I’m gonna leave you on these steps and head home without really making your night that much better.” 

“You made it better,” says Albany seriously, and she’s not smiling now. Alexis’s breath catches a bit at the intensity in her eyes, and she lets it out deliberately. 

“Oh,” she says, with a bit of a shaky laugh, hands dancing over her purse again, trying to decide if she needs to take her emery board back out or something. She gathers herself enough to shoot a grin, a bit crooked, at Albany. “Well, I’m glad I could help, then.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” There’s that quiet voice again, and before she knows it Albany is leaning in to brush her lips softly over Alexis’s own. She freezes, even her hands stilling, and she’s pretty sure she stops breathing entirely for a moment as Albany draws back. She has no idea what expression is on her face -- and no idea what’s on Albany’s either, because she can’t bring herself to look. She’s hot all over, her lips tingling where Albany’s aren’t touching them anymore. 

“Um, no problem,” Alexis says quickly, standing up, her heart hammering. “I’ll, um -- I’ll see you.” She tries to sound casual, adjusting her purse strap with both hands to keep from giving away that they seem to be shaking a bit. What was that? What was that? As she starts to walk away, she brings a hand to her mouth, as if she could maybe feel something there that would make this less...something.

“Okay, see you around, Alexis.” If she were capable of more thought, she might have registered the question in Albany’s voice, but she can’t register much of anything right now but her own bewilderment and the need to get back to the motel and lie down, right now, immediately. 

It’s not that she hasn’t kissed girls before -- she has. But maybe she hasn’t, not really -- not if really means actually feeling anything when their lips touch hers, the way Albany’s...God, what is she, twelve? It was barely a peck. It shouldn’t have made her go all weird and flustered. Of course, maybe that didn’t have anything to do with Albany at all. Maybe it was just because she was so tense -- after dealing with Klair, and all the planning for singles week with Twyla -- besides, she’s never fallen for someone that quickly! People fall for her immediately, sure, but that’s different. Besides, she’s only ever been into men, at least before...maybe that’s what it was. Maybe Albany being so sweet just reminded her of someone else -- 

She cuts that thought off as she walks up to the motel door, shoes swinging in one hand. Barefoot is better than heels for most of the road on the way back from the bar, and she’d needed the walk to think -- or rather, to clear her head and try to not think. She takes a deep breath now and steels herself to open the door. David will be able to smell a weird mood a mile away, and she can’t deal with him right now. Alexis reaches out to open the door, talking quickly in what she hopes is a normal tone of voice for her as she does. 

“You would not believe the audacity Klair had, to ask me to --” She cuts off, suddenly realizing she’s speaking to an empty room. Right. Jocelyn’s baby shower -- sprinkle, whatever -- that was tonight. Maybe he’ll even go to Patrick’s afterward and she won’t have to deal with anyone until the morning. Alexis breathes a sigh of relief and sits down heavily on her bed, reaching down to drop her shoes and examine the damage to her feet. Oh, it’s bad. She’s kind of amazed she managed to walk home without noticing -- is that growth also? She’s tougher, now? Rugged, even, she thinks proudly, getting up to walk to the bathroom to wash her feet. They really are terribly ragged. 

David comes in as she’s finishing putting on some foot cream she helped herself to from the store’s inventory last week. He shoves into the room not-very-gracefully, holding a bundle of balloons he probably doesn’t want but was made to take home anyway, and has to try three times before he manages to get them all inside and shut the door. So much for not dealing with anyone until the morning, Alexis thinks, glad for the extra moments to compose herself.

“Having an interesting night, are we?” David asks finally, as he drops the weight the balloons are attached to in the corner of the room nearest the window, slapping them back a bit with his hands when a few float toward him.  

“That’s one way of putting it,” Alexis says primly. She pulls on her thinnest pair of socks and steps over to the bathroom to wash the extra foot cream off her hands. 

“What’s wrong with your feet?” David asks more directly when she comes out of the bathroom again. “Is it something I need to worry about? If you have athlete’s foot and you haven’t told me --”

“Ew, David, no,” she says, grimacing. 

“I am just saying -- we share a shower. You’re legally obligated to tell me if you have something contagious.” Alexis rolls her eyes and groans, picking up the tub of foot cream and holding it up, her eyebrows raised. 

“I hope you paid for that,” David says, and Alexis groans again, putting it down on the nightstand so she can flop onto her bed and throw an arm over her eyes -- which are weirdly tearing up, she notices. Cool. Life is stressful enough without brothers interrogating you about gross foot fungus, without girls randomly kissing you on the steps of bars and making you wonder if you even know yourself. Maybe she’ll just stay like this forever. Let the arm of her dress soak up her tears even if she’s not totally sure why she’s crying. It’s almost a minute later when David speaks again. 

