#of course he gets charmed by the middle son right off the bat

[zakifairer]

You know that moment where you tell your friend that you want to date their brother

They laughed this off and arranged a date later.

[atopvisenyashill]

Had some fun thoughts about Aegon’s sons while I was re-reading. This is the passage:

At the feast afterward, King Aenys compounded his misjudgment by granting the title Prince of Dragonstone to his presumptive heir, Prince Aegon. A hush fell over the hall at those words, for all present knew that title had hitherto belonged to Prince Maegor. At the high table, Queen Visenya rose and stalked from the hall without the king’s leave. That night she mounted Vhagar and returned to Dragonstone, and it is written that when her dragon passed before the moon, that orb turned as red as blood.

It’s kind of funny to me because Aenys is doing something normal - he’s just naming his oldest son as his heir (and also pointedly bypassing Rhaena as heir but that’s also incredibly normal behavior bc Westeros and Earth are a patriarchal hellscape).

But he always does shit like this. Every major decision Aenys makes is the one he’s “supposed” to make, almost like he’s following a script. The patriarch must have heirs, must make proper dynastic matches for his heirs, must support and defend his heir’s claim so the transition between their rules is smooth. He wants to live up to the legacies of both Aegon and Rhaenys, be decisive and strong but kind and charming as well, and he freezes right in the middle of the two into something obnoxious and indecisive.

So he takes the title “prince of dragonstone” a title created for Maegor by the lords and people and hands it to his son for funsies. He wants the titles and signals of legitimacy to belong to only him because he’s the first born so of course it belongs to him; that’s not just arrogance, that’s law. At the same time, “prince of dragonstone” was not an official title that Aegon gave Maegor as a sign of legitimacy, the way he tried to give Aenys blackfyre. See here:

Prince Maegor remained with his mother, sitting by her side when she held court. Queen Visenya and King Aegon were oft apart in those years. When he was not on a royal progress, Aegon would return to King’s Landing and the Aegonfort, whilst Visenya and her son remained on Dragonstone. For this reason, lords and commons alike began to refer to Maegor as the Prince of Dragonstone.

They call him that because he grows up there at his mother’s side instead of at his father’s with Aenys. And then not only does Aegon back down from fighting the Faith by betrothing Maegor to a Hightower, he is essentially rejecting this sign of legitimacy for Maegor by refusing to go to bat for an incestuous marriage that would make Maegor and Rhaena his heirs together. Maegor may have some symbols of legitimacy but they are not given to him by Aegon - he doesn't get Blackfyre or Balerion until after Aegon dies. He barely sees his father. He can't even give his father grandchildren. But he has this one thing, this title given to him by the lords and commoners of Dragonstone, the seat that once belonged to his father. And then Aenys takes that away. It’s his right! He’s the oldest son! Why is Visenya turning the moon weird colors when she knows her son is the younger!

But of course, her son is the younger because Visenya and Aegon couldn’t stand each other, and by the time they got around to really attempting to fuck, Visenya was already a bit old. And Visenya is the oldest, maybe the least loved wife, but the original, the first wife. It doesn’t matter; Rhaenys had a baby first, Rhaenys is the one the line now descends from. And her son can’t even leave Visenya’s son a silly little title given as a nickname, a nickname he earned for being Visenya’s son, always on Dragonstone with his mother and never at King’s Landing. But Aenys stubbornly ignores this because this is how he operates. They’re the ones not following the script!

It’s exactly what he does when it comes to Rhaena and Aegon marrying; it never occurs to him that people will be angry because he has the right. Never mind the High Septon making it clear he wouldn’t approve. Never mind it’ll piss off Visenya and Maegor, the only competent generals with dragons that he has bc his kids aren’t grown.

The storm that greeted the king’s announcement took them all by surprise, though the warning signs had been plain enough for those with the wit to read them. The Faith had condoned, or at the very least ignored, the marriage of the Conqueror and his sisters, but it was not willing to do the same for their grandchildren.

There’s soooo much going on here in why Aenys acts like this. It’s not just the general royal/noble “i have the castle and the swords i do what i want” but a very specific Targaryen “i have the dragons i do what i want” and an even more specific “i have the divine right i do what i want.”

He is Aegon the Conquerer’s first born son and he can do what he wants. It’s in the script his father followed when Aegon used The Divine Right Of Dragons to subjugate most of Westeros. He completely convinced himself that he is allowed to run roughshod over social norms, politics, religion, his own family’s feelings, because he is Aegon’s son.

And Maegor takes the exact opposite approach. He is Aegon the Conqueror’s second born son of his least favorite wife and he will always have to conquer like his father to prove he is worthy of doing what he wants.

It is in effect the same problem basically every Targaryen past Aegon has had. They see him (and Rhaenys and Visenya) just as godly as the people of Westeros do. They are all demi gods aspiring to the immortality of the Conqueror while refusing to see the bigger picture surrounding him which is that Aegon didn’t do whatever he wanted and he was miserable for large portions of his life which is why he was so effective as King! He’s an annoying bitch but he’s an annoying bitch who realized that the throne was not there to make him happy!! It is only when Aenys and Alyssa give him Rhaena, and a new family to love, that Aegon lives happily again.

Basically every Targaryen ruler misses some aspect of this. They focus on how he conquered with dragons so they use extreme force and forget how often he conceded, how smartly he chose to sort his spoils of war, and put their yes men in powerful positions only to watch those dudes get eaten alive by their post. Or they focus on the concessions, on the miracle of his negotiations, the myth making around Aegon the Dragon, and do reckless, foolish shit without a thought for consequence because They Are The Blood Of The Dragon.

The Dragon was a man and not a god! He died of a stroke! Not of dragon fire or a thunderbolt sent from the gods themselves. Ultimately, what was special was his ability to know when to fight and when to negotiate and even that wasn’t always easy for him, see: the dragon’s wroth. But every Targaryen after him believes in The Dragon, The God, and makes a claim at his godhood, even his own sons. And all of them fall short because of their belief in his godhood, even his own sons.

[chudleycanonficfest]

One Last Dance

Day 4, Story #1 is by @be11atrixthestrange

Title: One Last Dance Author/Artist: be11atrixthestrange Pairing: Jily  Prompt: Halloween Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): implied character death

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Harry was fussier than usual on Halloween night. Bath time was an ordeal, as Harry kept knocking the shampoo bottle out of Lily’s hand and splashing water at her. Afterward, the child almost refused to fall asleep; he wriggled in her arms and tugged on her hair as she swaddled him. Just because he couldn’t speak full sentences yet didn’t mean he couldn’t communicate; he did so with his eyes, and Lily swore there was a smirk on his face as she rocked and sang to him, until he finally drifted off.

Lily didn’t mind a fussy baby, in fact, she enjoyed the challenge. She cherished every extra moment with her child, and at exactly fifteen months, Harry’s newfound spunk was nothing but evidence of his emerging personality. He had her eyes, and she wondered if he’d get James’ messy hair, horrid eyesight, and infuriating charm. She grinned at the thought of a sassy and sarcastic Harry, star of the quidditch team, just like his dad. Or maybe he’d be more like Lily; sensitive and studious, top of his class, future Head Boy. 

Of course, there could be nothing remarkable about him at all. He could turn out to be average, maybe even terrible at sports, or join weird clubs and get below-average marks. Even then, if her son came home for the summer excited about a slew of ‘acceptables’, or stressed about Gobstones club drama, he’d still be the coolest person Lily knew. 

Whatever he turned out to be ��� head boy, quidditch captain, super-nerd, or even squib — Lily couldn’t wait to find out. It was funny how determined she had been to never admit her feelings for James Potter. Her feelings were always there, but that boy had to work hard for her affection. All Harry had to do was laugh, or sneeze, or wrap his tiny fingers around her pinky, and Lily was a goner.

With the stubborn child finally asleep, Lily shuffled downstairs to find that James had already cleaned up dinner in the kitchen and was pouring two generous glasses of wine, almost as if he read her mind. 

He beamed when he saw her — one of her favorite things about him was that he made no effort to hide his feelings, ever — and slid the glass across the countertop. 

“What’s the occasion?” she asked, raising the glass to her lips. It was bitter to the taste but relented into a friendlier, fruitier flavor once Lily committed to a sip. 

She never knew she could relate so much to a glass of wine. 

“Halloween,” said James. “I know you love it, and I’m sorry we couldn’t celebrate the muggle way.”

Halloween was always Lily’s favorite holiday growing up. There was something comforting about everyone’s sudden suspension of disbelief and willingness to face what scared them. She wished muggles would have embraced the paranormal every day, it surely would have made her life easier.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It has to be this way.” 

Lily wished they could hand out candy to trick-or-treaters, but the neighborhood muggles couldn’t see their home; not while it was under the Fidelius Charm. Staying hidden wasn’t what she had imagined when moving to a mixed-magical community, but for now, it was the safest option. The only option. 

James met her on the other side of the kitchen island, interrupting her thoughts with two fingers under her chin. “Definitely next year,” he said before tilting her head up for a kiss. 

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she smiled against his lips, wondering if Harry’s ability to make her heart explode was just as hereditary as his bright green eyes. There was something about those Potter boys that knocked her off her feet.

Maybe James was right, and next year, things would be different. They could get to know their non-magical neighbors, and Lily could take Harry trick-or-treating. He’d look so cute dressed up as a hippogriff, and no one would bat an eye when he’d insist it was a real animal. Kids say the darndest things, and on Halloween, anything was possible. 

“Next year, for sure.” Lily took another swig of her wine and relished in the evolution of its flavor, a delicious reminder that things change, sometimes so fast that she might blink and miss it. Things weren’t perfect by any means — they were in the middle of a war, after all — but there was no shortage of good in their lives. Not everyone could say they had a happy family, loyal friends, and really good wine. 

“Dance with me?” asked James, setting his wine down next to hers and tugging gently on her arm. 

It didn’t take much to lure her into the open space of the living room and settle into the crook of his neck. There was no music, but that didn’t matter; if there had been a beat, they would probably have ignored it anyway. 

“Do you remember the first time we ever danced?”

She nodded against his shoulder. Of course she remembered.

It was Halloween, sixth year, and James and Lily had been alone in the common room. 

“Happy Halloween, Lily,” said James as he approached her. “Today, you’re not a freak.”

Out of context, it might have sounded like senseless teasing, but it was so much more than that. She stared back at him, mouth agape, and wasn’t sure how to respond. It had been years — years — since they had talked about Halloween, and somehow he remembered a passing comment from her eleven-year-old self. 

“You remember that?” she asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes. 

It was her answer to an ice-breaker game during their first year — ‘what’s your favorite holiday and why?’ She hadn’t expected the confused stares at her response. In the muggle world, Halloween was the only day when she didn’t feel weird. Now, Halloween, and the fact that it meant something different to her than to everyone else, meant it was the only day when she did. 

However, she’d happily settle for one single day of being a freak; it was much better than three hundred and sixty-four.

“Of course I remember,” said James, smiling at her. His grin was electric, almost zapping through his messy black hair. Then, he reached out a questioning hand and raised his eyebrows. She stared back at him, wishing he would just use his words, yet she was impressed that with her, he didn’t need to. James always wore his thoughts on his face, in plain sight for the world to see, and never seemed to feel any shame or embarrassment for expressing them.

It touched a nerve for Lily, who had spent most of her life hiding. She longed for him to have to explain himself for once, to actually verbalize his thoughts instead of coasting by in his utopia where people just understood him. It wasn’t fair. “What are you asking, James?” 

“Dance with me?” he clarified. His voice was annoyingly calm and collected as if he knew she had been expecting him to elaborate, yet aware that he didn’t have to. He didn’t even flinch at her incredulous stare, confident in his request, as if asking her to dance was the most obvious progression to wishing her a happy Halloween. 

“Why?” She steadied her hands firmly by her sides, hoping James didn't see her fingers twitch toward his.

“To celebrate Halloween, of course.” His cheeks were rosy, his eyes sparkling, and his continued lack of reaction was curious. Despite her rejection, he committed to holding out his hand with confidence. 

“People don’t dance on Halloween.”

“I’m people, and I dance on Halloween,” laughed James.

She looked at his hand and considered it. Despite a few accidental brushes of her hand while taking notes or passing in the hallway, she had never actually touched him. And Lily had always been the curious type.

James followed her gaze to his hand and playfully wiggled his fingers. 

“Okay,” she said, placing her hand in his. His touch was gentle, firm, confident. It felt nice. “But there’s no music.”

“We don’t need any,” he said, pulling on her arm so that her body pressed up against his. It might have been too forward if she hadn’t fit so perfectly, but honestly, standing any further from him would have felt like sitting upright in a reclining chair. “If there was music, I’d probably ignore the beat, anyway.”

“You would?”  His soft voice immediately put her at ease in his arms, even though her palms were sweating and her heart was picking up its pace. “Why?”

“I’m too distracted,” he said. “Wasn’t expecting you to say yes.”

Lily laughed. “Then why’d you risk asking?”

“Anything is possible on Halloween, right?”

His arms tightened around her just then, not in a forceful way, just comfortable and supportive. She let herself get lost in the moment, swaying with James by the crackling fire, actually smelling, not imagining, his cologne, and feeling the prickle of his stubble against her forehead — when did that grow in? 

Maybe the next day, they’d go back to their usual dynamic, somewhere between flirting and arguing, annoyance and admiration. Or maybe, this would change things. There was something about the Potter boy and his messy black hair, unruly and uncaring, his glasses that should have made him look like a nerd but didn’t, and his annoying charisma that had an effect on her. It wasn’t a secret; they were both aware of it, yet neither felt the need to acknowledge it. At least not yet. They were so young, and they had so much time. 

“Was that when it all changed for you?” asked James, pulling her back to the present. “Is that when you finally gave in to my charm?”

Lily smiled at her husband. “Nothing changed that day. Nothing ever changed.”

James smiled, and Lily leaned into the sharpness of his stubble, a few lazy days unshaven. She melted against him and held him tight. Although his belly was softer, his voice was deeper, the circles under his eyes were darker, reflecting fifteen months of erratic sleep schedules, nothing about him had changed. 

The moment was broken by the sobering sound of a baby crying. Both Lily and James groaned as they pulled away from one another and swiftly turned their focus to their child. 

“I’ll put him back to bed,” said Lily.

“I can do it,” interrupted James. “You bathed him.”

Lily thought of the miniature James crying in his crib, and her heart clenched. It had only been minutes since she last snuggled him, and she already missed the child. “I really want to,” she said. 

James nodded, but his gaze was not on Lily. “Okay. I will meet you upstairs, then. I want to check the wards — I thought I saw some movement outside.”

Lily squinted at the window, her heart rate rising.

“It’s probably nothing,” said James.

Reaching for her half-full glass of wine, Lily nodded. “Alright, I’ll meet you upstairs. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

With one last glance at her husband, Lily made her way up the stairs toward Harry.

Harry, the child who always scrunched up his face when he slept, pursing his lips and crinkling his nose like he just ate a lemon. The boy with her eyes and James’ smile, who was already the best kid ever, even though his personality had yet to be determined. The kid who had a temper, but always calmed down the moment his mother wrapped her arms around him, the stubborn, determined one who could melt Lily’s heart with a single look. 

Her son, Harry, who she couldn’t wait to watch grow up, yet she hoped would never change.

[curlybookwriter0294]

Simple Favor

Summary: Damian Wayne does not ask for help, nor does he ask for any favors. So, this was new to him. If it were any other person, he wouldn’t be doing this. However, the person that he’s thinking of is different. He trusts her and believes that she would do this for him with few questions asked.

It should be easy to ask her for a simple favor. If that was the case, then why is he having a hard time knocking on her door?

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the DC universe or the Teen Titans! Just the plot :)

This is PRE-DamiRae!:)

“Father.. you can’t be serious.”

“I am serious son. This could be an excellent start if you plan to take over my company one day with Tim.”

“And tell me how by bringing in a ridiculous date help me in anyway?” Damian asked, folding his arms over his chest as he watched his father typing away on the bat computer.

Bruce turned around in his chair to stare at his annoyed son that was standing in front of him. He sighed when he rakes through his hair with a hand. “Damian, people like me because I am good with people. I know how to communicate. I am also very sociable as well. People like that. Especially big investors. If they see you not being happy in any shape or form, they will start to stray away.”

Damian narrowed his green eyes at him, not buying a thing that he had just said. All he knows that this is an idiotic idea that his father had come up and he was known to have smarter ideas than this. “Father..” he started to protest but Bruce interrupted him.

“It’s just for one night Damian. If you need help in that department, I can probably can make a few calls—“

“I don’t need help from you in that department,” Damian said with a roll of his eyes. “You have terrible taste in women and that includes my mother,” he muttered with a sigh after taking a deep breath, wrinkling up his nose. “I… have someone in mind.”

Bruce lifted a brow with interest and leaned forward in his chair as he studied his son’s unreadable facial expression. “Oh? Anyone that I know?”

“Tch. Just know that she will be there with me that night. That’s all you need to know,” he told him, walking out of the Batcave as he tried to ignore the face that his father was making behind his back.

Damian Wayne does not ask for help, nor does he ask for any favors. So, this was new to him. If it were any other person, he wouldn’t be doing this. However, the person that he’s thinking of is different. He trusts her and believes that she would do this for him with few questions asked.

It should be easy to ask her for a simple favor. If that was the case, then why is he having a hard time knocking on her door?

“Damn,” he muttered, bringing his fist down from her door from a failed attempt at knocking on it. He rakes his dark hair with his fingers as he stared at the name that was printed on the door, wondering why he couldn’t just open it already. It’s not like he was nervous or anything right? Though, he could’ve swore that he had felt a little flutter in his stomach as he walked down the hall towards her room earlier after getting back to Titans Tower. “It’s just for one night,” he grumbled to himself. “Stop being an imbecile.”

He raised his fist to knock on the door and waited until he heard the word enter before sliding it open and stepped inside the room. He spotted her floating crossed legged in the middle of the room with her eyes closed as she repeated her mantra.

“Are you alright?” she asked, opening a purple eye to study him briefly before closing it again when she feels a wash of mixed emotions coming from him. “You seem troubled about something.”

Right. He should know by now then to attempt to hide things from an empath.

“I need a favor,” he said quietly, knowing that she could hear him. He watched her open her eyes when he spoke. She gave him a look of surprise. “What Raven?”

Raven shrugged her shoulders at him and smiled at him when she landed on the ground gracefully. “It must be that important coming from you,” she teased lightly, watching his emeralds narrow towards her when she laughed at him softly. She sighed when she caught a whiff of irritation coming from him. “I’m sorry. What do you need my help with?”

Damian cleared his throat as he tried to come up with a way on how to ask her. It should be a simple question, right? So why does he feel nervous the more that his green eyes stare into her violet ones that was looking at him and he knew that she was studying his emotions. “I need you to accompany me to a fundraiser event that’s in two days.”

Raven lifted a brow at him and crossed her arms over her leotard. “Why do you need me to accompany you?” she asked, titling her head to the side as she studied Damian in front of her.

“If I were to help run Wayne Enterprises one day with Drake, I need to start making appearances to these events. No matter how much I truly don’t want to be there in the public eye,” Damian explained, averting her gaze as he walked over to the big open window in her room, watching a few birds flying by the Titans Tower.

“And what does that have to do with me, Damian?”

“Father tells me it would help that it would appear that I am happy. And that I’m..” Damian paused as his mind tried to find a way to give the empath an explanation. “Likable. Otherwise, investors will start to stray away from WE. It’s better to start now rather than later.”

“Hmm..” Raven pondered, walking over to stand next to him. “Why me?” she wanted to know. If she were to do this, she needs to know the real reason why he had picked her specifically. Suddenly she could feel a wave of different emotions washing over her and she looked over at the former assassin that was standing next to her. “Damian… if this is for PR purposes…”

“It is for PR purposes Raven.” Damian told her with a small sigh as he turned his head to look at her. “And I trust you. That’s why I’m asking you to do this simple favor for me. You know me better than anyone,” he explained to her quietly, looking into her violet gaze. “Will you accompany me?”

“What color would you prefer my dress should be?”

“It doesn’t matter to me Raven.”

“So, Bruce tells me that you brought someone to the fundraiser event. Is that true? Because I don’t see anyone next to you.”

Damian sighed as he took a small sip of his champagne glass when Tim Drake walked over to him with his own glass in his hand. He was wearing a similar suit as him but Tim’s tie was blue and Damian’s was a dark green.

“Tch. Mind your business Drake. As I told father days ago that she’ll be here. Where’s Brown?” Damian asked, noticing that the curly blonde wasn’t attached to Tim’s arm.

Tim nodded his head behind him, and Damian eyes finally spotted the former Batgirl engaging a conversation with a board member as the two eat tiny sandwiches. “Working her charm as always,” he said with a smirk. “You sure you got a date to this thing?” he teased the youngest Robin, looking all over the big ballroom of the fundraiser event. “Or were you just lying?”

“Drake..” Damian muttered, pressing his lips into a hard a line. “You do realize that I know how to get rid of a body correct?”

“Relax,” Tim said with a roll of his sapphire eyes, scoffing at him. “We promised Bruce that we can handle this event without him. I’m just making sure that things are running smoothly,” he told him with a slight shrug of his shoulder. “Here comes one of the vultures now,” he whispered, leaning in close to the green-eyed former assassin. “Look alive,” he warned.

Damian looked away from Tim to see Lois Lane from the Daily Planet walking over to them. She had her shoulder length dark hair high up in a bun and was wearing an off-shoulder light blue dress with a pen and notepad in hand. “Gentlemen, would you like to say something about the fundraiser event for the Daily Planet?”

“Of course, Ms. Lane,” Tim said as he immediately went into business mode. “Anything for my favorite news reporter.

Damian rolled his eyes as he half paid attention to what Tim was saying to the reporter. His mind was elsewhere as he scanned across the room to see if he could spot a pair of violet eyes, wondering when she would make her entrance.

“You and Miss Stephanie Brown look quite lovely this evening,” he heard Lois say to Tim and Damian casted his gaze back over to them to see Tim rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “How long have you two been together again?” she asked with a smile on her face. “A lot of TimStephs want to know.”

“Gosh, Ms. Lane it’s been almost a decade for us.” Tim replied sheepishly with a small chuckle at the little ship name she had mentioned. “TimSteph huh? Clever.”

“And what about you Damian? Are you alone tonight? Or have you brought someone as well?”

Before Damian could respond, he finally spotted a pair of violet eyes that was standing a few feet from the three of them and he could feel his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Even though they were only feet away, he could tell that she wasn’t used to this kind of event. She had her arms wrapped around her strapless emerald dress loosely as she shook her head when a waiter tried to offer her a champagne glass.

She was wearing green just like his eyes.

Damian tried to recall any sort of conversation about what color dress that Raven would be wearing but he remembered telling her that it was up to her decide on what color to wear and she looked. He wanted to know why she had chosen that specific color. Not that she had looked horrible or anything because that was the total opposite from where he was standing.

“She just arrived actually,” Damian told the raven-haired reporter and cleared his throat. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, walking by them and completely ignored a look that Tim was giving him behind his back as he walked over towards the quiet empath. She looked over at him once he had gotten closer to her. “You look…” he said quietly, eyeing her up and down as he tried his best to come up with a word to describe her.

“Out of place,” Raven answered for him with a sigh, reaching up to play with the end of her braid that was over her shoulder. “I actually do feel out of place.”

Damian shook his head in disagreement. “Quite the opposite,” he told her, giving her one of his rare smiles that only a few people manage to bring out. “You look lovely.”

Raven could feel her cheeks getting warm at his compliment and looked down at herself. “Thanks, I guess,” she muttered as she looked over to look at Damian and his black suit. “Good thing I picked green,” she said, nodding at his green tie.

Damian lifted a brow as he glanced down his tie and chuckled. “Come on,” he said, holding out an arm and Raven hooked her hand through it. “Let’s get this night over with.”

He led them back over to Tim and the Daily Planet reporter and both raised a questionable brow at him as he brought Raven over to them. “This is Rachel Roth,” he told them, watching Raven smile at them. “She’s my date this evening,” he placed a hand on her lower back and briefly looked at Tim. “I believe you’ve met her before,” he reminded him, tilting his head to the side. “Remember?”

“I do remember indeed Damian,” Tim said, catching on what Damian was doing. “It’s good to see you again Miss Roth.”

“Likewise, Tim,” Raven said. “How’s Stephanie doing?” she asked him.

“She’s doing fairly well. She’s talking to few board members actually,” he told her with a small chuckle.

“Would you mind if I ask you a couple of questions for the Daily Planet Miss Roth? Is that alright with you Damian if I ask your girlfriend a couple of questions?” Lois asked them both, quirking up a brow as she got her pen and paper ready.

“Oh, we’re not—”

“That is fine with me.” Damian interrupted without thinking and looked at Raven sideways briefly and ignored a look that she was giving him. “Just make it quick,” he demanded, crossing his arms with a sigh. “Drake and I have to make a speech soon.”

“Of course,” Lois said, nodding her head and then asked Raven a couple of questions. They were basic questions about the fundraiser event that was being held and how Raven felt about it and both Tim and Damian paid extra attention on how she was answering her questions. Damian noticed that she was a natural at answering them smoothly without skipping a beat. He was about to drag her away from the reporter, thinking that she was doing asking Raven questions when a question made him paused. “How long have you two been a couple? You make a lovely couple. Not to mention,” Lois was saying, looking at the young adults and their outfits. “You two are matching tonight. Was that planned by any chance?”

Damian had realized at that moment, maybe he should have let Raven corrected the reporter. He had miscalculated the next set of questions that the sharp reporter would ask next. He could tell that Tim was trying to hold himself together at the mess that Damian had created for him and Raven and it was too late to try and fix things. Damian shot the Red Robin a glare and the older man had quickly took a drink from his tall glass of champagne.

He had only brought Raven to this event for PR purposes only and to listen to his father’s advice. Damian also knew that this little story about him and Raven would make it to the front page of the Daily Planet, putting them into the public eye even more.

Damn.