“Hey, are you...okay?” She takes her arm off her face slowly and turns to see he’s standing between their beds, looking down at her, probably taking in that she’s still fully dressed and hasn’t even taken off her makeup, let alone gotten her sleep mask or actually, you know, gotten under the covers of her bed.

“Yep.” Really, what else can she say? ‘A girl kissed me and I reacted like I’d never felt the touch of a human and maybe I’m not as straight as I always thought I was after all’? ‘She’s leaving in the morning and somehow I’m super sad about it even though I just met her an hour ago’? ‘I’m planning a singles week for other people to find love and I’m pretty sure I never will again, given how weird tonight has been’?

“Okay, I doubt that,” David says, gesturing at, well, presumably everything about her right now. “What is this -- is this about Ted?” 

“No.” Maybe by some weird association gymnastics her brain feels like doing. Maybe if she spirals about it too hard. “I’m fine.” He shoots her a look that’s more skeptical than usual, then throws his hands up dramatically. 

“Fine, never mind, I don’t want to know. I am. Exhausted.” He’s still standing, though, and crosses his arms over his chest, looking at her. 

“Are you trying to reverse psychology me?” she asks, propping herself up on her elbows. “Because it’s not going to work. We read about it in the negotiations unit of my sales class.” David shrugs, doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move a muscle. “Ugh, okay,” she says, letting her breath out all at once in a huff. “Klair’s friend Albany...she kissed me, and I kind of freaked out.” David blinks at that and shakes his head slightly, like he has to reshuffle his thoughts or something. 

“Okay, several questions,” he says after a moment. He holds up a finger. “One, Klair as in Klair-with-the-German-au-pair who spent our whole childhood teaching you to be the worst version of yourself?” Alexis rolls her eyes at that description, but it’s not like she can refute it.

“That’s the one.” 

“What is a friend of hers doing here?” 

“They’re on a trip,” she says. “Because they felt like being random.” She forces a laugh -- she’s going for sarcastic, but it comes out sounding more bitter than she means it to. 

“Also, Albany? Really?” 

“David, you once dated a guy named Yorkshire,” she says with a snort. “I don’t see how you’re in a position to talk.” 

“Anyway,” he says, pressing his lips together, which means she won that one, Alexis notes with some small bit of satisfaction. “Why would a girl kissing you freak you out? You did your whole party girl kiss-anybody phase for, like, years.” 

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” says Alexis, sitting up entirely so it’s easier to look at him. “But for some reason this was...different.” She hasn’t figured it out herself yet -- how does he expect her to have a clear explanation for him? Her eyes well up again, and she grabs a tissue from the box on the nightstand irritably, dabbing at them. 

“Different how?” 

“She meant it,” she says, and as the words come out, she realizes they’re true. That is how it’s different. When she’s kissed girls before it’s been a stunt or a game -- or the result of some very not sober situations. It’s never been...genuine. It’s never been nice. 

“Ah,” says David, finally sitting down on his bed. There’s a lot in that ah, and Alexis isn’t sure how much of it she wants to hear right now. 

“Anyway, so, it’s just. It’s a lot to handle, and I’d rather not talk about it, for, you know, for a bit,” she says, looking at him sidelong instead of turning to face him. 

“Really?” 

“Really,” she says, then hesitates. “Maybe. Maybe I should talk about it?” 

“I would hope you could talk about it with me, at least,” David says, standing up from his bed again to pace the carpet at the foot of hers. “Considering I am -- to my knowledge -- the only queer person you interact with on a regular basis. But then, I would also hope I wouldn’t be having to drag it out of you after a very, very long day.” 

“Well, maybe I didn’t really consider that, David.” 

“So you don’t consider me queer or you don’t consider me a person?” 

“You know that’s not what I mean,” she says, reaching for another tissue. “I just mean I hadn’t considered that talking about it would, like, help. Can we focus for a minute on the person actually going through an identity crisis?”

“That’s funny, because when I was going through my identity crisis, I’ll note, you were -- what -- in Bahrain?” He still hasn’t sat back down, and Alexis is getting tired of craning her neck to look at him, especially if all he’s going to be is indignant. 

“No, I was ten, David. Please.” She dabs tears from the corners of her eyes and adds primly: “I was on a girls’ trip to Bali that Annika organized. Anyway, we’re different people now.” She looks down at the tissue twisting in her hands and takes a deep breath before adding quietly. “And I’m not even sure I’m...well, anything.” 

“Oh?” She doesn’t have to look to know he’s got a hand on his hip and is more than likely about to merge his eyebrows into his hairline. “Because in case you haven’t noticed, you’re crying over how much you like a girl.” 

“Yeah, but that’s like...people do that, David,” she says. And now that she thinks about it, she’s done it before -- on that same trip to Bali, actually. 

“Sure they do,” says David pointedly. “Usually when they need to figure out if they’re, y’know, anything.” Alexis considers that for a second, then nods, glad her nose has stopped running, at least. 

“So, what should I do?”