“It’s uh,” Raven started, looking at the now frustrated Damian next to her. His emotions were screaming at her and it was hard to concentrate on what to say to Lois Lane. She cleared her throat and realized that this wasn’t part of the plan that he had for them. “New. Fairly new. A few months to be honest.” Damian turned to look at her when she had spoken, and she gave him a small smile when she reached down to place her pale fingers through his tan ones.

Lois smiled down at their joined hands and clicked her pen and placed her notepad in her front pocket. “Alright, I think I have what I needed. Thank you for your time and enjoy your evening.” She cleared her throat as she walked away from them to grab someone else to ask more questions.

“Drake,” Damian growled out in a warning when Tim was about to say something when his mouth had opened. “Don’t you have to make sure that our speech is ready?”

Tim closed his mouth and nodded and turned on his heel to leave Damian and Raven alone. He looked down when he saw that his hand was still wrapped around hers. She was the first to remove her hand. “I apologize for not letting you correct that reporter.”

“It is fine Damian,” Raven told him, chewing her lower lip. “I did not mind it.”

Damian ran a hand through his thick hair and sighed when he looked down to check his watch. “I should go prepare for the speech. Will you be alright here?” he asked, and Raven had nodded at him. “I shall return soon.” There was a pause before he had walked away from her. “Thank you, Raven. For everything.”

“You’re welcome Damian.”

It was very late in the evening when Damian and Raven had finally left the fundraiser and he was driving them back to the Wayne Manor. He had insisted that she should stay in a spare bedroom until the next day before they return to Titans Tower. The car ride was silent except for the low hum of his car. He tapped the wheel with his finger, wondering if he should break the silence between them. He replayed the whole even in his head, from the beginning to the very end when the reporter was asking Raven questions about him and her.

In his opinion, he was impressed with her. She had played the role extremely well despite the little hiccup that he had placed them in. It had made his stomach flutter with how she had spoken to the wife of the Kryptonian. It made him feel things in a way that is making him question everything slowly.

It made him wonder if she would do this again but for more than PR purposes.

“You are speaking very loudly,” Raven commented, breaking into his thoughts. She leaned back against the leather seat of his car and stared out at the darken window at the passing trees. “Want to talk about it?” she prompted.

“I…want to thank you again for doing this favor for me Raven,” he said, gripping the wheel tightly in his hands as he turned on the curvy dark road. “And to apologize again for putting you in a tight situation.”

Raven looked away from the window to look at him and shrugged her shoulders. “You don’t have to apologize. It was…rather interesting to say the least.”

Damian looked away from the road and lifted a brow at her before turning his attention back to the road ahead of him. That was not the response that he was inspecting from her. He had hoped that she would be angry at him for the questions that the reporter had asked her about them being a ‘couple.’ Was she telling him the truth right now?

“Yes, Damian I was telling the truth,” Raven answered him, and he rolled his eyes. “It was an interesting event,” she told him honestly, nibbling her lower lip when she used her hands to undo her braid and let her hair fall on her shoulders. “If you need me to do this again…”

The words were left hanging in the air between them and it was quiet once again during the drive to the Wayne Manor.

Damian cleared his throat as he walked inside the spare bedroom with Raven and watched her looked around at the neat room. “Will you be comfortable in this room?” he asked her as he leaned against the open-door frame with his arms folded over his chest.

“It feels cozy,” Raven said, placing the heels that she had borrowed from Kori at the foot of the bed. “Thank you.”

“Good. Good night Raven,” he was about to leave the room to let her get some rest when he felt a tug on his arm and looked down at her with his head cocked to the side in confusion. “What is it?”

Instead of answering him and before Raven could chicken out, she leaned up to kiss him softly on his cheek, blushing at the shock expression he was giving her and leaned away from him. “If you need me to do any more favors for you just ask me and I will do it. It doesn’t matter if it’s a simple favor or a difficult one. I would do it for you and for you only Damian.”

“I’ll…definitely keep that in mind,” Damian told her in a serious tone, reaching up a hand to touch the spot where she had kissed. “Good night Raven,” he said, clearing his throat and stepped out of the room.

“I’m going to definitely keep that in mind,” he repeated to himself, touching the spot on his cheek again and his stomach started to flutter again. “Definitely.”

AN: So I am highly new to this fandom and I truly hoped that you guys had liked it!! Even though it was heavily Pre-DamiRae lol. Please let me know what you guys think!:) have a lovely day:)

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist 

Part 8 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: A lot of yelling, language, and some supernatural references (if you squint) 

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner

~~~~~~~~~~ 

You took deep breaths as Hotch led you towards the interview room. You tightened your fists at your sides as you ran through your mind how you planned on doing any of this. The last time you'd tried to negotiate with a man like him, it hadn't been pretty. 

"You need to get him angry, alright? That's his weakness. Figure out which of the archetypes he is. Get as much as you can out of him, but do not under any circumstances let him speak to anyone or manipulate you. We will switch out with Morgan to watch over him in an hour. Good luck." Hotch readied you, giving you the files you needed. You clutched the manilla envelope against your chest, trying to calm your ever racing heart. 

You nod wordlessly, facing the man in the see through mirror. He was wearing a red flannel and a black shirt underneath paired with ripped jeans. He had hunters boots on as well. He had a bruise forming on his jaw and a fresh cut that was bandaged on his forehead. 

Morgan stepped up behind you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You can do this, kid. Promise. Don't let him get to you." He insists. You nodded shakily, looking up at the man again. 

You turn towards Morgan with a determined look. "Just promise me you won't interrupt. Even if he tries to attack me." You insist. Morgan widens his eyes. 

"Princess, we can't do that. If anything goes wrong-" he began, unable to find the right words to fill the gap. "You could get hurt. And that's paperwork." He adds with a sigh. You giggle and shake your head. 

"Morgan, we both know paperwork isn't what you're worried about." You tease before you turn around and find the handle to the interview room. Here goes nothing. 

You walk in, closing the door behind you. As soon as you turn around to do so, you hear a whistle from behind you. 

"Damn… and here I thought they'd be sendin' in some prissy princess. How you doin'?" The man asked. You swallow. This was exactly how you expected him to treat you. You'd had experience with narcissists and manipulators before. This was the first thing they did. 

"I don't know, Jensen." You greet, grateful you had stolen a glance at his profile and which one of the brothers he was. He smirked at you, leaning forward and biting his lip flirtatiously. "Why don't you tell me how you're doing with all of these murders. I mean, it has to get to you somehow. All that blood on your hands… all that guilt… unless it's just fun for you." You ask, smirking at him as you changed the subject. Jensen's face shifted slightly, twitching at how focused you still were at getting these answers. 

"Sure it's fun. But I only do it cause I have to. You know… I'd stop if I had a girl like you…" he insists, attempting to reach across and touch your chin. You back away slowly, just about enough to make him think you were playing hard to get. You batted your eyelashes and threw your hair behind your shoulder. 

"Oh really? You would?" You asked, pulling out a photo. "What about that brother of yours? Sam, right? What's he like?" You ask in a flirtatious tone. Jensen yet again shifts a little in his seat, uncomfortable that he was losing control of the conversation.  

"Hey, Sammy can't even get it up half the time. All the girls he fucks he kills afterwards. I'm better, trust me." He insists, winking at you from where he sat slouched in the seat across from you. He bit his lip a little harder and hummed gently. "Man… you know, if I didn't have these handcuffs on I could show you a pretty good time…" he trails, giving you a seductive look. Had this been over five years ago, this flirting would have seriously got you. No one had ever flirted with you this way. Not even now. But after all your experience with secret motivations behind smiling masks, you knew better. 

"Oh yeah? I thought you were… more the kinky type. Let a girl think she's in control for a good little bit." You ask, purposely shifting in your seat to slightly pull up your skirt. Your plan has been working so far. Hopefully Morgan was keeping his promise. 

Jensen licked his lips and looked you up and down. "I'm guessing this ain't your first rodeo, is it, princess?" He asks, giving you a flirtatious glance. You bite back a disgusted groan that would've fallen from your mouth if the situation were different. 

You giggle and hold a hand to your mouth. "No, no I'm afraid it isn't." You tease. Jensen flashes a white smile you're sure has charmed plenty of women in his past into his pants. 

"Good. I like women with… experience." He flirts back. "You think I could get a beer in here? Some whiskey?" He asks. 

"How about you answer a few questions for me, big boy? Then maybe I'll let you ask for a few things. Of course, within reason." You remind, winking back at him. Jensen leaned back in his chair and pondered what you offered. 

"Sure, lay it on me, Baby." He allows, nodding to you. You let out an undetectable sigh of relief before you start up again. So far, so good. 

"So… Jensen… how would you describe your relationship with Sam? Strong? You get along good?" You ask, internally groaning at how much you sounded like a therapist. 

Jensen seemed to share this sentiment and let out a groan for you. "Geez, you sound like a goddamn shrink." He grumbles as he sits up. "Yeah… me and Sammy are always by each other. I practically raised him. He's my baby brother. What do you expect? Some people say we're codependent on each other but, really, who are they to judge?" He shrugged, looking at you. 

You nod, looking through the information. Just as you begin to open your mouth to ask another question, Jensen slightly hits the table. 

"Nuh uh, sweetheart. You asked me a question, so I get to ask one too. Am I right?" He clarifies, giving you a shit-eating grin because he knew he was right. You sigh and nodded, closing the file for a moment. Jensen smirked and leaned forward towards you. 

"How come we ain't on a first name basis yet, hm? You know my name, what's yours sugar-tits?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. You swallow gently. 

"My name is Agent-" 

"No-no-no-" Jensen interrupted. "I mean your real name, sweetness. You know, the name mommy and daddy gave you when they signed that slip of paper." He insists, pressing a finger into the table. 

You sigh. "I can meet you half-way and give you my middle name-" you attempt to compromise. 

"No, damnit!" He growls, slapping his fists into the table. "I want a damn name! No name? No answers, bitch!" He yelled in your face. You swallowed all the nerves building up in your throat, clearing it for a moment. 

"Alright, alright, calm down. Or we'll have to detain you again. And then you won't get the chance to hear my name or potentially strike up a deal, you hear me?" You ask, biting the inside of your cheek just barely. 

Jensen seemed satisfied with your answer, settling back into his chair. 

"They call me (Y/N)." You answer after a quiet moment. Jensen smiles greedily. 

"(Y/N), huh? You don't hear that one everyday."

"No, you don't. Now… Jensen. Can you tell me, what exactly you and your brother were doing when you decided to kill these two men?" You asked, pushing the pictures of the crime scene in front of him. He rolled his eyes.

"They were tax guys. We didn't wanna pay tax, is that too hard to get, baby?" He asks with a chuckle.  

"No, I figured that. No, what I want to know, is why you decided to pour salt on the body once they were already dead, and set them on fire?" You questioned. Jensen began to protest but you held up a hand. 

"I'll let you ask two questions once you answer me." You promise, pointing at one of the photos. He sighed and leaned back. 

"Ain't I allowed a lawyer?" He asks. 

"Not since you escaped prison and are not a legal, non-incarcerated citizen. Sure, you will receive an attorney for trial. But I doubt a lawyer will help you here. I'm your best bet at being able to strike up a deal." 

Jensen grumbled, looking around the room, still refusing to answer. You nod as you begin to take mental notes. 

"Ah I see. This all has to do with the man who burned your mother, doesn't it?" You ask him, catching him off guard. 

"Wha-?! How did-?" He began. 

"We're the FBI, Jensen. Not some local police officer you can convince you were just experimenting how to build a bonfire and try to tell me they got just a little too close. You see, your mother was salted and burned too. But I bet you knew that. That man assaulted her in your brother's nursery and started the fire. You reserved that method for him. But you couldn't remember whether the man was blond haired, or dark. So you killed them both the same way. Didn't you, Jensen? You and your brother got caught up in your daddy's little business-" 

"Shut up-" Jensen growled.  

"And now you can't stand to let him down. To break the promise you made to him-" 

"Shut. Up." He hissed.  

"And you brought your little brother into it too because you couldn't face all the guilt all alone. Because you're afraid of being abandoned. Despite all the ways you have to fill up that void: Drink, Sex, Money, you know that you can never be satisfied." You insist, leaning closer to Jensen as you begin to raise your voice.  

"Shut the hell up, bitch!" He attempted to shout over you. 

"You can never be satisfied because all you are is daddy's little pawn. And without him? You see no purpose for yourself-" 

"Son of a bitch-!" He growled, slamming his fist into the table again. "Shut the fuck up before I make you-" 

"Then answer me this one question, Jensen." You insist, standing up as he does. 

"Why should I-?" He roars. 

"Cause I know you never wanted this. That you wanted a regular family. And I can find that family you tried to hold onto." You insist. It was a long shot, but you had to try. 

"What the hell are you talking about-?!" 

"Men like you, who have broken homes, broken families with deadbeat fathers, they try to start over. Try to be the man their father wasn't. And I can see that you fit right into that, Jensen. You tried to have a family. You desperately tried. But you were too sucked into this second life you had that you had to choose. And you regret it. Now, tell me where your brother is, and I'll find them for you." You promise. 

Jensen widens his eyes in shock, as if he was surprised you could get all of that from just this little interview. He tensed up and took his seat again, twitching with anger and disbelief. "You're bluffing… she… Daneel moved on from me. Changed her name. You can't find her." 

"I bet that I can. I'll find them and let you see them again. If you tell me where your brother is." You restate, calming your voice to a caring tone. He leaned forward and put his face in his hands. 

"There's an old factory we both head to… when one of us gets caught. It's down south of Lebanon. He'll be there. Now you better find her for me. Or I will strangle you here and now-" he began to threaten. 

"I wouldn't lie about that. You'll see her. You'll see your brother too. Just behave, and I may be able to get some visiting privileges worked out for you." You promise, collecting the files again and head towards the door. 

"(Y/N)..." 

You turn your head as you hear your name. Before you can even reply, he finishes his statement.  

"Thank you." He says just barely audibly. You smile gently and nod to him before you leave the room. 

Once out you exhale your hardest, taking in a similar inhale. That, was a lot. 

"Damn… how the hell did you get all that? How did you… even do that?" Morgan asks, helping you up from where you had unknowingly leaned against the door. 

You shook your head, smiling somewhat. "I… I trusted my gut. I've unfortunately dealt with guys like him. And the one thing they treasure is something they know they can never have." You explain, looking up at Morgan. 

"Well still, you did a good job staying calm in there. I mean… Hotch and I didn't know whether or not you were seriously flirting with him or not." Morgan chuckles. 

"Yeah well… sure he was handsome but, he isn't my type." You reveal. Morgan smirks and nudges your shoulder. 

"Yeah, cause your type is 6'1 and a gigantic nerd. Who by the way, couldn't stay in the room watching the interrogation after you started flirting with him. You should've seen him, all red faced too." He grinned. You widen your eyes at his reveal, doing a little blushing of your own. 

"Really?" You ask. 

"Yeah, kid. But seriously… (Y/N)? You've been holding out on me princess! Why didn't you tell me you had a name like that?" He teased, leading you out of the room and towards the rest of the station. 

"Well… you can call me (Y/N/N). I go by that more often by friends." You insist. Morgan chuckles.  

"And we are most definitely, friends." He says, holding up a fist for you. You giggle and give him a fist bump, walking with him back out to where Hotch and the rest of the team were. 

"We all need to split up and take different entrances to the factory. He probably knows the building better than we do. Once we're in, we'll corner him. Without his brother he is vulnerable." Hotch explains, unaware Morgan was walking up behind him. 

You look down and pull your skirt back into place. You didn't need anyone thinking you were trying to get some. 

"So Hotch, what's the plan?" Morgan asked. 

Hotch turned around and faced the two of you. "I'm having Garcia get the layout of the factory now. There's only one down there, so we have to assume that's the one Jensen meant." 

"Great work, (L/N)." Prentiss says, smiling at you. 

"Thank you." You respond. "I�� just trusted my gut. Hotch?" You spoke up. The man in question turned his head towards you. You sigh and begin to speak up. 

"I called Garcia to find her for you." Rossi interrupted, smiling at you. "I'll put it on my record, so you can still have a clean one." He promises, winking at you. 

Hotch nodded. "Yes, we'll get in contact with this Daneel. If any pop up in his history, we'll call her down to see him. Now we need to hurry. Jensen may have a way to tip off his brother. You need to change out of that and get down to the factory." He says to you. 

"She can change in the car with me." Prentiss insists. "Like you said we don't have much time." 

"Alright. (L/N), you ride with Prentiss. Let's go." He says, prompting all of you to head towards the doors. 

○●♡●○ 

"Damn, (Y/N), where have you been all my life?" Derek asks as you both come back into the station, followed by the rest of the team. 

They had managed to apprehend the brother. Turns out that Sam had been contemplating suicide and when you had told him he could see his brother again, he gave in. So he was much easier than his brother. 

"I dunno, Morgan. Probably hidden under all the other chicks you had to take out first." You teased, giggling a little as you all took a seat (and or leaned against the wall, as was Morgan’s thing.) 

Spencer, on the other hand, chose to head into the evidence room instead. You raised an eyebrow, confused. 

"Hey, uh… is Reid okay? I mean, he was the one who got the guy in handcuffs. Did you see him though? He had to be at least as tall as Spencer." You chuckled. 

"Why do you say that?" Prentiss asks. 

"Did you not see him skip this little after case review? He went straight into the evidence room. I've never known him in the two months that I have, to go clean up evidence boards before talking to all of us." You point out. 

"He's probably just jealous." Morgan teased. You furrow your eyebrows and wack Morgan’s arm. Morgan smiles and winces playfully in pain.

"I thought you promised me you wouldn't talk about it!?" You hissed. 

"Ooh, talk about what?" JJ asks, taking her own seat instead of standing. Hotch smiles softly and chuckles. 

"The obvious crush Ms. (L/N) has on Reid." Hotch spoke up. 

You whip around faster than the swivel chair can as you look at Hotch in surprise. "Don't tell me he told you!" You whined, your blush making a reappearance on your face as you cover them. 

Hotch chuckles and lets Rossi take over his defense. "We all know already, kid. You aren't exactly slick about it." He says with a chuckle of his own. 

"You all suck. Capital S." You grumble. 

"Hey, I didn't do anything about it." Prentiss points out. "Though sure, I may have said something about Reid…" she trails. You groan louder. 

"Seriously? How obvious have I really been?" You ask. "And be honest with me please." You insist. Each of your team members looked to one another before they each said: "Very." 

You let out a frustrated growl and lean back in your chair. Morgan chuckled as he put a hand on your shoulder. 

"Kid, you weren't slick." He admits. 

After a moment, Morgan gets an idea and smirks. "So… does he know your name?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Prentiss and JJ gasp for a moment, smiling at you expectantly. A third gasp joins them, causing you to crane your neck to find out where it came from. JJ turned her phone around and showed Garcia's caller ID. You should have known. 

"Come on kid, is it safe to tell us yet?" Morgan asks, smiling genuinely at you. The most real one you'd gotten thus far, you think with a grumble. 

You sigh as you begin to grin from ear to ear. Guess you weren't getting out of this. You had finally been able to let your guard down around the team. You felt welcomed and not like a burden. So you said it. 

"My name is (Y/N). But you all can call me (Y/N/N)." 

A few shrieks from Garcia's end were quickly heard then silenced through the volume button of JJ's phone. Prentiss smiled at you, sitting back gently.  

"Really now? Never thought I'd say it but I never pegged you for a (Y/N)." She commented. You snickered. 

"Yeah, well, you can thank my grandfather for  that one. He insisted my parents name me something normal. Or at least something that wasn't Gwenevere. So they compromised on (Y/N)." You laugh, bringing a few more members of the team with you. 

This was home. You'd only known a true home one time before this in your life. And this was it. This is what home was to you. Not a random apartment, not some desk job, this. This work family you'd built up for the past two months. 

You just hoped you hadn't screwed up with Reid again. 

[liquidstar]

I'd love to hear some of your recommendations! And I'm good without any content warnings, but since you're posting this for all your followers to see probably best to add them

Alright sure! I’ll be general then and since you’re just starting out this will sort of be bringing up a lot of really popular ones, the really good ones where the general consensus is “you gotta see this!”, but I’ll also try to give ones from different genres so you have a variety of things to pick from, so this isn’t really a list of personal favorites but I’ll throw in a couple of those too lol, but generally think of this as a handy beginners guide with just a little personal bias.

I wrote a lot so I'm gonna put them under the cut here.

Fullmetal Alchemist

Fullmetal Alchemist is a franchise that’s considered a must-watch, it takes place in a world where alchemy is a borderline magical power, but is considered scientific in-universe and follows scientific laws, namely the law of equivalent exchange. Something can’t be made from nothing, to gain something of equal value must be lost. The story follows the story of two brothers, Edward and Alphonse Elric, who at the ages of 10 and 11 committed alchemy’s one and only unforgivable sin, human transmutation, in an attempt to bring their mother back to life. As a result, one brother lost his arm and leg and the other lost his entire body, leaving his soul bound to a suit of armor. However the brothers are resolute to regain their original bodies, and the older brother, Edward, joins the State Alchemists, a branch of the military, to try to gain access to research materials to help them achieve their goal. But was that really such a good idea?

Fullmetal Alchemist can be a bit confusing to get into due to the fact that there are two series: Fullmetal Alchemist (2003) and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood (2009). The latter is a reboot with a different story that follows the original manga. They both have the same beginning, but diverge paths and tell very different stories. My recommendation for how to watch this show is: Watch 2003 first, and Brotherhood second. Everyone has a different opinion about which is better, but everyone agrees that 2003 has better backstory but a contrived ending, and Brotherhood has a rushed beginning (Because it works off the assumption that you’ve seen 2003) with a great and fulfilling ending. If you can’t do both I say just watch Brotherhood because it will leave you more satisfied and you don’t have to watch 03 to get into it.

For both series the biggest trigger warnings are: Parental death, child death, pet death, war, genocide, dismemberment, religious themes, and miscarriage. For brotherhood specifically: on-screen suicide, and for 2003 specifically: rape (not on-screen) and pregnancy from it. The 2003 series is also a lot darker than Brotherhood which has a more optimistic tone, so that’s worth noting too.

Soul Eater

A show I think is incredibly fun, and a good one for an October watch if you wanna save it. It takes place in a world where certain people have the ability to transform into weapons, and they team up with other people who become their meisters. The characters often travel around, but the main setting is Death City, a fictional city in Nevada based off of Las Vegas but with a huge Halloweentown vibe, and a school right at the top of it called the Death Weapon Meister Academy (DWMA) where a bunch of kids that turn into weapons learn how to hunt down witches and kishins (Beings that consume human souls). The school, of course, is run by the grim reaper, Lord Death himself.

Our main characters for the series are a group of 7 students. Our protagonist Maka Albarn and her weapon partner Soul “Eater” Evans, a scythe. A loud mouth assassin named Black✰Star and his weapon partner Tsubaki, who has many weapon forms. And the son of the grim reaper, Death The Kid, and his two weapon partners Liz and Patty Thompson, who are twin pistols. There are also a bunch of really lively colorful background characters and antagonists, and the cast of the show being as insane as it is really makes it, on top of the great atmosphere and of course the plot, which just builds more and more as the series progresses. Also Crona is there and we all love Crona.

Trigger warnings for this show include: Child abuse (Mental and physical), manipulation, snakes and spiders (The motifs of two major villains), some very surreal moments that can verge on unreality. Also, in the dub and most subs: misgendering of a canonically trans character. Crona is a character who is non-binary, but the dub and subs use gendered pronouns for them due to general ignorance about neutral pronouns in 2008, though this isn’t the fault of the original series and falls on the translators hands.

Also it’s important to note: that the first 3 episodes are prologues and they take themselves less seriously, there’s more fanservice in them than there is in the rest of the series (Except for Blair she stays the fanservice character :pensive:)

Zombieland Saga

Idol anime is really prevalent as a genre, the most popular being Love Live, but my personal favorite is Zombieland Saga. It’s an idol anime, but it’s also a comedy about zombie girls who become idols. It sounds ridiculous but there’s an insane amount of heart in it regardless, it wasn’t a show I expected to get emotional at but I did! It also made me laugh a lot too. The series itself can serve as a bit of a subversion on what idols are, not just because they’re literally zombies, but because of who the characters are.

Sakura Minamoto is a character who starts off as a more typical idol, a peppy pure girl, as the series continues her struggle with depression gets highlighted. Saki Nikaido serves as her initial foil, a delinquent girl with a criminal record who subvers the idea of pure perfect idols. Ai Mizuno, a former idol who has since undergone severe trauma (The way she died). Junko Konno who has ideals that seem very different on what idols “should” be due to the time period she died. Lily Hoshikawa, an explicitly transgender idol. Yugiri nolastname, a former high ranking courtesan, subvering the pure image of an idol by being a sex worker. And Tae Yamada, a completely nonverbal idol who’s still treated with the same amount of importance as the rest of the team. The premise here really is just that these girls don’t fit the incredibly rigid mold of what idols should be and yet they still all deserve love and they gain a fanbase by being their earnest selves.

Trigger warnings for this series aren’t incredibly severe but since they’re zombies there’s still talks about death and they way they died (Including motorcycle/car accidents, plane crashes, getting struck by lightning, and a heart attack), there’s also comedic dismemberment, as in their arms just sort of pop on and off and stuff like that. The most notable thing is the deadnaming of Lily, the trans idol, by her father, but it doesn’t appear to be malicious in any way.

Note: this series is in the middle of it’s second season right now, if you want to wait until it’s over it should be 12 episodes long and just aired it’s 3rd, so about 9 more weeks.

Death Note

This is also absolutely another series that gets recommended to people right off the bat, and for good reason, this show is an intricate game of chess between a serial killer and a detective trying to catch him, and it’s incredibly easy to get super invested in the suspense of what happens next. The story begins when a shinigami, a god of death, drops his “Death Note” into the human world out of pure boredom. A Death Note is simply a notebook where if you write someone's name in it… They die! And who better to pick up such a powerful object than Light Yagami, a prodigy praised for his genius and academy accomplishments as well as his charm and popularity, and with a very strong but juvenile black-and-white sense of justice, likely due to being raised by a cop.

So naturally Light begins his power trip as soon as he finds the notebook, he intends to “fix” the world by cleansing it of all the bad people, but truly he intends to become the world’s new god. Or the “God of the new world” as he puts it. But there’s one thing standing in his way, a detective resolute on catching him with the codename L. The series entire crux is a game of cat and mouse between these two, as they try to outsmart each other and the murders continue, Light loses more and more of his humanity, L becomes more resolute on catching him. There are more twists and turns than a cheetah race, and it’s honestly pretty addictive to see what happens next.

Trigger warnings here obviously include a lot of death and murder, including suicide, but in some cases it’s a forced suicide at Light’s hands. Also abuse, as Light loses his humanity he isn’t above manipulating and discarding people who love him. And one instance of near-rape on screen fairly early on, but the purpitrator dies before it happens and the victim escapes.

K-On!

Slice-of-life is an incredibly popular genre, and K-On! is the quintessential example of it. It’s a series that not everyone will like, because not a lot truly happens, and it can be overly saccharine or “moe” for a lot of people, and that’s fine. But I personally think that despite not a lot happening, the story has genuine substance, more than you may gather at first glance. It’s true that not much in the way of big plot really happens, it’s mostly life events, that’s why it's a slice-of-life. But it’s not about nothing. The real theme of the show is the fleeting nature of youth. It’s about how important the friendships you form at that time are, how they’ll stick with you for a lifetime, and how everything comes to an end. It’s sweetness even becomes a little bittersweet because you knew their after school tea time would end come graduation, and as they realize this it breaks their hearts a little, but they continue on, because they’re still After School Tea Time!

The series itself is simply about 5 girls in a band, Yui Hirasawa on lead guitar, Mio Akiyama on the bass, Ritsu Tainaka on the Drums, Tsumugi Kotobuki on the Keyboard, and Azusa Nakano on Rhythm Guitar (Who shows up later). They’re in a club at school called the light music club where they waste a lot of their time just drinking tea and eating cake, but they’re having fun and that’s what counts! The series has a lot of really great direction and expressive animation despite the fact that a lot of it is just sitting around and talking, it’s incredibly visually interesting so you don’t get bored.

I honestly don’t think there are any big trigger warnings I can give for this series, maybe that Sawa-chan can be a little too forceful when she wants to dress up the girls in cute outfits sometimes but it’s usually not presented as too creepy especially after season 1 where they tone it down due to straying from the manga.

Mob Psycho 100

This series is an absolute love letter to the art of animation as a whole, the artstyle itself may not seem like much to look at but the animation is some of the most expressive, fluid, creative, and vibrant out there right now, it’s the type of series that you can tell was made with a real passion for its medium and it’s story. It’s protagonist is Shigeo Kageyama, nicknamed “Mob”, a term that literally means “Background character”. Mob is a middle school kid and an incredibly powerful psychic, like, insanely overpowered, but he’s currently working part time for a shady conman, Reigen Arataka. Though it may seem as if Reigen is just using Mob for his powers, their bond is actually a very sweet one and you can tell they care for each other, it’s a very important one at the heart of the series.

The core themes of the series itself are what really make it shine, it’s message is stated as clearly as possible in the opening songs, “your life is your own” and “if everyone is not special, maybe you can be what you want to be”. Put simply, you’re the protagonist of your own life, but the other important message of the series is that all the supposed background characters are just as important. The friends you make, the connections you have with other people and the way they impact you, they’re what make you strong. No one is born special, everyone is just a normal person, and everyone deserves kindness. It’s a series that I recommend incredibly strongly for just how powerfully it portrays this message.

Trigger warnings for this series include kidnapping, possession, a scene with a “man in a dress” joke, and a racist design for a background character. Also (spoilers) a scene where it seems like a child was murdered and a scene where it seems like Mob’s entire family was murdered.

Kaguya-Sama: Love Is War!

Hey, speaking of amazing animation, Kaguya-Sama is a romantic comedy series centered around the premise of two incredibly arrogant people falling in love. Kaguya Shinomiya and Miyuki Shirogane are the vice president and president of the student council at the prestigious Shuchi'in Academy, they eventually develop feelings for each other but they’re both simultaneously too proud and too insecure to admit it, so the real crux of the series is the 3D chess they play with each other to try and get the other to confess first. Along with the scatterbrained secretary, Chika Fujiawara, the treasurer in desperate need of Prozac Yu Ishigami, the cast is incredibly fun and they all fit into the comedy great. Every single little game of “do you like me?” that they play is written like the most intense thing in the world, the insane animation absolutely adds to it, making it seem almost like a psychological thriller, the comedy comes from the absurdity of just how much they hyperbolize it.

It’s not pure comedy though, due to a lot of the series being set up around mindgames, the characters are actually fairly psychologically complex with a lot of genuine development stemming from their childhood to explain why they are the way they are. The series may be about mindgames, but the actual narrative frames them as a juvenile way to go about relationships, a way to try to protect yourself from getting hurt because you’re afraid to trust. The entire core theme is that communication in relationships of any kind is the most important thing and you cant replace it with clever little tricks, so the main pair only ever make actual progress when they’re actually upfront with each other. Even if it’s scary to be that vulnerable with someone, especially if you’ve been hurt in the past like they have, the relationships you build off of mutual trust and openness will be worth the risk, and they can help heal you. And one of the things I love about the series is that this doesn’t just apply to the main pair, but it places equal emphasis on the importance of friendship. All the characters' relationships with each other are unique and interesting and they all develop the same way, with trust and openness, and they become better because of each other.

Despite being generally a comedy, a lot of the characters deal with some really heavy things too so trigger warning for: child abuse (not on-screen), child abandonment (again not on screen), anxiety and panic attacks, suicidal ideation- initionally played off as a joke but it becomes very obvious the character in question is legitimately suicidal and in the manga he nearly attempts it but is stopped, this plotpoint will most likely be in the anime at some point as it’s also not complete.

Your Lie In April

Alright I gave you a funny show now I’m going to make you cry. In fact it’s hard for me to type this synopsis because I’m an absolute crybaby and thinking about this show gets me, but I think it’s absolutely worth checking out because it’s a very beautiful sadness. Your Lie In April is a series that follows the stress and trauma young musical prodigies face in their lives, as well as the people around them, and it’s a series about the beauty of music and art, and just how much it affects people. The music in the show is absolutely gorgeous, the way that they convey emotion through it is so beautiful and intricate that it just sticks with you. You feel the music, and you understand.

I’m actually going to give the trigger warnings right now instead of at the end because in order to explain the plot I’ll have to talk about them so tw for: Child abuse (phsyical and mental, on-screen), terminal illness, death, in depth depictions of PTSD, vomiting, panic attacks, the works.

The series follows Kousei Arima, a formal piano prodigy who hasn’t performed since the death of his mother two years ago. Kousei's mother was terminally ill, but she was also incredibly abusive. Kousei has incredibly complex feelings about his mother because of this. The trauma she instilled in him is severe, but because he was a child, he still is a child, and he loved his mom a lot, as any child would, and he didn’t want her to die and he blames himself for not being good enough. He wanted to make her happy, and the only way he knew how to do that was to play the piano. So he played and played and practiced until he was perfect, they called him the human metronome. But he would still get severely punished for being anything less than perfect. He had lost all the passion he once had, and after his mother died it was the final nail in the coffin, his trauma manifests now in a way that makes him unable to play. But all that changes one day in April when he meets a violinist named Kaori Miyazono, a girl full of life and passion for music, she’s someone who according to Kousei “Exists in springtime.” and she’s going to help him play again and refined that love for music whether he wants to or not! Teen drama happens of course, but there are much bigger roadblocks ahead.

Assassination Classroom

This series is thankfully generally more lighthearted… Most of the time at least. The premise is pretty simple, but incredibly ridiculous. An incredibly powerful octopus-like creature is the teacher of a classroom of middle school students tasked with the assignment of assassinating him in order to save the world. The series starts off very slice-of-life as it focuses on introducing the very large cast of characters inside of Class E, also known as the “end class”, but it quickly gains traction and gets a lot more intense as time goes on.

The octopus creature in question, Korosensei, is actually a very kind and genuinely good teacher to all his students. The real crux of the series is that it’s sort of a critique on the educational system, the students in the end class are there because they’ve been ostracized from the rest of the campus, far away in the mountains, to be made examples of. Why? Because they’re students that are considered worthless, instead of getting help they’re only pushed back further down in the system and left to struggle within it fruitlessly. They’re given up on, despite being children with so much potential, because they don’t fit a very rigid mold. That’s what Korosensei wants to help them with, and they’re able to grow as people together. As the series progresses you feel such a great sense of unity for the class, they’re like a family, they stick together and it’s very heartwarming. And watching them work as a team of assassins is so fun!

However the series can get heavy at times too, it doesn’t stray from heavier subject matter at all and i found myself incredibly shocked by it a few times, so trigger warning for: Child abuse (on-screen and off), both at the hands of a parent and a teacher and in one case a parent who is also the principal, misgendering of a character, sometimes as a “joke” but other times played dead serious at the hands of his mother, child death- specifically suicide, a successful one as well as 3 assassination attempts that doubled as suicide attempts by the main 3 characters (weird parallel they all got there huh)

Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Honestly this is a series that is good to go in blind for if you need to tws, it’s a deconstruction of the magical girl genre, but if you don’t want to know more than that you can stop reading here. If you want to know more, it’s a series that starts off very light-hearted and in tune with typical magical girl conventions at first, however by episode 3 it’s made painfully clear that these girls are being led to sign up into something they shouldn’t. It’s heavy, though not incredibly so, but it’s also a lot to explain in a summary. Madoka magica is… It’s Faust with magical girls.

I’ll explain as much as I can without giving too much away. The story begins when Madoka Kaname and her friend Sayaka Miki encounter a creature who calls itself Kyubey, who says it can grant a wish of theirs and in exchange they have to become magical girls and fight witches. Both the girls are hesitant, but Sayaka wants to wish for her childhood friend’s injuries to be cured so he can play violin again, while Madoka is content as she is and can’t think of a wish. Luckily they have a mentor, a magical girl named Mami Tomoe who helps introduce them to everything. However something is stopping Madoka from becoming a magical girl, a mysterious new student who is also one herself, Homura Akemi, is resolute on keeping Madoka from becoming a magical girl by all means possible, for reasons Madoka doesn’t understand. Things get even more complicated when a rival magical girl shows up, Kyoko Sakura, who becomes Sayaka’s new rival. As things get more heated between those two they discover a terrible secret about the nature of magical girls, and what they truly signed up for.

Spoilers ahead but trigger warning for: Child death, parental death (backstory only), decapitation (off-screen), needles, incredibly surreal imagery inside the witch’s labyrinths that may feel unreal, mind control, suicide, depression and despair expressed by young characters. Also don't bother with Magia Record

The Disastrous Life Of Saiki K.

Alright something lighthearted now, there are a lot of comedy anime I enjoy, a lot of series that have made me laugh, but none has made me bust a gut like this series has, it’s absolutely hilarious. It follows the life of a boy named Saiki Kusuo who has psychic powers. His powers are incredibly overpowered, and he absolutely hates them, in his eyes they cause him nothing but trouble. There’s not much in the way of a plot to describe, because there isn’t any, the series is comprised of 5 minute segments surrounding Saiki and an incredibly vast and colorful cast of characters that are just all completely insane, many serve as parodies as types of anime tropes because the series as a whole is very self aware and doesn’t shy from breaking the fourth wall a lot, but the characters surrounding Saiki are what make his life… Disastrous.

Like I said there’s not really a plot to describe but like FMA people may get confused with this one, there are 3 seasons but one of them is titled “The Disastrous Life Of Saiki K: Reawakened” as is a continuation of the first two with just 6 episodes in it. Also for some reason only the second season isn’t dubbed so if you’re planning on watching it that way you’d have to either stop or switch to subs for season 2

The only major tw I can give here is an ongoing joke about a character being into his sister, he’s treated as disgusting for it of course because he’s a parody of that trope but that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable, luckily he doesn’t show up much.

Little Witch Academia

Little Witch Academia is a series I personally just adore, it takes place in a world where witches are common and well-known among the people, but the era of witches is over and magic is dying out. However that doesn’t mean passion of magic doesn’t exist, the protagonist is a young girl named Atsuko Kagari, or Akko for short. She’s resolute on being just like her icon, a witch known as Shiny Chariot, as she attends the same magic school: Luna Nova! Unfortunately Akko isn’t exactly a magical prodigy, in fact she can’t even fly a broom, but that’s not gonna stop her, nothing will. Just like Chariot said, believing in yourself is your magic.

Once at school Akko gets into all types of crazy shenanigans with her with her two roommates, Lotte Yanson and Sucy Manbavaran, and occasionally her rival, Diana Cavendish. Akko still struggles a lot in school, in fact her inability with magic is pretty explicitly handled as a metaphor for a learning disability, and though this makes it harder for her she’s still resolute. Though the series is generally episodic, a concrete plot starts to form by the second core. Along with the help of her guidance counselor, Professor Ursula, Akko learns that she needs to unlock 7 “words” to bring magic back to the world, each time she learns a new one it comes with an important lesson to her and ultimately relates back to each of the core themes of the series

The series is pretty lighthearted so the biggest trigger warning I can give is one for bullying, two characters in particular tend to target Akko for not being a good witch and it can really sting to watch. Other than that none come to mind

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Flufftober Day 21

Disclaimer! I was planning a 100 word Drabble and I got quite carried away and ended up writing an entire one-shot fic. My thanks to @otherworldsivelivedin and @penpanoply for the positive feedback and the encouragement to post it, so here it is. Read the fic at ao3! 

October 21 prompt: “I don’t understand” (Boyfriend Material)

Oh! You Pretty Things

Luc, mon caneton. You and Oliver are free Sunday, yes?”

I try to remember if we actually have anything planned for Sunday, other than a good shag and French toast. Maybe followed by another shag.

“Uh.”

“Magnifique. You shall come to Judy’s.”

“What?”

“Judy’s piscine. You must come see.”

“Listen, Mum, I know you two have been friends for a long time, but I draw the line at anything involving Judy pissing.”

“Do not be so silly. Put me on the shouting phone.”

“Speakerphone?”

“Oui.”

“Fine,” I huff as I switch my mobile over. She’s given up talking to me it seems.

“Oliver, Luc is speaking nonsense. Judy has a new piscine and you must come in your Speedo on Sunday.”

“He’s not showing up in a Speedo, Mum. And most certainly not to do anything involving pissing!”

“Piscine is a swimming pool,” Oliver murmurs helpfully.

This makes things a bit clearer, but still not in any way appealing.

“It sounds like it could be fun,” he adds.

Fuck it all.

“See, it is a done deal as you say,” Mum chimes in. “Do not forget the Speedo, Oliver.”

“Mum, why the sudden obsession with swimwear?”

“Your boyfriend has style, mon cher. Oliver would not wear those ridiculous pantalons you insist on wearing to the sea.”

“They’re called swim shorts.”

“Pah, even the name is foolish. I do not understand you. All the gays they wear the Speedo. Why do you not want your boyfriend in one? He is attractive, non?”

“Well, yes, but you see . . .” I flounder as Oliver’s eyebrow goes up and his lips quirk. “Mum, that’s not the point . . .”

“Ah. I see now. You do not like the other men to see your Oliver like that. It is not good, the jealousy, Luc.”

“I’m not jealous!”

“There will not be gays to flirt with your boyfriend, mon cher. It is just Judy and me. I will make my special summer curry.”

“No, Mum, for the love of God, no.”

It’s jarring to realize that what I’d once considered to be the Mount Everest of my Mum’s culinary crimes was actually just a runner-up Mount Kilimanjaro--that she’d lulled me into thinking the special curry was the pinnacle of toxicity, while unbeknownst to me the summer curry had been lurking in the deeper waters.

I know I’m mixing my metaphors and I don’t care–they still aren’t as unfortunate a combination as any of my mother’s curry ingredients.

“Sunday, Luc.”

There’s an edge to Mum’s voice that promptly disappears as soon as she directs her words to Oliver again. “Oliver, do not let my son wear the pantalons. Take him shopping for a proper maillot de bain, oui?”

“Oui. A bientôt, Odile,” Oliver replies.

I end the call with a little more zeal than necessary. Meaning my mobile flies out of my hands and skitters across the floor.

“You can’t be serious about this.” I give Oliver my keenest glare. “Speedos and summer curry?”

“What is this vendetta against swimwear?” Oliver asks, boldly ignoring the curry issue, the smirk on his face threatening to raise my blood pressure by double digits.

“It’s not a vendetta.”

“Then?” He nudges my knee with his bare foot. It makes me weak under the best of circumstances but I do my best to hold onto my indignation.

“It’s nothing.” The words come out petulant. Lovely. I sound like a sullen teenager.

“It’s obviously something.” Oliver slides his toes under my leg. It’s unfair, it really is. “I wouldn���t have expected you to be averse to the thought of me in a Speedo.”

His foot burrows further under, his toes now brushing against the inside of my thigh and my brain is overwhelmed with an image of that v-cut of his diving down into a black Speedo and it’s all my mother’s fault, which really shouldn’t be something that’s remotely allowed to be in the same sentence with v-cut.

“It’s not you,” I say, with the inevitable follow up of “It’s me.”

“How so?”

“Ok, so I know Speedos are basically the required beach couture for our demographic, but it’s not ever been something I’ve felt works for, you know,” I wave a hand at myself, “me.”

“And why not?”

I stare at him. “Listen, I know for a fact you’ve seen me naked, more than once, so you should be able to figure that one out for yourself, Oliver.”

“I’m not following you, Lucien.”

Splendid. I’m going to have to spell it out. “I don’t have the . . . well, the physique to pull off wearing one.”

I also don’t have the confidence of middle aged, paunchy French men, but that’s beside the point.

His toes do this wiggle that’s borderline pornographic.

“Lucien.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t Lucien me about this. I’m not built for a Speedo and I damn well am not about to go prancing around in one at Judy’s blasted piscine.”

I give him a side-long glance.

He’s got that creased forehead look he gets when he’s thinking of how to politely reply to some asinine thing I’ve said. I’m intimately familiar with it.

“Look, it’s fine, Oliver. We’ll go to Mum’s disaster of a pool party, swim in whatever monstrosity Judy’s installed at her estate, bathe in eau de wet dog for a few hours thanks to the spaniels. Eat the blasted summer curry and deal with the inevitable intestinal horror show to follow.” I narrow my eyes at him. “But I draw the line at the Speedo.”

Oliver has the audacity to smirk at me again. “For you or for me?”

“What?”

“For you or for me? I understand you may have reservations about wearing one—reservations I find quite concerning from a body-image standpoint, which we should probably address at some point in time—but I will support your devotion to modesty, as long as you comprehend the fact that I, for one, would not be averse to the sight.”

He’s completely lost me. “The sight of what?”

There’s that soft look. I’m becoming intimately familiar with that one as well.

Then his toes start doing that wiggly thing against my inner thigh again and I’m not sure if I’m turned on or still quivering with righteous indignation.

Right, I’m turned on.

“Of you, Lucien. You in a Speedo. Or swim shorts. Or an oversized t-shirt and hedgehog pants.”

Oliver slides his leg fully under my arse and somehow unbalances me enough that I end up sprawled in a heap on his chest. He’s not wearing a shirt so I’m not about to complain, although I do let out an involuntary squawk as I thump against the broad and luxurious expanse of his pecs.

He brushes the hair off my forehead, tracing his fingertips along my jawline until he’s cupping my face with his hand. “Whether we go or not is completely up to you,” Oliver says, grey eyes intense, yet achingly soft. “But you could be clad in a caftan and you’d still be beautiful to me.”

I should just take the compliment. I should crawl the rest of the way up his chest and kiss him breathless.

I don’t, of course.

“That could be arranged, you know. James Royce-Royce has a lovely chartreuse caftan. I’m certain he’d let me borrow it for the noble cause of seducing my Speedo-clad boyfriend in full view of my mother and her barmy old harpy of a best friend. The spaniels will be scandalized.” I can’t help grinning at him.

He grins right back, a silver glint in his eyes. “I’m sorry I’ll have to disappoint you then.”

“What? How will you resist my boyish charm? I’ll have you know that caftan brings out the green of my eyes.” I bat my eyelashes.

“I’m certain it does.”

“Then what are you on about?”

“I’m afraid I must dash your hopes of a Speedo-clad seduction.”

“What? My caftan-clad allure isn’t going to do it for you after all?”

His smile widens. “Oh, I’m sure it will.” He leans down to press a kiss to the tip of my nose, which is one of the many ridiculously fond things he does that I’m becoming terrifyingly accustomed to.

Oliver tilts his head back, radiating amusement now. “I just don’t happen to own a Speedo.”

I drop my head on the pillow of his toned chest muscles and give a snorty laugh. “Whatever will my mother say?”

He gives a laugh as juvenile as mine as he replies. “Something very uncomplimentary about my pantalons, I’m sure.”

“We’re a disappointment to fashionable gays everywhere.”

“Speak for yourself.”

[musedblues]

Born To Love You [Part: 4]

summary: When Gwilym ropes you into a lie, the truth becomes painfully obvious. When Joe makes things harder, there’s no telling if he even has a clue.

a/n: Have I mentioned how much I love you lot? Because it's true! I do! 💖 Here is chapter 4 in all 'er glory. Feedback/ predictions/ and thoughts of any kind are always intensely appreciated of course! Stay well darlings 💞

w/c: 5k

Part 5

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Hello, my darling, my dear!" A familiar lilt floated past the door of your rented flat. Gwilym's mother was here.

You weren't entirely surprised to see her, she usually found some excuse to visit her son on whatever film set he used to occupy his time through the years. But she was terrible at surprises, and always let you know when she was planning on popping round. So why hadn't you heard from Mrs. Lee till now?

Before you had time to ask or even greet her properly, her arms were wrapped around your shoulders like a vice. Gwil's mother had always loved you- the first night you met, she assigned you a designated spot at the family dinner table. She never questioned your situation with her son. She always went out of her way to invite you to holiday parties and spontaneous family gatherings. And the times you had to miss out for one reason or another, and Gwil still brought Olive along, he'd bring her back to you with a message from his mother; how she'd missed you.

"What are you doing here?" You laughed into the woman's hair. Before Mrs. Lee answered, as you pulled away from the embrace, you noticed the look on Gwilym's face. You could tell there was something he'd been waiting longer than a couple of minutes to say.

"I invited her to stay for the weekend." Gwil grinned, sauntering closer to greet his mother with warm grandeur. To both of you, Gwil's mother's presence in the Airbnb was like a breath of fresh air. Olive was perhaps the most pleased of all, clamoring with laughter toward Mrs. Lee. She scooped up your daughter in a big hug and went on explaining her surprise visit...

"There's a show here in the city on Monday. I'm meeting some coworkers there, we've been planning for months! Anyway, I called Gwil to ask him to lunch and he doubled the offer! I'll be glad to watch Olive for a night, but before you leave we have to catch up."

"Leave? Where are we going?" You turned to Gwil as everyone settled further into the room. He seemed to already be waiting to tell you what he'd had up his sleeve.

"Lucy planned a party, tomorrow night. Rented a place to stay and everything."

"Oh...oh no-" You'd nearly forgotten. It was Joe's birthday.

"And I knew you'd try and get out of it. So, mum will stay here with Olive and when we get back on Sunday I'll blow my paycheck on taking her to a big fancy dinner as thanks." Gwil looked to his mother as she eased onto the sofa with a smile and a shrug, unopposed to being pampered.

"Gwilym!" You worried, trying to contain your panic but make yourself clear all the same. "I don't think I should go." You implored.

"It would be stranger if you didn't, don't you think?" Gwilym looked to you with a raised brow, his firm voice stirring the worry in your gut.

"Why are you two so on edge?" Mrs. Lee piped up from the sofa, where she sat unbothered by Olive yanking at the necklaces layered across her chest.

Neither of you could lie to her. So you and Gwil heaved a matching sigh and spun to sit on opposite sides of the room. And just like when James demanded to know what was up, Gwil took initiative in telling the story you'd been engulfed in for a while now- sparing a few details about arguments and longing gazes. His mother listened, showing little to no favor for which side she might have been on; hardly giving a single sign this situation shocked the woman to any degree.

"So, tomorrow is Joe's birthday. And we'll spend all night together in the thick of it." Gwilym rose a hand your way, almost like he was asking you what to do next. But he'd already planned everything out, hadn't he?

"Well," Gwilym's mother straightened. "That's the best time to work things out, without Olive around. Surely you can sit your friends down and explain things like adults, right?" She pointed a look to Gwil, one you imagined sent a chill down his spine as a boy, and maybe even still now.

"Right." He looked from her to you. And you knew he wasn't done scheming. You knew you were stuck between the promise you made to Lucy to be prepared to party, and whatever Gwil was up to now.

///

"Mama?" Olive grabbed the hem of your shirt in her fists as you flung your purse over your shoulder. Somehow, it sucked even harder every new time you had to leave her behind. She'd mastered the art of puppy dog eyes, her tears pooling, her lip quivering.

You promised her that you'd be back before she knew it. That she was in safe, fun-loving hands. But when the girl looked to Gwil who was toting your overnight bag to the front door, she was done for. Not even his excitable transaction of Olive's beloved one red-eyed bat stopped her tears.

And even though it felt impossible to walk out the door to the sound of her pleading cries, you knew she'd be okay. You wondered of your fate, though.

You left the rented car at the flat for Mrs. Lee, whose stories over homemade dinner and chatter over morning coffee lifted your spirits tenfold. Her excitement for spending a little more time doing just the same when you got back would likely keep you from drowning in your own worried thoughts. Off you went, all the while...

Lucy had rented some cottage in the hills. Apparently, she'd overheard Joe muttering about wanting to spend some time in the countryside before the production came to an end. The usual lot of you were invited to come ready to spend a night of fun, a night to celebrate Joe. He deserved that and more. But you certainly weren't worthy or prepared to join in such a celebration.

While your uber headed out of the city, you and Gwilym talked about how hard it was to leave Olive, how you couldn't wait for her to be a little older, easier to sneak in on the action. How you wished she'd stay small all the same. How Gwil stayed with you and your roommates the first week you brought Olive home, and how he hated to leave by the end of then. About the first day you left her with Gwilym when you went back to work, and how it seemed so easy because you knew how happy Gwilym was and that everything was fine.

As the forests of trees grew denser along the roadside, the ride became coated in a silence you mistook for shared reminiscence. But then Gwilym spoke up with a question you hadn't expected.

"If... if I hadn't roped you into being 'Mrs. Lee'..." He hesitated, almost afraid to ask. You, afraid to wonder.

"If I wasn't around when you met Joe..."

"If you weren't around, I wouldn't have met any of your lovely friends, honey." You gave your fake husband's hand a squeeze hoping he would take a hint.

By then, the uber was creeping up a gravel path to a cottage in the midst of pines and maples. The dull blue sky framed the quaint old home made up of worn brick and curtain shielded windows. Near the tri-colored brick chimney, Ben was stood smoking. His eyes (even from your view behind the tinted car window) somehow greener than the leaves that threatened to envelop your shelter for the evening.

Your conversation with Gwilym was officially cast aside, but you didn't miss his somber smile. The fact he felt for you muted the ache of adoration you felt for Joe at the mention of his name. You shook all those thoughts away on your clamor to solid ground.

Ben greeted the pair of you cheerily and led the way inside. No one else had made it yet. Ben said you and Gwilym were lucky to be early enough to choose the best room in the house. There were enough for everyone, around tight paint chipped corners. If you had to be locked in with everyone for an evening, at least it got to be in such a charming little space.

You and Gwil wordlessly abandoned your things on a small quilt covered bed and went to find Ben in the kitchen, proudly setting out all the liquor he managed to bring along. Rami and Lucy were in charge of bringing Joe, and a boatload of snacks. Gwilym must have been in charge of bringing you.

You knew it was important not to let a single crack split between your bond tonight, with no baby to hide behind. It wasn't hard to seem content, settling into a big comfy sofa as there three of you waited around. Beams of grey sun shot through the massive windows on the doors that lead outback. As you lost yourself to admiring the space, the others burst in.

Rami and Lucy carried a comical amount of bags in after Joe who was clearly ready to party. You couldn't help but laugh, out of all the ways he could have celebrated, he was delighted to stick himself in the middle of nowhere with the same group of people he was always stuck with anyway.

And just like that, you were all back together again like you'd been forever, like an afterschool special. It was easy to mix yourself in, just as easy as it might have been to stay in a far off corner. No one could focus on one thing long while they scattered off to explore the floor plan. After everyone had their share of admiring the nooks and crannies of the home, the fun began.

In the garden past the rickety steps of the porch, there was a tattered net already set up. Near the shed, Gwilym found a trunk full of dirty old sporting goods, and a tarnished blue volleyball was the only thing sturdy enough to play with. You teamed up and went wild like kids, like you all had at the play place outside Ben's favorite cafe. Except now you all relied on each other to play the same honest game.

Morale drifted from teasing banter to grunting curses as your scores were tied. You spiked the ball and won the first game. Celebration hardly lasted as chatter of a second round was on the rise. But when Lucy trodded of to catch her breath, you quickly decided to join her, riding your winning high.

She motioned you inside, making a b-line for the kitchen while the sun turned the world golden. Lucy appointed you to help her start making dinner as the boys continued playing volleyball to the death.

As their shouting at each other rattled the kitchen windows, Lucy unveiled ingredients for a homemade pizza. She'd heard Joe craving it the week before, and tonight was all about him.

"You're good at this." You pointed out, helping her set out ingredients along the counter space that wasn't crowded with booze.

"What?" Lucy laughed, cheeks still flushed from running around out back. Hair still windblown. Still so flawless. And kind, to top it off.

"Going out of your way to make people feel like they belong." You made clear. When you met, she'd gifted you the perfect handbag. Now she planned out Joe's birthday evening like her own, plotting for things he brought up in passing- things he probably hadn't realized anyone might have heard at all.

"I guess it's my love language or whatever." Lucy shrugged, moving about the kitchen. "My uncle married a hopelessly out of touch woman when I was thirteen. She heard I liked to read. So, for every holiday or birthday, this woman would alway buy me those dreadful penny novels from the market. The kind that are basically porn about pirates and vampires," Lucy laughed, and you did too. Those novels were definitely guilty pleasures. Who would think to gift them? Let alone to a teenaged girl who was probably just as wise beyond her years back then, too.

"I vowed to be a better gift-giver. But... I did always read those books." Lucy snorted a laugh. As you helped chop veggies and mix spices, she told you all the horrifically cheesy one liners from the novels she never wanted.

Soon your laughter drowned out the boys shouts from outside, and Ben rushed to join the party. He cranked music and danced around the kitchen while you prepared dinner, mixing drinks to test out the bevy of alcohol he’d purchased.

Rami joined in, while Joe and Gwil shared some kind of chat in the living room. You could see them past the wave of Rami's hand as he told a story. And no matter what they might have been talking about, the way Joe and Gwil kept stealing glances in your direction made your nerves stand on end. Luckily, you had enough vodka to stir up a different, much more manageable buzz.

It was picture-perfect organized chaos. You felt like you had back when you moved in with James and Andy, when they would throw parties just to celebrate random Saturdays. Back when you only knew Gwilym as the guy from down the road with a nice house and a pretty face. He still had those things, but now there was so much more that made up the tall man you willingly wrote your future off too. You missed Olive. But you knew she was happy and safe, and so were you. You took another shot to prove so.

"Come now." Lucy wheezed, a glass of wine and three shots of whiskey deep. She was still quoting the best of the worst lines she could remember from all those horrible romance novels she'd been gifted.  "You're fighting your feelings for this man with all the strength of the Confederate Army."

"I'm sorry, what?" Joe gasped a laugh as he passed by, freezing in place. You and Lucy laughed too hard to explain why on earth she'd just said that. And when she caught her breath, Lucy only quoted something else,

"He tore open her blouse like a Publisher’s Clearing House letter."

"That's not real." You pointed, the ache in your gut finally from laughing too hard.

"Whatever you two are having, I'd like some." Joe decided, reaching past you to grab the bottle at your side. His arm brushing against your waist would have been enough to send you into a total blackout, but he just had to look right at you, too. As Joe grabbed the liquor and Lucy kept laughing, you noted that time seemed to stop; even on your second glass of rum. All because Joe dared to look right at you, like he so often did, like no one else ever had before.

Another drink, you decided. It had worked so far, and everyone else was on the quick path to getting wasted before dinner was finished cooking. Luckily, the smell of fresh sauce alerted everyone to gather around and conduct themselves to share a meal together.

The homemade pizza was better than you expected, and your hopes had grown very high as you helped make it. Everyone was in agreeance, scattered about the living room, paper plates in their laps, music still blasting from Ben's phone somewhere in the kitchen. But no one was happier than Joe. He raved over Lucy's thoughtfulness, and over the very tasty dinner that resulted. Rami poured everyone another drink as Ben insisted it was time for Joe to open his presents.

You all raced to collect the gifts you brought and made a very big deal out of making Joe take his time unveiling each. What more did you have to do than make an event out of every last minute together? To make sure Joe realized just how dearly he was cared for?

Ben had gotten Joe tickets to a rugby game, and some of his favorite English chocolates- Joe broke off pieces to share with every one of you. Lucy and Rami gave him an expensive-looking box of tea, alongside a clay mug decorated with stamps of delicate-looking dinosaurs.

Gwil got him a portable record player and said it was from the both of you. Gwil had taken notice that Joe was buying a bunch of vinyl on days off, and leaving the discs to collect in his suitcase for when he got back to New York. But he wouldn't be going home for a while still, so it seemed fitting to offer Joe a way to fill his drab Airbnb with some music until then. The auburn-haired lad lit up, and gave a heartfelt thanks to his extremely generous friends, insisting that an allnighter in this comfortable cottage was already more than enough.

"Oh wait, there's one last thing." You gave Gwil a sly smirk as you stood to pass a sealed envelope to Joe. Everyone leaned in close while Joe curiously unveiled a powder blue card with the words happy birthday simply scrawled on the front. It was blank inside, besides the harsh scribbles of crayon that Olive spent a long time jabbing into the paper. The 'drawing' was meant to be her birthday wish. You and Gwil singed your names at the bottom in pen, but you wrote Olive's name in the same pink crayon to match her efforts. You missed her.

"That is the cutest shit I've ever fucking seen." Ben cursed. It was your idea. Joe looked like he wanted to cry, but he only cracked up laughing for a very charming moment. Then he hugged you and Gwilym at the same time, repeating his thanks over and over again.

///

The drinks kept coming as night fell. You got tired of mixing your vodka and just went for it, because it really did kind of taste like blueberries. You all took turns in the only bathroom with a shower and eventually, Rami had roped everyone into some kind of drunk history type storytelling session.

Ben took a turn, jumping to his feet, anxious to tell the story of Frankenstein. The only problem being that he was hammered, and his efforts in recounting the details were hazy. So he started over from the beginning...

"Okay, pay attention everybody. Now," Ben slurred, spinning in the middle of the room to face where you sat on the opposite end of the sofa from Gwilym.

"So like, you and Gwil are Mary and Percy." Ben pointed. Gwilym looked your way as if he'd just realized you were on the other side of the couch. "And uh, Joe can be Byron! Everyone wants to sleep with him... I think," Ben decided, hazily looking back to you. "Okay so just pretend you really want to for the sake of this story. It's very important-"

"Why can't Lucy and Rami be the Shelleys?" You blurted out in wonder, uncomfortable with this drunken imaginary scenario. Gwil rolled his eyes and reached for his drink.

"Because you're the married lot," Ben pointed. Gwilym honest to God nearly choked on his liquor.

"Oh yeah. Hey, why don't you guys wear rings?" Rami pipped up from across the way, gesturing between you and Gwil.

"You don't wanna know the answer to that." Gwil chuckled. Three shots of vodka and four glasses of rum were no excuse to be so flippant. You shot the guy a glare, hardly caring if anyone else saw the warning in your eye so long as Gwilym did.

"Moving on, who will you be, Ben?" Gwyilm conducted everyone's attention to the man in the middle of the room. Ben propped one foot on the coffee table, swaying in place as he declared,

"I'm the bloody doctor!"

As the blonde stumbled through his story, Lucy passed out in Rami's arms. Joe seemed to be the only one laughing along with Ben, as his narrative progressed. Every time Ben pointed to you and Gwil, the tension between the pair of you boiled dangerous fiercer. Warning looks meant to keep each other quite turned into something darker, glares more bittered than pitying.

When Ben lost his place long enough for silence to fall over the lot of you, Rami carried Lucy down the hall, shouting pleasant goodnights to the rest of the gang. You decided it was a sign, and stood to call it a night as well. Ben moved slowly to collect empty bottles while Joe started to collect his thoughtful gifts.

"I hope you've had a happy birthday, mate." Ben smiled to Joe before the blonde moved to help Gwil pick up a few of the discarded plates and cups. Joe was gathering his mess of presents, stalling to admire the card you thought to give him.

"Thank you for this." Joe grinned in your direction, scanning the card again, and opening it to examine the scribbles of crayon meant to be Olive's well wishes. The man with fossils for eyes beamed like a fool and you couldn't help but do the same; moving by his side to glance over the scratched greeting from your daughter, to Joe.

"You guys made one cute kid," Ben spoke up across the room. You blinked up, catching Gwilym's nod of appreciation toward Ben. "Do you think you'll ever have any more?" He wondered, casually.

You gave an automatic, tipsy shrug, not opposed to the idea, just not with Gwil of course. But they didn't need to know that. 

"No, actually." Gwil glared at you, like he was upset you weren’t playing along or keeping a low enough profile. Like he hadn't been just as dangerously close to giving yourselves away.

"Are you guys alright?" Ben timidly wondered after a beat. Gwil just clenched his jaw shut and spun around toward the kitchen to finish cleaning up. You didn't know the answer to Ben's question, either.

So you hurried after Gwilym, your vision blurred, but your intention clear as day. You found him throwing his rubbish out with a sigh.

"Why are you acting like this?" You hissed, stepping close so no one else could hear.

"Blame it on the rum, dear." Gwilym shrugged but shot you a look that let you know he knew exactly what he was doing. He turned further into the room as you shot back,

"Drunk isn't a synonym for stupid. You should know to keep your mouth shut, you're the one who started this."

"Then shouldn't I end it?"

"It will never end!" You'd always be trading school pick-ups and planning birthday parties together. You knew Gwilym knew that.

"But this has to end. You won't tell, and you won't let me tell, so we're gonna break up the old fashioned way, got it?"

"What are you talking about?" You wondered, exhausted.  

"I don't want to be married to you anymore! If I had a ring I would throw it on the ground." He spoke, loud and clear enough to get you to see a little straighter.

"Gwilym, what the fuck?" You let out a stunned laugh. You knew what he must have meant, but the tone of his voice and the look in his eye hit you right where it hurt most. You weren't married, but you might as well have been. Gwilym agreed with that sentiment through laughter most of the time. Because he was your friend. But it suddenly seemed like he didn't want to be anything at all, with you.

The thick silence was back when Joe sauntered into the kitchen like he might have been breaking the rules. You couldn't be sure if he'd heard or not, but when you turned away from Gwilym's glare, you saw Joe stood looking at you like his heart was broken.

You made yourself turn from his troubled gaze, turning out of the kitchen.

Gwilym was reluctantly hot on your trail, offering a hurried goodnight to his friend before meeting where you'd run off to. The bedroom was suffocatingly small, when Gwilym shut the both of you in, it felt like the walls were closing in.

"I get that this is fucked. We're fucked. But no one was around to hear that, Gwil. We've always been on the same team."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I just..." Gwil deflated as you floated onto the side of the little bed in the corner.

"Just what?" You worried, bracing for impact, preparing for this night to end on the sour note that rang in your ears now.

"I thought by shutting you out... pushing you away, that... God, it sounds dumb to say out loud. I'm just sick of watching you pretend. You deserve so much better, y/n." Gwilym explained, heavy eyes screwing shut in frustration.

"Well don't fucking do that! You're all I've got." You plead in a sorry whimper. You knew that Gwilym was drunk. And you knew he felt bad for what he said and was trying to make it better, now, by hanging his head before you.

Why did this keep happening? There wasn't anything to say anymore, was there? How about the truth, for a change?

"I think I must love him." You gave a sad little shrug, eyes fixed on the wall ahead of you. "And I'm really afraid that it won't matter if we 'break up' or not."

Gwil made his way to where you sat, slumping to join your side. He wrapped a sorry arm around your shoulder and you leaned in. There was a dangerous rumble of tears bubbling far below your surface, distant enough to curse away.

"We should get some sleep." Gwilym gently moved you to lay back till your head hit the pillow. You watched on as he relaxed at your side without a second thought. Hardly a courtesy, just a routine. It brought you a faint glow of comfort either way.

"Thanks, Gwil." You hoped he registered your tone, and all the things you were grateful for in the moment. You laid in silence as Gwil drifted off at your side. Even if you wanted to close your eyes you couldn't, not with the way your mind raced.

"I'll always be here for you, ya know?" Gwilym mumbled from his sleepy state, eye closed. "I'm sorry for what I said."

You hummed after a beat, watching him sleep. Still, you just kept staring up at the ceiling while your fake husband drifted off at your side. Try as you might, you couldn't keep your eyes shut.

Once the patterns on the wall stopped spinning, you made a very quiet escape, padding out into the hall as softly as you could.

The cottage was dark and quiet, save for the fire still flickering in the chimney from the living room. You were drawn to it like a moth, but you stalled in the shadows at the edge of the light cast among the furniture. Someone else was up. Actually, it looked like Joe had never gone to bed.

"Couldn't sleep?" Joe asked quietly, noting your presence. He was standing near the large fog-covered picture windows, slowly shuffling toward the middle of the room. Your feet moved in the same direction, as you shrugged in indecision.

"What about you?" You wondered, meeting Joe in the middle of the living area. He looked at you for a beat before easing to the floor, where he crossed his legs and leaned against the sofa behind him.

"My parents called. I miss them." Joe admitted softly. You decided to sit next to him, but not too close. You brought your knees to your chest and admired how Joe's profile looked illuminated by flickering firelight. You hummed in understanding, and Joe took that as the sign to say more. He started talking about New York and his tenth birthday- one he spent in the mountains of the desert. He was disappointed to find out it was still chilly there, this time of year. Then he asked you why you were still awake- like he knew there was more to the story.

And too much time passed while you wracked your brain for an excuse that didn't point in the direction of the truth. Why was it so easy to be with Gwilym, but so hard to act like you wanted to be? Joe lowered his eyes and after a while of quiet, he spoke up again...

"I wish we met differently."

"I don't. You didn't say anything wrong, then." You snapped a little too quickly. He couldn't possibly take that moment away from you. It was all you had. And even though you should have known better than to allude to that fact that you clung to Joe’s fist words to you, it was probably obvious you did, anyway.

"I wouldn't change what I said." Joe pointed quietly, yet assured. It was as if the flames flickering before you jumped into your belly when Joe's eyes locked onto yours, again. Holy shit pull it together. You knew if you didn't leave the room very soon that you would make a royal fool of yourself.

"Happy birthday. I should head back." You sighed reluctantly, stretching your legs in front of you, wishing Joe might stop you from going. And then he did speak up again, but he didn't say what you wanted to hear...

"Sweet dreams, Mrs. Lee."

"Please don't call me that." You replied without thinking. Because you were still a little buzzed. Because you couldn't think around Joe anyway. You registered his slowly twisting expression as if he was wondering why you seemed so upset. As if, maybe, he knew...

"It's far too proper. We're friends right?" You lamented in a pathetic hurry, feeling a pit open in your chest all the while. Joe focused on you, and you knew he could tell you were grasping at straws. As you held your breath and Joe's gaze, you noticed a look in his eye, as if he were making a decision.

"Yeah... we're friends, y/n." Joe softly expressed. The leather sofa quietly crunched as Joe stood and turned toward the dark hallway.

"Goodnight." His voice sounded heavy, even as it floated away from you. You were left against the sofa with a broken heart and a killer headache.

///

The next afternoon, you watched Joe turn his head away from you on his way down the rickety porch steps, sullen. You tried to pass the moment off as a hurry, when you noticed Lucy and Rami practically jogging out of the place to catch the shared ride. Tomorrow was another early day on set. No more time to waste.

But then your heart was practically shattered when Joe offered you a pitiful one-armed hug and a flat generic farewell before disappearing in the back of an uber with his friends. Lucy and Rami both had time for a few parting sentiments. Joe hadn't even really looked at you all morning. He was even a little distant from Gwilym as they shared a brief goodbye.

Ben shared your uber back into London, and ten minutes into your hour-long commute, the sweet guy asked if you were feeling alright.

"Too much to drink." You passed off the easy excuse and couldn't help but rest your head on Gwilym's shoulder. You wanted comfort. You knew he would give it to you, no questions asked, just like always.

He'd woken up last night when you came back to the tiny bed feeling much worse than you had before leaving there. You didn't know it, but Gwilym heard Joe tell you goodnight before you came back into the room. Since then Gwil was aching to know what happened- if anything. Something had to have by the way he monitored Joe's rushed goodbyes today and your sulking. If Ben would just, put headphones in, or something...

But you were perfectly content leaning against Gwilym and letting your stare gloss over. You started to convince yourself things were supposed to be this way. You tried to focus on heading back to Olive and Gwil's mother, the fun you were likely to have with the kind woman while she was still in town. But then she'd leave, and you'd be back to simply convincing yourself, like now. Ben caught your sulking stare, and you caught him studying you. The blonde's gaze lingered on you as if he knew something was very wrong... as if he knew you were lying. But what about, this time?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

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[dlwritings]

Firecracker Soul | Dean Winchester

Chapter 21 - Run Away

pairing - mob!Dean x teacher!ofc

word count - 3,516

warnings - none

additional notes at the end

(previous)

When Alice got to school on Monday, she stopped in the main office to talk to the secretary, Joy. "Hey," she said, giving the lady a smile. "Remember that man who came a few weeks ago? He brought me flowers? Signed in as Dean Winchester?"

"Mhm," Joy hummed, her smile widening. "Handsome guy."

"Yeah," Alice said. "Um, he might try and stop by again. If he does, please don't let him in."

Joy's face changed to an expression of concern. "Is he dangerous?"

"No, no, it's not that," she said. "He just-" She hesitated, then sighed. "We're in the middle of a fight, and I know he might try and come talk to me. I'm just not ready." Joy nodded in understanding and gave Alice a sympathetic smile. Alice thanked her and headed off to her classroom.

There were three sets of doors visitors had to go through before they got into the building. First they had to buzz into the main building and state their business to the camera, then they had to buzz into the office and sign in before they could finally be buzzed into the school itself. Realistically, all a person had to do was say the right thing, and no one would bat an eye. Alice was sure Dean could say, "I'm Alice Berkley's boyfriend, and she's expecting me for a visit," and Joy wouldn't think twice. It wasn't that Joy was dumb at all. Dean was charming and didn't appear threatening, especially since he'd probably been seen around the school before picking up Lexi. If he didn't set off any of the metal detectors, he was just a man with a kind smile and a bouquet of flowers.

Alice made sure Joy knew everyday for over a week not to let Dean in, and Thomas agreed to send her kids off again at the end of the day. She definitely owed him a few favors with everything he had done for her thus far that year.

Over a week had gone by since the party, but Alice still hadn't contacted Dean. He hadn't reached out either. She had no idea if he had been coming to pick Lexi up or not, but he hadn't been texting her. Just like their last fight, she wondered if they were done. Even though she knew this time, she needed to be the one to reach out, she couldn't get herself to do it. Every time she considered picking up her phone, she would picture Dean throwing a punch at Jaden, and she would set it down again.

She was sitting at her desk, looking over the kids' spelling tests, when there was a knock at her door frame. She looked up and saw Thomas. "Hi," she said with a small smile and a sigh. "Thanks for taking the kids out again."

He chuckled. "You don't have to thank me every time."

"I know, I know," she said. "I just appreciate it." Thomas nodded and walked into the room, propping himself up against one of the tables.

"How're you doing?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I'm fine."

"Ah, ah," he said, holding his hand up. "Remember, my daughter's your age. I've heard the I'm fine lie enough to sniff it out." Alice scoffed and shook her head.

"Just petty boyfriend troubles," she said, "and I'm not good at confrontation."

"You plan on hiding in here forever?" he asked.

"Can I?" she asked with a sad smile.

He scoffed. "I'm afraid not."

Alice slammed her head against the keyboard which made Thomas laugh again. "Why didn't you ever set me up with your son?" Alice asked him, looking up at him.

"Ah, that would be because he's gay," Thomas said.

"Right," she said with a nod. "Small detail."

Thomas smiled. "So how'd the fella do you wrong?"

She sighed. "He's just a jealous guy. I'm trying to go easy on him. He hasn't had the greatest life, and I think he's just afraid of losing people. In fact, I know he is. I just wish he could express himself in a way that wasn't so aggressive." Quickly, she added, "He doesn't hit me or anything. He never would. He just-" She sighed again. "He's really complicated."

"Well," Thomas said, standing up from the table he was perched on and walking over to her. He clapped her on the shoulder. "If true love was easy, we'd all have it."

Those were the words that kept running through Alice's head that night. If true love was easy, we'd all have it. If this was what love was like, she wasn't sure she wanted it. Being with Dean was fun, and most of the time he was sweet and caring, but the few times that he wasn't were what she didn't want. Was she not deserving of a healthy, normal relationship? Had Christine been right all along? Was Dean textbook toxic? Had she just been blind to his charm? Was it inevitable that he would end up hurting her?

On Tuesday, Alice was sitting in her classroom after school again when there was another knock at her door. She looked up, expecting it to be Thomas. Instead, it was Jess and Lexi. "Hey," Jess said, giving Alice a smile.

She sighed. "Hey."

"Don't look so thrilled to see me," Jess teased.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, standing up and walking over to Jess. She pulled her in for a hug.

"Lexi, you wanna go play while me and Ms. Alice talk?" Jess asked her.

"Can't I listen to big girl talk?" she pouted.

"Mm, not today, sweetie," Jess said, kissing her daughter on the head.

"You can go grab your chromebook if you want," Alice offered. "Watch some videos." Lexi nodded and did as Alice suggested. Alice knew she'd grab headphones, which meant she could talk to Jess without any fear of Lexi overhearing.

"Talk to me," Jess urged her, pulling up one of the adult-sized chairs to sit beside Alice. "I only heard that Bobby had to pull Dean off of Jaden."

Alice explained what had led up to Dean's outburst, and Jess sighed when she finished. "I'm sorry," she said. "I get why you're mad."

Alice sighed and asked the question she had been mulling over for a while. "Was he like this with Lisa?" Jess looked at her and sighed as well.

"No," she said. "Not really."

"Then why is he like this with me?" she huffed. "I don't understand."

"Well, you're not Lisa," she said. "He's not going to treat you like you are."

"But why does he have to baby me?" she asked. "If it's because of our age difference-" She hesitated. "-I need to know if that's something he's ever going to get over. Because I can't do this forever."

"He just wants to keep you safe," Jess said. "Try to go easy on him."

"I won't let him keep beating people up to protect me," she said, putting quotes around the last two words. "I'm done with men who think violence is essential in a relationship." Jess was quiet, and Alice ran her hands through her hair in frustration. "Jess, do you think he'll ever hurt me?" she whispered.

"No," Jess said without hesitation. "Never. Don't think like that."

"I can't help it," Alice sighed. "I'm so-" She paused. "Dean knows how bad my last relationship was, but he still does the things he does. I don't want to be afraid of him, but-"

"You should talk to him about this," Jess said. "If he knew you felt this way-"

"What about that fight we had at your house?" she said. "It was over the same thing. The whole Brent thing, remember? It was the same thing. I told him I didn't like how possessive he was, but it didn't phase him. So he knows, but he doesn't care."

"I'm sure he cares," Jess said. "Dean's just-"

"Complicated," she finished. "I know."

"I'm not saying how he acts is justifiable," Jess said.

"No, I know," Alice said. With another sigh, she added, "I just want him to understand what he's done and why I feel how I do and say he's sorry."

"I know," Jess said. "I understand."

-

Dean was alone at home taking a sip of yet another glass of whiskey when his phone rang. The sun had already set, but it wasn't too late yet. Still, he was a little surprised to see it was Jess. Jess didn't call him very often. If he did, it was almost always related to Lexi. He picked up quickly. "Hey," he said. "Is everything okay?"

"Depends on your definition," Jess said on the other end.

"What does that mean?" Dean asked, leaning back on the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew this tone of voice. He was in for a lecture.

"I just saw Alice," she said. He sat up a little straighter.

"Where?" he asked.

"I picked Lexi up," she said. "They let me in."

"Of course they did," he muttered. "She must have me on some no-fly list."

"Because you scared her, Dean," Jess said. "She's not ready to face you yet."

"God, I know I messed up," he said with a heavy sigh. "I'm just working on how I can make it better."

"I get it," Jess said. "Just know that I think she's ready to talk to you, but you're probably going to have to be the one to initiate it."

When Dean got off the phone with Jess, he finished off his glass of whiskey and sighed. He was sorry. He really was. All he needed was a big, grand gesture to prove it to her.

And so, the wheels started turning.

-

On Friday, Alice got home after school and checked her mail. She didn't have anything in the box, but there was a package with her name on it on the ground. She furrowed her eyebrows and picked it up, searching for the address label. There was none. While she knew that probably should've raised a few red flags, she took the box anyway and headed up stairs.

She crossed into the threshold and dropped her keys and the box on the counter. She slowly started to open it and found a black jumpsuit and a pair of wedged sandals. There was a handwritten note on top of the shoes:

I know you're mad at me, but please be ready by 7:00. I swear I'll make it worth your while x

Alice pressed her lips into a tight line and dropped the note. Was she ready for whatever Dean had planned? Was she ready to face him again? The reality was, she couldn't ignore him forever.

When 7:00 rolled around, Alice was ready. Dean buzzed into her apartment, and she let him in. She paced back and forth, unable to stop herself from chewing on her thumbnail. Why was she so nervous? This was her boyfriend. This was Dean.

Dean knocked at her door, and she took a deep breath before opening it. He looked as handsome as ever: black slacks and a white button-up. In his hands was a bouquet of roses. "Hi," he said, giving her a smile.

"Hi," she said.

"These are for you," he said, handing her the bouquet.

"Thank you," she whispered. "They're beautiful." She stepped back into the apartment to put the flowers on the counter, then turned back to face him.

"Ready?" she said.

"Mhm," he hummed. He stuck his arm out for her to take, and she did. It was a little chillier outside than she expected, but she knew they would be in the car so she didn't really mind. Dean opened the door to the Impala for her, and she thanked him and slid inside. While she would normally slide as close to Dean as she could in the front bench seat, she stayed respectfully on her side.

Dean noticed but stayed silent, though his heart did break at the sight.

"So," Alice said, clearing her throat as Dean put the car in drive, "where are we going?"

"Come on," he teased. "It's always a surprise."

"Right," she whispered, staring out the windshield. She fiddled with her hands on her lap, and Dean sighed as quietly as he could.

This would be okay. They would be okay.

Dean turned on his music, and Alice's eyebrows furrowed when she recognized the tune. "Is this Ben Platt?" she asked. She leaned forward and turned up the volume slightly, hoping to catch the words of the tune.

You say there's so much you don't know. You need to go and find yourself. You say you'd rather be alone. Cuz you think you won't find it tied to someone else.

"Yeah," Dean said, a small smile growing on his face. "I thought I'd make a cassette."

"Of Ben Platt songs?" she asked. Dean shrugged but didn't say anything. Alice looked over at him and studied his profile. The sun had already set, so she could only make out little things, like his sparkling eyes and the slight glisten of his lips after he ran his tongue across them. The length of his stubble made her want to reach out and touch him, just like she always did. She held back though and forced herself to stare out the windshield again.

Alice was surprised when they pulled up to Dean's apartment. Still, she got out of the car when Dean opened the door for her. He put his arm around her waist and smiled to himself when she didn't jump away. "You gonna tell me what we're doing yet?" she asked as they walked towards the elevator. She gave Derek a smile as they passed, which he returned. As they waited for the elevator, Dean stood in front of her.

"I want you to see how much I care about you," he said, "and that I feel terrible about what happened at the party." Alice hung her head, but Dean lifted her chin. "I do," he pressed.

"'S okay," she mumbled.

"No, it's not," he said. The elevator dinged, and Dean put his hand on the small of her back and guided her in. "So I thought I would bring in a little surprise."

"Bring in?" she repeated.

"Mhm," he hummed. He pressed the button to the rooftop terrace and swiped his card to get access. She looked at him with raised eyebrows, but he just smiled.

When the doors opened, Alice could hear another familiar tune playing. They rounded the corner, and she froze at the sight in front of her. It was a small stage -nothing too fancy- and a group of people on stage with one man standing front and center. "Dean," she whispered, unable to get her feet to move. "Is that-"

"Welcome to your personal Ben Platt concert," he whispered in her ear. She looked up at him with a dropped jaw before a guitar started to play on the stage. She laughed in disbelief and ran over to the stage.

Ben smiled at her. "Hey, Alice," he said into the microphone. "How's it going?"

"It's-" She laughed again. "It's great now!"

He laughed as well. "Alright, well let's do this."

The concert was so great. Ben would stop in between songs to chat for a while, occasionally asking if she had any requests. Every time, she just told him to play whatever he was planning next. She didn't stand up and dance at all, but she bounced in her seat and sang along to every word to every song. Ben was an amazing performer, and for that whole time, she forgot why she had ever been mad at Dean in the first place.

When Ben started to play the last song, Dean stood up from the couch and held his hand out to her. "Dance with me," he said.

Just like that, her perfect bubble popped, and she remembered why they were fighting. Still, she nodded and took his hand.

Dean wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close to his body. He laced his fingers with hers, and she rested her head on his chest and her free arm over his shoulder, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. Ben's voice filled the space around them, and Alice closed her eyes, trying to stay in the moment and not overthink everything that had happened the past few days.

I may not be wise, and I won't save the day, but look in my eyes, and know I'll always stay. And I won't run away.

As soon as Ben finished the song, Alice broke out into cheers and applause. Ben laughed and put his hands together, bowing in a silent thank you. Alice looked at Dean. "Could you go get me some water?" she asked him. "I want to go talk to Ben."

He smiled. "Course, sweetheart." He kissed the top of her head, and she whispered a thank you. As soon as he was out of earshot, she walked over to Ben.

"Hi," she said. "It's so great to meet you. You were incredible."

"Thank you," Ben said. He offered her a hug, which she accepted. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked behind her to make sure Dean hadn't come back yet.

"Can I ask you something?" she whispered.

"Sure," Ben said.

"You don't know Dean, do you?" she asked. He shook his head no. "So did he just, like, pay you a lot to be here?" Ben hesitated. "I won't be offended or anything. I'm just curious." Her eyes grew wide for a moment. "Oh my god, did he threaten you?"

"No, no," Ben laughed. "No. You were right the first time. He offered a pretty big hunk of money."

Alice nodded and thanked him again just as Dean brought her some water. Within the hour, Ben and his band were all packed up, and Alice and Dean were alone at the apartment. They stayed on the terrace, cuddled up with each other, staring at the sky. Alice didn't know what to say to him. What he had done was sweet, but it didn't solve the real problem at hand. She needed to get her feelings out, and she wasn't sure Dean was going to be the one to say anything.

Just when she got up the nerve to say something, Dean turned her chin so she was looking at him. He leaned forward and tried to kiss her, but she pulled away, and he hung his head and sighed. "How are you still mad at me?" he asked. Her lips parted in shock as she shook her head and stood up from the couch.

"I knew it!" she said.

"Knew what?" Dean asked.

"You think the normal way to make up after a fight is to do something like this?" she said. "Bribing my favorite artist into performing for me? That's not normal, Dean!"

"God, again with the normal thing," Dean said with a slight roll of his eyes.

"You're really going to roll your eyes at me?" she said.

"Are you saying you didn't like the concert?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"I'm not saying I didn't like it," she huffed. "It was a private concert by Ben Platt, of course I liked it."

"Then I don't understand-"

"Exactly!" she shouted. "You don't understand! You don't understand how a normal relationship works! You think you can solve every problem with money or, or sex or murder! It's just, it's too much, Dean."

"So what are you trying to say?" he asked.

"Nothing!" she said. "I'm not-" She groaned and threw her hands in the air. "I just wish you could be normal! I wish this could be normal! I wish-" She sighed. "I just wish I could be in a relationship that made sense."

"So what, are we breaking up?" he said.

"We're-" She rubbed her forehead and hesitated. "We're taking a break, okay? I need a break. I can't do this right now." She grabbed her bag and started to walk to the elevator.

"Alice," Dean said. "Come on." Alice didn't say anything as the elevator opened. She knew if he really wanted to follow her, he would. And as the doors closed behind her, she realized he didn't.

Tears started to fall from her eyes as she called an Uber. It was there within five minutes. In that time, Dean never came down to talk to her.

Did she really just walk away from that relationship?

Dean rubbed his face with his hand in frustration. Okay. So that didn't work. He was running through every moment of the night. Alice seemed to have been enjoying herself. He was sure it was all okay. What had he missed? Now, was it his place to reach out to her again? Was the ball back in her court?

Did he really just let her walk away from that relationship?

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

A/N - when I wrote this I had just watched Ben Platt’s Netflix concert (it’s so good don’t even start with me) so if ya’ll don’t listen to him you’re missing out for real

(next)

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[when-they-write-stuff]

Soooooo, I was going to ask you if you could write something about one of the prompts from the list. I was going for #1 but then I realised I misread it.... Instead of "dodgy", I read "doggy" (🙈). But then I was curious.... Could you write Sterek and “He’s respectable, but, ya’ know, a little bit doggy.” ???? It's okay if not ;) 💕

Of course, I can do that! It’ll be even more fun ;)

- -

There were rumors about Stiles Stilinski.

Yeah, that’s what they could be called. Rumors. Not the truth, not actually real— or that’s what a lot of kids liked to say, at least. Because Stiles Stilinski was, well… Stiles Stilinski. 

He was the spastic, sarcastic, and eventually sardonic son of the local country Sheriff.

Stiles Stilinski was the kid who could pass every single math test without studying and then accidentally skip out on finals because he forgot they existed. He ran around in clothes that were too big for him and stumbled over his own feet when going at a normal pace. 

Stiles was… well, he was Stiles. And that was the easiest way to describe him.

Things started changing around sophomore year of high school.

Miguel knew he wasn’t the only one who noticed it. Stiles started acting different and that would be putting it mildly. A lot of people at Beacon Hills started acting different, if Miguel was being honest, and that might’ve been when the rumors started spreading.

It began with the arrival of the new Argent girl. And by the time sophomore year was winding down to an end, Stiles Stilinski just wasn’t Stiles Stilinski anymore.

It made more sense in Miguel’s head.

He watched as the circles underneath Stiles’s eyes slowly started growing darker. The boy was laughing less and smirking more. There was this curl to his lips that could make Miguel’s heart stutter and he had never considered himself one to fall for a simple look, but he knew he wasn’t the only one recognizing the changes in Stilinski.

And then there were his bodyguards.

That’s the only thing they could be considered, at least. The three kids who had once been the outcasts of Beacon Hills and suddenly became irresistible overnight. Miguel might have believed it was witchcraft if he didn’t believe in things like that.

The point was, the three kids gravitated to Stiles like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“They’re part of a gang,” some kids said.

“They’ve killed a man,” claimed others. Miguel didn’t believe any of it.

Then Isaac Lahey’s dad showed up dead.

A lot of things added fire to the rumors, but that one was the greatest. In a matter of one day, the Stilinski gang went from possible criminals to full-blown murders and that really shouldn’t have been as sexy as Miguel considered it. 

The boy’s dad was the Sheriff. Some kids like to say he covered for them; in whatever the hell went on in Beacon Hills.

Then Jackson Whittemore and Lydia Martin started hanging out with Stilinski too. And the rumors went wild from there.

More time passed. The Stilinski group was dubiously named ‘biker jeans and leather jackets’ and went on to get more unruly. Darker circles formed underneath Stiles’s eyes. By the time junior year rolled around, everyone knew not to mess with Stilinski and his friends.

They’d acquired a few more individuals. Two of the new girls. A younger underclassman who looked like a puppy but was rumored to have a hell of a delinquent background.

Erica had been suspended from school three times for threatening to disembowel anyone that looked at Stilinski wrong. There was this one time a lacrosse player rammed into Stiles a little too hard during practice and Lahey threw him into the nearest goal like he weighed nothing more than a lacrosse ball. But Miguel thought the middle guard was the scariest. Vernon Boyd, who had never been given a second glance until he came to school one day with Erica at his side and a leather jacket on his shoulders. And suddenly, everyone in school avoided him like the plague.

When he smirked, it was terrifying.

The Stilinski gang wore leather jackets. Those around them radiated an air of ‘I will cut you’. Not a single one wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous. Miguel thought it was a required necessity to join the group or something.

Strange things came and went with their group. It was the little things at first; there would be a couple of hikers reported to have gone missing. Stiles and his group would disappear for a few days, the school would get quiet, and when they came back, everything was fine. It was like there had never been a disturbance at all.

Then there were the big things. 

A massacre of headless corpses or a pattern of brutal killings. Stiles’s face would grow paler, the shadows under his eyes would grow longer, and by the time the news reports had gone quiet, his smirk would have a sharper edge than ever before.

Kids claimed he kept a barbed baseball bat in the back of his jeep. Miguel didn’t believe it.

Around the end of senior year, though, people had decided maybe the Stilinski gang wasn’t a bunch of murderers. Maybe they were a secret group of vigilantes that kept Beacon Hills safe instead.

For some reason, Miguel couldn’t disregard that one as easily.

The rumors grew and branched out from there. Miguel was pretty sure there was a ‘Stilinski Gang’ conspiracy theorist group that met every other Friday and discussed things at the local library. Last he heard, people were thinking that Stiles was the leader of a group of supernatural beings. Which he thought was ridiculous, personally.

Because it was ridiculous, right? It had to be.

But then there was this one time Miguel’s best friend came to school with a picture of a figure in a red hoodie holding a bloody baseball bat, saying he’d taken it out in the woods. It took about three days for everyone to quiet down.

Miguel might have believed that one for a day or so.

There were rumors about Stiles Stilinski, yes. Miguel grew up in Beacon Hills and watched it go from strange to stranger. Even so, he steered clear of Stilinski and his gang. His father had always told him to keep his head down and Miguel did just that.

He didn’t mean to run into Stiles in the parking lot.

When the boy wanted to, he could look as charming as the devil. He’d grown his hair out over the years, his once gangly frame had bulked up and widened out, and his smile was infectious.

Miguel couldn’t be blamed for the way his heart skipped a few beats when he nearly bowled Stiles over while heading to his car.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, stumbling. Miguel went stock-still and glanced around the parking lot, waiting for one of Stilinski’s guards to come over and take him out. But nothing happened.

“I’m so sorry,” Miguel said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “I was in a hurry and I wasn’t looking where I was going and—”

“Hey, dude,” Stiles said, raising his hands. “It’s cool! Trust me, I know what it’s like to have literally no control over your own feet. There was this one time I was running away from a rogue wendigo and—”

Suddenly, there was a giant, looming figure standing behind Stiles. Miguel barely smothered a very unmanly noise and stumbled back a few steps and Stiles straightened too, whirling around.

But then he abruptly went lax.

“Derek, you giant asshole, we talked about this! The stalk-walk is how you get the cops called. And then you won’t be allowed to pick me up anymore!”

Derek only grunted and kept his eyes fixed on Miguel. He looked terrifyingly murderous.

“Anyway,” Stiles said, turning back around. “As I was saying… well, actually, I probably shouldn’t finish that story. But you get the gist, right?”

Wordlessly, Miguel nodded. He could’ve sworn Derek’s eyes flashed red for a moment. Stiles gave the man a sideways look and rolled his eyes, before turning back forward.

“Ignore Derek, he’s a bit of a fluff ball. I mean, the serial killer eyebrows tend to put most people off, but don’t be fooled. He’s not a serial killer! Or… usually. He’s respectable but, ya’ know, a little big doggy on certain days. Or full moons, I guess.”

“Stiles,” Derek growled. Terror coiled in Miguel’s gut but Stiles only chuckled.

“Okay, okay, let’s move along, big guy. Hey, it was nice running into you! Miguel, right?”

Derek’s eyes seemed to flash red again. Miguel could’ve sworn he missed something because Stiles’s smirk seemed to widen even more when he nodded. Turning away he heard the faint hiss of ‘that’s where it came from?’ and ‘yeah dude, I panicked.’ 

Miguel was still trembling when he pulled himself into his car.

Four years, a dozen accounts of murder, and one terrifying looking serial killer later, and Miguel decided when he graduated, he was leaving Beacon Hills forever. This place was ridiculous; and he didn’t think it was run by anyone other than Stiles Stilinski and his gang.

That shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was terrifying. Miguel had to get out of here.

Whether they were all rumors or not.

- -

Okay, I had too much fun with this one. Outsider!POV always gets me and I couldn’t resist with the name... I mean, leave it to Stiles to pull a random name from one of his classmates. That might be a new head-canon.

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your underpaid student writer? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[jimlingss]

The President’s Son [12]

Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13

➜ Words: 4.2k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

“Are you going to miss me?”   Taehyung trails after you with timid steps, his face melted into an exaggerated pout and puppy dog eyes glistening in the light. You keep walking ahead without stopping, not paying any mind to him. “No.”   “Wow, that hurts, dumbo.”   “It’s only a day, Taehyung.” While you don’t care much for taking an entire day off, you’d like to think you deserve it. After being on duty for a full two weeks, day after day since the rest of the team was busy with a foreign minister visiting the country, you’re finally getting a chance to breathe and worry about things that don’t involve Taehyung. It’s a break you’ll enjoy, to say the least.   “But I’ll miss you.” He’s being clingy and you suspect it’s just to irritate you. So you ignore him completely and giggles bubble up his throat. “What are your plans, Miss Bodyguard? You only get one day free from me.”   “How unfortunate.”   “Hey!”   His protest is disregarded and you consider what your plans are with a sigh. “I don’t know. Sleep. Eat. Probably go to the gym to work out or to the dojo to watch the students and maybe practice.”   “Still doing work on your day off?” He lolls his head to the side, clicking his tongue as if to scold you. “You should rest up. I’ll make sure your daily workout is included in your job, don’t worry. You can always chase me while I ride my bike — that’s always a fun game to play.”   “No thanks.” You continue to walk ahead, making large strides and Taehyung breaks out into a light jog to keep up. There’s a few seconds of silence before a thought flickers into your mind, making your eyes light up. “Oh yeah. I almost forgot.”   “What?”   Without thinking, you mindlessly reveal, “I’m going out for a drink with Jin in the evening.”   “Wait, what?” Taehyung’s hand reaches out to grab your elbow, stopping you in your tracks. You glare down at where he touches you, surprisingly never flinching, and he doesn’t let go. “You’re going out with Jin?”   You meet his eyes. “He invited me.”   “So...it’s just going to be the two of you?”   “Yeah. It’s been a while.”   “Huh.”   Your brow quirks. “Is there an issue?”   “Not really,” he mutters and continues walking, causing you to play catch up as he once followed you.   You’re not one to get excited about things. From a young age, you were taught not to bring your hopes up for the sake of preventing disappointment. Many matters in life are futile anyways and at this point, it’s intrinsic in you to remain calm and composed at all times.   But it proves difficult to hide your eagerness this time. It’s been a long time since you’ve caught up with Seokjin or even shared a drink with him. He’s an upperclassman you’ve always respected and admired. You should’ve done this a long time ago, but the timing was never right. This time when he asked you, you agreed, promising that you’d never reject his offer twice.    You make sure you look presentable, but not overdressed. If you came in the usual suit, he’d scold you for being overly professional and even distant. So you opt for jeans, a white blouse, and a blazer. It’s something a passing business student wore and you figure it’s both refined and casual enough. You make sure to check twice in the mirror before leaving.   The corner of your lips quirk as you walk down the street, wobbling in the black heels you bought and saved for special occasions. It’s the only pair you have and you pulled them out for the first time. You’ve yet to break into them and it’s difficult to find balance when you’re used to loafers and sneakers, but you manage with a good amount of concentration and your breath held steady.   “Why are you smiling?”   You stop in the middle of the city sidewalk at the familiar voice. Your eyes lift from the pavement in front of you to the person standing in your way.   Kim Taehyung has his arms crossed.   The reaction is instant. “What are you doing here?”   Your mouth falls, pulling into a straight line. Your face dims. Your expression glazes over, becoming blank, impassive, empty.    He continues to stare at you. His feet are shoulder-width apart, standing square with his head held high and eyes sweeping your frame like he’s caught you sneaking out in the middle of the night. He’s dressed in sweatpants and his university hoodie, the institution name slapped across his chest. Jimin also stands behind him off to the side, timid with his downcast head, unspoken apologies practically rippling off his body, a puppy who’s scared of getting in trouble.   Then, Taehyung’s thin lips part and he announces, “I was craving sushi. Heard this place was good. I didn’t know I’d run into you here.”   “Huh. What a coincidence.”   “I know right.” Taehyung grins brightly, eyes crinkling in a way that’s overly charming. He looks over his shoulder. “C’mon Jimin, let’s go.”   The college boy struts into the bustling restaurant and his bodyguard holds the door open for you, murmuring your name. You acknowledge Jimin before walking up to the waitress giving a warm welcome and asking you how large the party is.    “Actually there’s a reservation. It should be under the name Kim Seokjin…” You look around, trying to peek to see if he’s here yet. The waitress hums, instantly knowing which way to go, but Taehyung stops you.   “Let me join, dumbo. It’s more convenient that way. It might take a while to get a table since it’s so busy and I’m starving,” he tries to reason, eyes hopeful as they glimmer in the low lights of the restaurant. The prolonged silence makes him add unnecessary explanations. “I promise I’ll eat and get out as soon as possible, so you can enjoy the rest of the night. I won’t even make a peep. You won’t know I’m there.”   “I can’t watch you, Taehyung,” you tell him shortly. “I’m off duty here.”   “That’s what he’s for.” The boy hitches a thumb over his shoulder to Jimin and then he scoffs, “I know you’re not working.”   There’s another moment of silence.   You look over at Jimin who seems to neither protest nor advocate for him. Then you look over at Taehyung and all he needs is to do is bat his lashes and give another sweet ‘please’ before you’re reluctantly giving in.   He ends up trailing behind you with a skip in his step.   The door slides open and the man sitting on the floor with the table in front of him smiles. “There you are, chickpea! Thought you would leave me waiting for the next five years!”   Seokjin’s appearance is casual, his hair simply brushed after a shower, without any suit and tie or earpiece. He’s dressed in a black slacks and a cozy, green sweater that you’re tempted to sink your hands into. He reminds you of a student at the university, but more mature and reliable.   You give a meek smile. “I’m sorry.”   “I’m just kidding, kiddo.” He laughs. “I would wait for you as long as I need to.”   It’s unfortunate that you can’t reciprocate his warm greeting wholeheartedly, not while entering the room, the door widens and a certain someone is poking his head in. “This is a nice place, huh?”   Jin sets his glass of water down, pleasantly surprised by the uninvited guest. “Mr. Kim?”   “It’s Taehyung,” he corrects and brushes past you, taking a seat across from Seokjin in the private room.   “I’m sorry. I….ran into him before coming here.” It was meant to be a private affair between you and him, an opportunity to talk without any interruption. Now that there was an extra person in the room, it shifted the dynamics and you couldn’t help but sigh.   Jimin nods his head, standing outside the room, hands clasped in front of the midsection. Your eyes acknowledge him before sliding the door closed.   “Nah, it’s fine. The more the merrier as they say.”   “I hope your wallet has the same sentiment,” Taehyung mumbles, vigorously flipping through the menu.   “Taehyung,” you scold him in a low tone while Seokjin laughs.   “Don’t worry about it. I’ll treat you too.”   The younger boy has his eyes narrowed as he stares up at the male. He debates telling him ‘no thanks’ and that he doesn’t need it, but Taehyung ultimately decides to say, “I won’t hold back then.”   The tension in the air is electrifying.   It’s going to be one long night.   //   Kim Taehyung orders a whole sushi boat to himself, fresh sashimi and tempura all for himself while you order a few appetizers to share with Seokjin. Drinks are ordered as well as you chat to Seokjin and true to his word, Taehyung doesn’t speak a single syllable.   He seems to be watching.   Eventually, the waitress comes by with your drinks and after thanking her, Seokjin pours you one.   “I was really surprised when you told me you were in the police force,” he says. “But you must’ve been really good to rise up in the ranks so quickly.”   “Well….” Your smile is lopsided and your playful shrug attempts to be nonchalant. “I wasn’t half-bad.”   “Ooh.” He laughs and clinks his glass with yours. “Is that cockiness I see from Y/N?”   “I’m just being honest,” you quip while shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.   The older man grins, eyes crinkled, wrinkles creasing around his mouth. “I love the confidence.”   Your cheeks feel warm despite not having taken a single sip of your drink. On the thought, your hand grips the glass tighter, about to bring it to the seams of your lips. But suddenly, you’re stopped.   Taehyung, beside you, has his hand plopped on top of the rim. You turn to look at him, glaring slightly. He smiles at you. “Let me drink it.”   Without being able to say otherwise, he takes it from you, downing it one go. His brows seem to twitch and he finishes within seconds, exhaling. “Can you even drink?”   He scoffs. “Of course I can. Pour me another.” Taehyung’s arm extends across the table and when you look over, Seokjin wears an impressed expression, pouring another.   “You’re not drinking for me, right?” you murmur to him, trying to stop it at once if he’s trying to show off. After all, your own drinking tolerance is one of steel, high enough that you don’t feel a single thing after numerous shots. You have an inkling that Taehyung, on the other hand, can’t hold his liquor whatsoever — and the evidence comes from stories told by Jungkook.   “I’m just trying to have a good old time, dumbo. You don’t have to worry about me so much.”   There’s a second before you lean away, giving into his persistent will. “Alright then.”   The drink ends up stolen away from you and you’re more sober than you’d like to be.   You’d grab the waitress for another glass, but Taehyung insists someone remain sober in case something happens and while you’d vouch Jimin could technically handle all three of you, there’s no arguing when Seokjin agrees.   The two men drink with each other to an oblivion. It’s almost a competition with no one stopping, with no end in sight.    “I just thought you’d end up going to the army or the marines. Wasn’t that what you told me you wanted to do during junior high?”   “Yeah, something like that,” you say, “I thought I’d try going to apply for the police academy before that and I managed to get in. The army is what…..my dad wanted.”   Jin hums, turning the glass in his hands. “Chief’s proud of you either way. I can tell.”   There’s a sudden itch to drink or to change the topic. But there’s no need to divert when Taehyung spontaneously inhales, nodding towards the male across from him. “Pour me another one, old man.”   “I’m only four years older than you.” Jin laughs, but compiles anyhow even though Taehyung should be the one pouring for the most senior person in the room.   “So can you keep up or not?”   He chuckles. “I still got some youth in me, don’t worry.”   “I wasn’t.” Their glasses clink together. “No one goes home sober tonight.”   “Deal.” Except you. It feels like you’ve faded into the background, becoming wallpaper as the conversation begins to revolve around them both and you’re left leaning your chin in your hand, elbow to the table, dejected without any intoxication running through your veins like you intended. “But why are you suddenly so enthusiastic about having a drink with me?”   “Why not?”   “Fair enough,” Seokjin muses. “Guess we all have our own troubles.”   “What’s yours?”   “Just the business and hecticness of work, feeling like time’s passed too quickly, that I’ve aged so much and didn’t even realize it. I wanted to catch and reminisce.” Jin smiles your way before sipping on his drink and turns to face Taehyung. “What about you? What are your troubles?”   There’s an extended moment of silence.   Taehyung drinks and shifts to stare at you. You don’t understand why he’s looking at you like that, but before you can decipher what it means, he tears his eyes away from you with a drawn out sigh. “Everything.”   Seokjin laughs, in a way that acknowledges his answer, not one made of malice. “Touché. As cushy as your life seems, Taehyung, I know it must be suffocating.”   The younger scoffs and rolls his eyes. “That’s not even the tip of the iceberg.” His head falls to his own shoulder, becoming sleepy and tired at once as the drink begins to settle inside him. Seokjin doesn’t think much about it and pours Taehyung and himself another one. The atmosphere is no longer as awkward as it used to be, dissolving with their defenses. In this very moment, they’ve become equals. “Why is it so damn difficult to be normal and do mundane shit?”   “It’s because you’re not normal. You’re the President’s son.”   “Yeah, but it’s a title I didn’t ask for.” Taehyung downs his drink, neck snapping back as he does so and he allows the glass to bang against the wooden table once he’s finished. “I just...want to go to school normally and not have to be followed by people or be watched all the time. I want….normal relationships. I want...not this.”   “Eventually,” Seokjin tells him and Taehyung lifts his head. Their eyes meet each other’s. “This will only last for so long. Soon enough things will go back to normal.”   “Yeah.” A puff of air leaves Taehyung’s nose and he smiles to himself, a smile tinged with sadness. “But it seems so far away. And even when it’s over, it’ll never be the same. Is it...is it bad I hope my old man doesn’t go for another round? I really hope he loses if he decides to run again.”   “It’s not bad.” Seokjin refills another glass. The bottle finishes but Jin quickly opens another one, hitting the cap against the rim of the table before you can object to it. “If we weren’t selfish, I don’t think we could ever take control of our lives. Have you ever thought of moving abroad?”   “I don’t know. Maybe. But there’s nothing for me if I go and I’m scared...they’ll be nothing when I come back.”   You gaze at the profile of Taehyung’s face, eyes running along his full lashes, the smooth slope of his nose to his pouty lips that naturally seem to downturn. Seokjin seems to be stunned momentarily too, the sadness and loneliness tangible. Taehyung exposes his vulnerabilities, but it isn’t showing his weaknesses — it shows bravery.    “I’m envious of you,” he continues, words beginning to slur, blinking with heavy lids.   Seokjin smiles, softening around the edges and speaking with a care you recognize that he only offers to close friends. “Why me?”   “Because you can leave here without anyone knowing who you are. Because you’re normal. Because you’re successful in your passion….and people like you. Important people...like you.” And Taehyung doesn’t mean people of prestige or status. “I’m jealous.”   Jin personally pours him another, reaching over the table and Taehyung takes it graciously. “If it means anything, I’m jealous of you too, Tae. You’re a lot more courageous and honest than I can be. And you have a lot of potential to do and be whatever you want. It wasn’t like that for me. But I have full confidence you’ll achieve what you want if you work hard enough. You just gotta get there, but it’ll come if you keep going.”   He exhales with another smile. It’s reserved, but genuine. “Thanks.”   //   Midnight arrives with ten empty bottles discarded by the side and you put an end to this shenanigans, having enough. Taehyung’s face is planted on the table, snoring, and while Seokjin is calmer, he’s giggly and pulls out three different cards to pay — the waitress takes a random one.   Farewells are bid and Jimin comes to collect Taehyung, but the latter whines and moans that he wants you instead. One good look of him and you give in.   “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Jimin asks in concern.   “I’m fine. I’ll just tuck him in for the night before heading home. Make sure Jin gets home safely, okay?”   “I’mma be okay, chickpea.” Seokjin grins easily, walking over and engulfing you in a hug. You’re suddenly surrounded in his scent, his broad shoulders, and your heart stutters in your chest. “See you tomorrow, mmkay? M-mak-ke sure you get home soon. Gonna be late for school! Your dad’s gonna make you run laps again ‘round the dojo!”   You smile, patting his back once. “I don’t go to school anymore, Jin.”   “Heeey!” Taehyung’s arm lifts and he stumbles over, only to fall asleep halfway. He’s shaken awake again when Jimin re-adjusts, having to shoulder his weight. “D-Don’t touch heeeer.”   A drawn out exhale pulls from your lungs.   The two men are switched. Jimin shoves the team leader into the back of the car and you insist you’re able to take Taehyung back on your own considering the apartment is only a few blocks away and you want to make sure Jin gets back as soon as possible. Taehyung’s also moaning about how he doesn’t want to go to the Blue House and the last thing you need is to fight against drunk Taehyung.   It takes a minute and you watch them go, taxi turning the corner before you walk in front of Taehyung with your back turned to his front. With your knees bent, he gets the cue and happily hops on for a piggyback ride.    He giggles giddily. “So soft, dumbo.”   “Uh-huh.” Taehyung isn’t heavy — the issue is that he’s taller than you. His limbs are long, and his toes end at your ankles, but luckily they don’t drag on the ground. The other issue is how your feet ache in the thin heels. It causes you to wobble and waver from side to side of the sidewalk. You end up catching yourself on the brick wall, regaining balance before continuing down the empty street.   “Ain’t the guy ‘pposed to carry the girl?”   “Who says?”   “I dunno. Movies.” Taehyung snuggles closer to you, nuzzling into your neck and his blonde hairs tickle your skin. “You smell nice.”   “Weren’t you sleepy, Taehyung?”   “No~” He sings with more laughter and leans into you. Your feet lurch, curse spilling underneath your breath and you stop for a second to bounce him on your back and get a better grip around his thighs. His arms stay locked in front of your neck. “’m sorry”   “For?”   “For botherin’ you on your day off, I know you wanted to be alone or with Jin and not see me and I wasn’ invited, but showed up and probably pissed you off, don’t be mad.”   “It’s okay. I missed you.”   “Really?” Taehyung’s slurred words spill of innocent hopefulness, head lifting slightly off your shoulder. You smile, eyes pinned ahead of the road, bathed in the orange light as you pass beneath streetlamps, listening to the car engines and motorcycles riding off in the distance. It’s serene and you bask in the way the breeze cools the heat of your cheeks.   “Yeah.”   “You’re not lying? Promise?”   “I promise, Taehyung. Why would I lie?”   “Cause I always piss you off — you hate me.”   “I don’t hate you.”   It goes quiet and you suppose he’s finally fallen asleep, but then Taehyung pipes up with a groan and mumble, “Wish you’d smile at me like that.”   “Like what?”   There’s no point in conversing with an intoxicated individual. You’re wasting your energy, but your curiosity has been piqued and you want to see what Taehyung without any true inhibitions is like.    He ignores your question. “You never smile at me like that. You always look so upset when you look at me. When you look at me….when you look at me…...you’re never ever happy.”   Kim Taehyung hugs your backside. You’ve finally found your balance, discounting the blisters forming on your toes and the pain of your heel, continuing forward. He speaks again, “’m sorry for bullying you.”   The corner of your mouth tugs. “It’s not a big deal.”   “‘ssa big deal to me. I was mean and a brat and annoying but you still put up with me when I know you didn’t wanna just cause your dad told you to, but you never told on me or fought back or yelled at me so, I’m sorry.”   “It’s okay. It never bothered me, Taehyung.”   “What’ll happen when you’re not my bodyguard anymore? Cause Jin’s right, y’know? One day I won’t be the President’s son no more, what will happen to you? Where will you go? Are you gonna go back to the police force or join the army or do MMA fighting? You’re strong enough to do whatever you wanna do.”   You hold back the laughter that tickles up your throat. “I don’t know yet.”   “Can I stay with you then?” he asks in a voice too timid to be the Taehyung that you know. “If I gotta workout or join the army too, I’ll do it. We can be bunkmates — or if you need me to go to the gym, I’ll do it.”   Taehyung can’t see it — he can’t see how he’s made you smile. And it’s in a way that’s too genuine from what you’re used to showing. But you’ve softened with his sweet words, overwhelmed by his innocent truths spurred on by the liquid courage. “Why would you want to come with me?”   “Cause I was lonely without you. I don’t want you to go.”   “You can always make friends, Taehyung. You don’t need me.”   “But I want you. I want you, I want you so bad,” he sobs like the words are clogging in his mouth, frustrated he can’t explain, voice husky around the edges yet tender as they’re only meant for your ears to hear. “I can’t find another one of you out there. There’s only one you. One Y/N. One dumbo. I can make friends, but no one’s gonna take your place ever.”   A long sigh leaves the seams of your lips. You glance up at the night sky, feeling a sense of melancholy. The boy on your back is a friend, someone who considers you family, and you were cruel enough to ignore that. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch, Taehyung.”   “You shoulda taken me with you.”   “I couldn’t have.”   “I know…..”   Taehyung’s talkative nature simmers down into sleepy mumbles. He takes a deep inhale, filling his chest before his words become completely incoherent.   You enter his apartment complex, the lobby man recognizing you and allowing you to pass with a nod and a sympathetic smile. The elevator takes you up to the twenty first floor and you open the door at the end of the hall, entering the living space and slipping off your heels.    Instantly, your feet are soothed against the cool floorboards and you make your way to his bedroom, throwing Taehyung off your back and onto his cold bed. He groans tiredly and you take off his shoes before pulling the blanket up and tucking him in.   You stare at the boy for a long second. His hair is sprawled against his pillows, a few strands stuck to his sweaty forehead. His brows seem to furrow in his sleep. Happy go lucky Taehyung isn’t so happy underneath it all and while you were aware of it, you severely underestimated him. You treated him like a child when he was hurting inside, and while he doesn’t know it, you’re the one who feels more apologetic towards him.   But you appreciate that he’s made amends in the past, that he remembers and never forgot.    With the smallest of smiles, you flicker the lights off, shutting the door quietly without hearing him mutter your name to stay.

[iamseeress]

Tokens For Your Appreciation

Summary: Katsuki isn't into birthdays. But he does appreciate the gifts.

___________________

Katsuki isn’t really into birthdays.

He remembers to get his mom a little something every year, he’d eat a slice of his own birthday cake if someone else buys it, but that’s it. Birthdays come and go whether Katsuki does anything about it or not. And if you miss this year, well, there’s always another one coming.

His dad though likes to celebrate birthdays. Not big productions or surprise parties, just enough to mark the occasion as special. There’d usually be a wrapped gift for Katsuki or his mom, and dinner plans in a nicer-than-average restaurant.

Katsuki doesn’t mind it; he just isn’t gonna plan it. Especially not for someone else.

Once when he was 12, trudging at the mall while his dad picked out a gift for his mom when he’d rather be on a run using the cool shoes he got for his birthday, his dad told him giving gifts is part of being in a relationship. It shows your appreciation for the other person and that you care; and when time comes that Katsuki gets a girlfriend or wife, she’d expect Katsuki to remember special dates like anniversaries and birthdays, and gifts on those occasions would not be amiss.

It was a good father-and-son talk, a valuable life lesson for sure thanks, but Katsuki has a goal to achieve, and relationships — romantic or otherwise — are pretty low in his list of priorities. It was low when he was 12, and it’s still low now at 17 turning 18.

In their first year in UA, his classmates hadn’t been aware that his birthday is on April 20. Classes had only begun 2 weeks before and Katsuki could barely remember his classmates’ faces, much less their names. They eventually found out because Iida and Yaoyorozu were given basic information about each student including dates of birth, but by that time Katsuki’s birthday had already passed.

It had come and gone with only a mumbled "happy birthday, Kacchan" from a nervous Izuku.

Izuku knows Katsuki’s birthday, of course. It’s Katsuki’s fate to be in the same class as Izuku since they were in their baby blue pre-school smocks. There’d been more than a handful of cakes and wrapped gifts between them over the years but none at all past grade school. By the time they were in middle school, they didn’t hang out enough to merit an invite to birthday treats or any gift buying.

They used to though. When Katsuki was younger his dad would have him invite a friend or two to have ice cream with him as a special treat after school for his birthday. When he got a little older, the treat included a side trip to the game arcade and a pouch full of tokens for him and his friends.

Izuku had usually been one of those friends, until they weren't friends anymore and Katsuki stopped inviting people altogether. He doesn’t need extras on his birthday.

In their second year in UA, Sato baked him a birthday cake. Katsuki deigned to stay in the dorm common room 30 minutes past his usual bedtime and allowed his classmates — friends by then he supposes — to celebrate his 17th birthday with him. His parents had called to greet him and the next time he was home they went out to dinner in a nice Thai restaurant that had a lot spicy offerings.

Izuku hadn’t gotten him a gift but he’d been smiling when he greeted Katsuki a "happy birthday, Kacchan” before they walked to class together, discussing their English homework on the way.

Katsuki is turning 18 tomorrow. He expects Sato to bake him another cake.

This isn’t because he’s an entitled ass but because Sato bakes a cake most days and definitely one on each of their classmates’ birthdays. Also because Sato had asked him earlier what flavor he would like.

Katsuki told him chocolate. Sato had hummed then explained that he could make a dark chocolate cake with a little red chili for heat and Katsuki found himself impressed and growled out a thanks.

So Katsuki will have a cake tomorrow and very likely a card signed by everyone in their class — he’s had to sign a card for 19 other people plus Aizawa in the past two years; Yaoyorozu is in charge of buying the cards from class funds — and that will be that for Katsuki’s 18th birthday.

For today though, it’s Saturday afternoon and he’s in the common room eating a pre-workout snack of yogurt and berries, watching chaos unfold.

“Are you sure you can’t repay me another way, Aoyama-kun?” Izuku says, in near desperate tones. “Or, or better yet, and this is definitely the better option now that I think about it, maybe we can consider us quits! I did it as your friend and no repayment is needed. At all. Your happiness, Aoyama-kun, is payment enough.”

“Non, non, Midoriya, mon ami. You have done me a great service and I would be remiss in my duties as a friend if I didn’t repay you in kind. Good deeds must be repaid, especially between friends. Otherwise, chaos would reign in the world, n’est-ce pas?”

“Ha ha, yeah, chaos,” Izuku laughs weakly. He throws a pleading glance at Uraraka seated by the sofa.

She dutifully comes to his rescue. Or at least attempts to.

“Aoyama-kun, as heroes-in-training we don’t expect any repayment from those we help. It’s just what we do,” Uraraka says with a cheerful smile. She pauses and a little furrow appears over her brow. “Not that I’d say ‘no’ if they wanna pay me extra.”

“Uraraka-kun!” Izuku hisses but it was too late.

“Bien sur. We do not expect it but we also do not say no when it is offered and in this case it is not just offered but insisted. Midoriya, I must insist that you allow me to do this for you. As your good friend, and as someone whom you’ve saved magnificently from dire straits,” Aoyama says, an earnest hand on his chest.

Izuku sighs and gives in to the inevitable. “Alright, Aoyama-kun. How do you wanna do this?”

“Fantastique! We meet here tomorrow morning at 9. You bring your charming self and I shall take care of the rest. We should be back in time for dinner with the rest of our merveilleux amis.”

“It’s gonna take the whole day?” Izuku asks, clearly surprised.

“Midoriya, one cannot rush perfection. It will take as long as it will take,” Aoyama says, batting elegantly long eyelashes. “But for now, a bientot. I need to make reservations for our little adventure tomorrow.”

And with a flip of his expertly cut and feathered hair, Aoyama exits the common room, leaving sparkles in his wake.

Izuku collapses on the sofa, rubbing his face with his hands. Uraraka pats his shoulder in commiseration but Katsuki can see her eyes bubbling with laughter.

“Do I wanna know what the fuck that was about?” Katsuki asks, spooning yogurt into his mouth.

“Aoyama-kun wants to give Deku-kun a ‘make-over’,” Uraraka says, very ineffectively muffling the giggles with her hand.

Katsuki raises an eyebrow. “Surprised he can do that in just one day.”

Izuku groans into his hands. “Kacchan, you’re not helping.”

“Cheer up, Deku-kun. You don’t know, you might have fun! He’s probably just gonna take you shopping… ermm, but maybe stay away from flowy long sleeved blouses in case he asks you to get them. I don’t think they’d suit you,” Uraraka says, waving her hand vaguely over Izuku’s well muscled form.

Katsuki imagines Izuku's short, stocky frame in one of Aoyama’s frilly white shirts, the ruffled collars high up his muscle-thickened neck. He snickers.

“Just give it up, Deku. You already said yes. Are you planning to mope there all day or are we doing that spar?”

“Spar please, Kacchan,” Izuku says, standing up. “Make me forget.”

“Always happy to kick your ass, nerd. Meet you back here in 5.”

Katsuki wasn’t quite sure when it happened but barring exceptional circumstances, Saturday afternoons is what he mentally — but never verbally — refers to as ‘Deku time’.

There’s no hard and fast rule about the content, only the participants.

It’s usually some form of physical activity because that’s how they first managed to bridge the gap between them: by fighting until one of them surrendered, got injured, or a teacher intervened. It remains as a way for them to stay in tune with each other, despite that these days they talk more together than Katsuki does with anyone else.

For today, they decide on a no-quirk wrestling match; whoever gets pinned five times should be ashamed of themselves. They are hot and sweaty, muscles bunched up, each trying to get a firm hold on the other — palms, arms, thighs sliding over sweat slicked parts.

An hour and a half in and Katsuki wins: 5 pin downs to Deku’s 3.

Izuku is already pouting underneath Katsuki, getting ready to challenge the last pin down, but Katsuki is taking the win and not giving it back. He grins down on Izuku, flat on his back with a mutinous look in his green eyes.

“That was sneaky, Kacchan.”

“Not my fault you got distracted.”

They had been in the middle of a grapple; Izuku was about to slip away, Katsuki could feel it. Katsuki had his mouth beside Izuku’s ear and he whispered “I wonder what you’d look like after Aoyama’s done with you.”

Izuku had gasped and there had been a tiny lapse in his concentration and Katsuki swooped in. He’d been pinned on the mat in a matter of seconds.

Katsuki should get up, get off Izuku, offer him a hand up, but he was enjoying this too much. He has Izuku beaten, aggrieved and under him. Can anything taste any better?

He’s still gloating, in the middle of relishing his victory when he feels a familiar stirring in his pants. Katsuki clambers off Izuku and gets up, faster than even Iida could have moved.

Teenaged boys get boners. It’s a fact of life.

It generally doesn’t happen when grappling for points or bragging rights — no matter what porn films may show you. The body pumps blood everywhere else except your cock, under the all-important mission of not letting you be pinned to the ground by your opponent.

But the moment the fight instinct is gone, with adrenaline still pumping through you, and you’re in contact with the hard heated body of your stupidly attractive classmate slash friend slash rival, well — blood gets diverted somewhere specific really fast.

It’s happened before, it will happen again. Until all these bullshit hormones stop raging across their teenaged bodies.

Tomorrow, Katsuki will be one year closer to that bliss and he’ll be grateful for it. Because these ‘incidents’ with Izuku have been happening faster, more often, and stupidly harder to get rid off each time it happens. Katsuki has better things to do than rage at his own dick for being a dick.

Katsuki walks off to grab their water bottles, surreptitiously adjusting his pants.

He throws one to Izuku, still lying on the mat with his eyes closed.

Probably willing his own hard-on away, Katsuki thinks viciously.

The bottle bounces on Izuku’s chest, rolls away and gets retrieved with Black Whip.

Izuku eventually sits up and Katsuki reclaims his space in front of him, their knees almost but not quite touching.

“I think I’m nervous about tomorrow,” Izuku says.

“You’re about to be a pro hero and you dress like an 8 year old. Can’t hurt to let him help you,” Katsuki says, blunt as always.

“We’re in uniform when we patrol though, what does it matter what else I wear,” Izuku points out.

“You weren’t in uniform when you fought Gentle Criminal.”

The video had somehow been uploaded, caught viral attention, then picked up by one of the biggest tv news stations a few months ago. It had brought unwanted fame and notoriety to provisional hero license Deku and Midoriya Izuku.

“I suppose we can all be grateful it wasn’t one of your stupid slogan shirts,” Katsuki says.

His muscles are pleasantly tired and an over-all feeling of langour and well-being is washing over him, now familiar after all this time spent with Izuku.

Izuku huffs. “Says ‘Aji Fry’ shirt.”

“Fuck you, I look good in it. You are just a mess.”

Izuku chuckles. “Can’t argue with that. You always look good, Kacchan. If you weren’t such an asshole scaring away people, you’d give Todoroki a run for his money.”

“Better an asshole than a dumb prince.”

“Todoroki’s not dumb,” Izuku says, mostly by reflex than any desire to argue. Katsuki has called everyone worse things.

Katsuki sips his water and doesn’t say anything. Todoroki ranked fifth in their last mid term exams.

“You think this is a good idea, Kacchan? Me getting this ‘make-over’?” Izuku asks.

There is a hesitation in his voice that Katsuki hasn’t heard in a while.

Katsuki knows that somewhere underneath that horrible slogan tee and roomy gym shorts is a body that most pro linebackers would kill to have. Broad shoulders, massive torso, powerful thighs. Built like a freight train and just as unstoppable.

He’s seen it, he’d just been grappling with it. Sometimes he even dreams about it. Stupid teenage hormones.

“You’ll fanboy over All Might even after you’re a pro hero yourself. You’d help little old ladies cross the street by picking them up and their entire goddamned house. You’re always gonna be a crybaby. What does it matter if you can Windsor knot your tie?”

“Just get kitted out with laser boy. If you like it, fine. If you don’t, then don’t do it again. It’s one Sunday. You’ll be a nerd regardless.”

“Kacchan…” Izuku says, green eyes filling with tears.

“What did I tell you? Crybaby.”

“Thank you, Kacchan,” Izuku says, laughing and sniffling at the same time.

“Just go,” Katsuki says, mopping away tears from freckled cheeks with rough fingers. “How bad could it be?”

Katsuki deliberates whether to explode Aoyama, Izuku or himself first.

For as long as Katsuki can remember, Izuku’s hair had been an unruly mass of soft green curls. It clearly had a mind of its own and refused most of Izuku’s efforts to tame it. They tend to stand up more in the mornings when Izuku has just gotten out of bed, and splay themselves out like wonky dandelions seeds during hot humid days.

They’re gone now.

That is, Izuku still has his curls and is not currently bald, but the unruly mess of green is gone. The curls on the lower half of his head had been trimmed away, buzzed off until only a short green fuzz was left. The curls on the sides and top of his head remain intact but they’d been shortened, expertly cut to make the green strands less of a mess that Katsuki had learned to live with and more a temptation he wants to run his fingers through.

Izuku has the audacity, the sheer gall to duck his head down and look sheepish. The soft blush highlighting his freckled cheeks is just overkill.

“I’m still not used to it,” Izuku tells their assembled classmates, “the back of my head feels cold.”

They’re all in the common room, Aoyama and Izuku walked in not 5 minutes ago. Aoyama looking pleased with himself; Izuku looking like he stepped off a fashion magazine, sports edition. The entire room had gone nuts.

Katsuki saw them leave that morning and he knew Izuku had on a pale green tee that said ‘bath robe’.

That’s gone as well and good riddance, replaced by a dark green button up that lent color to Izuku’s eyes and highlighted the planes of his impressive chest. The sleeves are folded almost up to the elbows, exposing arms that Katsuki knew for a fact could lift bridges. The scars only add depth of character to what is already a very delectable picture. The dark jeans Izuku had on actually fit, caressing the tree trunk thighs without being too tight, tapering just right down his legs.

Aoyama had clearly employed some kind of magic. Katsuki’s parents would approve. Short but stacked is not an easy combination to dress up.

Uraraka is clutching Izuku’s arm, looking at him in wonder. Kaminari is running his hands through Izuku’s remaining curls, fluffing them up. Everyone else in the room is crowding him, patting his back, squeezing his arm, telling him he looked great, getting a piece of Izuku’s freely given smile for themselves.

Everyone except Aoyama. Katsuki tears his gaze away from the spectacle that is Deku and finds Aoyama’s eyes fixed on him. He smiles and sparkles at Katsuki.

Katsuki scowls and contemplates exploding Aoyama again for causing this but Izuku is talking now, laughing about something.

“Aoyama-kun wanted me to get my ears pierced. Just one. Maybe get a red stone for an earring. But UA won’t allow that so maybe after graduation,” Izuku says with another laugh.

Katsuki realizes he’s bent the fork he has in his hand into something unusable. He goes to the kitchen to get another fork, bringing his plate of half-eaten cake with him.

He can still hear the laughter from the common area. He slams the plate down on the kitchen counter, but they're made to withstand quirk abuse and doesn’t shatter.

“Do you like my birthday gift to you, Bakugou?”

Katsuki turns and sees Aoyama, sparkling at him.

“What gift?” He asks, confused for a moment. Other than the cake and card, he didn’t get anything from his classmates.

“Sometimes it is difficult to see something if we are too close to it. It’s better if someone else rips away the veil, et voila! And you see what has always been there.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Katsuki would be more irritated with the cryptic conversation except that he welcomes the distraction from all the giggling happening just a few meters away.

“Do you know that the entire day, our dear friend Midoriya has been talking about how amazing ‘Kacchan’ is? He was quite concerned if you would like his new look.”

Aoyama smiles again, looking both earnest and impish at the same time.

“He likes you.”

“‘Course he does,” Bakugou snaps out.

“Sometimes friends are just friends. Midoriya and I, we are bons amis. Sometimes, friends turn to lovers. It doesn’t mean they are any less friends. Or rivals. They simply become more.”

Katsuki stabs his fork into the chocolate cake, lets the dark sweetness of it cover his tongue.

“Happy birthday, Bakugou. Midoriya deserves the best, don’t you think?”

Message delivered, Aoyama leaves Katsuki.

Katsuki has always been decisive.

Unlike Izuku who mumbles and dithers with choices, trying to cover all possible angles, Katsuki is quick to choose a path and explore it.

Right now, decision made, it is easier to bear the admiring looks and constant touching happening in front of him. Izuku looks happy at least.

Half an hour past his usual bedtime, Katsuki growls out a good night. Everyone calls out their own good nights, happy birthday agains, and see you tomorrows, too used to Katsuki’s ways after 2 years of living together to protest at how early it still is.

He’s already reached the elevator doors when Izuku catches up to him.

“Can we pass by my room first, Kacchan? I have something for you,” Izuku says, the look may be new but the smile is the same warm one he’d always given Katsuki.

Katsuki pushes the number 2 button in response, still looking Izuku over.

“Where’d you get clothes that actually fit?”

“Ah, the clothes are from normal shops. It was the tailor that we had to look for. We had to get everything altered. Anything that fit me across the chest would be too long. What could fit my thighs would be too loose in the waist, and again too long,” Izuku said with a wry twist of his lips.

For all of Izuku’s nervous tics, he had never seemed particularly bothered by his height. He’s not short, per se, he’s past the average height for a Japanese man. But for a pro hero, he’s definitely on the shorter side of the field. He just barely tops Katsuki’s chin.

“So you got more of these?” Katsuki said, picking at Izuku’s shirt.

“A couple more but they’re all still with the tailor. I’m gonna go get them next weekend. Aoyama just made them finish this one set so he can show me off to everyone.”

Katsuki nudges Izuku's red shoes with his own. Izuku looks down at the contact and comes back up smiling.

"Yeah, Aoyama-kun let me keep my shoes. He said the goal is to show a more presentable side of me, not change me."

Izuku begins to tuck a curl behind his ear, realizes there is nothing to tuck and scratches the soft skin at the back of his ear instead.

Katsuki reaches out and encircles Izuku’s wrist with his fingers, pulling it away, halting the nervous gesture. Green eyes look at him in surprise.

“Don’t. You look good,” Katsuki admits. “You, this, it all looks good.”

“Oh. Thanks, Kacchan.”

There is a soft pink tingeing his freckled cheeks, more pleased than embarrassed.

The door opens and Katsuki follows Izuku to his room. It’s familiar. He’d spent hours in this room over the last 2 years; Izuku’s spent even more time in Katsuki’s.

Izuku grabs something bright colored from the desk.

“Here,” he says, holding out a small package wrapped in red and orange paper. “Happy birthday.”

Katsuki takes it, surprised. He hadn’t been expecting a gift but perhaps he should have.

“What’s this?” he asks rather inanely.

“Open it,” Izuku says, smiling at him.

Katsuki finds the flap and pulls on it, tearing the paper to expose a small rectangular box. Inside on a bed of white padding is a thin metal rectangle, the size of an ID card if a bit thicker. It’s a black matte finish with orange edging, portraying a stylized version of his hero mask.

The design is familiar. He’d seen Izuku doodle variations of it on one of his many notebooks. Katsuki hadn’t thought much about it; Izuku has been putting pieces of him on paper since they were kids.

On the flip side is inscribed his hero name in beautiful calligraphy, edged in dark green. Despite the small size, it has heft, lying heavy on his hand. A thin strap of black fine leather is looped on one corner.

It feels luxurious; the craftsmanship excellent.

“You know they can’t make merch of us yet. Officially at least. But you’re gonna be so big when you debut as pro hero, Kacchan. You’re gonna have tons of merch. I wanted to make this for you first.”

Katsuki turns the gift over in his hand, running his fingers over the smooth surface and design, feeling its weight.

“Are you really giving me my own merch?”

Izuku grins. “Tell me you’re not super pumped to see your name and colors.”

Katsuki grins back, sharp and pleased.

“Did you get one for ‘Deku’ for yourself?”

Izuku shakes his head. “No, just this.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. Hero Deku will have just as much of an impact in the pro hero scene. But Katsuki understands, it's okay to fanboy over other heroes but not over himself.

“I can’t wear my own merch, Deku. That’s tacky. My mom would have my hide.”

Izuku laughs. “You don’t have to wear it. Just keep it somewhere. It slips in the wallet too.”

Katsuki’s fingers are still playing with the metal card, feeling the texture with his fingers.

“How about you wear it?”

Izuku blinks at him.

Katsuki walks over to the familiar backpack sitting on the desk chair. It’s easy enough to loop the leather on one of the front clasps. The black and orange design is stark against the yellow fabric.

Katsuki feels a rush of satisfaction looking at the obvious branding.

“Are you sure about this, Kacchan?”

“Why not. Maybe if you carry this with you everyday, you’ll catch up to me sooner.”

Izuku touches the metal, a small smile on his lips. “I wanted one done for me too,” he admits sheepishly.

“Of course, you did,” Katsuki says, amused. “You’d probably buy all my merch when they come out, even the limited edition ones.”

“Are you kidding? Especially the limited edition ones,” Izuku says, full grinning now.

“But Kacchan,” Izuku says, losing some of his brightness, “I won’t have a gift for you if you give this back.”

“Who says I’m giving it back? You’re just wearing it cause I can’t.”

“Tacky, I know.” Izuku says, smiling again. “Thank you, Kacchan. I hope you enjoyed your birthday.”

“Yeah, I got a good gift this year,” Katsuki says, recalling what Aoyama said, strengthening his resolve.

He’s looking at his gift right now — freckles, green eyes and a warm smile, all made up just for Katsuki.

He steps closer to Izuku, closer than is comfortable even between friends.

Izuku tips his head back, looking at Katsuki, his eyes wide with questions.

“Kacchan?”

“Actually, you could give me another gift,” Katsuki says, voice unintentionally low and raspy.

He lifts a hand, brushing his knuckles across the newly buzzed hair behind Izuku’s perfectly shaped ear, threading it through the unruly curls higher up. He feels Izuku draw in a shuddering breath, see the tip of a wet pink tongue dart out in a nervous gesture, wetting his lips.

“What gift?” Izuku asks, voice thready.

Izuku’s right hand clutches at the front of Katsuki’s shirt and he realizes he’d been slowly leaning down, leaning into Izuku’s space.

“You could give me a kiss,” Katsuki whispers and bends down to give it to himself instead.

Izuku’s lips are soft, moist, impossibly warm.

“Oh,” Izuku says softly when Katsuki pulls away.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“Happy birthday, Kacchan.”

“So far, the best ever.”

Katsuki is surprised to find he knows when Izuku’s birthday is. He didn’t think he remembered anyone’s except for his parents.

It’s still 3 months away. Katsuki has time to get a matching pro hero Deku design made. Izuku can wear it on his backpack too. Their colors will clash horribly with the yellow but he doubts Izuku would mind.

He realizes Izuku would give him a gift every year now. And he’d have to give one back too because no way he’ll lose to Izuku. Maybe he’ll get him an earring next year, the red would look good against his green curls.

Well, Katsuki still isn’t big on birthdays. But it would be easy enough to remember Izuku’s.

___________________ Author’s Notes:  

Later, Katsuki finds out that it’s much more important to remember Inko’s birthday than her son’s. Izuku will love him no matter what but pleasing in-laws is a top priority mission. Did I research on how to dress a short, stocky man? Why, yes. Yes I did.

This fic was created for the BKDK Katsuki Birthday Exchange 2020 as a gift to Mimocha. They wanted an Ikemen!Deku for Katsuki.

[remywrites5]

It's my birthday tomorrow 🙈 is there any chance you could write some jegulus/ jegulily fluff for me? Only if you feel inspired and have time, of course! I love your stories so much, they always make me smile and tear up and feel so so happy! ❤

I think I might be setting a dangerous precedent here but oh well. Hope you have an awesome birthday!! 

***

James Potter was a little surprised to see Regulus Black of all people at his son’s sixth birthday party. While Sirius was Harry’s godfather and was family, Regulus had always sort of kept his distance. Not that James blamed him all that much, but it seemed odd to pick a children’s birthday party as your first point of contact.

           “Hey Reg,” James said, approaching him. He had decided to be friendly instead of suspicious. Unless Reg did something that warranted concern, James was going to be cordial to him. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

           Regulus went a bit red and scratched the back of his neck. “I, uh, Harry invited me, actually,” he said, clearly nervous.James watched the tips of Reg’s ears go pink and couldn’t help thinking it was just a bit adorable.

           “Harry did?” James asked, puzzled.

           “Yeah, I was spending time with Sirius and he was watching Harry,” Regulus explained, giving Harry a little wave. Harry was being chased by his friend, Ron, when the two of them smacked into each other and went tumbling to the floor. “He told me about his birthday party and insisted I come. I didn’t have the heart to refuse him.”

           James smiled, secretly pleased that Sirius and Regulus were getting along. He knew Sirius had been trying to mend fences for years and it was nice that Reg was receptive to his efforts. Besides, a stroppy Sirius was everyone’s problem.

           “Uncle Reg!” Harry said, rushing over and hugging Regulus’ legs. “Will you chase me?”

           “Harry, he’s only just got here,” James said, lifting his son up. “Let’s allow him to get settled, hmm?”

           James tickled Harry and Harry kicked his little legs in protest. “Is Uncle Pads here too?” his son asked, his eyes lighting with excitement. James sighed, knowing that no matter how cool he was as a dad, Uncle Sirius would always be cooler. Although he’d never admit it out loud, especially not in Sirius’ presence. 

           “Not yet,” James said, ruffling his son’s hair.

           “Probably being fashionably late,” Regulus joked, crossing his arms over his chest.

           James grinned and felt like he and Reg were sharing a joke at his best friend’s expense. Sirius was notoriously late to pretty much everything and it was nice that someone felt James’ pain on the subject.

           “James!” Lily called out from the porch door, waving her hands wildly. “I can’t find the paper plates!”

           “Do you mind?” James asked, dropping a wiggling Harry into Reg’s arms. “Duty calls!”

           “Oh, uh, no,” Regulus said after it was too late to refuse.

           “Thanks,” James said as he hurried in to help Lily find what she was looking for. He found his wife furiously searching through the grocery bags with all the party supplies in them. “Don’t worry, Lils, we’ll find it.”

           “Ugh! This place is a fucking mess. If I don’t lose my mind by the end of the night it’ll be a miracle.”

           James carded his fingers through his messy hair and began searching. Once the paper plates had been located, Lily looked a lot calmer. One crisis averted. James hugged her to him and gently rubbed her back soothingly.

           “Who’s that incredibly fit bloke holding our son?” Lily asked, looking over James’ shoulder out onto the party.

           James craned his neck to see even though he already knew the answer. “That’s Regulus, Sirius’ brother.”

           “Mmm, he’s quite good-looking, isn’t he?” Lily said, openly ogling Regulus. James laughed and kissed the top of Lily’s head.

           “Would you like to meet him?”

           “Yes please.”

           James took Lily’s hand and led her out into the backyard. They had to narrowly miss colliding with the Weasley twins who were dousing each other with water pistols.

           “Hey Reg, this is my wife, Lily,” James said, gesturing to Lily with his free hand.

           “Mummy!” Harry said, reaching out for Lily the moment she was within arm’s reach.

           Lily smiled and took Harry into her arms. “Hi my little birthday boy,” she cooed, kissing Harry on the cheek. “Are you having fun, love?”

           Harry nodded his head emphatically.

           Lily dropped his down and gave him a small shove. “Why don’t you go play with your party guests?”

           Harry looked around for a moment and then tore off towards the sprinkler where a few kids were running through it. Lily straightened back up and wiped her brow. “Jesus, it’s bloody hot, isn’t it? How did I ever give birth in this heat? My tits are sweating just standing here and they’re nowhere near the size they used to be.”

           Regulus’ eyes widened in surprise and he turned an alarming shade of red. He nearly matched Lily’s hair. James had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing. “I’m going to go put out some of the snacks,” James said, kissing Lily’s temple and then sliding away, giving Reg and Lily a chance to get acquainted. 

           James was in the middle of plating the cheese and crackers when Sirius and Remus entered with Teddy in tow. “Hiya Jamie!” Sirius said, throwing his arms over his best friend and giving him a big hug. “Where’s Haz? I owe the little monster about fifty birthday hugs!”

           “He’s outside enjoying the party,” James said, shoving Sirius away. It was much too hot to have Sirius hanging all over him. “Which you would know if you’d bothered to show up on time like decent people.”

           “Eh, who cares about being decent?” Sirius shrugged, popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. “Right Teddy?”

           “Right!” the three-year-old responded, giving his dad a thumbs up.

           “Go on, go play,” Remus said, ushering Teddy outside.

           “Did Reg show?” Sirius asked, noticing his brother outside. “That’s odd.”

           James glanced outside and Regulus, who was still talking with Lily. He could tell by the way he was looking at her that Reg was already smitten. It was a strong willed man indeed (or a hopelessly gay one like Sirius) who could not be swayed by the charms of Lily Evans Potter.

           “Looks like you’ve got some competition, eh Prongs,” Sirius said, elbowing his friend. “Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Reg crushing on someone before. It looks so strange. Like he’s got gas.”

           “He must have been interested in someone before now,” James reasoned, grabbing the cheese and crackers tray to bring outside. He wondered how long the cheese would even last in the blasted July heat.

           Sirius shrugged. “Thought he might have had a thing for you back at school,” he said, scratching his head. “But Reg’s always been the quiet type. He could have been shagging half the school and wouldn’t have told a soul.”

           “You two are aware that staring is very rude,” Remus said, sliding the porch door open and stepping outside.

           “That’s why I have you, Moony,” Sirius said, stepping out after his husband. “To make up for my lack of manners.”

           “There’s not enough Moonys in the world to take on that task,” James quipped, following them out and shutting the door behind them so the air conditioning didn’t go to waste.

           “No, dumbo, there’s only one Moony and he’s perfect,” Sirius said, giving Remus a quick kiss.

           Remus rolled his eyes but kissed Sirius back.

           James put the tray down on the food table and went over to join his wife. “Reg, aren’t you hot in the long sleeve shirt? Why don’t you take it off? I have some swimming trunks you could borrow.”

           Reg ducked his head down in embarrassment. “I swear, between the two of you, you’re making me feel like a schoolboy,” he said, wringing his hands together. “Are you two simply hazing the new guy or is it some kind of party game I’m not aware of?”

           Lily laughed and reached out, tugging Regulus forward. “No, silly, we’ve just decided we’re going to keep you.”

           “Keep me?” Reg repeated, glancing from James to Lily.

           “Yeah,” James said, giving Reg a reassuring grin. “In a nice way.”

           Regulus raised a skeptical eyebrow at them. “And what does being a kept man by the Potters entail?”

           Lily and James exchanged a look. “Love?” James suggested.

           “Cuddles?”

           “Sex?”

           “Pancakes?”

           “The world’s greatest six-year-old?”

           “Stop!” Regulus said, interrupting them. “Christ, are you two always like this?”

           Lily shrugged. “Pretty much.”

           Regulus tugged his fingers through his hair. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

           James smiled. “Then let us take you to dinner.”

           “When?

           “You pick the night,” Lily told him. “We’ll make it happen.”

                                                           ***

One Year Later

           “Harry, stop putting glue in your cousins hair!” Regulus scolded, picking Teddy up so he was safe from his mischievous cousin. He looked around for James or Lily or even Sirius but there was just a sea of children. He carried Teddy inside and found Sirius and Remus crowding around the chocolate fountain they’d gotten for the party. “Oi, you two, your son had glue in his hair thanks to the birthday boy.”

           Remus took Teddy off Reg’s hands. “Looks like you’re getting your second bath of the day,” he said with a heavy sigh, inspecting Teddy’s hair for the damage.

           “Have you two seen Lily and James?” Regulus asked, feeling completely outnumbered by the amount of children. Sometimes he wished Harry wasn’t quite so popular at school. Sometimes it was like running a bloody daycare with all of Harry’s friends around. 

           “Upstairs,” Sirius said, pointing a chocolate covered finger towards the stairs.

           Regulus batted his brother upside the head. “Get your grubby hands off the chocolate, you’re meant to use a fork with a strawberry on it, not your fingers.”

           Sirius seemed nonplussed. “It’s more fun this way.” He immediately began helping Teddy stick his fingers straight into the chocolate and then into his mouth. 

           Regulus shook his head and headed up towards the bedroom. He had just opened the door when James and Lily popped out from behind the bed. “Surprise!” they said in union.

           Regulus shook his head fondly at the two nutters he was in love with. “It’s Harry’s birthday, not mine. Why are you surprising me?”

           “It’s our anniversary!” James explained, throwing a handful of confetti.

           Regulus crossed his arms over his chest. “This is why I’ve been left alone with a gaggle of young children. So you two could hide up here?”

           “We told Sirius and Remus to help!” James insisted, brushing confetti off his shirt. He’d completely missed the impressive amount littering his hair.

           Regulus rolled his eyes. “When does Sirius ever help with anything?”

           Lily walked over and put her arms around Reg, giving him a soft kiss. “We just wanted you to know we love you.”

           Regulus blushed and squeezed her tightly. “I know that.”

           “We should get downstairs,” James said, joining them.

           “You’re a mess,” Regulus said, brushing the confetti out of James’ hair. “You two didn’t have to take time out of the party to do this for me.”

           “We wanted to,” Lily said, beaming up at him. “It was important.”

           Regulus bit his bottom lip to try and stop the smile threatening to break out onto his face. “Still going to keep me?” he joked, wondering how it was possible to feel this overwhelming amount of love and not go absolutely insane. Maybe it was why the two people he’d chosen to fall in love with were absolutely bonkers.

           “Oh you’ll never be rid of us now,” James said, kissing Reg on the cheek.

           “Never,” Lily agreed, kissing his other cheek.

           Regulus knew if anyone was crazy enough to keep a promise like that, it was Lily and James Potter.

[nightwingvixen23]

                                                 That Time That 

                                                     The Great 

                                                 Justice League 

                                                 Council Meeting 

                                                      Team Up 

                                            Went To Fuckin’ Shit

*Numerous superheros from several sovereign locals seated at a large round table/having been called together by Superman for a Paramount Assignment/still waiting on others to arrive*

Superman : *quietly to Batman* I am quite pleased at your arrival

Batman : And why wouldn’t I come to such a severally roundabout meeting that you called with such extreme urgency, especially when it was intuitive that it involve so many others ? *stiffly* if anything I should have been signed in the planning process as well

Superman : *charming smile* Now don’t get all grouchy on me. We do all so love the Dark Bat routine, but come now....

Batman : *growling* Don’t you dare talk down to me; I won’t have it ! I am just as much a part of the head of the Justice League as you you are. If a Paramount Assignment such as this needs to be set up, then I must be in the know next time

Superman : Yes. Next time

Wonder Woman : And I as well

Batman and Superman : *startled*

Wonder Woman : *leaning down over the back of Clark’s chair/Laso of Hestia glowing threateningly close by* I am a steel bullet in this League, I shoot fast, I prove fatal, I hone a strength in imperative demand. I hone a seat at the head of this League as well and I do not wish to feel the lesser. Now, you would not wish to upset me Superman...or you would, you say ?

Superman : No. Of course not at all. No body. I only thought it to be wiser and quicker if I were to just counsel this Council of War myself. I will be sure to inform you both of the matter fully ahead of time if it should arise

Wonder Woman : total attitude shift/cherry grin* Good ! Exactly as I thought! *pats Batman on the back a little too hard...or, hell, hard enough to pop his shoulder damn near outta place that’s for fuckin’ sure* Nice to see you in such daylight as always Batman !

Batman : *cracking shoulder back into socket* You as well Wonder Woman, and in such high spirits

Wonder woman : What can I say ? I am as bracing as it’s clear risen shine !

Aquaman : *looking up from texting* Hmpph...looks like the last to arrive are finally here....*side eye’s Batman* ...hehehe...

*arguing ensuing from outside the hallway/glass structure breaking/ unmistakable whining complaints*

*alert and terrified eyes at the table of gathered superheros*

Red Hood : *literally kicking the Council  Room doors open to shove an armful of ‘Bat Brats’ in to and on to the floor/grins over at Bruce* Aye Batman !! Found ya some little birdies ! I know how ya like’em when they’re fiesty !

Robin : *snaps at Jason’s hand*

Red Hood : Whoooaaaa, easy there buddy, easy, we’re all friends here ! Hey, how ‘bout later, if you’re a good boy, I get ya some high quality bird seed ? Hm ? A little snacky snacky for a good little birdy birdy ?? Tweet tweet ??

Robin : *grabbing sword*

Nightwing : *scrambling off the floor* NooOOOOoooo!! Be civil ! This is an important meeting !

Robin : I AM BEYOND TO BE IMPLIED AS SOMEBODY’S FUCKING PET, LET ALONE A GOD DAMNED BIRD !! *slicing through the air/nicking the edge of Red Hood’s jacket*

Red Hood : oh you mother fu– YOU’RE GONNA PAY ! 

Robin : COME AT ME FUCKER ! *slashes sword too close to Red Robin*

Spoiler : Hell no ! *picks Red Robin up/slings him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes* NO ONE fuckin’ touches Red Robin ! You slice one piece of baby soft flesh on this body molded by Zeus himself, then honey, we finna throw hands 

Red Robin : *arms and feet dangling, head upside down* um...thank you for your concern, Spoiler. I appreciate this act of chivlary

Spoiler : *walking with him to their designated seats* no prob babe. Just doin’ what any woman would do for their man 

Dick : *manages to pry sword from Robin* YOU, mister, are on NO sword punishment ! 

Robin : Then how am I supposed to fight you idiot ?!

Dick : That is exactly what I am saying, you are not. March your little butt out of those doors, right this second

Robin : *looks to Bruce*

Batman : *having seen all of this far too many times, had lost interest, looks up* ..... ....Yes. Robin. I am relieving you of duty during this Mission. We have quite the brigade of superheros, and seeing as you are behaving in a way that reveals you are unable to control yourself around Red Hood, whom will be helping us in this undertaking, I uge you into heading back to the Batcave. I will be in communication with you shortly

Robin : *aghast* WHAT ?! How DARE you ?! He called me a fucking BIRD ! He was going to feed me BIRD SEED !

Aquaman : Well I mean *huffs a laugh* aren’t ya kinda a bird ??? Robin ??

Robin : *about to square up to Aquaman*

Superman : *puts a hand to Robin’s chest* Don’t try. You won’t win this one. 

Robin : *takes a deep breath/fakes a smile* Okay. I will do as you command, Batman. Good luck during this Critical assignment of yours

Batman : Now do you see ? That is exactly as you should behave when it comes to all situations regarding things not going as you expect. I’m proud of you for this—

Robin : *walking backwards out of the Council Room holding both middle fingers up in the air* FUCK ALL YA’LL

Superman : *to Batman* ...you were saying ?

Batman : shut up

*meanwhile...*

Arsenal : *makes kissy face at Red Hood*

Red Hood : *makes heart hands at Arsenal*

Arsenal : *blows a kiss at Red Hood*

Red Hood : *catches kiss gently/devours it in an intense fake make out session/moaning loudly* yeah babby fuck yeah mmm

Arsenal : *smug* yeah you know how I like it R

Nightwing : *uncomfortably turned on*

Green Arrow : *looking from Batman to Red Hood to Arsenal then back to Batman again* 

Red Hood : *blows kiss at Arsenal*

Arsenal : *making out with imaginary kiss*

Batman and Green Arrow : *covering their faces in shame*

  *several hours later*

Superman : *standing from his chair* The beginning of this Gathering was quite sketchy there for a while, but as further along we progressed, things have gone so according to plan and for this I would like to applaud

*eruption of appluss*

Red Hood : *applauding by kicking Red Robin under the table by rythem of applause*

Red Robin : *pinches his thigh*

Red Hood : *whispering* Hey, just a little heads up; you might think that hurts and annoys me, but in reality, it’s kinky as fuck and turns me on

Red Robin : *snatches hand away/blushing down to his neck*

Nightwing : You okay there Red Robin?

Red Robin: No. Tell your salacious booty call to stop being a pervert

Spoiler : *’I’m watching you’ hand motion to Red Hood*

Red Hood : *’blow job’ hand motion to Spoiler*

Nightwing : *slapping the back of Red Hood’s head*

Red Hood : I’m telling you guys, you think you’re teaching me a lesson, but in reality, for me? This is one hell of a game of foreplay

Superman : *still addressing all superheros* —I need the lot of you to take this seemingly insurmountable load I have given you off of your backs, if only for a short while, it is well deserved. For come a few days time, we are to dive into launching this aforementioned operation, something that we all know, will to prove to be the challenge in which I have attested it to be. There is no denying it. No sugarcoating it, as you say, no dressing it up to be something enjoyable. It will be hard, grueling, and many of you may just meet your match. But let us have tonight. I am having drinks now served to the table as well as commencing the signing of our Alliance. During which is wrapped up, we shall all then take our congregation out into the common room if that at all pleases you 

*Everyone giving their praise*

Red Hood : I think it sounds like a drag

Nightwing : I think you should shut up

Red Robin : I think it sounds nice

Spoiler : I think I just wanna get drunk ‘cause girls just wanna have fun bitches

Red Robin : Kay I take mine back. I choose that one.

*silent Council Room/documented Alliance being passed around to be signed*

*waiters arrive/champagne flutes bearing pink liquor are sat astride everyone who gives thanks before drinking*

Spoiler : Yum. This tastes exotic, bet it costs more then Nightwing’s ass

Red Hood : I was wrong about not wanting to come. I’m glad I came, yanno, for the liquor

Nightwing : *way too fuckin’ loudly after taking a gulp and giggling*

*big eyes all around*

Batman : *at a loss*

Wonder Woman : *greedily eyeing the impending drama*

Aquaman : Well then shit, come sit in my lap and have my glass too baby, I’ll take care of ya after the meeting 

Nightwing : *light weight ass is already tipsy* Kaay

Red Hood : *pulling Nightwing onto his lap* no ! I said NO ! no one is allowed to touch, smell, or even LOOK at Nightwing when he gets drunk and slutty; somebody has already been hired for that specific job position and you’re already lookin’ at the son of a bitch !!

*everyone confused as fuck*

Red Hood : It’s me, you idiots, I’M the son of a bitch 

Superman : *looking at Nightwing*

Red Hood : *withdraws pistol/points it at Superman* I SAID NO LOOKING SUPERSHIT !

Starfire : *comes through the doors* I do apologize am I late ?

Superman : *hands still up in surrender to Red Hood* Oh ! Well, this meeting is all done and set. I was ready to ask of your team up for this Assignment but was well informed that you were on your own secret Mission

Starfire : Nonshell !

Aquaman : *grumbling* nonsense

Beast Boy : *nudging Aquaman* Yo, don’t disrespect the princess Aquadude

Aquaman : It’s nonsense, not nonshell

Barry : But you would think it would be totally nonshell where you come from

Beast Boy : He’s got a point

Cyborg : *jumping on the the Council Table/gulps down a glass full of champagne/tosses glass over shoulder/distant shatter of glass followed by a pissed as fuck Hal Jordan* HEY! If all ya’ll folks wanna chill the fuck out ! *picks up Starfire and Beast Boy in one arm/picks up Raven and a tipsy as fuck Nightwing in the other* I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE ! *internal audio radio system on* 🎶 Back Streets Back, ALRIGHT! 🎶

Beast Boy : Awe yeah man, turn it up !

Starfire : Oh ! hehe I do so love the love, as they say !

Nightwing : Jaaaybaaaeeeee loookie, I hav friendzzzzzzz

Red Hood : Give me back my half dressed and inebriated boyfriend right fuckin’ now !!

Raven : ...ugh...kill me….

                                                The End 

[mst3kproject]

Goliath and the Dragon

I promised you colour, and here it is, with a side of My Cheese Steak!  It was produced by our old friend Samuel Z. Arkoff, and actor Salvatore Furnari played an elf in The Christmas that Almost Wasn’t and Timotheus in Hercules and the Captive Women.  The rest of the cast may not have been on MST3K, but they still have distinguished bad movie pedigrees of their own.  Philippe Hersent was in Film Crew feature The Giant of Marathon, and a lot of the other actors, including star Mark Forest and leading lady Leonora Ruffo, were in other sword-and-sandal movies I’ve featured as Episodes that Never Were.  In fact, looking at the cast list right now, I discovered that Gaby Andre was also in my previous movie, The Strange World of Planet X.  I hope she’s better in this one.

Once Upon a Time there lived Emilius the Mighty, who was so brawny and manly he was called the Goliath of Thebes.  He gets back from the pits of hell to find that his much skinnier brother Illus is in love with Princess Thea, the daughter of Goliath’s sworn enemy.  Goliath of course disapproves, but Illus thinks it’s because Goliath is in love with Thea herself, and spends much of the running time moping and whining. Meanwhile the villain, Eurytus, has decided to marry Thea in order to become the next king – although he’s also promised to marry a woman named Arsinoe in exchange for her assassinating Goliath.  Arsinoe, however, falls in love with Goliath after he saves her from a bear.  It takes most of the movie to sort out the six layers of scheming, misunderstanding, and general idiot picture going on here, and then it’s finally ass-kicking time.  I think the titular dragon gets about thirty seconds of total screen time.

I said this was a Maciste movie, but that’s an over-simplification.  American International Pictures had previously distributed a movie called Goliath and the Barbarians (which had Steve Reeves in it!), and it did well enough that they wanted a sequel.  They thus purchased the totally unrelated film The Revenge of Hercules (which does not have Steve Reeves in it, although Mark Forest might kinda look like him if you squint), dubbed over the characters’ names, added a dragon, and crossed their fingers hoping that nobody would notice the whole cast was different.  So while MST3K gave us a couple of Maciste movies turned into Hercules movies, here we have a Hercules movie changed into a Maciste movie.

The plot is rather complicated, with multiple people and gods all conspiracizing at cross-purposes.  The summary I gave above is only about the first half of the movie. A lot of this ends up coming to naught, since the guy whose position seems to be King Eurytus’ Royal Schemer is very bad at scheming.  All his plots seem to consist of ‘just do nothing and they’ll die on their own’.  I guess we’re supposed to cheer on Goliath and Illus through this series of victories on their part, but instead it just feels like a waste of the audience’s time, with no real progress made on either side.  Things don’t really start happening until an oracle gives Goliath a prophecy – but like all Greek prophecies, it’s confusingly worded and just muddles things up further, leading characters to make decisions that undermine their own goals.  It’s kind of a frustrating film to watch.

Even worse, a lot of these plot threads don’t get tied up.  Eurytus has a history with both Goliath’s family and with Thea’s dead parents… what is that all about?  It sounds like it ought to be important but we never find out.  It can’t even be something that was explained in the first movie because the first movie was, remember, completely unrelated.  Illus and Goliath eventually make up but I can’t tell if Illus ever actually realizes that Goliath wasn’t interested in Thea and that the people who told him otherwise were lying.  The whole thing just kind of drops.  Arsinoe has some personal claim on the throne but that’s only described in the vaguest of terms, and the actress playing her looks just like the one playing Dejanira, so that gets confusing.  Goliath knocks down a temple at one point but this never seems to have any consequences, unless the confusing prophecy was the gods’ revenge for that… in which case it was a pretty weak revenge coming from beings known for turning people into trees because of a mild inconvenience.

Was this supposed to be Goliath defying the gods and winning?  It doesn’t seem that way, because things turn out exactly the way the gods prophesized – Illus marries Thea and becomes king, and a woman who loves Goliath dies.  This was all set up from the beginning and the audience saw it coming from a mile away even if Goliath didn’t, and it’s with the help of the wind goddess that Goliath wins the day.  So it seems that even after razing their temple, he’s still their favourite?  What sense does that make?

It doesn’t help that we don’t like any of the characters. The bad guys have no particular personalities besides being evil.  Goliath is kind of a dick who tears down the gods’ statues when their decisions displease him, and ties his grown-ass brother to a tree to keep him from running off to suck face with Thea (in the original, Hercules version of the movie, Illus is his son, which makes it even worse).  Illus is a lovesick whiny dope who spends a lot of time staring into the camera with a vaguely confused expression.

The women, meanwhile, are absolute ciphers, with nothing to do but further the plot.  Thea is here to be pined over and coveted.  Goliath’s wife Dejanira is here to be the subject of the dire prophecy, and Arsinoe exists to provide a loophole in it.  All three are totally bland, as are the two or three little kids who represent Goliath and Dejanira’s children.  Not a single member of the cast has any depth or any redeeming characteristics.

Thank goodness for the monsters.  The creatures in Goliath and the Dragon manage to walk that perfect line between ambition and cheapness where they become downright delightful.  There’s an amazingly silly three-headed fire-breathing dog guarding the gates of hell, hilarious papier-mâché skeletons hanging around in a dungeon, and a guy in a ridiculous bat costume flailing on the end of a string, and that’s just the first ten minutes.  The movie goes on to give us an even worse bear costume than the one in the Lou Ferrigno Hercules, and of course the dragon, which is a combination of a puppet head on a stick and a lousy Claymation dinosaur.  The two do not particularly look like the same creature. Were it not for these beasties the movie would be downright unwatchable.

The real animals here don’t fare as well.  There’s a snake pit, which is pretty standard issue for this kind of movie, and they actually found some fairly large pythons instead of resorting to adorable little corn snakes.  The problem is that if you know anything about snakes, these ones are clearly very stressed by the conditions of the shoot and rather worried about sacrificial victims falling on top of them.  Even worse is Eurytus’ pet elephant, whose job is stomping prisoners to death. Goliath’s stunt double wrestles with what is clearly the real elephant – dangerous for the man, but also bad for the pachyderm, who was just as likely to get injured and far less likely to receive medical care if she was.  The computer-generated animals of modern movies kinda suck, but at least we no longer have to torture real ones on camera!

Since its original title is The Revenge of Hercules, this is obviously a movie about revenge, and it’s a motif throughout the narrative.  One of the gods Goliath serves is the God of Vengeance (in ancient Greece revenge was actually a goddess, Nemesis), and the first heroic task he does in the movie is retrieve the god’s blood diamond (shame on the god – revenge is supposed to be honourable and should therefore rely on only ethically sourced gems!) from the underworld.  Later, when he feels the god has betrayed him, he smashes the diamond and destroys the statue.  Goliath takes revenge on vengeance itself!

Goliath also takes revenge on King Eurytus.  We are told that Eurytus killed Goliath’s parents, and appears to have taken out Thea’s as well, making him a fine target for revenge. We also get some idea that he’s in charge of the dragon that pops up at the beginning and end of the movie and never does much because it wasn’t in the script.  Exactly how this all works, however, is murky, and Goliath never even seems aware that Eurytus’ ultimate plan is to conquer Goliath’s home city of Thebes.  Plenty of cause for revenge, then… but all this backstory is only told to us, not shown.  The audience is thrown into the middle of this situation without really knowing what’s going on, and we never quire recover from it.  There’s no excuse for this, either.  A movie that could afford a three-headed fire-breathing dog could definitely afford a flashback!

Maciste movies and their ilk are usually a lot of fun, and this one has its charms.  Between the stupid monsters and Illus gazing vapidly into the void, there’s plenty of material that Joel and the bots could have worked with.  Goliath and the Dragon isn’t good enough to really enjoy but it’s also not bad enough to hate (even if the animal cruelty leaves a bad taste).  It really could use some riffing to spice it up.

[loki-hargreeves]

Loki x Reader - You’re a Monster! [PART 2]

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a one-shot but it turned into a series. Woops! Also, I’m sorry if there are typos! Warnings: vulgar language, mentions of death, angst, mentions of sex Word Count: 3,1K Summary: Loki broke his heart to save you from himself after he was prisoned for life. You believe he never loved you and he believes you’ve moved on. Five years later, you meet at Sakaar again and his fate is in your hands. Somehow, you’re supposed to work together in order to save Asgard, which is easier said than done. You left things messy and you know exactly how to push each other’s buttons.

[PART 1] 

Third POV

It was the second time within a few years that the Asgardians thought Loki, the often forgotten about son of Odin, God of Mischief, was believed to be dead. The truth was, he was posing as Odin. Frankly, Odin had been a mess after Frigga’s passing and Thor was out of the picture. Loki saw that as his chance to rule Asgard, make the people thrive for once. But he also used the position for good, diving deep into things Odin or Thor never could.

Little did anyone know he had a plan. During his time as Asgard’s king, Loki attempted to find out as much as possible about Thanos and his evil plans. He knew the location of three infinity stones, and he wanted to keep them away from the mad titan. Now that Loki was ‘dead’, he could live a little easier. No one was after him. There was only one thing that bothered him, tearing his mind to shreds. And no, it wasn’t the prophecy of Ragnarok he had been hearing about, had nightmares about too.

It was Y/N.

Just the memory of her made his heart ache. No matter how many times he told himself he did the right thing, he knew he was lying to himself. He had somehow hoped that he could see her again. Maybe not as himself but just to spot her. He wanted to see the woman, know that she was well, at least healthy. But that didn’t happen. Months passed and no one had seen her after their breakup. Loki had found out that Y/N had left her engagement ring in their old chambers. She had taken a bag worth of personal belongings, attended Frigga’s funeral, stolen weapons and then disappeared. He never found the book she had made for him. She was gone and it broke Loki’s heart because he knew it was his fault.

Posing as Odin, Loki had tried to question Heimdall about her whereabouts but of course he saw threw the magic. Tragic, really. Loki understood that Heimdall was a threat to his plans – but he was also wise, so after some very messy mutual disagreement and mild agreement, Heimdall ‘disappeared’.

It was just Loki alone for the next few years, wondering if Y/N was even alive. Deep in his heart, he could almost feel that hers was beating somewhere out there.

                     Unbeknownst to anyone, Y/N was putting her nose deep in the same waters as Loki. She hadn’t believed that Loki never loved her. No, it just didn’t make sense in her head, so she had decided to search for answers. After thinking about old conversations with Loki, reading books, contacting creatures from beyond the nine realms, she got on the right path. She learned about Thanos and the so-called infinity stones. Even Thor knew about them, which was great. Somehow, she managed to make Thor keep it a secret that she was travelling with him.

A few years passed and Thor left, following a hunch that had something to do with Sultur. Y/N didn’t go, because she had more important things to do. Besides, she knew Thor would be returning to Asgard and she had sworn not to return ever again. It hurt too much.

Once she was alone, flying through space in a ship she ‘borrowed’, she found herself thinking about Loki. That asshole, she thought but couldn’t find the truth behind those words. After everything she had learned, she was sure he had loved her to some extent. It didn’t mean that what had happened before he died didn’t put her in agony. Their last conversation broke her heart and it would haunt her forever. Thanks to the massive pain that had followed and the torturous truth of what had happened to Loki before, Y/N put up a hard and cold exterior. She had changed, to say at least.

Shamelessly, Y/N had gone as far as sleeping with strangers to lure secrets out of their lips. Some dumb Kree had told Y/N about the elders of the universe, a tale as old as time. Apparently, they were the original bearers of the stones and one of them, the Grandmaster, just happened to have an address, a dumpster realm known as Sakaar. That’s where Y/N went, not really knowing what to expect -except answers.

She landed in the middle of trash, literally, and some funky looking creatures tried to capture her. Y/N had killed them all before they could really bat an eye. She left behind a pile of their bodies but before she could leave, someone else wanted to have a word with her. Y/N had watched as a beautiful woman walked out of her ship with a bottle in her hands. Beautiful leather outfit, black hair which Y/N liked. She was hot, but Y/N knew she could be dangerous.

“You’re coming with me, ‘right?” The woman asked but it sounded like she also answered for her.

Y/N already thought of some magic tricks that were nifty for self-defence, just in case it got to that point. “Are you trying to eat me as well?” Y/N wondered, glancing at the scavengers she had killed. The woman looked at the pile and raised her eyebrows.

“I’m impressed, but no, I won’t eat you. I’m looking for…a fighter, you seem eligible.”

Y/N was honoured but it didn’t mean she’d volunteer as a puppet for whatever fight they needed a fighter for. “Can I thank you no? I’m here to meet someone called the Grandmaster.”

“Ah! I could take you to him.” The woman suggested almost casually.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Y/N still didn’t trust her. So, she walked closer to her, noticing the white paint on her skin, creating a beautiful contrast. “You lead the way; I can follow you with my ship.”

Before Y/N could hardly finish her sentence, she noticed that the woman grabbed something small, probably a weapon. Y/N was quick to grab her dagger and point it at the woman. “Look, you’re pretty and I don’t want to fight-“

“You think I’m pretty?” She smirked, almost cockily, although Y/N had a dagger pointed at her. “Isn’t that sweet of you!”. Although Y/N felt like she should be annoyed, she found herself liking this woman. There was something about her.

“Lead the way, okay? I’m busy and I don’t want to play your stupid game.”

The woman rolled her eyes and put the little weapon back into her purse. “Fine. If you wish to go to him voluntarily, I won’t stop you. Let’s go!”

And just like that, Y/N was led to the Grandmaster by the woman who she learned went by the name Scrapper 142. Y/N decided that she liked her, although she was probably dangerous and plotting a trap for her. Good luck, Y/N thought, she had been with Loki long enough to avoid basic traps. The effort was cute. But then the memory of the Trickster god stabbed her heart and she remembered what she was here for, the infinity stones.

“Oh, you found a pretty one! You never cease to impress me!” The old man smiled happily once he laid his dark eyes on Y/N. He had a blue stripe on his lip and a very sparkly, golden robe. He definitely stood out, even on this planet where no one seemed to know of dark clothes.

Y/N ignored his low-key compliment and she tried to get straight to the point. “Are you the Grandmaster I’ve heard so much about?” Y/N put on a fake but very sweet smile, attempting to flatter the man who seemed to enjoy it. She learned quickly that this Grandmaster was like a powerful dog that had to be fed with compliments – that way they could become friends. Manipulating him shouldn’t be too hard, right?

Well she was both right and wrong. She didn’t end up being a fighter, instead, she got into his inner circle with her charming act and she picked up clues piece by piece. Y/N had to admit the parties could get extreme and waking up in stranger’s beds wasn’t ideal, but she genuinely had fun for once. Perhaps blowing off some steam by partying and mingling couldn’t hurt too much. After all, Y/N had spent the last five years in her shell, surrounded by hate, anger and misery.

Weeks passed by quickly, very quickly on Scrapper 142’s couch. Her actual name was Brunnhilde, she was a Valkyrie. Y/N and Brunnhilde were wasted one night and Y/N saw her tattoo. Sure, there wasn’t much they could hide when they were both naked. Against all odds, they became friends and it was very beneficial to Y/N who never forgot about her plan.

All was well until someone else from Asgard ended up on Sakaar.

Y/N had picked up Brunnhilde’s ways of Scrapping to earn some credits while staying on Sakaar. It was a usual day when she saw something entering Sakaar’s atmosphere and fast. It’s like a bolt of green lightning struck the trash land. Y/N had to check it out.

Her ship landed on the ground only minutes after she saw the green object, or person, she had no idea. No one else had arrived yet which was perfect, she could take her time. Y/N grabbed a weapon that shot out obedience disks. She only needed that and her magic as she walked outside. As usual, there was a horrible stank outside. Space junk and bodies were rotting all around them. Y/N saw a body on the ground, back faced towards her. Once she saw long, black locks and an emerald green cape, she almost turned away and left. That’s when she took a deep breath and reminded herself that Loki was dead. It couldn’t possibly be him, right?

But the closer she got, the more she saw. And sure as hell, it was him. She could recognize his face from thousands of miles away. Seeing him on the ground, completely helpless, covered in small cuts and fresh bruises was almost too much for her. For a moment, she could only stare at him in utter disbelief and shock. The heartache from half a decade ago was returning and it hurt just as much, but she’d be damned to show it.

Whatever the story was behind it, she had to know. But he was unconscious and other Scrappers would love to find him. Biting her teeth together and swallowing her tears, she dragged his weak body into her ship. His scent emerged into her nostrils and reminded her of so many shared nights.

“Get yourself together!” Y/N growled at herself and dumped Loki’s body on the floor of the ship. Perhaps it was a bit harsh, but she didn’t want to hold onto him longer than needed. She didn’t want to soften up for him after what he did.

She locked the entrance to the ship and sat down, resting her head against her hands as she attempted to think. She had no idea how he was alive, what she would do to him or if he was going to hurt her even more. After pondering for a while and feeling how her shock just increased, she had to get answers. Y/N stood up and walked to Loki who was still on the ground. He looked terrified even though he was passed out. It’s like shock was imprinted on his resting face. Y/N wondered what he saw before ending up on Sakaar. Could it be Thanos?

Y/N groaned and pushed those thoughts away. The only right answers would come from him. So, Y/N gently shook him by his shoulder with her foot until he opened his eyes. Loki looked right at her and it was dead quiet around them for a moment. Y/N’s heart yearned for him, she wanted to wrap him into her arms, but she refused to do that. Instead, she put on a stern mask and grabbed the weapon, having no intentions to use it though. She wanted him to know that she was not the woman she used to be.

“Am I dead?”

“Newsflash, Loki! You’re not, but you sure let everyone think so.”

Loki sat up, never taking his eyes off Y/N. He seemed dazed. Flashes of what had happened only a few minutes earlier were fresh on his mind. He remembered Odin’s death, Thor’s rage, Hela. But once he saw her after believing he never would see her again; his mouth went dry. She stood there, looking at him with anger burning in her E/C eyes. Loki could hardly believe his eyes. He didn’t even know what to do. Now, several years later, there was no use in pretending to be the monster he made out of himself, but he didn’t know if he could let go of his regret and beg for forgiveness. Could he put her through that?

He looked away from her judging gaze and he saw the small, odd weapon that was in her hand. It felt like a punch in his gut, she was furious! He had to be careful but at the same time, he almost wanted her to be mad at him.

It became obvious that Loki wasn’t going to break the silence and Y/N was impatient.

“How are you alive?”

Loki remembered the exact moment he almost died. No one would ever know but he actually sacrificed himself to Thor. He could’ve died when Thor left his body on Svartalfheim but something miraculous kept him alive. What it was, Loki wasn’t sure, but he told himself it was his mother from Valhalla. How could he possibly explain the past five years to her? From the moment he broke her heart by telling her that everything they had together, all the good and the bad, were lies. He told her she was amusement for him. Now he felt rotten just thinking back.

“Answer me!” Y/N demanded harshly, taking a step closer to Loki. She put the little disk shooter underneath Loki’s jaw so she could tilt his head up, forcing him to look at her. It was astonishing how he hadn’t gotten up yet to mock her and drag her down. Something terrible must’ve happened before he arrived.

It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to let herself care about that. What they had in the past should remain there.

Loki didn’t flinch when Y/N put the cold metal object against his neck. He didn’t know what it did, and he didn’t want to find it. Although he knew she probably hated his gut, he doubted she’d hurt him. “It’s a long story, Y/N.”

His voice made Y/N’s stomach twist. She hated herself for missing it. She hated that his voice still affected her but the was proud she had learnt to hide her feelings. To him, he looked like a whole new person. Loki looked her up and down and noticed how different she was, even her attire had changed. Y/N was wearing a skin-tight, white bodysuit that hugged her curves just right, long red boots and a dark red cape, much less elegant than Asgardian capes. It was short and rigged. Y/N’s arms were bare, and she wore golden jewellery that spiralled from her wrist all the way to her upper arm. He even saw scars that weren’t there before. They weren’t neat so he figured they came from battles. She had changed.

The biggest difference was her cold and harsh exterior. He looked at her and her face didn’t soften up like before. He knew that he had burnt her innocence and sweetness to ashes. It hurt, more than he wanted to admit.

“You’re not in a hurry, are you? Start talking.” Y/N was getting angry again. The silence was messing with her head. If he didn’t care, why couldn’t he speak? It bothered her that Loki looked at her so carefully. She felt vulnerable.

Loki looked at her neck. He knew they weren’t together anymore but nevertheless, seeing a dark purple, almost red hickey decorating her skin hurt. Seeing that someone else had gotten the pleasure of touching her was like a stab to the heart. She had moved on, hadn’t she? Loki’s throat felt tight. So much was going on and it was too much – even for him. Asgard was in danger but here he was, in Y/N’s ship, his fate in her hands. “Where shall I begin?” He put on a fake smile, putting up the act from five years ago. He was not going to hurt her any further by explaining how he lied. She had gone through enough because of him. Lying furthermore should be smooth, he was the god of lies after all.

“How about you explain how you’re alive and where you’ve been. Maybe, just maybe I won’t throw you in the lion’s den.” By that, Y/N meant the arena. She knew damn well the Grandmaster would pay her a huge sum for Loki, but she also knew Loki could have answers that she desperately needed. “You’re so great with words, aren’t you? You better use them.”

“Someone still cares,” Loki taunted her, putting his best effort into acting like the fool he was before. He was aware it was terrible, but he had no choice. He decided to push her buttons a little bit more, just to study her reaction. “I see you took some Asgardian goods with you.”

“You know I could electrocute you, right?” Y/N pressed the lips of the disc shooter against his neck, only to threaten him of course. Sure, he probably deserved it, but she didn’t actually want to hurt him. Only a few years ago she was the one who stitched up his wounds and washed off his blood. “Besides, Thor gave them to me. Turns out being in good terms with him is quite handy,” Y/N pushed Loki’s buttons as well, knowing damn well how Loki hated that.

Loki pulled his lips into a thin line. The hickey was almost right in front of his eyes now and he believed Y/N did it on purpose, to shove it in his face that she didn’t care at all. Did Thor make it? Loki wished it was anyone else but his brother. Was she over him? Loki believed it – at least to some extent. How could she still care, after everything he put her through? He didn’t just break her heart, he absolutely destroyed it!

But she would never know he did it for her. She was better off without him. Loki told that to himself to make himself feel better. He had to get away from her and fast but it wouldn’t be easy.

“I’ve been on Asgard. Thor broke me out of my cell, begging for my help. It was a perfect opportunity for me to slither out of that little cell. Then I had to get Odin out of the picture…”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Y/N almost yelled. Sure, Odin was a terrible person but she couldn’t imagine Loki killing him. He hadn’t gone that far, right?

Loki rolled his eyes. “I sent him away. He was on Midgard until Thor and I returned to him. He told us about our sister, Hela, who is currently set to destroy Asgard. Then he died-“

“Slow down!” Y/N stopped him. She put the disc shooter away and took a deep breath. She attempted to forget about her personal issues with Loki and tried to focus on Asgard. Were the people in danger? Who was this Hela? Their sister? She had never even heard of her. ”Odin’s dead?”

“I told you, it’s a long story, Y/N.”

[PART 3]

Author’s Note: I feel like this chapter is just building the plot but the next part will be a bit more fun (I hope). What are your thoughts? :) It’s kind of funny how this turned into a series.

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